BotL - Monthly fluff challenge

[Nomus Sardauk]

I like Fractus, it sounds good and makes sense context-wise. :)

[simison]

I like Fractus, it sounds good and makes sense context-wise.

 

I've made the revisions and have satisfied this month's challenge.

[bluntblade]

Should have a full draft done in the next couple of days. Trying not to detail too much as far as the nature of the Fracus goes, of using more on the ceremonies/procedures that go into their creation.

 

I have Techmarines, Apothecaries and Chaplains present. Is there a place for the Librarians, perhaps maintaining psychic wards so there's absolutely no risk of the secret getting out? The other key question is, would Legionaries simply converse much? To what degrees should their personalities remain after being bonded for years?

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Do you mean after having become Fracus? Because in that case I would say very little if at all being that they are essentially space marine servitors. If, however, you mean normal marines of the Steel Legion I think it was said that Legionnaires can suffer a form of multiple personality disorder but otherwise usually keep their own personalities.

 

That being the case I think conversations could still happen, abet with a much greater level of inherent understanding and lots of finishing each others sentences. Like that stereotypical portrayal of identical twins when they talk.

[bluntblade]

WIP:

 

Adept Maas-Voyek found some things to admire about the Steel Legion, but in other respects they amply displayed the inconstant ways that were rooted in flesh.

 

They were mercifully free of the sentimentality so many Legions showed when it came to the weapons borne by their veteran and elite personnel. Many of their cousins fetishised the sentimental work of their own artificers, scorning the creations of the priesthood. Maas-Voyek had witnessed a certain amount of that during his seventy-two Terran years and twenty days with various Army fleets, before the XVII’s reunion with its master. The subsequent expansion had drawn in hundreds of experienced personnel from the Priesthood, and ever since then Maas-Voyek had made his home on the Lunar-class cruiser Straylight. His quarters were high in one of the ship’s spires, in keeping with his station, with a large viewport taking up one wall. It was sentimental - a flaw that would hopefully discarded as he moved towards true cybernetic communion - but he delighted in the view it granted him of the vessel’s crenellated back and the fleet around it.

 

The Steel Legion fleet was, to a Mechanicum Adept, the finest to sail the stars, except perhaps for the Void Eagles’. They did not allow the creations of the impious to share space with Martian and Jovian vessels, as did the I, VI and VII. All the vessels here, festooned with the circuit filigree of the XVII, had at the root of their design the guiding genius of the Omnissiah. Some part of him, however, could not help noting the divergences in design, the ways in which the Legion had subtly twisted their ships away from the ordained geometry of their Standard Template Constructs towards their own preferences. Maas-Voyek knew that for a fact; by scaffold and void-skimmer, he had near enough traversed the entirety of the vessel’s surface during maintenance and repair operations.

 

Recently added plasma cannons swung experimentally two and a half kilometres away. Their addition had been driven by Lord Nomus, the usual lascannon arrays deemed superfluous in light of the Steel Legion’s prowess with interceptors and fighters. It sat uncomfortably with Maas-Voyek, partaking in what felt like desecration even when one of the Omnissiah’s generals commanded it, even when the weapons themselves conformed entirely to their ancient STC designs.

 

That was the inconsistency laid bare; the Steel Legion paid respect to the Mechanicus while still cleaving to their organic nature. Another facet of this was their peculiar stance on augmetics. The Steel Legion viewed them with a thinly veiled distaste that bordered on the outright offensive to the Adept. They seemed to deliberately overlook the elevated status of their Dreadnought-bound brethren. Maas-Voyek took it for a lack of reverence, even more baffling given the Legion’s evident closeness to their honoured fallen.

 

And then there were the spaces kept sealed behind blast doors and a plethora of locks, ranging from biometric readers to what seemed to be archaic key-locks. Nothing was said, much less recorded, about went on behind those portals. Requests for information met with denials, accompanied by the Primarch’s seal. No servant of the Omnissiah would be so… well, some might be arrogant enough to question the writ of His most singular creations, but none would be foolish enough to voice their doubts.

 

So Maas-Voyek and his fellows simply had assure themselves that the loyalty of the Primarchs would not permit them to violate their commands. The logic seemed insurmountable - beings wrought so firmly in the creator’s visage that they were spoken of by more sentimental beings as His sons - but then precedents existed, hinting otherwise…

 

-----

 

Mechadendrites flexed and whirred, Narthecia whined. The only sounds here were mechanical, aside from the barely audible breathing of servitors. Dozens carried trays of instruments, vials of fluid and armoured plates. The sounds of the living souls here were contained behind muted vox-grilles. Had any living mortal trespassed here, they would have joined the ranks of the grey-skinned cyborgs here, followed by intense scrutiny of what breach had let them in. The breath of the prone bodies was the languid exhalation of the comatose.

 

Three of the Space Marines’ adjacent hierarchies were present in bulk. Techmarines and Apothecaries might have been hard for an outsider to differentiate, as they mingled around the benches and slabs. Considering the delicacy of their work, their movements had a synchronicity to them that verged on the impossible. An observer, unaware of the Steel Legion’s use of implants, might presume private vox channels were being used. None were.

 

The third order stood apart. Their faceplates grimaced, metallic skulls silhouetted by pale blue light. Crozius maces hung in fists or rested, hilts-down, on the floor, hands gently gripping the wings of stylised eagles. The imagery stood out in a Legion whose aesthetic was often deemed sterile by remembrancers, all the more so in their current surroundings. Many an artist or documentarist would have paid dearly for a chance to record the truth, had they known of it. The Steel Legion, thought soulless by so many, cared very much about the souls of their warriors.

 

Idao Haken ran a fingertip over the grooves of his crozius’ wing. He wasn't fond of the weapon, and usually left it at his belt in favour of his plasma pistol and power sword, but Chaplains understood better than most the importance of symbolism. They themselves were here for that reason, standing sentinel over the work that was done here. Over something that, like the internment of a mortally wounded champion in a dreadnought, was half operation and half ceremony. Unlike an internment, however, there was no awe at the subject’s death-defying resolve and fury, no gladness at seeing a comrade survive to fight again in some form.

 

A corpse lay on each slab in front of him. Breathing, with hearts beating slowly, but corpses all the same. Their faces were all youthful in a way rarely seen among the Astartes. A Space Marine’s face almost always hid the truth of his many years, but a certain maturity tended to manifest after a few years. The warriors here had not lived long enough for that, had not survived to raise bolters as full Astartes. This was the cost of the Steel Legion’s most idiosyncratic weapon, a secret shame, and which would after the work here was done, make the dead fearsome weapons in their own right.

 

The Symbios, it was called. A cobweb of wires, snaking into the brain of each Legionary, creating something akin to a hive mind. It enabled the unnaturally seamless coordination of the Techmarines and Apothecaries, granted the sons of Nomus cohesion quite unmatched by their cousins, and it had killed these neophytes. The neural burden of the interface simply overwhelmed some minds, rendering the unfortunates either unstable or empty husks. Few succumbed, with minds strong enough to endure Ascension and enhanced by the process, but a small minority of the Legion did with every intake of neophytes. So the Legion mourned the loss of promise, even as they worked to salvage something from the waste.

 

Extraneous biological components were cut away before the Legionaries were encased in modified suits of armour, faces sealed away behind glowering visors and bodies augmented with fearsome weapons. Henceforth they would be the Fractus, commanded like automata by a select few of their living brothers and used to wreak devastation on the foulest battlefields, far from the scrutiny of outsiders. It was a lamentable end for those who had proved themselves more than worthy of being Astartes, only to fall to biological vulnerability. Miserable too, to waste gene handed flesh and bone - the only thing worse would be to discard it all.

 

After further hours of vigil, Haken watched as the initial tests were run, noting the world of difference between how his brothers moved and the motions of the Fractus. Fingers did not flex, and there was none of the fidgeting and shift of weight that every warrior succumbed to at some stage. Here and there were those Haken had monitored through their trials, and it grieved him to see their vitality, their spirit, wrenched from them. But the Primarch will that they use their devices, for the might the Symbios granted them. They had let Haken feel his Lord’s reasoning, at a distance, brushing across his consciousness, and he knew no argument could stand against the judgment of such an intellect. So he would keep this duty as long as he lived and served, counting the cost and standing witness.

Edited March 13, 2017 by bluntblade

[Sigismund229]

Well, not done Hec meets Nomus yet, inspiration has yet to strike. However, I was doing latin homework and started brainstorming ideas for Steel Legionary names(don't remember if they had any or not). Not sure on the cultures the SL draw on(if any) so I went off the fact that Nomus is a pretty latin sounding name. However, to avoid any of the Gaius, Titus, Vespasian, Lucius etc. you get with the EC and Ultras, I took the names of mythical figures relating to vigilance as well as the names of many Etruscan deities, which I then pig latinized by adding -us to the end. Hope at least some suit, if not(shrugs)

 

-Argus=Vigilance. Would seem obvious.

 

-Cerberus=Multi-headed watcher of the underworld. Linked to being all seeing=>Steel Legion

 

-Janus=Roman deity of the home. Seems an obvious chose given he's the Steel Legion's symbol

 

Anius=Latinized form of the Etruscan version of Janus(Ani) but he was god of passages and a sky deity.

 

-Vanthus=A latinized and masculinized corruption of the Etrsucan Vanth which was the name of a female deamon with eyes on her wings so that she saw everything

 

-Tarchius/Tagus=Latinized variants of an Etruscan oracle deity who went by multiple names. Perhaps a techmarine who's more integrated into the Collective than most and so "interprets" for his brothers?

 

-Satrus=Latinized form of Satre, an Etruscan deity of time. Perhaps a name for a higher up figure within the Aeterna veterans?

 

-Leinthus=Latinized form of Leinth, a faceless goddess of the Etruscan underworld. Facelesness=>Steel Legion

 

Feronius=Latinized form Feronia, an Etruscan goddess said to watch over freedmen. Perhaps an original leader of the rebellion alongside Nomus?

 

-Atunus=Latinized form of Atuns, an Etruscan god of rebirth. Might work for Aeterna? Or a dreadnought?

Roman equivilent deity=Adonis

 

-Aplus: Latinized form of Aplu, an Etruscan god of Thunder and Lighting. Perhaps an artillery or tank commander?

 

-Karuno=It's a latinized version of the Etruscan versiom of Charon. Apothacery?

 

-Nortius=Etruscan goddess of fate latinized. Aeterna or apothacery?

 

There are also some others you could use like Summammus(a storm god. Artillery?), Tin=>Tinus(sky god. Ship captain?), Turms=>Turmus(messenger if the gods and spiriter away of souls to the underworld) and Februus(god of purification).

[TheBlindPrimarch]

well written, but still a little rough. Would you like me to proofread?

[bluntblade]

well written, but still a little rough. Would you like me to proofread?

Me? Feel free

[bluntblade]

Updated it. If Sangi approves, I'll pop this edition in Stories

Adept Maas-Voyek found some things to admire about the Steel Legion, but in other respects they amply displayed the inconstant ways that were rooted in flesh. The same inconsistency that was to be dispelled by the cold rationality of the Cult Mechanicus.

 

They were mercifully free of the sentimentality so many Legions showed when it came to the weapons borne by their veteran and elite personnel. Often their cousins fetishised the sentimental work of their own artificers, scorning the creations of the priesthood. Maas-Voyek had witnessed a certain amount of that during his seventy-two Terran years and twenty days with various Army fleets, before the XVII’s reunion with its master. The subsequent expansion had drawn in hundreds of experienced personnel from the Priesthood, and ever since then Maas-Voyek had made his home on the Lunar-class cruiser Straylight. His quarters were high in one of the ship’s spires, in keeping with his station, with a large viewport taking up one wall. It was sentimental - a flaw that would hopefully discarded as he moved towards true cybernetic communion - but he delighted in the view it granted him of the vessel’s crenellated back and the fleet around it.

 

The Steel Legion fleet was, to a Mechanicum Adept, the finest to sail the stars, except perhaps for the Void Eagles’. They did not allow the creations of the impious to share space with Martian and Jovian vessels, as did the I, VI and VII. All the vessels here, festooned with the circuit filigree of the XVII, had as the foundation of their design, the guiding genius of the Omnissiah. Some part of him, however, could not help noting the divergences in design, the ways in which the Legion had subtly twisted their ships away from the ordained geometry of their Standard Template Constructs towards their own preferences. Maas-Voyek knew that for a fact; by scaffold and void-skimmer, he had near enough traversed the entirety of the vessel’s surface during maintenance and repair operations.

 

Recently added plasma cannons swung experimentally two and a half kilometres away. Their addition had been driven by Lord Nomus, the usual lascannon arrays deemed superfluous in light of the Steel Legion’s prowess with interceptors and fighters. It sat uncomfortably with Maas-Voyek, complicity in what felt like desecration even when one of the Omnissiah’s generals commanded it; even if the weapons themselves conformed entirely to their ancient STC designs.

 

That was the inconsistency laid bare; the Steel Legion paid respect to the Mechanicus while still cleaving to their organic nature. Another facet of this was their peculiar stance on augmetics. The Steel Legion viewed them with a thinly veiled distaste that bordered on the outright offensive to the Adept. They seemed to deliberately overlook the elevated status of their Dreadnought-bound brethren. Maas-Voyek, analysing the data at hand, took it for a lack of reverence, even more baffling given the Legion’s evident closeness to their honoured fallen.

 

And then there were the spaces kept sealed behind blast doors and a plethora of locks, ranging from biometric readers to what seemed to be archaic key-locks. Nothing was said, much less recorded, about went on behind those portals. Requests for information met with denials, accompanied by the Primarch’s seal. No servant of the Omnissiah would be so… well, some might be arrogant enough to question the writ of His most singular creations, but none would be foolish enough to voice their doubts.

 

So Maas-Voyek and his fellows simply had assure themselves that the loyalty of the Primarchs would not permit them to violate their master’s commands. The logic seemed insurmountable - beings wrought so firmly in the creator’s image that they were spoken of by more sentimental beings as His sons - but then precedents existed, hinting otherwise…

 

-----

 

Mechadendrites flexed and whirred, Narthecia whined. The only sounds here were mechanical, aside from the barely audible breathing of servitors. Dozens carried trays of instruments, vials of fluid and armoured plates. The sounds of the living souls here were contained behind muted vox-grilles. Had any living mortal trespassed here, they would have joined the ranks of the grey-skinned cyborgs here, followed by intense scrutiny of what breach had let them in. The breath of the prone bodies was the languid exhalation of the comatose.

 

Three of the Space Marines’ adjacent hierarchies were present in bulk. Techmarines and Apothecaries might have been hard for an outsider to differentiate, as they mingled around the benches and slabs. Considering the delicacy of their work, their movements had a synchronicity to them that verged on the impossible. An observer, unaware of the Steel Legion’s use of implants, might presume private vox channels were being used. None were, all vox channels damped and psychic barriers erected around the chamber by Librarians.

 

The third order stood apart. Their faceplates grimaced, metallic skulls silhouetted by pale blue light. Crozius maces hung in fists or rested, hilts-down, on the floor, hands gently gripping the wings of stylised eagles. The imagery stood out in a Legion whose aesthetic was often deemed sterile by remembrancers, all the more so in their current surroundings. Many an artist or documentarist would have given everything for a chance to record the truth, had they known of it. The Steel Legion, thought soulless by so many, cared very much about the souls of their warriors.

 

Idao Haken ran a fingertip over the grooves of his crozius’ wing. He wasn't fond of the weapon, and usually left it at his belt in favour of his plasma pistol and power sword, but Chaplains understood better than most the importance of symbolism. They themselves were here for exactly that reason, standing sentinel over the work that was done here. Over something that, like the internment of a mortally wounded champion in a dreadnought, was half operation and half ceremony. Unlike an internment, however, there was no awe at the subject’s death-defying resolve and fury, no gladness at seeing a comrade survive to fight again in some form.

 

A corpse lay on each slab in front of him. Breathing, with hearts beating slowly, but a corpse all the same, surrounded by dozens more. Their faces were all youthful in a way rarely seen among the Astartes. A Space Marine’s face almost always hid the truth of his many years, but a certain maturity tended to manifest after a few years. The warriors here had not lived long enough for that, had not survived to raise bolters as full Astartes. This was the cost of the Steel Legion’s most idiosyncratic weapon; a secret shame, and a process which would, after the work here was done, make the dead fearsome weapons in their own right.

 

The Symbios, it was called. A cobweb of wires, snaking into the brain of each Legionary through a socket at the base of the skull, creating something akin to a hive mind. It transferred knowledge, enabled the unnaturally seamless coordination of the Techmarines and Apothecaries here, granted the sons of Nomus cohesion quite unmatched by their cousins in battle, and it had killed these neophytes. The neural burden of the interface simply overwhelmed some minds, rendering the unfortunates either dangerously unstable or husks. Few succumbed, with minds strong enough to endure Ascension and enhanced by the process, but a small minority of the Legion did with every intake of neophytes. So the Legion mourned the loss of promise, even as they worked to salvage something from the waste.

 

Redundant biological components were cut away before the Legionaries were encased in modified suits of armour, faces sealed away behind glowering visors and bodies augmented with fearsome weapons. Henceforth they would be the Fractus, commanded like automata by a select few of their living brothers and used to wreak devastation on the foulest battlefields, far from the scrutiny of outsiders. It was a lamentable end for those who had proved themselves more than worthy of being Astartes, only to fall to biological vulnerability. Miserable too, to waste genhanced flesh and bone - the only thing worse would be to discard it all.

 

After further hours of vigil, Haken watched as the initial tests were run, noting the world of difference between how his brothers moved and the motions of the Fractus. Fingers did not flex, and there was none of the fidgeting and shift of weight that every warrior succumbed to at some stage. Here and there were those Haken had monitored through their trials, and it grieved him to see their vitality, their spirit, wrenched from them. But the Primarch will that they use their devices, for the might the Symbios granted them. They had let Haken feel his Lord’s reasoning, at a distance, brushing across his consciousness, and he knew no argument could stand against the judgment of such an intellect. So he would keep this duty as long as he lived and served, counting the cost and standing witness.

[Nomus Sardauk]

Updated it. If Sangi approves, I'll pop this edition in Stories

Adept Maas-Voyek found some things to admire about the Steel Legion, but in other respects they amply displayed the inconstant ways that were rooted in flesh. The same inconsistency that was to be dispelled by the cold rationality of the Cult Mechanicus.

 

They were mercifully free of the sentimentality so many Legions showed when it came to the weapons borne by their veteran and elite personnel. Often their cousins fetishised the sentimental work of their own artificers, scorning the creations of the priesthood. Maas-Voyek had witnessed a certain amount of that during his seventy-two Terran years and twenty days with various Army fleets, before the XVII’s reunion with its master. The subsequent expansion had drawn in hundreds of experienced personnel from the Priesthood, and ever since then Maas-Voyek had made his home on the Lunar-class cruiser Straylight. His quarters were high in one of the ship’s spires, in keeping with his station, with a large viewport taking up one wall. It was sentimental - a flaw that would hopefully discarded as he moved towards true cybernetic communion - but he delighted in the view it granted him of the vessel’s crenellated back and the fleet around it.

 

The Steel Legion fleet was, to a Mechanicum Adept, the finest to sail the stars, except perhaps for the Void Eagles’. They did not allow the creations of the impious to share space with Martian and Jovian vessels, as did the I, VI and VII. All the vessels here, festooned with the circuit filigree of the XVII, had as the foundation of their design, the guiding genius of the Omnissiah. Some part of him, however, could not help noting the divergences in design, the ways in which the Legion had subtly twisted their ships away from the ordained geometry of their Standard Template Constructs towards their own preferences. Maas-Voyek knew that for a fact; by scaffold and void-skimmer, he had near enough traversed the entirety of the vessel’s surface during maintenance and repair operations.

 

Recently added plasma cannons swung experimentally two and a half kilometres away. Their addition had been driven by Lord Nomus, the usual lascannon arrays deemed superfluous in light of the Steel Legion’s prowess with interceptors and fighters. It sat uncomfortably with Maas-Voyek, complicity in what felt like desecration even when one of the Omnissiah’s generals commanded it; even if the weapons themselves conformed entirely to their ancient STC designs.

 

That was the inconsistency laid bare; the Steel Legion paid respect to the Mechanicus while still cleaving to their organic nature. Another facet of this was their peculiar stance on augmetics. The Steel Legion viewed them with a thinly veiled distaste that bordered on the outright offensive to the Adept. They seemed to deliberately overlook the elevated status of their Dreadnought-bound brethren. Maas-Voyek, analysing the data at hand, took it for a lack of reverence, even more baffling given the Legion’s evident closeness to their honoured fallen.

 

And then there were the spaces kept sealed behind blast doors and a plethora of locks, ranging from biometric readers to what seemed to be archaic key-locks. Nothing was said, much less recorded, about went on behind those portals. Requests for information met with denials, accompanied by the Primarch’s seal. No servant of the Omnissiah would be so… well, some might be arrogant enough to question the writ of His most singular creations, but none would be foolish enough to voice their doubts.

 

So Maas-Voyek and his fellows simply had assure themselves that the loyalty of the Primarchs would not permit them to violate their master’s commands. The logic seemed insurmountable - beings wrought so firmly in the creator’s image that they were spoken of by more sentimental beings as His sons - but then precedents existed, hinting otherwise…

 

-----

 

Mechadendrites flexed and whirred, Narthecia whined. The only sounds here were mechanical, aside from the barely audible breathing of servitors. Dozens carried trays of instruments, vials of fluid and armoured plates. The sounds of the living souls here were contained behind muted vox-grilles. Had any living mortal trespassed here, they would have joined the ranks of the grey-skinned cyborgs here, followed by intense scrutiny of what breach had let them in. The breath of the prone bodies was the languid exhalation of the comatose.

 

Three of the Space Marines’ adjacent hierarchies were present in bulk. Techmarines and Apothecaries might have been hard for an outsider to differentiate, as they mingled around the benches and slabs. Considering the delicacy of their work, their movements had a synchronicity to them that verged on the impossible. An observer, unaware of the Steel Legion’s use of implants, might presume private vox channels were being used. None were, all vox channels damped and psychic barriers erected around the chamber by Librarians.

 

The third order stood apart. Their faceplates grimaced, metallic skulls silhouetted by pale blue light. Crozius maces hung in fists or rested, hilts-down, on the floor, hands gently gripping the wings of stylised eagles. The imagery stood out in a Legion whose aesthetic was often deemed sterile by remembrancers, all the more so in their current surroundings. Many an artist or documentarist would have given everything for a chance to record the truth, had they known of it. The Steel Legion, thought soulless by so many, cared very much about the souls of their warriors.

 

Idao Haken ran a fingertip over the grooves of his crozius’ wing. He wasn't fond of the weapon, and usually left it at his belt in favour of his plasma pistol and power sword, but Chaplains understood better than most the importance of symbolism. They themselves were here for exactly that reason, standing sentinel over the work that was done here. Over something that, like the internment of a mortally wounded champion in a dreadnought, was half operation and half ceremony. Unlike an internment, however, there was no awe at the subject’s death-defying resolve and fury, no gladness at seeing a comrade survive to fight again in some form.

 

A corpse lay on each slab in front of him. Breathing, with hearts beating slowly, but a corpse all the same, surrounded by dozens more. Their faces were all youthful in a way rarely seen among the Astartes. A Space Marine’s face almost always hid the truth of his many years, but a certain maturity tended to manifest after a few years. The warriors here had not lived long enough for that, had not survived to raise bolters as full Astartes. This was the cost of the Steel Legion’s most idiosyncratic weapon; a secret shame, and a process which would, after the work here was done, make the dead fearsome weapons in their own right.

 

The Symbios, it was called. A cobweb of wires, snaking into the brain of each Legionary through a socket at the base of the skull, creating something akin to a hive mind. It transferred knowledge, enabled the unnaturally seamless coordination of the Techmarines and Apothecaries here, granted the sons of Nomus cohesion quite unmatched by their cousins in battle, and it had killed these neophytes. The neural burden of the interface simply overwhelmed some minds, rendering the unfortunates either dangerously unstable or husks. Few succumbed, with minds strong enough to endure Ascension and enhanced by the process, but a small minority of the Legion did with every intake of neophytes. So the Legion mourned the loss of promise, even as they worked to salvage something from the waste.

 

Redundant biological components were cut away before the Legionaries were encased in modified suits of armour, faces sealed away behind glowering visors and bodies augmented with fearsome weapons. Henceforth they would be the Fractus, commanded like automata by a select few of their living brothers and used to wreak devastation on the foulest battlefields, far from the scrutiny of outsiders. It was a lamentable end for those who had proved themselves more than worthy of being Astartes, only to fall to biological vulnerability. Miserable too, to waste genhanced flesh and bone - the only thing worse would be to discard it all.

 

After further hours of vigil, Haken watched as the initial tests were run, noting the world of difference between how his brothers moved and the motions of the Fractus. Fingers did not flex, and there was none of the fidgeting and shift of weight that every warrior succumbed to at some stage. Here and there were those Haken had monitored through their trials, and it grieved him to see their vitality, their spirit, wrenched from them. But the Primarch will that they use their devices, for the might the Symbios granted them. They had let Haken feel his Lord’s reasoning, at a distance, brushing across his consciousness, and he knew no argument could stand against the judgment of such an intellect. So he would keep this duty as long as he lived and served, counting the cost and standing witness.

Consider it approved, very well done blunt. :)

Edited March 14, 2017 by SanguiniusReborn

[Doctor Perils]

Okay, I'm not too sure how to make this any longer, but you sometimes need shorter red boxes anyway soooo: (I can't remember the name of their special unit of legionnaires who have survived the death of their squad)
 
 

Praevians of the Steel Legion

 
Many Legions of the Space Marines make use of Battle-Automata, indentured into their service by the Legio Cybernetica – some come to be considered as battle-brothers by the Astartes, especially in those Legions with a strong warrior-spirit or a close relationship with the Mechanicum.
 
However, Battle-Automata – by their very nature – can never be integrated into the XVIIIth Legion’s Collective. As such, the Steel Legion do not feel any kinship with indentured robots, let alone grant them the honour of being considered battle-brothers.
 
This puts the Legion’s Praevians in a singularly complex position: though they are part of the Collective, they are also connected to their Battle-Automata charges. Stimuli from both Astartes minds and Artificial consciousnesses coalesce in the Praevian’s brain, which can make it complex to focus on the immediate necessities.
 
This problem was first identified at the battle of Khalastaer, as the three Praevian-led units of Castellax were misled by Eldar attacks falling in coordination on multiple parts of the Steel Legion’s lines, drawing fire from the Battle-Automata onto the Astartes’ own men. As a result, new Praevians have only ever been promoted from Legionnaires that have lost their entire squads but have partially ostracised themselves from the Collective in order to deal with their loss, in opposition to those who embrace the consciousnesses of the fallen when becoming [unit name]. Edited March 16, 2017 by Lord Thørn

[Nomus Sardauk]

Interesting stuff Thorn, I like how you struck a fascinating dichotomy with the SL's Praevian's having that increased mental workload having to manage both his connection to the Collective and directing the Automata under his charge, good work. :b

[Skalpynock]

The 51^st Echelon

When the Stormborn commanded his legions to strike upon the loyalists during the operation that we will forever remember as the Day of Revelation, he ordered the Steel Legion to tackle the main of the Void Eagles, their fleet the only one able to compete with the Starborn's. Lesser detachments would be assigned to the Drowned, but there remained one formation that remained impossible to ambush: the 5th Fleet, a chapter-sized section of the legion, which had been unaccounted for in the five years before the Insurrection, rumoured to have been destroyed by unknown threats beyond the light of the Astronomicon.

However, Sardauk could not simply assume that these rumours were true, as this would amount to leaving a potential threat in his back. To that end, he ordered the 51st Echelon — a company specialized in intelligence, and speculated to dabble in forgotten technology to better study their enemies — to scour the void beyond the Galaxy, cut out from the wider Collective in a hunt for the Sons of Nothingness. None knows for sure what happened to the 51st Echelon, but the bizarre armour patterns bore by Alavator's raiders upon his return to the Galaxy suggests that they failed in their mission.

[Sigismund229]

I did a piece. Not the piece I intended to do but it's something...

 

Destroyers within the Steel Legion

Within many legions, the destroyer cadre was a unit to whom assignment was a punishment. In this, the Steel Legion were no different from other legions. However, within their ranks assignment to the destroyer cadre bore an added weight.

 

It has long been known that the rad weaponry carried by destroyers will, over time, gradually destroy both the equipment and body of the legionary carrying them. For a legionary of the XVIII^th, the same applies to their implants that connect them to the neural network of the Steel Legion, bond them to the collective. In a legion where, despite their reputation as machine men, brotherhood is held to be the highest human emotion due to the deep connection every legionary has to his brothers, to be cut off from this network and his brothers was a punishment without equal.

 

Worse, the destruction of this link was not sudden. Instead it was gradual, a fading rather than obliterating of this connection, made all the more frustrating for the legionary undergoing it due to his helplessness to stop it. One legionary once likened it to watching a ship slowly vanish across the horizon and being unable to do anything but watch.

 

Many legionaries were killed in action before their weaponry completely nullified their implants. However, those few who did and who made up the backbone of the XVIII^th's destroyers were cold, self-isolating individuals with little to fill the gaping hole their seperation from the collective left.

[simison]

Since Hesh will unlikely be able to contribute, I'm willing to write a second piece. Any preferences? 

[bluntblade]

Perhaps like Drak's Warden, but minus the drawing. Ideally an Apothecary, so we can reference how a group of them can work in concert more effectively than any of their cousins.

[simison]

If I get to it in time, I think I'll indulge in an interaction between Alex and Nomus, perhaps the first time they met.

 

Also, it's one week until the new monthly challenge. Which legion do people think should be next?

[Talonair]

Perhaps the Drowned?

[Grifftofer]

I think I'd personally like to see more about the Warbringers, Dune Serpents or Void Eagles. I think we did have a list of suggestions for who should be covered first in the General Discussion thread. So that might make a good starting point.

[Nomus Sardauk]

If I get to it in time, I think I'll indulge in an interaction between Alex and Nomus, perhaps the first time they met.

 

Also, it's one week until the new monthly challenge. Which legion do people think should be next?

I like the sound of that, I had actually thought about Nomus's relationship with Alex and believe they'd have a good friendship, based both on the relationship of the tarot cards they represent (Nomus/Justice and Alex/The Empress) and their personalities, maybe not a close one with Nomus's social awkwardness but he'd respect Alex greatly given they share a lot of views on things.

Both use their respective talents to co-ordinate their forces with uncanny precision, adaptibility and timing, both wish the Primarchs weren't such a fractious lot and lament the bad blood and infighting between them, both believe the Astartes can and should learn to be more than mere weapons, both work towards improving the lives of the common man.

 

Also for your convenience, here's a description of Justice's relationship with The Empress that might help inform your writing:

The Empress: A perfect fit for each other. Brings out the appreciation of balance and beauty in both, and in very practical manner. Also brings out the reconciling, diplomatic side of the Empress, and smoothes out the critical harshness that can be a part of Justice. (Venus/Libra [Venus in Rulership])

[TheBlindPrimarch]

If I get to it in time, I think I'll indulge in an interaction between Alex and Nomus, perhaps the first time they met.

 

Also, it's one week until the new monthly challenge. Which legion do people think should be next?

 

Not saying you shouldn't do this but I've practically finished writing an interaction between Nomus and Alex, though mine isn't of their first meeting.

[simison]

 

If I get to it in time, I think I'll indulge in an interaction between Alex and Nomus, perhaps the first time they met.

 

Also, it's one week until the new monthly challenge. Which legion do people think should be next?

 

Not saying you shouldn't do this but I've practically finished writing an interaction between Nomus and Alex, though mine isn't of their first meeting.

 

 

Ah, that's right, you mentioned that idea. Didn't realize you went through with it. In which case, I'll hold off until that's done and then maybe create a companion piece.

 

Thanks for the notes, San. Looks like there's one Primarch among the Suzerainty who gets along with Alex. *adds another tragic, broken friendship to the Insurrection*

 

 

I think I'd personally like to see more about the Warbringers, Dune Serpents or Void Eagles. I think we did have a list of suggestions for who should be covered first in the General Discussion thread. So that might make a good starting point.

 

There was a general list. It was agreed upon that we should start with the least developed Legions. Still, there were several to pick from.

 

April Fluff Challenge

 

Talonair/Blind - The Drowned

 

Grifft - Warbringers/Dune Serpents/Void Eagles

Edited March 24, 2017 by simison

[Skalpynock]

Let this be known: laptops with touchscreens, and homes without internet access beyond phone wifi, are a boon to my drawing experience.

 

Expect Æterna vet artwork tomorrow.

[Nomus Sardauk]

Let this be known: laptops with touchscreens, and homes without internet access beyond phone wifi, are a boon to my drawing experience.

 

Expect Æterna vet artwork tomorrow.

http://i1.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/212/587/2667328774161692252111104.gif

[TheBlindPrimarch]

My vote for next month is the Drowned