Warmasters Triumvirate XXI

Rolled 19 (1d21)

Rolled 16 (1d21)

Alright let's do this

>Ussaran Liberators
You see Ivan, when you have Rokuten write for your legion you never worry about lack of men because of sheer number of guard regiments.

Also I wanted to repeat a question:

I see bits and pieces of endearing writefaggotry around the threads. Any chance we can gather those in the docs?

But first, I must conquer the galaxy in Stellaris.

Everyone should gather stuff relating to their legion in their own doc.

I gather all my writefagging in my doc. That's how I reached 21 pages. Except the Poker Night one, that was random and shitty

>Wangdue Kossor
A Stovokor-born Techmarine of the Dusk Phantom's 7th chapter, Wangdue Kossor is well know throughout his chapter, but not simply for his skill with machines. Wangdue's distaste for staying at the side-lines whilst others charge into the fray has lead to him taking to the field in a Proteus pattern Land Raider, using the venerable vehicle and his skill at commanding it, to provide more for his brothers than simple repair work. Prior to the Brotherwar he often joked that he should have been born on Babylon V and become a member of the Loxodontii.

When the Brotherwar began Wangdue's recklessness reaped great rewards. It was not unusual to see his Land Raider crashing through enemy lines, crushing the foe beneath its treads and blowing up anything and everything it could.

Wangdue managed (somehow) to survive both the Brotherwar and Mot's Eastern Crusade, though he had to replace his Land Raider a few times. This act often led to him implementing the same "improvements" he'd made to the previous model. Most of these were innocent enough, merely making it easier to pilot the Land Raider with fewer people, but some (especially those he implemented after the start of the Brotherwar) would certainly have been considered tech heresy by some of the AdMech's more conservative member, had they ever found out.

On the table I reckon he'd be an upgrade for Proteus Land Raiders, increasing their stats and giving them the ability to self repair, but you can obviously only give one Proteus that upgrade if you have multiple.

"The Pale Hounds - Captain Kalan Har, the Iron Scar"

Captain Kalan Har of the tenth company of the eighth chapter of the Pale Hounds legion is a renown warrior that has survived since the days before the rediscovery of their primarch and whose deeds ring far into the Great Brotherwar. Starting his career as a simple line-soldier, he quickly distinguished himself from his battle brothers by being both a remarkable bike rider and accurate shooter, making him a favourite pick for operations behind enemy lines. This was much to his own chagrin though, as he much preferred to join the legion’s trademark lightning attacks that they organised to finish off an enemy. He did not ignore the call of duty, though, and continued to serve with devotion and skill both as covert ops and frontline soldier.

He earned himself the nickname “Iron Scar” as he led a furious mechanised battle against an Orkish warband, the two forces slashing and shooting from bikes and transports at eachother. In one such instance, a crude choppa slashed right across Kalan’s face down to his collarbone, the blade splintering as it scraped over the ceramite helmet and getting stuck in his power armour. Nervetheless the scrappy weapon cut his skin and bones. He continued to fight, his sight blurry from his own blood and his vitals dropping, and wouldn’t allow an Apothecary to mend him until he had slaughtered but the last Greenskin in sight. As there were no suitable prosthetics nearby, the Apothecary picked up the choppa, picked it apart and used the least soiled bits to bolt Kalan’s face together while treating the rest of the wound. Kalan himself would not allow the appalling medical aid to be replaced by a more fitting metallic strip, instead keeping the gnarly reminder how life and death are but a walk across the razor’s edge. It was at this battle that he was promoted to captain, as well, making his facial cover as much a scar as well as a badge of status.”

Rolled 16 (1d21)

I like him. Going to definitely keep him around.

Let's see...

Rolled 15 (1d21)

Already a Pale Hounds out there, so let's see if we can't get an untouched legion...
Also will post it tomorrow some time.

Rolled 20 (1d21)

Damn. Let's try that again, shall we?

Rolled 13 (1d21)

Let's try that one more time...

People just keep rolling Forge Lords, damn. Hashut favors us, clearly.

Yippie I get fanfiction

>tfw you don't have three characters written by other people

I like this guy. With a name like that I imagine him having a pretty successful indie rap career.

Glad you like him

Rolled 17 (1d20)

Rerolling I suppose.

Rolled 8 (1d20)

And again...

Rolled 16 (1d21)

Ah fuck, wrong die.

Rolled 9 (1d21)

Goddammit.

Bump

Poisoning the brotherhood
Ashur waited, his fingers impatiently fidgeting over the back of his other hand clenched to a fist. His conscience still battled against his convictions, especially now that the Imperium faced such turmoil. Although quite some years had passed since the fateful injury of their beloved Emperor, the Astartes still hadn’t come to resolve their discord, and barely a year ago the Sigillite resigned from his position as the Emperor’s steward, leaving the politics in the hands of mortals which only led to even more dissenting voices.
And amidst all these events, Ashur’s beloved brother Pacha still employed the tools of the warp that the Emperor had forbidden them all from utilising. It had longsince been an issue for the Lord of Bronze and Bone, however because of his love for the primarch of the famed Golden Mountains, Ashur tried to be tolerant. However to see them act in spite of their comatose father was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the primarch of the Loxodontii. Something had to be done! And so, he had called upon his esteemed brother Marduk, primarch of the Leviathan Host and accomplished Warmaster of the Triumvirate, to discuss exactly the steps of what actions to take.
Finally, the doors to his study opened. Knowing already who would enter, Ashur only gestured the arrival to enter. “Thank you a thousand-thousand times for answering my call, Marduk!”, he exclaimed, turning around and looking the Warmaster straight into the eyes. He, in turn, looked at Ashur with a mixture of brotherly love and worry when he replied: “How could I not? Your call sounded so urgent, and luckily, our fleets were already on converging paths. Now, about your appeal...”
[cont.]

“Yes, yes, you are right”, interrupted Ashur, nervously scratching the back of his neck, “we should find a conclusion to Pacha’s impudence.”
“He only uses the resources at his disposal, brother”, did Marduk retort, “and you know my personal stance on this. Why would I order to punish a precious ally for employing but the tools at his disposal as he does his outmost to help preserve our father’s great making?”
The reprimand stung Ashur, for it was exactly how he felt. Pacha was fighting and struggling to preserve the Imperium, which in turn saved countless civilians. And yet, Ashur was convinced that Pacha must be strong enough without witchery at his side, that the Earthquake surely must be capable enough to be as a mountain in the storm without forbidden arts.
“It is exactly now that I believe we must be truer to our father’s ideals than ever before, Warmaster. The Imperium is on the brink of anarchy – Of chaos! Now where all the good we created seems to fall apart, we must see to it that His decree is not besmirched. Now that He’s… That He...”
The words failed Ashur, and much to both their surprises did tears roll down his face into his beard. Marduk stood there, puzzled, but finally an understanding smile curled his lips. “It is alright, Ashur. We all feel the same”, he paused, weighing his words, then continued, “and yet I am not fully convinced. What exactly do you mean I should do? I cannot send troops to subdue the Mountains, we are stretched thin as we already are.”
“No! Not fighting! Just… An emissary, maybe? I don’t know… Send somebody to whom he will listen! Who knows how to show they’re serious but stay their hand, and if it comes to the worst who will know how to make it be done quickly and with as little losses as possible. I don’t want to hurt Pacha but he needs to be reminded where his duty lies!”

Marduk listened to Ashur’s words, quietly processing them. He knew just the man for the job. “I will send Isehko. I know for a fact that Pacha highly regards him, and we both know the Smoke Stalkers are very sensitive to their environment. I’m sure they can handle it and apply just about enough pressure that the Mountains will see reason.”
“Thank you! Oh, thank you a thousand, THOUSAND times, Warmaster!”, replied Ashur in joy, which only made Marduk smile all the brighter. “We are sworn to uphold the Imperial Truth, aren’t we?”, he chuckled, full well knowing that Ashur and his own legion were not particularly well off on that front, “I will send an astropathical message to the Stalkers right away. You better prepare for your next campaign, brother.”
“You are right… Thank you again, Marduk. I knew I could count on you”, Ashur sighed. With a courteous salute of the Imperial Eagle did the brothers say their farewells, and Marduk left the study. Invisible to the primarch of the Loxodontii was the devilish expression on the Warmaster’s face. He couldn’t have wished for a better chance to weaken their enemies than this! Unbeknownst to many of the other legions was Marduk heavily invested in delivering the killing blow to the Imperium of Man and the False Emperor. He was not yet ready, the time was not yet perfect, but soon it would be, and to cripple a loyalist legion like the Golden Mountains would be another turn of the clockwork’s gears towards the final hour.
Marduk eventually reached the astropath. “Relay a message for me as best you can, my good servant”, did he charmingly order, “I have a punishment to delegate.”

And after feedback from others, this is the Golden Mountain Legion's symbol! On psyker marine pauldrons, it's on purple instead of black.

Fantastic man. Great to see it all coming together.
1 question though, I thought the Loxis were the Arch traitors and made a move to turn Marduk?

Fuck that's cool. Really good symbol my man.

A: Cool logo.

B: ffffffffffuuuuuuuckimlazyanditstimetowritetheoneirolledalreadygoddamnit.

C: He's from your Legion.

D: Tulum Capal, the first Coresinger.

Tulum, like many of his brethren, displayed psyker abilities even before he joined the Second Legion. He learned the culinary arts, and how to call plant life from barren ground. None could prepare such spicy cuisine as this young Marine, and his blisteringly caustic sauces livened the palates of all who campaigned with him. Wherever his Company traveled, there Tulum was, laying waste to his foes with a Power Sword so large as to more closely resemble a meat cleaver rather than an Astartes' typical instrument of death.

And yet, for all this, for all the camaraderie and respect Tulum earned within his Legion, for all his skill... Something was missing. His dreams were wild and untamed, and Tulum's slumbering mind conjured apparitions of fire and terror. His mind whirled with ceaseless grinding and churning of a vast -thing- beyond his comprehension. The Navigators aboard his Battle-Barge feared the worst, for Tulum's description of his dreams rang all too familiar to the warp-seers.

Eventually, the burning phantasms manifested even before Tulum's waking eyes. His plant-song left him, and everything he coaxed from the ground turned to ash and dust. The fire-things began to attack the Legion, rather than wander aimlessly. Fearing for his comrades lives, Tulum struck back like a madman, driving his demons back into the darkness and shattering his sword. He exiled himself upon a nameless world. It seemed right.

Tulum spent days, weeks, months in silent meditation. The creatures came and went. In his dreams, a fire grew larger and larger, swelling to the size of worlds. It beckoned him. Ceaselessly. At last, Tulum could take no more. If the fire heralded his death then so be it. Better to have peace than this torment. What was dream? What was real? All Tulum knew, all he saw, was fire now.

>cont

In time, the Company returned to that world. Their consciences would not let them rest until they knew Tulum's fate, until they bore his armor back to the Legion to do him honors in the way of their kind. When they arrived, they found a charred forest surrounding a volcanic crater, and all despaired.

As the Marines pushed into the blasted land, the remnant trunks around them began to glisten and shimmer, burned hard and glossy black like obsidian stone. They grew afraid.

In the center of the forest, there stood Tulum. There stood his armor, glowing red-hot. There stood the volcano's hardened black blood. All were one and the same. Tulum smiled at his brothers, so long apart. He said nothing, but gifted them his Power Sword, restored large as ever it had been but reforged with adamantium and stone, twisted and blended together so smoothly than one could hardly tell where the threads of metal and rock began and ended. It crackled with psychic power, and with the slightest motion a hot wind fanned the crater as if to stir the mountain once more.

It smelled of spices.

He gifted the Legion his sword, sung from the planet's very heart and imbued with the power of Tulum's own. And when the sword left his coal-dark hands, Tulum vanished in a puff of smoke and embers. Though their best Librarians, Navigators and Astropaths sought in vain for Tulum's whereabouts, to know if he crumbled into dust or merely continued his journey, the truth forever eluded them.

But the Core-Sung Blade lived on, heir to that mysterious fire. Only a truly mighty warrior of the Second Legion could wield such a hefty device. And only those who saw flames dancing behind their eyes at night could touch it and not be rendered unto ash, though ash they would always become in time unless an enemy claimed their life's blood firs.

So it would always be, through all the ages of the Imperium, when the Blade called forth a new warrior to rekindle its fire.

Coresinger.

Love it, but it seems like you missed a paragraph or two in between posts?

Did I?

I don't think so, but I did cut and paste the second half when it ran past the character limit. If I dropped some lines, they're gone now, lol.

It's meant to be ambiguous what exactly happens in the time gap between Tulum going into exile and the Company returning. I didn't want to pin down anything too exactly, so you'd have the most freedom to fit it into your main story if you so chose.

fuck
how does one roll a dice

...

++++ Primarch of the XI Legion's Address at Nikaea ++++

>Kinnévail is garbed in heavy robes of thick and rough hides contrary to his previously vain nature. A thick, fur lined hood conceals his face, billowing sleeves covering his hands and arms. He stands from his seat at the conclave, his motions seemingly stiffer, more measured. He seems smaller than his brethren in power armour, but his loping movements still bear no small measure of the same deadly grace he had before the fateful Xenocide. He stops at the head of the council, regarding his family and comrades underneath his hood. He offers a salute to his father, a balled fist set to his chest, revealing a nearly skeletal hand wrapped in bandages scrawled with gilded scripture. He folds up his sleeves, gingerly, and lifts his hood. His unkempt mane of fair hair is shockingly absent, replaced by further inscribed passages binding his skin, evidently mottled and warped if the skin left bare about his stormy eyes is any indication. Encasing his mouth and jaw is an Astartes Rebreather, fashioned into a snarling maw, clearly possessing speaker modifications to amplify his potent voice and act as an independant sonic weapon. When he speaks, his voice seems overly smooth, his bombastic and hearty tones replaced with nearly robotic melody set to his ussual rhythmic cadence and brogue.

"Sorcery. That is what brings us to this assembly. Sorcery and the "sin" of our brother's and sons' births, to be born with powers beyond comprehension. Some of you regard these as criminal, crimes of which even I have been accused. However, I care not for rumour and suspicion of foul deeds, for you are my blood and I refuse to sow discontent without substance. Though the truth is a song I can sing. I can tell thee of what I know, of what I have seen, and suffered. I have been baptised twice, once by the water of melted mountain snow, once by roaring, impossible flame."

(CONT)

"Flame that robbed my of my closest comrades, brothers born of blonds closer than that of blood. A flame that robbed me of my very flesh. An eldritch and harrowing conflagration wherein I witnessed things not of this or any world, a maddening scape of violent impossibility, clawing away the prison of logic and sanity. I have faced things of this nature in my home, shrouded in mysticism. These creatures from beyond would seek out the weak willed and tempt them with false bargains and dark pacts. To them in their multitudes in the flames flowering from the flames of the XV's Librarium in its entirety filled with me with such horror and inexplicable awe that I cannot escape that fateful moment in my moments of solitude. It is impossible to describe to you that eternity in flame, however..."

>Kincaid shrugs off his robes, revealing his body wreathed in the same illustrated wrapping. With a deft motion he tears the bandages off, casting them into the air for a brief, shocking moment. He loosens his mask, letting fall to the dias before him with a resounding ring. "...my wretched form will suffice for illustration." His voice is withered and cracked, rasping and deeper than before. It is unimaginable that he ever was able to sing songs to touch the heart of the Emperor. He stands before the assembly, his brothers, father, and comrades, in his bareness. His form is hideous, his skin mottled and contorted in horrific in ways, the burns displaying a shocking array of color and sickly shade, as if a rainbow where trapped underneath his twisted skin and poisoned him from within. Some parts of his body were riddled with swelling pox and boils, or splits in his skin and exposed musculature that bled freely incessantly. Some parts of his skin twisted and knotted in grotesque ways, seemingly having grown toothy protrusions or thin, intricate lattices of vein and skin, appearing as nonsensical panes of stained glass.

(CONT)

>Other patches of skin where completely translucent and quivered to an unknowable beat, writhing with a will of their own. His face was nearly barren of skin, his cheeks burned away, exposing his charred teeth in a horrid mortis grin. His nose was similarly malformed, the tip torn away, exposing his nostrils. He was as a rotting corpse of a mutant of legendary proportions. Worse still, where his tattoos, once a mark of pride and recognition. Tales, of his own making and those he had collected from across the galaxy, musical composition, portraits of those dear to him, many lost to the Dusk Phantom's Librarium, murals of accomplishments and the climaxes of legends, where all either burned away or otherwise deformed into mockeries of their once beautiful state. It was as if his very history, every inch of his being to his very core, had been corrupted by those psychic flames, twisted into a hideous shadow of themselves, nearly past the point of recognition. He spread his arms,

"This, I show you, for there is no song nor verse nor string of words that describe this atrocity, of what transipired in that astral hell of the Halo Stars. Hundreds of men consumed by their own flaming souls, their power unshackled from their limited physical forms and hungry to burn the very cosmos. Weave your accusations and indignance and politicking amongst this court, but I have shown you the truth of this magic left unchecked. I will not condemn the Librarium of the Phantoms as criminals and mutants, but this is a power that cannot continue to exist unchecked. For the sake of the Legions, for the sake of the Imperium, we cannot simply forgive the threat of Psykers."

(CONT)

(Seems like a good idea. I'll do mine)

++++ Partial Transcript of the Vth Legion's Address at Nikea. Inquisitorial Eyes Only. Potential for Heretical Inspiration: Extremis. ++++

The Fifth Legion's Primarch speech was anticipated with great trepidation among the gathered onlookers. Of all the Legions none were so deeply involved with the Immaterium, and whatever the Emperor's decision might be it would likely bear down upon the Steel Souls most heavily of all. Yet the council was surprised to see Emil approach them garbed in simple robes of shimmering blue, trimmed in bronze and purple in emulation of his Legion's heraldry. He came not as a warrior, not with fire in his eyes and fury in his belly. His voice did not ring unto the rafters with bellowing psychic shockwaves.

Instead Emil spoke as a storyteller, as he might to a fireside gathering, rather than to the most powerful people in the Imperium sitting in conclave that might change the course of Galactic history. His tall, lanky frame did not stand bolt upright with military precision to dominate the room, but rather leaned inward as if to invite the audience to share a private remark with a trusted friend. Passion flowed from Emil's every pore, tempered with a certain precise manner of speech rarely heard from the Primarch in previous public events.

It was hard to tell where manipulation and honesty intertwined. Or if it was either one at all.

“On every world with oceans, on every planet where men find food and life upon the waves, there are stories. Tales of what might lie beneath the churning seas, and what terror emerges to consume the unwary. Beasts and monsters. It is a constant among human lands. Even where there are no waters, there are legends of that which dwells where men cannot see. Lessons for children and elders alike, told to reinforce the importance of caution and vigilance against the unknown.”

>cont.

“I hear the arguments put forth by this council which preach that we must cease all dealings with the Warp. I understand the fear, the reflexive desire to pull our hands away like a child who places his hand on a hot stove. Who better than I and my Legion to know it? To feel it? To hear that distant crash of unnatural storm and illogical tide in the far reaches of the world beyond? Recklessly using the Warp for whatever ends we please is as treacherous as thinking to control an ocean with your hands alone. I freely tell you this. It can only end in disaster and death, as surely as I stand before you today. Therefore I stand in full agreement with those who seek a ban on sorcery. Let no man mistake my position!”

“Yet you cannot run from the sea. Walk far enough and you inevitably come to a shore. How much more true is this for the vacuum of space which encompasses all worlds? Without water we all die of thirst, powerless and in unspeakable agony. Unless some improbable relic, some eldritch artifact, some device crafted by alien mind lets us master the lightspeed barrier without resorting to Warp travel... we cannot shun those endless waters of the Immaterium. Without the Warp, the Imperium will wither and die just as surely as that man lost in a desert.”

“So we must not run from the challenge. And even more importantly we must not fear it. Ancient man learned to build rafts to carry him across still ponds, knowing if he tipped over he would surely drown. He built boats of wood to cross large lakes and inland seas. Vessels of iron and steel took those explorers across the harshest storm belts and wildest currents. Treacherous yes. And untold thousands have died through their own failings or simple whims of chance. Yet we achieved naval mastery through the power of the human will in its purest form. And we must do so again for the black sea which surrounds us all.”

>cont.

>the Deep Hands.
is their symbol a hand up goatse?

What a shitty name man.

“I say to you all, let myself and my Legion be your lighthouses. Your guides, your mentors, your lifeguards, your port in a storm. We stand with one foot in that ocean, yet we do not go forth unprotected. The Steel Souls have merged flesh and metal, tempered our minds and learned how to ride the currents. Let us teach you and your Librarians all that we have learned through trial and error, pain and experimentation, so that you need not repeat our blunders but draw power from our successes.”

“It is dark water beyond the veil. But we can light it if only we dare. And in truth, noble lords, honored assembly. In truth, Father, Emperor who sees as I see and knows what I know. In truth, the Steel Souls cannot abide by any doctrine that denies all use of psyker potential. It would be easier for us to learn to live without our hearts or our lungs than to sever that piece of what makes us who we are. It would be easier for us to die.”

"Judge us as you will, but do so honestly and without cowardice. That is all I ask of this august body."

++++ Inquisitorial Addendum: Records beyond this point deleted by Imperial order, origin unknown. Speculation: It is likely that individual members of the council cross-examined Primarch Emil's testimony at length, based on inferences from other records. What was said cannot be accurately determined at this time. Further inquiry into the matter will be grounds for immediate execution. ++++

"The Machine Cult of Mars does not let the arcane machinations of the Dark Age to simply roam free, and they abhor atrocities of technology too dangerous to let exist. They safeguard the cosmos from power left unchecked. Why would we simply excuse the dangers of Psykers, then, when they pose a threat to humanity? A threat possibly greater than that of the machines that the Mechanicus secrets away? Brothers, Father, I do not say these words with ease, and not simply due to the ravages of my body, but we must constrict the freedoms of these Psykers. They tempt powers we do not understand, and may never fully grasp, for they are the Beyond. I would not bet any of your lives on the will of your Librarians after what occurred with the Rangdan, and for you to allow such a gamble is an affront to each of us. It pains me to propose a sentence of slavery by any other word, but what occurred during the Xenocides musnt again. To this end I propose the most disciplined amongst your warriors, most faithful and steadfast to this cause to which we were born to see fulfilled, be instated as Wardens to guard the Psykers amongst your sons and forbid the Librarians from the using their witchery, dissolving the Librarium."

>Kincaid's guard approaches their liege, and begins to dutifully redress his bandages, an apothecary tending to his raw wounds

"There can be no other way if we are to succeed in our divine task, and I will not stand idly and risk the future on such dangerous weapons. For left unchecked, the future will be filled with naught but impossible flame."

Fin. Thoughts?

Nice!!

Jesus, that was great. I really need to think on what Lambach would say here. But compared to the how you made Kincaid and Emil sound I'll make my guy seem like a moron haha.

Same here.

You bastard. I love it. I love what he's ignoring and what he's not seeing. I'm thinking Gyahdred isn't there and sends a few representatives, but after the disaster, he shuts it down and does intensive research into control. Gyahdred already did a personal Nikea and has some new data. Anyways, excellent.

The Loxodontii are the Arch-Traitors, but they completely circumvent their primarch Ashur in the process. The Stargazer called Barabash is our Erebus and instead of pulling his own primarch into his schemes is exploiting the fact that Ashur leaves most of his legion to themselves, thus making him more or less oblivious to their going-ons. I have added the moment when Barabasch and Marduk come into contact into the Loxodontii lore doc under the chapter "Whispers to Screams".

Delicious

Equally palatable

Ahh ok. Sorry, I haven't read everyones documents since we did those character views.
Makes perfect sense though.
Worth adding that meeting to the timeline table?

Good stuff both of you! I love the duality of these two pieces.

Just sink your teeth into it! Lambach's speech is going to be interesting.

Might be fun to see what Linares has to say on the matter.

Done and done

Linares walked into the room. His towering figure advancing slowly, directly to his seat. Accompanied by his equery and chief librarian. The group waited patiently for the Primarchs and the Emperor himself to enter the domed room where the reunion was to be held. Some representatives were already there, speaking and greeting each other. Linares asked one of his servants to bring something to drink, obviously beer, and relaxed his posture. Just when the servant returned, the Primarchs entered the room. Beer in hand, the Silver Slayer sheathed, carried only for ceremonial purposes, and Power Armor properly polished and brightened, the Lord of Ale greeted each one of his brothers. After some wait, the Emperor of Mankind appeared directly in front of his throne, absolutely unseen. After the initial greetings, the argument started. Linares waited patiently for his brothers to speak, with a look of mixed concern and hope in his face. When they were done, asked for permission to speak. It was given, and so did he spoke:

«Fellow Brothers. Father, it has been a long time. Envoys, it's a shame I don't have the pleasure to see your Masters, and Brothers of mine. First of all, let me put away this holy drink»

And left the beer bottle in his seat, guarded by his equery, who didn't doubt to take a sip or two of it.

«Alright. As everybody here, I'm here to listen, and to be listened. I have left important issues behind, to attend this reunion, so I hope this speech helps, although I doubt it. I could be easily in the last position of the row when talking about psychic powers and their uses, and about psykers themselves. Mine is a well-known weakness. I can hardly stand up when Lambach, for example, sends me a psychic message. Or even when a librarian casts a spell nearby. I'm weak against those. That could make my opinion the last one, but, maybe, it could make it the first one, too.»

«Kincaid's story has raised concern in me. Emil's metaphors were accurate. I have my own opinion, tho. I have seen librarians casting spells that brought down entire ork gargants. I have seen how a librarian saved the life of one of my soldiers, healing him while the Apothecary was still on the way. The very message that told me to come was sent by a powerful psyker, the message itself crossed nearly the whole galaxy in a mere instant. I don't want to lie, but for me, it's terrifying. With only a thought, gigantic constructs that would have only fallen to a massive concentration of firepower have been utterly destroyed. I could be dead now because of a psychic attack, and still, I see them necessary. I won't reiterate what Emil said. Psykers are like a plasma gun. If you know how to use it, is deadly. But if you use it without experience, or you have bad luck, it will destroy you. Psykers are like that. Deadly or useful, or both, when properly trained, and dangerous to themselves and their comrades if untrained. We have to look for psykers, find them, and train them. Put them at our side. If we let them wander aimlessly, they will become dangerous. My librarius is already doing it. And we are succeeding. We find the psykers and train them. We do our job. Because it's what has to be done. Just killing or imprisonning them is not an option. This is not a tyranny.»

And took a breath

«I am no poet, but I know how to say what has to be said. I am no psyker, but I know the warp and it's perils. And using it in our favor is worthy enough to try. I have nothing more to say.»

And sitted down, took his bottle of beer, and found out that it was empty looked at both his equery and chief librarian, and listened to what his Father had to say.

We all know how Nikea ended.

Poor Writing Skills Mode: Activated

These are the champion(s) for the Chosen of Hecate

>The Brothers Three

During the crusade, three legionnaires stood together against the odds. Serving with distinction throughout countless campaigns and operations; becoming champions of their legion in their own right. Each brother complemented the others’ weaknesses, allowing their own strengths to shine. However, this reliance on each other was to be their downfall. On the death world of Túyet-Vong, the brothers’ Company warred against the Eldar exodites, pushing forward in a flurry of victories.
Unbeknownst to them, the company was slowly lured further and further into the jungles; the xenos noose growing ever tighter as the Eldar manipulated incoming vox-orders, cut off supply-lines, and wore down the dogged legionnaires.
The company’s defeat was not a glorious last stand. It was not a defiant cry to the stars as their deaths were paid dearly in xenos blood. The delayed reinforcements found bodies scattered throughout the jungles. Their corpses mutilated and hanging from trees; and the Brothers Three were nowhere near each other. Each one was lured away only to be cut down under an alien and uncaring sky. By some twist of fate, however. The Brothers Three were found barely grasping to life. Immediately, they were interred into Contemptor dreadnoughts. Upon reawakening, the brothers requested that they always be deployed together, never apart. It was said amongst the other Chosen that the Brothers never shared what happened during the campaign on Túyet-Vong, only mentioning it as a dire warning to their legionnaire brethren. Lest they fall to pride and lose their brothers.

>Eusebias

The eldest of the brothers three, Eusebias was amongst those to find his lost Primarch. Originating from Terra, the veteran legionnaire has followed his Primarch across the galaxy, and still serves his lord even in death. His dreadnought body is covered in medals and commendations from Lambach himself. Eusebias acts as the wise counsel for his two brothers, tempering Seraphim’s fervour and giving sage advice to Kyros. In battle, he wields a Kheres-pattern autocannon to deadly effect, with his combat arm underslung with twin heavy bolters. Cyclone missile launchers sit atop his back as ward against enemies from above. Since his internment into a dreadnought, Eusebias has provided staunch overwatch for his brothers on countless campaigns.

>Kyros

The natural leader of the trio, Kyros is a firm and decisive leader. Always commanding from the front with his brothers at his sides. Kyros was always the mediator between Eusebias and Seraphium, guiding them through battle and leading them to glory. Kyros’ dreadnought body is undecorated, with only the helmet being painted a stark black. Questions have arisen surrounding this peculiar adornment. Many believe it is a sign of Kyros’ remorse. Others believe it a symbol of his burning vengeance against the enemies of the Imperium. Nevertheless, the sight of Kyros on the battlefield is sight to behold. Eye-visors glowing from the black helm gazing across the battlefield as the dreadnought’s Volkite Culverin and his clawed combat fist bring ruin to those who dare oppose him.

>Seraphium

A raging titan of metal and flame. Even before his internment, Seraphium was known throughout the VIIIth legion for his brutal and vicious nature against his enemies. His headstrong nature was always tempered by the calm temperament of Eusebias and the level leadership of Kyros. This very nature was his doom upon Túyet-Vong, as with none of his brothers to guide him, he was led astray by his own determination to bring death to his enemies. He was brought low by a simple slice to the neck, left to lay there on the jungle floor to slowly die and writhe in agony as his fury overtook him.
Upon internment, Seraphium has grown ever more violent. His multi-melta is covered barrel-to-arm in kill-tallies, and his combat fist is equipped with a chainsword. The dreadnought body itself is scarred and pitted from battle. Burns streak across both arms and bullet holes rake across the chassis. Truly, Seraphium is death incarnate.

>Author’s Note:
Eusebias – (meaning: Venerable)
Kyros – (meaning: Lordly)
Seraphium – (meaning: To burn)

I was looking up the goddess Hecate on Wikipedia, and I saw that she’s often portrayed as a triumvirate of the same entity. So the three brothers were loosely inspired by a portrayal of Hecate’s triple facet being the maiden, the mother and the crone by modern-day Wiccans (or something like that, anyway)

So, how exactly do the Separatists sort out their warp travel problem? Do they actually use the Pharos device? If so, who finds it? If not, what do they use, and what happens to the Pharos?

I know that the pharos device is a warp beacon, but can you tell me about the context in which it is found?

I was expecting great things and you did not disappoint mate. Fantastic character.
And yeah the triple heads thing was the way I was going to go if the Chosen had stayed Loyalists like originally planned. Splitting into 3 Chapters like the Fists in second founding.
Thanks a lot for that.

Thanks! I'm glad you liked it. And I love to hear Lambach's defense of himself and others, since I haven't heard his voice yet, and I would like to write about Kinnévail's interactions with his brothers, especially ones that are/were dear to him

I'm very glad you like it, especially since the address in no small part involving your legion. As curiosity, what is he blind of? It may be completely coincidental and I've simply internalized some of his characterization for the sake of this project.

Thinking about writing a piece about Ashur, Lambach, and Kincaid chilling out after battle shootin' the shit and being buds.

I like that the two speeches were mirror opposites, and foreshadowed where the Primarchs were going to end up.

Ashur can't stand Lambach though.
The 2 want to be palz but they just grate on each other.

I just finished up work for the night. Will try erote up Lambachs say at Nikea tomorrow morning. I also need to stop being lazy and finish Tijo's Candle in the Wind story

Nice

Also, the big take from this is address is Kinnévail's proposition of "Wardens" which will act as our AU Chaplains, until Kincaid goes full Westboro which then he will convert some Wardens into Chaplains

Wardens would have more in common with Imperial Army/Guard Disciplinarians/Commisars than traditional Chaplains.

I think that makes Kincaid's immolation that much more important, since he may not be super popular amongst ALL his brothers, but he brought people together, even if it was having them find that they dislike him equally. When he was burned he began to regress, and those bonds of fellowship between his friends and critics began to unwind

From the wiki:
The Pharos is a pre-Imperial piece of Xenos bio-technology that is able to harness empathy to aid in Warp travel. Used to navigate the Warp much like the Astronomican, except while the former acted as a "lighthouse" in the Warp the latter was a "lantern". The Pharos allowed the user to find or even teleport to a location they either consciously or subconsciously desired.

Pharos was discovered on Sotha by Dantioch during the Horus Heresy and used by Roboute Guilliman as a beacon to attract scattered loyalist forces to his new empire, Imperium Secundus. The Pharos became the subject of battle when the Night Lords under Krukesh discovered the nature of the device and became determined to claim it in order to find the Nightfall and Konrad Curze. In the ensuing Battle of Sotha, Dantioch overloaded the Device to defeat the traitors and its engines fell silent for the first time. Unknown to all involved, this act served to alert the Tyranids to our Galaxy.

After the Heresy, Guilliman ordered the Pharos destroyed - removing thousands of tonnes of xenos machinery from the mountain and filling its tunnels with millions of tonnes of ferrocrete. The primarch appointed Oberdeii as Warden of the Pharos and Captain of the Aegida Company, sworn to protect Sotha from whatever secrets had been buried in the Pharos. This duty passed to the Scythes of the Emperor after the Third Founding.

It's not as if the Astronomicon stops existing all of a sudden. Sun's shining, anyone can use it to navigate. Loyalists and Seps alike.

Why did he want it destroyed?

Will work on Linares and Kincaid relationship. They could be nice friends, but not that nice when he turns towards idolatry and fanatism.

Perhaps. They might try to find a way become more independant.

Probably because you could use the Pharos to teleport. Literally teleport. Plus it's xenotech.

The Emperor's Death and his Immoliation ruins his relationships in general

Nice. Very nice. It makes a lot of sense to me.

>Ensi Kiddu Namraru
Ensi Kiddu Namraru is one of the Stargazers. Drawn from one of the Amrar-Hatti bands of Babylon V, Namraru found a natural place in the Outriders, though his talent for divination drew him into the orbit of the Stargazers. Trained under Dingir-Gal Nabbu, one of the greatest diviners of the legion, Namraru became a capable leader as well as a ferocious fighter. At battles such as the Siege of Hamaath and the burning of Hiram II his skill in predition allowed his outrider forces to strike weak points even as they formed. Not merely a support figure, however, Namraru's charisma also made him an able commander, inspiring incredible displays of tenacity at battles such as those in the Yam Zafon belt. Namraru himself took the head of Sharru Humira and looted the Solar Barge Il-Shaddu from its orbital fanes, which would serve him well as a command ship into the dark years of the heresy.
(Heehee, see what I did there? :3 )

I'm thinking of him as the charismatic, though blunt sort. Talented in a great many things and using his divination for great effect, honest. If he goes traitor, the time of secrecy doesn't sit well with him and he spends that time cutting a red path across the stars in what is notionally pursuit of the crusade. He's just not the sort to go in for intruige and plotting. Being where one is needed is one thing and he can kind of get behind creating warp storms as a weapon, but he prefers to keep the gods at arms length. They're fickle and childish. You please the spirits, use their aid, but never become dependent upon them. Perhaps he does something that pisses off the changer of ways, who curses him with perfect foresight for failures or something. Something that makes him into a cursed seer who basically gets kept in a cage and pulled out whenever someone wants a prediction, a warrior no more.
He doesn't like Marduk's men.

Again?

>The Vorpal Chain
Said to be forged in the heart of a dying star in the Calixis Sector, the teeth of this massive warglaive are, in addition to their improbable durability, only a single molecule wide throughout. The spin of its motor is said to be imperceptible even to the superhuman ear of a space marine. These already formidable qualities are enhanced by a subtle power field emitted by its hilt, designed to complement the chain instead of acting solely as the blade.

I need to think of a character and a legion quo utilizes this but I'm glad I have it written up. Maybe a loyalist from a traitor legion.

Rolled 5 (1d21)

Is there still room for more Legions?

Indeed.

I like these threads and participated actively in the last two. I'm reading the past thread to catch up. My idea is basically Nazi Stormtroopers. In war they primarily focus on mechanized infantry teams, but they are most infamous for their Imperial reeducation programs and their ability to completely destroy the culture of conquered worlds, transforming them into textbook examples of Terran monoculture. Their primarch is a sorcerer. Not sure if loyalist/traitor.

Rough idea:

Legion Numeral: V
Legion Designation: Fasces Imperii
Legion Colloquial: Imperial Axes
Primogenitor: Karl Krimmler
Homeworld: Schwabia, a Warworld in perpetual conflict with native Orks
Discovery: ??th
Preferred Tactics: Mechanized Infantry, Tanks, Blitzkrieg tactics. Even mixture of melee and firepower.
Theme: Einsatzgruppen, the Legion
Colours: Red, Black, and Steel
Nikaea: Strongly pro-psyker

>basically Nazi Stormtroopers
I've got bad news, Alexios.

>04206 ▶
> (You)
>>basically Nazi Stormtroopers
>I've got bad news, Alexios.
>read spreadsheet
oh

Gimme a second to think then

I recall you studying mesopotamian history, right? It shows.
Overall I like the character! Definitely keeping him around.

On danger of sounding like I want to steal all the good bits, this weapon would be perfect for a Loxodontii Mantikhor except maybe the quiet engine. On the other hand, it would lead enough room to scream and make noise, otherwise.

My nigga, but if you want to hop Golgy on the Death Metal legion I wouldn't mind~

I was kinda hoping that the Singers could steal it, due to the poetry connection.

If you want the traitor thing I could have !Sigismund be from Ballamüt and have him be the one to alert Kinnévail that the entire chamber is about to jump shit and go the way of the 'Phants.

Some ideas for Kincaid's holy shenanigans

>>The Martian Inquisition
>Kincaid, in his exploration of religion and his formation of the Ecclesiarchy, goes to Mars to see if he can integrate the Mechanical Cult into the larger Imperial Cult. His investigation of Mars exposes a lot of factional conflict, and the Mars loyalists begin to exert greater pressure on the other factions, causing them to galvanize (heh). With the acceptance of The Emperor as the physical embodiment of the Omnisiah after is integration with the Divine Machine, the Golden Throne, centrists, led by a radical Magos known as Belisarius Cawl begin to drift away from the greater Mechanicus (they end up allying with the Separatists). The adepts that eventually fall to Chaos, led by Kelbor-Hal begin to shift their powerbase to Forge Lord space

Okay I know we're full, but I had an idea for a Slaaneshi siege legion and I couldn't help but share.

>Siege Dancers
>Arco Deco/Greaco-Roman/Imperial Europe themed
>Believe war, and siege craft especially because you know all the variables, is an art form and seek to perfect it.
>Spend most of their time full scale models models of battlefields and conducting elaborate wargames to drill battle strategies over and over
>Every charge is choreographed, every shell falls exactly where it's supposed to.
>Marines are like actors in a play or film, the commanding officers are different levels of authority on the set, and the Primarch is the auteur whose vision they are bringing to life
>The Primarch was originally a playboy renaissance man on his peaceful homeworld, and only got involved with war relatively late in life.
>Sees it as just another way to express philosophical or aesthetic ideas
>Probably has a pencil mustache

As for the Vorpal Chain, if lent to Rabindrath O'Hurin, The First Champion, I would simply change it to a blade of considerable length, longer than an Exicerator for maximum SMITE AND CLEAVE. The silent blades would be perfect for this reason in that he can still sing over the sound of the weapon.

I imagine it would generate a mist about the blade due to it being so sharp and quick it cuts the very air around it.

>The Primarch was originally a playboy renaissance man

Kinnévail Kincaid. Well, plus Conan, but the Shakespear element becomes more prominent once he unites the world

I was Imagining it as something like this.

I know, but personally I think less haft length and more blade length is better