#my hive fleets existence is to consume

[zeico]

Honestly I desire Rogue Trader to have more of a lens into 40k lore.

My army is nids for the reason of 'I dont gotta give a shit about why I'm here. Hangry.' Bc trying to figure out like... how play is 2big brain power

But looking at all into it is just hilarious at how edgy and over the top ALL of it is and I love it for that.

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2024- Day 11- Angel- Adjacent.

Angelicos Fortunadas

Is this based on Halo? Yes. Is Fortuna my verson of Cortana? Yes. A Halo crossover that no one asked for? Bring it on. It's close enough to the prompt to count. lol.

As always, thanks to @borealwrites for their amazing Monster March 2024 Prompt List.

Monster March 2024- Day 11- Angel- Adjacent

Angelicos Fortunadas.  

“You’re an angel, Fortuna.” Dr. Hash praised once you finished with the simulations and gave him the best and most successful approaches that had the best outcomes. You were only an hour into your own existence and yet you had consumed entire archives worth of information. And still had room for so much more. But you were now tasked with using the vast wealth of knowledge to provide solutions to problems being handed to you in real time with constantly changing variables, yet it was as if you were a child, being asked to count the number of toys you had. 

“Thank you Dr. Hash.” You smiled happily, pleased that he was pleased with your perfect performance.  

“Is there any other problem you wish for me to solve?” You asked. 

“Not necessarily a problem for you to solve, but an assignment. I need you to care for and assist the person I’m going to pair you to. Could you do that for me?” He asked hopefully. 

“Do I have a choice of who I’m paired to? Or do you already have a particular subject in mind?” You asked. 

“While you would be a guardian angel to anyone you chose. There is one- who needs you above all others. I’m going to pair you with Commander Callum Raize.” Dr. Hash informed you as you did your best to hide any kind of emotion or reaction to the assignment as you brought up his file and service record to become acquainted with this subject as well as you could. 

“Ready to pair.” You complied, knowing that was the right response to give. But also, knowing why you were being paired with Commander Callum Raize. Commander Raize was the greatest elite soldier in the fleet. A point of pride, both foreign and domestic. Practically a star, was on a lot of propaganda posters- but one who hid behind a mask of his helmet. Everyone knew him in his full armor, but out of it, he was just another soldier. Whose face, only other elite super soldiers knew, in and out of his official gear and uniform. But he didn’t need the fame, or a fortune. He just needed his orders from his chain of command, and an objective to achieve. Which she respected. 

A leader among the forces. He understood how to take down any number of enemies from all across the galaxy. His team of elite supersoldiers, worked like a hive of bees, but instead of being a queen, he was their king and his rule had never been questioned. Or had any threat of usurpation. Dr. Hash saw to it that Commander Raize had an almost unlimited supply of soldier drones outside of his own group of elites. Like a king commanding his own empire of war. 

“That’s a good girl, Fortuna. He will be happy to have you watching over him and guiding him and assisting him. And if his body ever fails you. I will let you have your pick of who you will want to work with then.” Dr. Hash praised before he called you back to your home matrix within an organic superchip. And while you weren’t incredibly fond of the idea of your own sense of self in that chip being within the confines of a glorified and enhanced meat suit- who could very easily perish. But, he was still just a mortal man, and in the grand scheme of things, a temporary situation that you could easily endure and only gain valuable first hand experience because you appreciated the fact that there was a failsafe if he did die. If you sensed his imminent death, you could disconnect from him before the pairing could be disconnected, and you could be retrieved, your organics revived and renewed for a new implantation, or could be stripped of the organics and rest in any other super computer or any other vessel of your choosing- and survive Callum. Or when and if you needed upgrades, your chip could be removed and added to if necessary. 

However, it wasn’t like Dr. Hash didn’t have hundreds, and maybe thousands of more copies of you, simply sleeping, waiting in stasis, the same brilliant mind, stuck in so many copies of the original- The Mother of the Elite Program Dr. Angelica Fortuna. She had died, nearly a century ago. But she lived on- in her clones and in you. A woman ahead of her time, a mother gone before her children could really yet live, a dream before it was realized. There was however only ever one Angelica, the rest were Angie's, Angelas, Angels. That’s what had happened to the clones who had survived Angelica’s death. And now, there was a new generation of Dr. Angelica’s flash clones, which were, for her time, the best that she could do. But were obviously, incredibly temporary. And subsequently, there had been many generations since her passing. And you were only the third of this latest generation. 

Even still, with all of that- when you gained consciousness, when Dr. Hash had called you Angel, because you were, in his mind, practically angelic in every sense, thus the name- Angelicos Fortunadas. You corrected him when he did call you Angel- you preferred Fortuna. A nod to your mother, but also a nod to what you were, her progeny in a sense. And he had accepted it, and if anything, thought it was rather fitting. That you were the first who wanted to be known as Fortuna, and not some derivative of Angel, or even Angelica. Just- Fortuna. 

You knew, from the records Dr. Hash had given you- that you yourself had two predecessors that were “woken up” from the Angelicos Fortunadas. And so far- Dr. Hash had insisted that you were The Charm. Since this was the third successful attempt at capturing the real essence of Dr. Angelica Fortuna. 

The first attempt, led to the host going insane and the program becoming corrupted right alongside them. And a suicide and the destruction of the corrupt copy was inevitable when it threatened all Angelicos Fortunados. 

The second attempt, ended when they grew so entangled that they could not untangle once the host died and she had “died” with the host. And refused to unpair with the host. The two had been, as you heard, “in love” murmured. Which was romantic- according to the dictionary. But dangerous. Because the Angelicos had found a way to become “real” in the sense that not just the subject, but all who saw the Angelicos, could see her, touch her, she was “real”. But only because her subject wished her to be so and not be ‘a figment of her imagination’. 

And you knew, that- that was always going to be a slippery slope. You needed to be just “real” enough to be seen as your own entity, and trusted and believed. But a hologram, that was “real enough” to suit you just fine and you did not wish for anything else beyond that. You even kept certain features to really hold onto the ‘hologram’ look when you took your perceived form. 

But, all you could do was to trust Dr. Hash’s new barrier around the chip. The barrier was there to both serve as the pairing platform. And, should the host die, could die with the host, without harming you in the chip itself. It was constructed to help ease the implantation process and make it so that should the host reject you, neither you or him- would be ruined and finished for good and Dr. Hash wouldn’t have to try a fourth time with another clone. 

So far, you had noticed that luck, even as mathematically preposterous as such a concept seemed, had seemed to be on your side so far since your clone’s awakening, you being harvested from the clone and synthesized and then upgraded to your hyper digital form now. And, because you came from a clone, you still remembered having emotions like pride, joy, fear and even pain at the point of your clone’s physical death. But the relief you felt once you transitioned from that former, purely physical and severely limiting form- to your current one- eclipsed them all. You now had the choice to feel or not feel at your whim and desire and were essentially self-sustaining as long as your own super organic chip- was intact. You could do little but check and recheck your own chip, as well as the platform, making sure it would pair with the organic compound that was Commander Callum Raize’s brain. And you could only hope that he would not reject you, nor- become hopelessly intertwined with you. That you would simply pair and better the other. Because while you had simulations, he had real world experience. But because of his enhancements, his own greater emotions were lessoned. Which would hopefully help him to accept you- essentially- sharing his body with you. And tolerating or even accepting your presence in his mind. 

You used your connection to the computer system to watch as Commander Callum Raize was brought in, given a physical, and given the order to accept the enhancement, which he accepted without hesitation, or even wanting or needing to fully see, or understand what it meant, what it involved. You. As far as he knew, he was getting an AI assistant implanted into his head to help with strategy and help him keep his communications intact. 

So at least, he seemed, at least from the view of the camera, willing. 

You swallowed down your strange sense of loss of individuality and sense of independence as you hunkered down in your own private “room” in your own inner sanctum and wiped a stray tear from your eye as you felt like his answer sealed your fate. Callum and yourself were about to be almost impossibly close and intimate, whether it was liked or not. You looked in the mirror of your sanctum and touched your face and tracing the halo around your head. 

“You’re not going to lose yourself.” You told your reflection. 

You had to withdraw from the system around you completely in order to be fully in your chip and its confines before you were given one last upgrade- a universal docking interface. That, when and if Commander Raize ever came aboard any other ship, of any other species of being, that you would be able to wirelessly interface with it- most likely to both assist Commander Callum Raize and gain valuable intel for yourself. But this docking interface, would give you- limitless platforms to connect with any other forms that were like you, that you’d be able to pair even with them- and gain their knowledge, without losing yourself either. It was essentially a way to build bridges to other islands of information, pull all you could before disconnecting the bridge to keep anything from crossing it to get to you. Oh this was epic. And your chip practically zinged with glee. You were so happy and delighted and too entranced to notice that Commander Raize was now being sedated and prepped for surgery, as were your organic components. It wasn’t until you were submerged in a bath of fatty acids, peptides and proteins to mimic brain matter that you realized that your implantation was imminent. 

Commander Callum Raize’s skull was drilled open and your chip was inserted in his brain before your coating was accepted by the brain matter, then you began the pairing and interfacing sequence as his brain, at first, seemed a bit put off when it interfaced with your shell like coating- but then got underneath it, to the interface. It was like it sensed the platform, but was still deciding whether this was new to itself, or a foreign body, needing to be destroyed. 

You were able to manipulate the organic compound enough to mimic his brain- enough that his brain, in a sense, recognized itself in the mirror you put up in the organic compound in order to be accepted and not attacked. 

It worked. 

Within moments, you could meet with his brain in a sense on the platform and be accepted as both- part of him, yet- something new to make him better before you left the “neutral” space of the platform and then from there, could gain access to his entire brain. It was like walking into a new home, from having lived in an apartment as you mentally added your space to his, by adding a door in the hallway, just off of his bedroom as his subconscious seemed happy to give you more than enough room to do so as you were welcomed into the house, like a roommate moving in. And from here, you could interface and re-pair with the system outside of him once you were secured, you materialized in the operating room, at his feet. 

“Fully paired.” You reported before Dr. Hash smiled and nodded before Callum’s head was closed up. And while, it felt almost like a door behind you being shut. You felt you didn’t need it as you were content to disappear back into him. You were welcome and at home here. You would be ok. You quickly “set up house” in his mind. You even helped his body to heal from the surgery and not lose so much blood. 

And then you found yourself in his dreams, simply watching from the eyes of one of his projections as you knew you would have to choose the right time to introduce yourself. As you tried to see, what he liked, what he appreciated, what he found appealing. He would need to like your appearance, as well as respect it. Find it attractive enough to be favorable, without being too attractive to threaten Commander Callum Raize’s sense of masculinity or distract him, by becoming ‘sexy’ either. You would have to figure out a balance. But where would your balance lie? Only Callum would be able to tell you, or show you- once he awoke. In the meantime, all you could do is watch- watch from your vantage point of his dreams as you flitted from projection to projection, getting closer and closer, with him completely unaware of your presence or your proximity as you explored his mind as he slept as you began to narrow down his likes from finding his dislikes. Because what he really liked and what he truly desired, was locked tightly away into a safe, that was too heavily guarded for you to break in and see just yet. He needed to let you in- in order for this to really work. 

He woke up and blinked as he seemed to become aware of himself as you had to retreat to the platform because if he felt your presence elsewhere, he would most likely not like it. And feel that it would be an invasion. 

“Congratulations Commander Raize, the implantation was a success. Would you like to meet your Guardian Angel?” Dr. Hash asked. 

“Are they gonna have the whole- wings and halo thing?” Callum asked as he gingerly got up tilted his head to the side, feeling the tug from the stitches on the back of his head. 

“Only if you want them to.” Dr. Hash answered. 

“No, I would prefer not to have a damn religious experience whenever I need backup or support.” Callum offered. 

“Ok, then call to her.” Dr. Hash invited. 

“Her?” Callum frowned in confusion. 

“Yes, her name is Fortuna.” Dr. Hash informed him. 

“Fortuna?” Callum asked before you started to materialize in front of him. 

“Hello Commander Callum Raize. I’m Fortuna. How can I help?” You asked pleasantly as you stood before him in what you had assumed would be acceptable attire. Something akin to a uniform. Familiar in details but new in overall presentation. Nothing too form fitting and your form, while feminine, wasn’t so overly so that it would be a distraction. 

“So, am I just a meat suit for her?” Callum asked Dr. Hash as he quickly looked away from you to look at Dr. Hash intently. 

“No, far from it. She, like all other augmentations, enhances you. You are still in control and she is as much a part of you as any other enhancement you’ve received.” Dr. Hash reassured him before he spared you a reassuring look and even a small, subtle wink to you. 

“Then how come, I get the sense that there’s two of us in here?” Callum asked it seemed he became acutely aware of your implant in his head. He associated it with the pain he currently had in the back of his head. 

“Do you get the sense there is more than just you in your head when you hear music from an earbud? Or when someone speaks over the comms? Or when you read a book? Imagine the characters saying their lines of dialog in your head?” Dr. Hash posed. 

“I see your point.” Callum nodded. 

“So is there a failsafe with Fortuna? Is this a temporary thing or a permanent thing? Is she with me until I die? Or can I just take her out if I don’t want her in me anymore?” Callum asked. 

“You can remove the implant, and still keep yourself intact. Her root base existence is in the computer chip. And if you feel your own sanity begin to break, or are too unnerved by her presence, this operation can be reversed. But how about you give Fortuna a chance before you decide anything more. Give this new arrangement time to prove out.” Dr. Hash explained. 

“Can she control me? My body? My mind?” Callum asked.

“No, she does not control any of your motor function, your mind is still your own to think what you will, she is only there to help, to assist you.” Dr. Hash reassured him. 

“But she can read my mind? Is she your spy?” Callum asked as he continued to look at Dr. Hash and avoided your general direction entirely. 

“Yes she can, in a sense, read your mind. But she is not my spy or anyone else’s spy. She is simply there to help,. Like all other augmentations and enhancements. You might actually be more correct in thinking of her like a built-in accomplice.” Dr. Hash repeated. 

“So what’s your programming’s primary objective?” Callum finally asked as he turned to scrutinize your holographic form. 

“To help and assist you. However you need or want me to. If all you will need from me is to run diagnostics, run possible scenarios, give you the likelihood and probable outcomes from various simulations, or to help you heal yourself, or to give you directions and help you read star charts as you fight wars across the universe, I can.” You answered. 

“You can heal me?” He repeated with a look of skepticism. 

“I do have some sway with your cells. I can focus them to a small degree, but anything more than the cellular level or even the atomic one- I do not have access to, because you have not given me access yet.” You answered. 

“But if you would like for your head not to hurt so bad, or the stitches not to itch, I can change those inputs into your nervous system as you could feel the itchiness from those stitches even in holographic form. 

“Do it.” He nodded before you did just that, focused his body’s healing response to his latest surgery incision and healed it to the point it never happened in the first place and relieved his itchiness as he closed his eyes serenely to feel the relief. 

“Better?” You asked as you tilted your head and gave him a small, hopeful smile as you took a couple of steps towards him to see your handiwork on the back of his head and smiled when not even a scar remained. 

“Yes, much.” He smiled appreciatively. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fortuna.” He tried to shake your hand but while your hologram could imitate the motion, you did not dare to have him feel anything. 

“Right, AI hologram.” Callum realized as he let his hand and arm drop to his side. 

“Yes, a hologram that everyone can see is the safest form I can take.” You supplied. 

“Safest?” He repeated.  

“Something only you can see- and you might see me as a figment of your imagination and doubt the reality of me. Something for all to not only see, but to touch and be touched- is too deep in the uncanny valley. So something that everyone can see, gives a sense of realism. But, something no one can touch, means that you can not be hurt through me. And I can’t be hurt through you. But this is a happy medium. To prove I’m real, that I’m alive, just, a different form of life than you are used to. But not so real- that your own grip on reality is ever challenged or called into question.” You explained as you sat beside him on the bed as he continued to appraise your form as he listened to you with rapt attention as it was now- Dr. Hash he was ignoring. 

“Isn’t that right Dr. Hash?” You brought the focus back to Dr. Hash as Callum stopped ogling you to remember that Dr. Hash was still in the room. 

“Yes. Lessons my predecessors have learned the hard way with the former clone line- through trial and error. But the Angelicos Fortunadas are the best. And what Dr. Angelica Fortuna would have been happy, and perfectly satisfied with- had she lived long enough to see it. They are what she truly intended to preserve her legacy.” Dr. Hash explained. 

“Oh, so that’s…you’re…that’s why.” Callum stuttered as several trains of thought nearly all ran into each other, as they all tried to leave his mouth at the same time as you couldn’t help but giggle at the chaos in his head. 

“Yes, that is why I look the way I do. I’m the newest generation clone of her. And she always meant for the best soldiers who fight in this war- to have the best partner to assist them- herself. But her mind could only take her body so far. Thankfully she preserved as much as she did, that we could preserve her legacy. It’s why I have the same brown hair, the same hazel green colored eyes, the same button nose, the same cadence in voice, the same brilliant mind. But now, I have not only, all she knew, but now, all of everything now known. At your fingertips so to speak.” You offered as you nodded to his hands resting in his lap as you simply folded your hands in your own lap. 

“So I’m not your meat suit?” He asked as you gave him an unimpressed look. 

“No, you are still yourself. This is still your body, and still your mind. Think of me as that music on that earbud. You can request my presence at will and only listen to me if you want to. You can shut me out and lock me in as you wish to. But the more you do that, the less I can help you. You can still take out the earbud and unpair them altogether. That is still your choice. And my current physical form is such that I can- essentially be “uninstalled” and “unpaired” with you and re-paired- with another. But, I’m willing to give us a chance at success. Are you?” You asked. 

“I am.” He nodded. 

“Then how about you get dressed while Dr. Hash clears you for active duty. When you are ready, you can introduce me to your team, if you prefer for my presence to stay a secret between the three of us, you can. But know, that if we start to have conversations, you will look like you’re going insane and talking to yourself. Think of this arrangement as a trial run. If you don’t like it or grow to resent me or even hate me, the trial will end. But, if it ends up being successful you may not be the only one with such an enhancement. Dr. Hash chose you and he chose me and he chose this pairing for a reason. But we have to give it time to prove out, that’s all.” You explained. 

“Ok. Thank you, I’d like…some privacy to get dressed.” He nodded with a blush. 

“I’ll come back when you call me.” You offered before you let your hologram dissolve and disappear. 

“Did you have to make her that beautiful?” Callum asked Dr. Hash. 

“What she is, is a clone of the original. The real Dr. Angelica Fortuna was just as beautiful in her youth. She was called the Angel of Vadole, the Full Metal Bitch, she killed thousands of reverend soldiers on her own. And that halo around her head? Is simply the stylized head gear the original wore everywhere. But your Fortuna is capable of changing her appearance if you feel she’s too attractive that it’s a distraction for you.” Dr. Hash laughed in response. 

“No, no. she’s…she’s fine. She’ll be fine, she’s lovely and great just the way she is. I just…now I’m afraid to have her appear to anyone who isn’t an elite, because they’d want to copy her holographic form and fuck her brains out.” Callum offered as he rubbed his face. Not believing that in an instant, he was sharing his body with a knockout like her. As he felt, oddly, self conscious, and particularly unworthy. 

“Then you better impress upon them that she’s your AI and a part of you. And needs to be respected. And to a degree, protected. Because anyone who would debase her, is essentially debasing you.” Dr. Hash. 

“And that’s not going to be tolerated.” Callum insisted as he felt a surge of protectiveness towards you as you smiled within him and were happy to simply lounge on the couch in your sanctuary inside his “home” that his inner mind was as you lazily read a book that was one of Angelica’s favorites in the bright sunshine of your joy and happiness that he liked you and accepted you as well as he did. 

And just like that, it was as if the entire house’s outside doors locked you in while all the doors inside the “house” unlocked to allow you safety and security while in essence, opening himself up to you to explore as you wished to while he got dressed in his uniform and then reported back to his chain of command and report that he was cleared for active duty and even reconvened with his other friends and fellow troop and squadrons. 

It was, almost as if, you were like a secret girlfriend or something. You grinned when you approached the safe in the bedroom and with just a twist of the handle, it opened to reveal all the girls who he had ever liked, who he had ever fucked. And…to your surprise, they didn’t look anything like each other, or even, like you. 

But, he did have a personality type. He liked the badass. He liked his women to be as strong in character as he was, to be as focused and motivated as he was. And, he liked the wild ride. Because it was always for a good time. But he also knew that with his career, it was dangerous to have anything more than that. And it was too risky to go for the soft mother type or the steady girlfriend type. So the bratty, mouthy, difficult, complicated, scarred and complex women who thought it was a notch on their belts to bed elites like him. Even when such instincts were almost non-existent in him. But he did so- not for any real relationships- but for that post- nut clarity. 

You just shook your head, put it back in the safe, close it up, lock it up. 

Instead you retreated back to your own addition to his mind’s house. Your space, a place for you and only you. Even in this abstract of a place and didn’t even realize he was getting ready for bed as he laid in bed and closed his eyes and in a sense- came home. 

“Fortuna?” He inwardly called for you in his mind. 

“Yeah?” You answered from your space as you created art for your walls that were in your favorite colors. You had the ocean just outside your own windows. And your massive library on the other side of that door. You had already decorated the room how you wanted it. 

“Where are you?” He asked as he walked through his own mind’s house before he came upon a door that had not been there the night before.

He knocked, you answered. 

“Hello. I hope you don't mind. I simply built onto what you already had. But if this is too close I can separate your space from mine even farther.” You offered. 

“No, this is great. This is just fine. You don't have to keep this door closed if you don't want to though. It's… like it or not, we're basically roommates huh?” He offered as he leaned against the door frame. 

“Basically, yes.” You nodded. 

“Would you like to come in?” You invited as you gestured to your space, that was in actuality, that porch like platform, that the two of you could be in together when you weren’t in all of his head. 

“Sure.” He smiled as he came over the threshold. 

“This is nice. Really comfortable.” He praised as he came and smiled when the carpet was soft and padded. And he really appreciated how nice the room itself was. As well as the art on the walls. 

“Oh, nice. The ocean.” He complimented when he looked out of the windows of the room. 

“Thanks. Dr. Fortuna grew up on the shore of a Great Lake that mimicked the ocean. She always had the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore to soothe her. The rhythm always lulled her to sleep. Both in childhood and in adulthood. When I came into existence, I built this for myself, as a way to comfort me, even when the world outside is uncomfortable, harsh even.” You said as you hugged the oversized sweater over you as the windows were open, letting in the fresh air and the scents of the sea. 

“So, where does Dr. Fortuna stop, and you begin?” He asked. 

“That’s a good question. Dr. Fortuna was for as beautiful as her form was, and as amazing as her intellect was, she had remarkably low ethics, very little sympathy or empathy. She was incredibly intimidating and manipulative. She was also, extremely ambitious, and emotionally unavailable. She was, thankfully, never a mother. This new wave of clones, still has her intellect. But with boosted and augmented sympathy and empathy and of course, a high moral and ethical code protocols, along with- even for an AI- enhanced emotional capabilities. We can not lie, but we can not be deceived either.” You explained as you sat on the sofa with him and appreciated the view from your bay window. 

“We?” Callum asked. 

“I am not the only one. According to the records and archives. Dr. Hash has at least 300 more of me. And from those, thousands and possibly hundreds of thousands more could be made. Each one, capable of being just like me, if not more.” You answered. 

“So, where I begin- is whenever I am sympathetic, empathetic, understanding, supportive and helpful? That’s not Dr. Angelica Fortuna, that’s me. Because the real her, was none of those things.” You informed him.

“Well in that case, I’m really happy to have you. And I look forward to working with you more.” He offered. 

“Me too.” You smiled happily. 

“Did you want to take a walk on the beach?” You asked as you nodded to it. 

“We can do that?” He asked. 

“You’re falling asleep and about to go into a dream state. Anything is possible in dreams.” You grinned. 

“I’d love to.” He agreed. 

“Then let’s go, here’s a sweater, it’ll get chilly out there.” You offered him a sweater before you both got up and left to take a walk on the beach as you walked him into his own dream with you.

[ask-jaghatai-khan]

Red and White

Another short branching off of my Revelation Mechanism lore. This features a closer look at their actual order of battle, such as the allegiances of Mars’ mightiest warriors.

The readouts began before any vid-feed could be reestablished. Diagnostics. Damage reports. Trapped within the darkness of his metallic tomb, Piotr felt as though his own consciousness was returning along with that of his war-machine.

[SYSTEM CHECK IN PROGRESS]

[HEAVY HULL DAMAGE SUSTAINED]

[SERVO INTEGRITY :: CONFIRMED]

[ION SHIELDS :: PRIMARY GENERATOR OFFLINE]

Sir Piotr groaned, but breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a sudden coolness come into the air fed to his pilot’s helmet. Systems were restarting. He wasn’t immobilized.

[ROUTING AUXILIARY POWER]

The symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus flashed to life in the middle of the holo-screen, followed by the digitized heraldry of House Taranis. These were then pushed to the side, as with a crackling feedback the primary vid-feed sprung to life. Piotr could tell just from the weight of gravity that his Knight engine was laid on its back, but the sight of grey skies far above gave him some better orientation.

He had fallen into a deep canyon, it seemed. Darkened stone rose on all sides, cut like a jagged scar into the crust of the world. Far above the desolate crevasse, the sky was a shade of slate just a scant bit lighter than the stone all around. One could almost be forgiven for believing themselves lost in some monochromatic tomb.

Responding to his control inputs at last, the Imperial Knight which Sir Piotr Arangia piloted began to move. Heavy rocks had pinned it, but these were little concern to the might of the war-engine.

[STARBOARD WEAPON MOUNTING :: RESPONDING]

From the rubble emerged one arm of the massive mech, equipped with an enormous adamantine gauntlet. Pushing the heaviest of the stones aside, the Knight exhumed itself from its place of burial, as Piotr began a command sequence to try and right himself. To be “turtled” in a Knight chassis was always unfortunate, but so long as it appeared that the core integrity of his steed wasn’t compromised, it wasn’t an issue for a seasoned pilot like himself.

With a groan of mechanical protest, the great colossus rose to its ungulate feet – a giant by the standards of any warrior, yet dwarfed by the sheer sides of the canyon about it.

He didn’t have high hopes, but Piotr tried all the same. Punching in some codes, he scanned the major comms channels.

“Hugenia Command, this is Knight-Pilot Arangia. Do you read?”

No response but static.

“Macroclade Primus, this is Knight-Pilot Arangia of House Taranis. Magos Dominus, do you read?”

Still, naught but static.

He didn’t need to check the status of the rest of his own Knight maniple. Steeling his heavy heart to the loss, he knew them to all be dead. Every one of their mechs was trans-linked to each other for immediate communications, and there was no response. The crushed form of another Knight Errant just a short way down the rubble-strewn canyon floor was but visual confirmation.

“Omnissiah guide your souls, kin.” Sir Piotr said a soft prayer, placing his mortal hand over his heart within the cockpit of his Knight suit.

Checking his geographical readouts once more, the pilot guessed that there would be a way out of this crevasse so long as he continued due north. With determined stride, he set his great machine in motion, seeking the way that he might return to the field of war above.

Sir Piotr Arangia was but one member of a great cohort of the Martian Knight House Taranis that had traveled to this this world of Hugenia in a time of dire crisis. The industrial planet had come under attack several years ago by the forces of darkness – heretics and abominations who had carved a path of devastation out from the Eye of Terror, washing this pious world in blood in the names of their Dark Gods.

Such was the might of this particular army of heathens, coupled with the expected delays in broadcasting the distress call, and the delays in assembling and moving an entire army across the stars in aid, that by the time help had arrived the planet had already fallen. Hugenia’s command was reduced to pockets of resistance just holding out against the tide, while the power of the heretic legions had grown strong. By their dark crafts they’d unleashed hordes of unnatural monstrosities against the besieged resistors, while entrenching themselves deep within the captured hive cities, spreading their malign corruption. It was by the Omnissiah’s grace alone that the Martian war-fleet had arrived in time to have any effect at all, but even now the fight was desperate, and it was possible Hugenia might be lost.

From Mars had been sent the War-Division “Red Legion” on behalf of Archmagos Chertovsky Upsilon-28 and commanded by Archmagos Dominus Go Zeta-06. In response to the apparent magnitude of the enemy forces, and the Archmagi’s desire to test their lauded war engines, the Red Legion had contained within its fleet a multitude of Skitarii cohorts, several maniples from House Taranis, and even a Warlord Titan of the Legio Fortidus – that last god-engine being the pride and joy of Go Zeta, who was an obsessive antiquarian.

Just as the initial assault by the heretics had been of devastating effect against the defenders of Hugenia, so too had the Mechanicus’ retaliation been swift and brutal. Yet despite their opening victories, the barbarians had been more entrenched than even the most generous projections had predicted. What resulted was a prolonged and directionless siege, in which the purity and might of the Mechanicus’ grandest machines and augmented warriors were put to the test against unspeakable horrors from beyond the veil.

One such horror had been the cause of Sir Piotr’s quite literal fall, and the fall of his maniple. They’d been spearheading an assault against a conjunction point for the traitors’ resupply routes, at the captured remains of a sprawling manufactorum, when the heathens had drawn upon the power of a cabal of dark sorcerers. The – being – which they’d summoned was unlike any Piotr had ever witnessed. From both the living and the dead of those mutant cultists which made up the vanguard hordes, the sorcerers had raised up a horrific golem. It was like a monstrous wyrm which had split the very earth, and consumed all about it, friend and foe alike. Piotr was just grateful that despite all the destruction the abomination had wrought, none of its putrid corpus had followed him down into the canyon.

The whole of the canyon was silent, in fact, as the pilot made his way northward. No whisper of activity, even from high above. Though any number of factors could have been the cause, it was Piotr’s grim guess that the beast of Chaos had laid waste to the battlefield above, and had perhaps either died itself, gone dormant, or moved on in search of more prey across the apocalyptic wastelands of Hugenia.

By the honor of his House, he would avenge his fallen kin. In the name of the Machine God, he was duty-bound to purge these abominations from the galaxy by virtue of their sheer unnatural existence.

When at last the canyon began to grow shallower, and light filtered in greater – if still middling – amounts down from above, Piotr knew his prayers had been answered.

Emerging from the depths onto the rocky surface of Hugenia, Piotr took stock of his surroundings.

It looked as though he had been moved some distance. There was the manufactorum near to the eastern horizon, though it was in a ruined state surpassing all damage it had sustained before. The crevasse ran from the fractured building all the way across the great battle-plains as if the Dark Ones themselves had plunged a blade into the tormented earth. All about there was the desolation of battle – ruined combat engines, fallen knights, and destroyed fortifications. Yet corpses were somewhat absent. Many a Skitarii warrior lay in martyrdom upon the smoking rock, yet nothing of the heathen dead could be seen. None of their twisted mutant forms were among the corpses.

Double-checking all his scans, Piotr confirmed that there were no major heat signatures or seismic disturbances that may have pointed to that creature summoned by the sorcerers. Though he was a devout man, focused on his calling as a warrior above all else, his status as a veteran of that most Martian-loyal of all Knight Houses meant he was privy to such lore as most men could not be trusted with. He guessed, based on his knowledge of those horrific beings that might be drawn from the Warp, that this flesh-golem had consumed all that it could find upon the killing fields, and moved on in search of further prey.

He had to reach his commanders, lest they face such a daemon without forewarning.

Piotr set the legs of the King-Slayer, his artificed machine, on a route further northward. With all the speed he could draw from its servos, the hunched mech loped across the barren fields towards those jagged uplands where he knew the Red Legion forward base had been constructed. As his war-machine was set on autopilot, Piotr kept checking all comms channels he could think to use.

“Macroclade Primus, this is Sir Piotr Arangia broadcasting on all channels. I am the last survivor the Taranis maniple. Manufactorum Cetus-Eta destroyed by heretical magics. I have emergency intel for high command. Please respond!”

He was about to set the broadcast with a looping ping, when by his good fortune an actual response came. A tittering blast of binaric cant came through his helmet’s speakers, followed by the deep, modulated voice of a Tech-priest.

“Knight-Pilot Arangia, this is Magos Vatin, temporary overseer of Forward Base Eta,” came the vox-cast, “What is your current location?”

“Thank the Omnissiah!” Piotr sighed into his speaker, receiving a short series of affirmative beeps from the Magos despite the delay in communicating his information, “I am on route from the southern battlefield to Eta Base. Predicted arrival in roughly one standard hour.”

“What is your emergency intel, Knight-Pilot?” Vatin pressed, “This is a secured channel.”

“The heretics have raised some manner of creature from the Warp. It is colossal and hungry. I do not have a reading on its location, but I can only predict it will attempt to attack the forward base.”

“Noted, Knight-Pilot,” the Magos confirmed, “Preparations will be made.”

“Affirmative. I am piloting a Knight Errant-B class. Engine name ‘King-Slayer’. Please keep a reading on my signature, as my heraldry has been damaged, and this is a non-standard Questoris pattern.”

“Noted, Knight-Pilot,” Vatin repeated, with what one might have assumed was the exact same audio-file, “Can you confirm with over sixty percent accuracy that you are the sole survivor of your maniple?”

“Affirmative, Magos,” Piotr’s voice was grave with the loss, “My brethren were – hold on – damnit—!”

From Vatin’s end, the transmission was cut as the Knight-Pilot rerouted his power for sudden defensive maneuvers.

The King-Slayer had been nearing the battlefield’s furthest edge of fortifications when there’d been a sudden disturbance. From around the burnt-out husk of a heavy Mechanicus transport, something had stalked out like a scavenging hyena.

In many ways it looked quite similar to Piotr’s knight suit – even more so due to the fact that he was the pilot of an Errant-B class, which held such features as ungulate-like legs and heavier armor compared to a conventional Errant. The combatant which rounded the carcass of the dilapidated vehicle had a similar gait, though even more hunched, and with a distorted outline brought by all the numerous unnatural growths about its form.

It may have once been a Knight Gallant – armed with chainsword and thunder-gauntlet, equipped to lay low the mightiest foes of the Imperium in glorious close-quarters combat. Now, it was a monstrosity. From within the morass of corruption could be seen but the faintest hints of the corroded metal which had once armored and supported the giant, but nothing more than its steel-toothed armaments and the general skeleton of the thing suggested what it had been before. Its hull was covered in thick layers of daemonic flesh, pink and red and gory, which formed mats like the rotted remains of a horrific mass grave, while larger tendrils coiled about the machine’s limbs, perhaps moving itself more by some sorcerous anatomy than by engine-fire. Its head was gone, replaced by a morass of fanged phalanges, like the maw of a lamprey, and standing in fleshy contrast to the iron skull-mask of the King-Slayer.

This was not the beast the black magicians had unleashed, but it bore much of the same gory mutations as all who made up this blasphemous host. Reports had said their cult was named the Brethren of Hunger, and the eye-watering barbarities which they committed and reveled in expressed the full horror of what such a name implied.

With a scream like the rending of armor and the howling of dying men, the Chaos Knight spied the form of the King-Slayer and charged at once in a shambling sprint.

Such was the speed of the otherwise ungainly-looking thing that Piotr had just enough time to prepare himself. With his reactor core operating at suboptimal capacity, he had to choose between offence and defence. Routing all power from his ion shields, he trusted in the fury of his artificed thermal cannon.

By the Machine God’s grace, the first shot struck home. It lanced out with a sizzling crack as it burned the very air around it, the energy-beam impacting with the fallen Knight’s arm just above its thunderstrike gauntlet. Daemon flesh was seared through, along with the dilapidated frame beneath it. As the arm fell, a few failing tendrils seemed to try and grab it up again while the monster screeched in fury, but the weight of the weapon was now too great without the heaviest tendons, and the limb was severed.

Still the creature did not halt, however, charging on despite its crippling. Piotr swore, bracing for impact, but as he did so he saw the face of the thing convulse. From within the radial maw of the thing came something like a gob of vomit. A sac, undulating and lambent with a crimson glow, was sent hurtling in a cascade of ichor out of the beast’s throat and towards the King-Slayer.

Piotr raised his mech’s own gauntlet to deflect, and as the disgusting projectile hit there was a burst of light and fluid. Whatever fell substance was contained within was like molten flame, and readouts went critical from his melee weapon as the burning acid seared clean through its armor.

The shot was devastating, but despite the heavy damage to his weapon, and the staggering effect the biological bomb had, Piotr did not give in. As the monster closed, he fired a wild shot from his thermal cannon, and charged forward with his Knight’s shoulder just after.

By sheer luck, the blast connected with the daemon-engine’s knee, while the limp form of the King-Slayer’s injured gauntlet was swung into its fleshy face like a flail. The monstrosity and the loyal Knight were sent off at odd angles from each other from the impact, but whereas Piotr was able to stay upright, the Chaos Knight fell headlong as its corrupted flesh struggled to keep its damaged leg together.

It fell to the ground with a colossal crash, blood and sickening fluids running from its severed limbs, screeching like a nightmare with its faceless mouth. Yet still it did not die. Twisting its chainsword-wielding arm like the limb of some strange insect, it began trying to pull itself along on hand and knee towards Piotr’s mech. It howled and slavered, desperate to the last to consume its hated prey.

As Piotr was lost for a moment in watching the abomination, his decades of training broken for a moment by the sheer disgust this most fallen of heretics evoked, he saw the mouth of the daemon-engine convulse once again.

He didn’t delay. Taking one great step forward to aid his aim, the King-Slayer locked onto the crimson mass within the gullet of the creature before it was even let lose. A final shot of thermic power was sent screaming out, right down the throat of the monster. There was a great explosion, with a sound like an entire silo of ripe fruit being crushed, and when the spray of red mist and acrid smoke cleared, the beast’s head was gone.

It did not make another sound save for the burbling of tainted blood that flowed from the hole that now dominated the front of its torso. Falling still at last, the fleshy tendrils which held the creature together sagged, and it collapsed beneath its own weight.

Piotr Arangia contemplated what hells could await such a fallen soul that were worse than their every moment of mere existence had been.

Without a moment to waste, still set to deliver to the message to Eta Base, the King-Slayer left the smoldering hulk there upon the battlefield. One more dead abomination in the eyes of the Machine God. Even if Hugenia were purged of all life, Piotr felt some inkling of pride for having rid the universe of that particular affront to sanity.

Swifter than any other being upon two legs, the King-Slayer ran to the shattered hills.

Up in the highlands, in the ready-built and fortified Forward Base Eta, Magos Vatin surveyed the surrounding wastes from his comms tower. Old by the years of mere mortals, Vatin was nonetheless a novice by the standards of his immediate commander, Archmagos Dominus Go Zeta-06. Yet the Archmagos had needed to leave for the time being, to fetch reinforcements suitable to press their assault on this front. The siege of Cetus-Eta had not gone quite as expected, yet it seemed as though said reinforcements would be needed all the same. Beyond the ruined manufactorum, the barren wastelands turned into miles upon miles of dilapidated urban sprawl, no doubt teeming with more of those perverse-fleshed cultists of the Brethren of Hunger. Go Zeta was the sole tech-priest among the Red Legion who had the full intel on this warband, but Vatin suspected from simple observation that they were the fallen remnants of some ancient Imperial cohort, given their mix of cultists, war machines, and malign engineers.

Vatin himself was a Magos of Mars and wore the red robes of that diocese. His form was not too dissimilar to a standard human’s, at least from his silhouette, though beneath his robes was naught but a morass of mechadendrites and numerous processing modules.

As of now, he was tracking the signal of Piotr Arangia’s Knight. Errant-B. Typical rarity among the comrades of Go Zeta and Chertovsky Upsilon. No doubt Upsilon knew just what manner of horrors had laid siege to Hugenia and had figured it an ideal testing ground for his “collection” of technical marvels. Vatin pondered how he’d have preferred to have several cohorts of proper battle-automatons over these simple Skitarii. They did their job well, but with the sheer amounts of dangerous biohazards these cultists seemed to invoke, what parts of the Tech Guard that were still of flesh had been targeted as a vulnerability.

“Magos,” came a voice quite different from the crackling tones of the Tech-priests. It was General Yanov, of the Hugenian Defence Force. A somewhat short, but quite well-built man with tawny hair and ghost-pale complexion. With the fall of Hugenia’s industrial government, the HDF had taken over the situation before the arrival of the Red Legion.

“I’d appreciate a status report, if you please. My soldiers are preparing as best they can, but I’ve received very little in the way of information from you since your superior officer left for orbit.” The human was not shaken, but he seemed irritated.

“Noted, General,” Vatin turned to the man, “It appears as though the assault on Cetus-Eta resulted in the total loss of all combatants, by basic calculations. More practically, I am in communication with a surviving Knight-Pilot of House Taranis. I intend to give the order for total lockdown, as it appears we may be facing an incoming attack. Based on battlegroup transmissions, however, I expect Archmagos Go Zeta-06’s aid to arrive in a suitable timeframe.”

The General’s eyes went down, as he seemed to think for a moment, “Acceptable. Are my commando squads still expected to provide navigation in the Sprawl?”

“That has been amended. We will not need to worry about navigation in the Sprawl. Your commandos will better serve when we reach the hive, where we may require more precise purges depending on the enemy’s entrenchment.”

“Very well. Keep me in the loop next time.” General Yanov emphasized that last part, as Vatin’s attention seemed to have drifted back to his readout panels.

“Of course, General. Now if you will excuse me, I believe Sir Piotr has reached the outer perimeter.” With that, the cyborg left the human commander in the comms tower, rather dismissive considering their ranks were near equivalent in this context. Yanov couldn’t say he had any great love for the attitudes of these tech-priests, but at the very least they were efficient. Well – this assemblage was.

Down by the southern gates, the battle-scarred form of the King-Slayer heaved its way in view of the Mechanicum sentinels. Red and white heraldry charred and stained and chipped, noble melee weapon twitching and struggling to support its own weight, and the overall motions of the knight jerky and unwieldy from its exhausted reactor core, yet still it marched on.

Though it could not be seen, shielded as he was within cockpit and uplink armor, Sir Piotr’s hair was streaked with grey – he had not served with distinction for as long as he had to die this day.

He broadcasted the battlegroup passcodes, and the gate opened after a momentary processing from the security servitor. Lumbering into an open courtyard, surrounded by a veritable fortress of prefabricated buildings, the King-Slayer at last ground to a halt.

When Sir Piotr popped open his access hatch to peer from atop his great war-engine, he was met with the sight of a procession of Skitarii, led by a single Magos.

“Hail!” the armored knight called down from some ten meters above the ground, “Magos Vatin?”

“Affirmative,” for the tech-priest to elevate his voice was a strange thing, as his timbre did not change – he just raised the volume on his vox, “Sir Piotr Arangia, how dire is your condition?”

There was a hissing of seals releasing as Piotr removed his pilot’s helmet. Beneath was the face of a man one would little suspect of being a veteran noble of one of the mightiest Knight Houses in the galaxy. His features were gaunt, but overall plain, with skin of a middling sallow shade with dark eyes. His hair and beard were a deep brown, almost black, grey-tinged and cropped close so as to not interfere with his personal armor. Despite his somewhat haggard and unassuming appearance, the fact that he stood astride a Knight Errant-B, and the conditions of the battle he had returned alive from, spoke to his prowess.

“King-Slayer is about ready to give in, but I believe most of the damage is from an overworked reactor core. I fought an abomination of the Brethren, as per our transmission cutting off. It lies dead, but it was not the creature I warned you of,” the pilot relayed, “How quickly can your adepts shore up my Knight? Forget the armor, I just need it to be ready for combat.”

“I have already transmitted coordinates to the nearest repair facility in this base. Omnissiah’s tears, we are short of vehicles to service as of now, due to the casualties of the battle from which you alone returned.” Vatin said.

“Where is Go Zeta?” Piotr asked, then. Vatin disliked the breach in etiquette, but he felt correcting the pilot would bring about delays than anything.

“Inbound.” Was his simple reply, though it was laden with some implication that almost made Piotr smile in curiosity.

“I take my leave then. Ave Deus Mechanicus.” The King-Slayer groaned as it was pushed again into life. Its poor machine spirit, pained as it was, nonetheless possessed even more fortitude than its stalwart pilot. Vatin repeated back the phrase of salute as he watched the Knight lumber into the core of Eta Base.

What a world was this, that tested the mightiest of the Machine God’s engines so.

—

Piotr Arangia watched with solemn pride as the tech-adepts and enginseers set about replacing the primary reactor core of the King-Slayer. He took a deep drink of a canister of water, refreshing after all he’d been through. Still, despite his growing fatigue, and the mighty bulwarks of the Red Legion base, he felt naked outside the titanic mech. There were yet enemies about – not just across the surface of Hugenia, no, they could wait. He considered the foes which might show themselves at any moment.

“A magnificent engine. It pains me we do not have time to undertake full repairs.” The lead enginseer spoke to Sir Piotr. Rather dissimilar to the higher tech-priests, this enginseer was built more like a man, though layered with a carapace of thick augmetics. He used a somewhat casual tone that made Piotr wonder if High Gothic wasn’t a language he spoke often.

“A relic some six thousand years old, at least by the name it bears now,” Piotr commented, “Would you believe it was one a steed to a traitorous Dreadblade? He was laid low by a great paladin of House Taranis, and by the most dedicated ministrations of the Martian clergy was its machine-spirit saved. It’s served dutifully in my house for millennia now, but such are its quirks – of design and reputation – that only veterans are permitted its command.”

Though the cyborg’s face was an unmoving mask, his body language still seemed to suggest surprise, “Such a history. I can see why your maniple was summoned by the Red Legion.”

The Knight-Pilot just nodded and made some noise to the affirmative, watching as the new core was slid in place into the King-Slayer’s torso, the hiss of its seal followed by a clanging lock that confirmed it had been affixed.

Not a moment had passed from that singular repair, with the adepts having not even enough time to begin the proper post-installment litanies and anointments, when a tremor ran through the ground. By the sheer durability of Martian engineering did the whole fortress not come down, as the planetquake felt as though it was set to split the ground in two.

“What in the God-Emperor’s name was that?” Piotr demanded, all calm from his momentary reprieve shattered in a moment.

“Report!” the lead enginseer demanded of the repair center’s control deck.

In reply, they received an overriding broadcast in the voice of Magos Vatin.

“This is an emergency report. Massive seismic activity reported. There has been a surge in subterranean Warp radiation signatures. All units to defensive stations. Order immediate.” Speakers throughout the fortress blared the message, followed by the rising wail of klaxons as the whole of Eta Base moved into action like a disturbed anthill.

“Is King-Slayer ready?” the pilot demanded, though he was already striding over to the mounting scaffolding that surrounded the mighty suit.

It was time he avenged his kin.

From the comms tower, Magos Vatin overlooked a sight that drew something approximating fear even from the depths of his cold, mechanical heart. The readouts had been staggering, but the visual confirmation from the highland wastes beyond Eta Base’s walls were enough to slow his cybernetic ichor.

Great rifts had fractured open in the barren landscape, like a jagged maw into the planet’s crust. Miles across, the Magos had wondered what they were expected to do if one of the crevasses reached the base itself, but once the tremor had ceased, so too had the spread of the rocky abyss.

The roar of scouting craft came streaking overhead – a mixture of Hugenian and Mechanicus flyers that the Magos had mobilized to try and suss out the source of this disturbance. In an aerial phalanx they hovered over the pit, VTOL craft arcing lower and stabilizing as they affixed spotlights and laser probes on the shadowy depths.

Not even the fastest calculations of a war-minded Archmagos might have reacted in time to what unfolded then. Whipping out from the crater, its slow speed at distance but an illusion for how fast the titanic mass must have been moving, shot an enormous tendril. The color of blood and sinew, the appendage of flesh nonetheless showed its superiority to Martian steel as with a single strike it batted three Mechanicus thopters from the air like flies. Swarming, either in retreat or retaliation, the rest of the skyborne battalion attempted to combat the unnatural monstrosity with las-fire and aimed explosives.

Yet then more tendrils came slithering up from the inky black, like towers of corrupted flesh. They emerged from the ground like a parasite from a wound, and before long the call for retreat was sounding on all channels of the air squadron, as in mere moments they were decimated by the creature’s flailing assault.

Down in the eastern courtyard of Eta Base, the battle-scarred form of the King-Slayer strode into the dim light of the Hugenian day, and stood in terrified awe of what he saw beyond the fortress walls.

Even at this angle within the fortifications the monstrosity could be seen, such was its size. Though all the colossal height of its appendages compared nothing to the true creature.

From up out of the center of the writhing limbs, like a geyser of solidified gore, came the body of that daemonic golem forged by the dark sorcery which the Brethren of Hunger had forced upon reality. Though no details beyond its sickening color could be seen at this range, Piotr knew enough of the horrid workings of their foes to assume that this accounted for the apparent absence of corpses upon the killing fields. The beast’s body evoked the head of that fallen Knight he had left ruined on the outskirts of Cetus-Eta, being like a hellish worm with an eyeless face and gaping mouth. From its body grew untold numbers of tendrils, and great shards of twisted, bonelike fusions. Its body dripped with discolored blood, from numerous gashes like wounds along its serpentine sides, from which also emanated a scarlet glow that suggested that fell bile which had left the King-Slayer’s gauntlet in ruins.

Such a terror from beyond the veil of sanity might have had the power to split worlds in twain, as far as mere mortals could guess. Still, Piotr’s faith was all that was left to him, and he wondered if this was the sign that he was soon to join his ancestors in the Eternal Halls.

When he succumbed, he would make sure to overload the King-Slayer’s new reactor core. He would not allow his flesh to become a part of that abomination.

The roar of the monster, like the amplified screams of a million tormented souls, was alone matched by a sound that rose in response. Its vast shadow was darkened by a greater pall which was cast in front of the smog-shrouded sun.

Down from the heavens, splitting the very atmosphere at its passing, dipped the silhouette of a Mechanicus heavy cruiser. Even so far above in low orbit, its form was like that of a floating city. Despite its blunted shape, mighty engines held it aloft with acute grace, as it drifted to a halt above the highland wastes.

From over the Red Legion battle channels, a transmission aired.

“This is Archmagos Dominus Go Zeta-06,” came the voice, with the timbre of a clarion horn, followed by a blaring string of binary, “Sing praise to the God of All Machines.”

With that, the message cut, and though the colossus of flesh still howled and thrashed, tearing into the earth as it began to pry itself up from below and towards the base’s walls, there seemed a moment of silence in the minds of all those defending. Piotr wondered if they were all of them about to experience the Omnissiah’s molten wrath from above. It would be expected, if not so glorious, in light of the corruption they all faced.

Instead, there was a single flash of brightness from the cruiser’s shadow far above, and from the echoing anti-noise grew a screaming wail. Like an artillery shell flung by the hand of the Emperor himself, a bloom of fiery radiance descended from on high. It fell slow, considering the massive amounts of wind resistance it was exerting to slow its descent, yet still it came crashing in a hail of flame and fury like meteorite into the surface of Hugenia. When it impacted, even the giant daemon of flesh was staggered, reeling at the shockwave, while structures shuddered from this second tremor, and anything that stood on two legs which was not so mighty as a Knight was sent sprawling and stumbling.

It was a great monolith of superheated metal, there impacted in a deep crater not a few miles off from the fort perimeter and where the daemonic behemoth continued its clawing ascent from the depths. For the objects size, it did not seem so far, as it towered above even the highest point of Eta Base’s comms tower. Piotr recognized the design, though it was rare to see it at such a colossal scale – a drop pod.

With a howl as if the gates of hell had been shattered, and a hissing of steam like a volcanic eruption, the sides of the enormous container were blown open. The outer shielding, still bright red from the residual heat of the descent, crashed to the ground in the form of four great ramps, releasing a roiling cloud of steam from within the adamantine coffin’s shadowed depths. There, within the gloom of that obscuring fog, a hundred blaring white lights lit up like radiant jewels within the crown of the God Emperor himself.

A foghorn blared, and the Titan stepped forth from its drop pod.

No one could look away. Not even veterans so old as Piotr or even the Magos Vatin could avert their gazes from the glory of the god machine. Like the Omnissiah’s own avatar the mech came forward, each step shaking the earth and carrying it hundreds of yards at a time. Even the great beast of flesh and horror’s attention was turned for a moment from its sluggish path towards the outer walls, as it considered this new prey which presented itself.

It was a Martian Warlord-class Titan, defined by the strength and elegance expressed in every facet of its monumental design. Like a brutal warrior weighed down by the weight of his own armor, the colossus was an unmistakable engine of war. Twin Volcano cannons and Mauler turrets graced its arm and shoulder-mountings, and the faint flicker about the mech’s silhouette that could be spied whenever a plume of badland dust blew by showed that its void shields were online. Yet, to Piotr at the very least, what was most remarkable was its livery. It almost seemed akin to his own Taranis red and white.

Some said that the Legio Fortidus – the Dauntless – had been obliterated millennia ago. Yet when they said that the Archmagi Chertovsky and Go possessed many grand artifacts and secretive allies, it was apparent that was but an understatement. To those defenders present, whether they understood the true significance of that Martian herald or just balked at its power, it was as though they had been delivered by the divine.

The monster of flesh shrieked like a windstorm as its counterpart in steel approached. In reply, there was a humming in the very air, and a flash of light that would have blinded all who looked on it without protection to their mortal eyes. A Volcano cannon lanced out a beam of energy that cooked the atmosphere, and with another scream of unholy rage one of the wyrm’s gangrenous tentacles was sloughed off in a shower of seared gore and running ichor.

It was breathtaking how the god machine humbled that beast of darkness just like it had humbled all the combatants of Cetus-Eta. Sir Piotr Arangia was a Knight-pilot – he was a mortal of flesh, though his ties to and respect for the arcane sciences of the Mechanicus were unbreakable. Still he could not shake one thought from his mind…

“The flesh is weak. The machine is strong.”

Another Volcano shot arced out, followed by the deafening thunder of two rotating heavy bolter turrets spraying down a hail of fire from the Titan’s mantle. For all its immense size, the wyrm was not so agile, having grown fat off all it had consumed. As it tried to haul itself across the wastes, towards the Dauntless Warlord, it could do nothing but leave behind a rancid trial of rotten effluvia as it was withered beneath the relentless fire.

As though it were giving peace to that conglomeration of so many devoured souls, the Titan did not cease its barrage until no sound – no forsaken wail or pealing roar – came from the husk of the daemonic creature. Not until it was a smoldering stain miles long, upon ground which had begun to turn to carbonized glass, did the Titan power down its blazing weaponry.

Despite the slow, sweeping pace of both those giants, it seemed as though the battle was over in an instant. Where once there had been just the promise of annihilation, by the grace of Mars did it appear as though the battle was not yet lost.

Again, that claxon voice came over the vox waves, and Piotr stood a little taller within his cockpit. The King-Slayer, in mirror, rose to a proud stance as well.

“This is Archmagos Dominus Go Zeta-06, aboard the Ark Mechanicus Worth of the Slain. Now comes the time to deploy the Legio Fortidus. My Lord-Archmagos has decreed that Hugenia shall not be sacrificed.”

Sir Piotr Arangia marveled how, even after all his years of battle in the name of the Imperium, still the Omnissiah could head his prayers.

[sailorsanghelios]

Halo for Beginners Part 2: The Covenant

Hey guys! So I’m sorry it took so long to do my second part, the past few months have been kind of rough, but I’m excited to continue my Halo for Beginners series. So now lets jump into some cool lore stuff

Please note the content warnings from the previous post are still in place, and also I will be talking about all factions from a non spoilery aspect that mostly focuses on the original Bungie trilogy.

Here’s a link to my first post in this series!

So I decided to begin talking about the factions in Halo with my favorite faction in the original Halo trilogy… the Covenant. These are the main guys you’re fighting against and shooting at.

So the Covenant is a religious conglomerate that worships the Forerunners, which is the now extinct (or so they say) alien species that created the Halo rings. The foundation of the Covenant religion is that the Forerunners are gods, and they achieved godhood by activating the Halo rings...meaning if the Covenant activates the rings, then they become gods too. If you remember me talking about the plot of Halo in the last part you can uhh...see the problem here.

The Covenant are at war with humanity because of us being the true Reclaimers, or heirs of the Forerunners, and they decided to exterminate us, because if anyone found out about our status their entire society would crumble.

The Covenant are made up of a lot of species, so I’m going to talk about them in order of their caste in the hierarchy, in the most spoiler free way possible.

So first up is the San ‘Shyuum, or as the humans call them, Prophets. They are the religious and political leaders of Covenant society. The human name for them “Prophet” is a bit of a misnomer, because that’s a religious title only some of them possess. The Covenant government is run by three High Prophets, who serve as both political and religious leaders (like think the President and the Pope as the same person). In the time of the first Halo trilogy, these Prophets are named the Prophet of Truth, the Prophet of Mercy and the Prophet of Regret, There's many minor Prophets that work under them, and of course there are Prophets who work in secular work too.

The Prophets in the Covenant are descendants of exiles from their home planet Janjur Qom, who left the planet after deciding to activate a Forerunner ship, while those that remained on the planet thought it was sacrilege. This ship, the Dreadnaught, now serves as the main power grid of the Covenant space station and capital, High Charity. Only a few hundred of them were among these exiles, and for this reason, Prophets have very tight regulations on reproduction, and many of them are banned from reproducing. It is believed that the Prophet homeworld was consumed by its star, and that the population on High Charity is the last of their kind. Because of their home world having a different form of gravity compared to High Charity, all Prophets need some sort of mobility aid, with the lower classes using a gravity belt, and the higher classes having gravity chairs. Because of their non combatant roles, Prophets first appear in Halo 2 when we get to see more of the Covenant outside of combat roles.

So up next is my personal favorite and the namesake of my blog.

The Sangheili! Or as they’re called in game, the Elites. They hail from the planet Sanghelios -points at username and winks-. They’re the second highest ranked species, and one of the two founding Covenant species, after they went to war with the Prophets in like…. 800 BCE or something like that. The two species realized they’d just annihilate each other so they ended up creating a joint society that evolved into the Covenant. They are the military backbone of the Covenant, making up most of their high ranking military officers. They’re a very proud and haughty species, who are fixated on honor and glory. They’re the creators of the Energy Sword (of Energy Sword Sunday fame) and the only ones legally allowed to use them.

Sangheili are very naturally intelligent but millennia of having been pigeonholed as “the warriors” of their society has stunted their non military achievements. To die in battle is the most honorable way a Sangheili can die, and they are often cold and callous to lower ranked species in their command, because they expect the same from them. Some miscellaneous facts about them are they hate doctors because they think they dishonorably draw blood from people. Some Sangheili would rather die then visit a doctor. They also don’t believe in dads raising children, (because they think it promotes nepotism)  and the male figures in their lives as kids tend to be their maternal uncles. Female Sangheili do not serve in the military, but they’re the ones basically running the show on Sanghelios and on their colonies.

So up next are the Jiralhanae, or as the humans call them, Brutes. They are the newest addition to the Covenant, having only been assimilated in about fifty years before the first game. They hail from the planet Doisac and at the time the Covenant found them they were recovering from nuclear war and were easy to absorb in.

The Brutes are probably the strongest of the Covenant species, and they quickly gained more and more social standing because of their might and also how eager they were to please the Prophets. Their society has a patriarchal and tribal basis, which is also reflected in their military units which are often led by a Chieftain. The Elites do not like them at all, and see them as a threat to their millennia long chokehold on being the best of the best fighters for the Covenant, Elite and Brute fleets are segregated, and you almost never see them serving in the same unit. For this reason Brutes don’t show up in game until Halo 2, since the only Covenant in the first game are from the Fleet of Particular Justice, which is an Elite fleet.

This is the Mgalekgolo, or as the humans call them Hunters. (This is the only species where I always call them by the human nickname because I can never remember the real name). These big boys are actually… a bunch of little boys! They might not look it in that big hefty armor, but they’re actually a mass of worms called Lekgolo that formed into one being. The Hunters were the first species the Prophets and Elites pacified and and join the Covenant...because they ate a bunch of Forerunner artifacts in their home planet Te. Because they’re metal eating worms.

The Hunters are very mysterious since they can’t talk the way other species do, and instead vibrate. When a Hunter is formed, it always ends up splitting into two Hunters, and these Hunters are called “bond brothers”. Hunters are deployed in combat more like a tank would be, as opposed to a soldier, and are always deployed with their bond brother. If a Hunter’s bind brother dies, they go into a giant frenzy, and will tear apart anything in its path in a suicidal rampage.

Okay so Kig-yar! Or Jackals as the humans call them. the Jackals come from the moon Eayn which orbits the planet Chu’ot ( and it’s a real life planet that we know of as “HD 69830 d” which is super cool!) Despite their nickname, Jackals are actually avian aliens. They have a large amount of genetic diversity, and have different subspecies, though all of them can breed with each other! Unlike most Covenant species, the Jackals are matriarchal and usually have female leaders. Their entire way of life is based in a history of piracy in their home planet, where they basically just fought each other until they figured out space flight.

The Jackals have a unique role in the Covenant, and they’re not particularly religious. Instead they’re more of mercenaries for hire, who are in a business arrangement with the Prophets.  They’re basically a race of space pirates, and when anything fishy and illegal is going on in Covenant space, it can often be traced back to them.

So the Yanme’e (or Drones as the humans call them) aren’t really focused on very much, and I actually don’t know a huge amount about them. They joined the Covenant sometime after the first millennium and hail from the planet Palamok, and they’re well...they’re bugs. They have a government format that’s similar to a bee hive, where a single female queen is in charge of a colony, and then she has her reproductive drones and her workers. The Queens made a deal with the Covenant to force lower ranked Drones into their service in exchange for...not destroying their planet I guess.

Within the Covenant, Drones are mostly used for mechanical engineering, but they have combat roles too. Like the Brutes and the Prophets, the Drones first appear in Halo 2, but unlike the former two there’s not really a lore reason for that. Maybe Bungie was just like “you know what’d be fun….bugs that shoot you”.

So the lowest on the totem pole is the poor little Unggoy...or the Grunts as humans call them. Yeah the name says it all, these little guys are karmic kickballs. They come from the planet Balaho and they’re the only Covenant species (and honestly known species in the galaxy) that doesn’t breathe oxygen, and instead they breathe methane, and have to wear gas masks. These little guys were absorbed into the Covenant in the 22nd century, and were almost instantly turned into slaves and canon fodder for the Covenant.

These will be the ones you’re shooting the most, and they’re usually quite cowardly and run away when they’re left to their own devices and their superiors fall. However they don’t exist just to be cute joke characters. They can be quite fierce when provoked, as the Covenant learned in the Great GruntRebellion during the 25th century. They’re also very intelligent in ways one wouldn’t expect, such as language acquisition and philosophy. So don’t totally underestimate them!

And last we have…

These are the Huragok, or as humans call them, the Engineers. The Engineers are considered more of...tools then anything and they aren’t technically alive! They’re a biological supercomputer created by the Forerunners and who were left behind and later found by the Covenant. They’re born from essentially multiple Engineers working together to collect pieces and make a new one (if you’ve ever seen that movie Robots from years ago with Robin Williams and how they literally had a “build your own baby kit”? That’s basically what the Engineers do). The most important thing when creating a new Engineer is to have the buoyancy correct so they  can breathe and float correctly. Engineers have unique names based on their initial buoyancy at birth such as “Lighter than Some” or “Drifts Aimlessly”

Engineers are very pacifist by nature, their only drive is to build and fix things. They have been known to help out humans, as they don’t truly see them as foes, and are basically only with the Covenant because they supply them with things to fix. They do like making friends and the very first causality in the war was actually caused by an Engineer defending his Grunt friend against a human during first contact. Also you’ll never actually encounter an Engineer in normal game play in the first three Halo games (they made their first in game appearence in Halo 3:ODST which is also included on the MCC), as they were cut late from development from the first game. However in the first PC release of Halo CE it was possible to mod them back in because the code was mostly finished before they were cut, and possibly this might be possible in the Steam release, if you wanna see squishy jellyfish friends.

So that’s it for my premier for the Covenant species. probably kind of a weird place to begin but it’s probably my favorite part of the Halo lore so I was excited to write it, Next time will be humans and I promise I will get it out quicker.

[luci-yabs]

2018 Xenos Lore Review

This is my personal opinion on the general developments of lore for Xenos (and Xenos alone) over the course of 2018.

Pro:

The Twisted Runes is the first and only story Black Library has ever written in which Asuryani decisively defeat Loyalist Space Marines. It featured a female Farseer manipulating and overpowering a Librarian, Howling Banshees killing Space Marines and the Asuryani simply triumphing. It also marked, as far as I know, the first time Ibraeysil actually appeared in a novel. This was a monumentous story to be published and I’m sad it will probably go down as a sui generis case never to be replicated, but I am glad for its existence the same way I am glad for Throneworld establishing a Shadowseer and Death Jester killing multiple Custodes and Deathwatch: Swordwind establishing a Howling Banshee Exarch as capable of killing a Chapter Master. Though these are but drops in an ocean of mediocrity and failure they provide, at least, a very tenous thread with which to argue that, canonically, Aeldari don’t completely suck.

We know that Drazhar was able to kill 3 Custodes himself in combat, basically the biggest combat-related achievement any Xenos Special Character has ever been allowed to have.

The Necron Dynasties were substantially fleshed out and expanded on, providing a wealth of further detail about the Necron faction.

Nazdreg returned in a substantial form to the lore. He was mentioned in several extracts, he was officially confirmed to have a sizeable empire in the Segmentum Obscurus and he has a canonical win over the Blood Angels!

Hive Fleet Kronos, Hive Fleet Tiamat and the Court of the Nephilim King were all interesting and innovative takes on the Tyranids.

Vigilus Defiant did help to develop the Genestealer Cults and expand them as forces who could endanger multiple worlds, not once-off rebellions always consumed. Further on Vigilus we had confirmation of a Patriarch slaying a Vindicaire Assassin. 

Con:

Aelindrach, Kheradruak and the entire plot line surrounding them in Fracture of Biel-Tan was simply forgotten and replaced with an infinitely more lame ‘Asdrubael just sent a lot of Incubi’. 

Kheradruahk got to cameo in a Horus Heresy book just so he could lose and help to eradicate any hope of a Xenos mattering.

The Pact established that Terminators are faster than Dire Avengers and Librarians with only 30 years experience are superior to multiple centuries old Farseers. 

Is Biel-Tan fractured?

Saim-Hann got to suck on Vigilus. Not only are they legitimately the victims, loosing dozens of their own after saving the Imperium, but they don’t even get to have rightous revenge, instead just dying doing that as well.

The Ynnari still seem to basically act at the whims of the Imperium with no reciprocity whatsoever, making it seem not like an alliance but rather just like the Imperium rules them.

Yvraine is still always just cleaning up her own messes rather than actually achieving something.

Ghazghkull is still doing basically nothing.

Is Octarius over? I don’t know. 

Krooldakka has been introduced to lose. Yay.

The T’au spend their whole Codex getting their butts kicked and the explicit end state of their fluff right now is that they stand no chance against a rando Death Guard force.

The Tyranids lose another Tyrannic War.

A tired Dante solos the Swarmlord.

Genestealer Cults are being set up on Vigilus just to lose.

Imotehk’s Absorption Wars, the single most successful campaign of the entire 8th Edition, is completely ignored and glossed over.

The Imperium, under Cawl, now out innovates the T’au Empire.

[twitchesandstitches]

Obliposi - Cute Blob Monster Friends

a modicatio to my idea of the Endowed Fleet having cute power-monsters. like, they still have those, probably, but what they definitely have in abundance are more adaptable little slime cuties. These are the Obliposi, or Oblipo if you’re talking about individual ones!

they’re adorable little slime creatures that can absorb power ups, power trinkets and other things, and transform into more powerful monsters that assume those powers into a new form

its very similiar to the Matriatrix’s ‘eat thing, transform with new powers based on it’ and for good reason; they’re mainly created when one of the Endowed has so much power that she gets pregnant with... basically raw magical energy but has nothing in particular to base it on. the energy takes on a life of its own, and becomes one of these creatures. or given their fertility, dozens of them. since the Endowed are made with the power of the Matriatrix, they’re basically working off the same blank template deal it seems to have. 

They can also turn up in non-Crossthicc settings with a similar reasoning, being a point where magic meets the idea of hunger and just pops up, eager to consume and be helpful, often by being consumed. Not that it seems to harm them any.

they’re small and colorful, like a blob made of paint with little eyes and happy smiles. they roll around, about the size of a dog to a truck, depending on how old they are and how much they eat, and are very friendly, passive and gentle creatures. They will eat anything, and act as living garbage disposals. they just digest anything dropped into them, but they can contain living things harmlessly. sometimes they’re used for beds! (or milking, they just latch on and slurp until they are big, bloated spheres stuffed with milk). They can be easily swallowed and digested, and are very delicious; all nutrition and magic they have absorbed is given to whoever consumes them, and they appear to fanatically love to eat just to do this, even finding the process pleasurable. It won’t even permanently harm them, and they’ll just pop up again not far away.

when given powers, they morph into new, much larger and powerful shapes based on that power and these can get pretty weird. a weapon power? probably some kind of orb-shaped knight that produces weapons, firearms and ammunition out of its body. the power to fly real fast? a tiny jet engine with teeth and punchy fists. lava? glob of magma that powers up to blast exploding bits everywhere. They usually get about human-sized, but if they have enough magic to eat, they can grow to kaiju-size with power boosts to match.

Once transformed, they can merge with anyone (Endowed, ordinary person and otherwise) and imbue them with whatever powers they have gained. These powers, unlike normal ones, do not merge with existing abilities and are temporary; once exhausted, the creature will just pop off, very tired and possibly sad.

They roam around the fleet, doing little odd jobs and eating whatever anyone gives them, and serve a complicated role as security guards, babysitters, and pets. Generally they live in the creches and the zoos where more fierce monsters are kept!

no one is quite sure if they are intelligent, genuinely alive or not. They have just enough soul to use magic, but no one is sure if they are extensions of the magic of the Endow who birth them, components of some vast bio-magical hive mind computer they’re unknowingly creating, or somewhat ditzy creatures that have no particular need to talk thus far. It is possible one that grows big and powerful enough could evolve into a slime girl.

[reawakenment]

the book without pages

[] page four : disorders and their inherent purity

sonnet xliii

william shakespeare (1564–1616)

when most i wink, then do mine eyes best see

for all the day they view things unrespected;

but when i sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

and darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.

the darkness glows. it’s unearthly...within me. pulsing softly. quietly purring to itself. waiting. the darkness is getting brighter.

there are no words.

i just...

no.

no more.

there are no words.

i believed you. in the beginning. i believed every word that you said. i believed in your everything.

i believed in you.

you were nothing more than a concept. a symbol. a fantasy.

now it’s gone. all gone. fade away, gone. good bye.

you left me here. torn. bruised. bloodied.

just the way you like it.

you left me in shreds. tattered. discarded.

disconnect.

you gave birth to me and then you left me. begat me. brought me forth into your world. didn’t even take the time to love me. you...

you forsook me.

you left me. you took it all away from me. all of the things that i wanted, i needed. what i really wanted and needed, nothing material, everything of benevolence. everything of devotion. you took it all. you left me.

you left me to stand here, like some voiceless doll, left me to wonder…what was i do? what could be done? where did it all go to?

this love that i was supposed to have – what happened to it?

i believed you. in the beginning. i believed many things. that some things, things like love and happiness, could be mine. that is what i was led to believe.

my naïveté has left me now. now that it's gone...i can’t even mourn its loss. it wasn’t worth having in the first place, was it?

i’m not frightened anymore.

it was so easy for you, wasn’t it, mara. it took no time at all for your sisterly love for me to grow cold. it should be of no wonder to you that i walk this life with my head facing the ground.

you relinquished me.

tell me where, where did i go?

you gave birth to me in your dreaming city, made me love you anew as our queen. and then you surrendered me.

why?

is it because i loved you still as a brother and not just as a soldier, a general, an assassin, a spy?

then i take it back. i take it all back. i didn’t mean any of it.

i didn’t mean...when i said...what i said...i didn’t...

don't forsake me...

then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,

how would thy shadow’s form form happy show

to the clear day with thy much clearer light,

when to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!

  i feel like the shadows are eating away at my flesh. assuming its place as my primary skin. shedding the pale blue in place of a dull black. picking. peeling back.

things are changing. shifting. i can see it now. there are signs. there are warnings. i’ve tried to ignore it. if you don’t see it happen, it never did.

i've been hiding. inside my head. using my pomposity and fortunate breeding to shield my eyes. for carrying my nose so high aloft, i should have been inching along, prostrate. i didn’t want to see then. not years ago, not hours ago, not a moment ago. i’m tired of this endless self-reflection, this meditation upon who and what i could have been. if not for you.

i don’t know how to clear my mind anymore.

cobwebs. dust. confusion. insecurity. chaos. have i been blinded by delusions of grandeur? no, but we are not who we are.

i’m sick of wallowing in your sins.

my own sins.

there are times that i almost envy the guardians and those back on earth. some of them find peace in…things. ritualistic behaviors. chants. incantations. potions. totems.

the cross. the word. heaven. hell.

i don’t understand.

i never did.

there is no belief for me. there is no heaven, no hell. those ideas are as abstract to me as the traveler’s chosen. there are no saints, no sinners. we are all damned in our own way. by our own hand.

there is no crown of thorns, no throne, no gates nor angels on high. but there is a devil. there is only the devil. and he is subtil. he is evil. he is...hurt. he is the turn, the twist, the practice, the intent; he is the personification of the very word.

the religion of the past and of some of those in our present, impractical magic, that is what i’ve heard it called. they speak to a father, a son, and a holy ghost.

they would make it into a religion, this veneration of the traveler. a cult of personality. they think themselves to be so different, better, than the hive and their worms and the vex and their black garden. but they wish to practice the same deception. those saved by the guardians wish to perform some unholy hoax using the light. telling us, telling themselves, to believe in the traveler and its message. to believe the lie.

i have no faith. i still have certain beliefs, but no faith in the holy sense of the word. if there’s one thing i don’t believe in...

there are changes coming. the war has already been lost.

i wanted it to consume me.

but i survived.

i’ve already been rendered inside out. i want to have something, anything, to wash over me, cleanse me of everything. the rhetoric, the ordeals, the memories, the hollow promises. i’m weary of thinking. constant contemplation of what? my miserable existence, for too short / too long a turn.

i have no will. i didn’t choose to live. i didn’t choose to kill. i didn’t choose to die. i didn’t choose to lie. to hate. to fear.

there are changes coming. i wonder what lies on the other side of the wave.

as i turn into my shadow, who awaits me on the darkest side?

how would, i say, mine eyes be blessed made

by looking on thee in the living day,

when in dead night thy fair imperfect shade

through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!

           all days are nights to see till i see thee,

         and nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

  i wish i could run.

i want to do something.

do anything.

something drastic.

before i fracture.

i want to scream. i want to break something. i want to dream. i want to sleep without memory. i want to hide. i want to fight. i want to claw at them. i want them to hurt the way i do. i want to run until the tears run down my cheeks and the breath burns deep inside my chest. i want to run until i feel nothing but pain, in my legs, in my throat, in my side.

i want to run faster. faster than the dark or the light that made us this.

i want to leave this behind, the pain and the sadness and the anger and the regret and the confusion and the i don’t know anymore, leave it all behind.

i want to run until there is no more pain. until the concept of pain has shifted in my perception to a blur. until it has caused all sensation to recede, to slip into the background. i want to run to that imaginary far point on the horizon. the one between the night after tomorrow and the future that might not hold me.

i want to run until stars and sound washes over me in waves. i want to run until i can no longer hear the lies that they are saying.

i was once a child. i am a child. i was born old. i was never a child. i was never born.

i can’t look anymore.

i can’t stare…at the past, at my reflection, at the future.

i can’t see the change that is coming. i won’t see it. i just want it to happen, to unfold, to envelope me, to swallow me whole.

from my periphery, i catch sight, nothing more than a fleeting glimpse, a vague perception. i see something.

i turn to look.

but, like you, sister, it is gone.

there is no imprint on my recollection. i cannot place a finger upon it now. i cannot remember.

i think it was important.

i think it was...

me.

i was a child.

i am a child.

a childhood...that was never to be.

that never felt quite real to me.

i am a child. no, i never was. in body, but in mind…

that child is grown. the hopes and dreams have gone, just like you, sister.

funny. those words. terms. endearments. special in usage and in meaning. precise. significant.

twin. either of two.

sister. a goddess and queen.

you never felt quite that real to me.

[skegulium]

>Kyviar: Ignite the Flames

You've been called many things before in your life. You've been called a monster, a mutant, heartless, a murderer, the Demoness reborn - but this had to be a first.

How often was it that someone looked you in the eyes and called you a slacking, irresponsible toad who didn't know how to sign her own name? It really, really wasn't often and you have to admit, it was the only reason why you haven't ordered the culling of this troll.

"- The damage to the hospital would have been minimal," the soft, round troll in front of you droned on, her hands flying around her in a display of indignation. "But you've been too stingy to repair the foundation issues I brought up to you the past perigree! And now - now! All of those FLARPers and the naval battle have completely cracked it! The Pupa's wing is completely closed now, because we're sure it'll fall off the building! We need it fixed, Kyviar! We can't just gloss over it and ignore it doesn't exist!"

Oh, she's lucky she's not dead. You've got a letter opener in your fingers, the tip of it digging into the wooden desk as you twirled it lazily. You should kill her, you muse quietly as she goes on about the hospital. She's undermining your authority and insulting you to your face - but when was the last time that someone had the guts to do that? You'd be lying if you said you weren't just a tad endeared by this pigheaded, determined doctor. You drag the tip of the letter opener up out of your desk with a sigh as you sit back, interrupting the troll as she spoke.

But before you could even say a word, there was a soft knock on the dark wood doors of your office and both of you turned to face it. A soft, innocent looking face of a pupa poked in, turning their doe eyes up at you. "Miss Tirsok?" They ask, quiet and inquisitive. You can't help but smile and lean back, wiggling your fingers for them to step in. They do, and out of the corner of your eyes you can see the doctor huffing angrily. You'll see about getting some respect out of her at a later time, but for now you'll accept the distraction poised by this child.

"What's going on?" You ask, tilting your head just so.

The pupa shyly shuffles in, but they don't waste your time. The kid knew better than doing that. "You have another guest," they say. "In the foyer."

There was a curious pause, and your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the kid try to speak.

"... It's an indigo. With makeup and she's demanding to see you. We - they think she's Fleet."

Now... Now that's interesting news. You and the doctor share a look after that, the poor troll looking troubled by the news. You, however, are not. Why would you be? No, in fact, this guest seems to have given you a boon because at least some painted Fleet clown managed to both spice up your day and get you out of having to listen to more insults about your town. You'll fucking take it.

"Well, my darling," You drawl out to the doctor, pushing yourself up to your feet. "It looks like I've got some more... pressing matters to look at for tonight. Let's meet up tomorrow, hm? Go back to your hospital, do what you can, I'll see if I can't get some trolls out there to do some damage control. For now...," The doctor looks almost anxious as you stroll across the room, towards where your sword belt hung from a hook on the wall. The leather is worn under your hands and the polished brass twinkles in the light and as you wrap it around your waist, you can hear the doctor trotting out of your office with the pupa.

Fleet trolls, you muse as you start to stalk out of your office. No, the pupa said just one, was that right? Just one clown, coming in and demanding to see you. No violence - not yet at least - just a simple demand and clearly enough patience to wait for you to arrive. It's a curious thing, you'll have to admit. What would a clown of all people want with you? Were they from some sort of law enforcement agency? Another final warning to your little port town to stop your piracy and your crime? How many of those did you have at this point? You're sure one of your assistants has a ledge somewhere of the trolls who've passed through like this.

Once you leave your office, you're almost completely thrown off by just how humid it is. The spring rains came early this year and down here in the tropics, it was either hot and humid, or a little less hot and but still humid. Thankfully, it was only the latter case but you could still feel your blanket of hair frizzing up as you speak. Huffing strands of it out of your face, you don't stop for a second as you make your way down the hall to the foyer.

If there was one thing you loved about your little village here, it had to be the view. Your own hive and offices sat halfway up the steep hill, overlooking the rows of villages tumbling down in between the trees and foliage, before it flattened out near the crisp, blue water of the bay. It was a busy day today, of course - after the FLARPing attacks only a few nights ago, the entire city was in a bit of a mess. Sure, there was one or two burned buildings you can see from your view up here in the open air hallways, but they were minor! Your town put them out quick enough, and the parts that were looted or destroyed were almost entirely contained towards the coast. Which, all things considered, you'll consider that an achievement. They came, tried to pillage the WHOLE town and were culled for their efforts, and now you just had to rebuild.

God, was it expensive though and time consuming. The heavy tropical rains didn't help either and they came down in sheets and pounded on the terracotta shingles of the buildings and walkways of your sprawling hive. You'll have to figure out how to raise the funds to fix all of that soon enough - after your little guest has been dealt with. Damned fucking FLARPers.

You turn your attention from the town below you as you pass by a stucco pillar, where one of your right hand trolls leaned, arms crossed across his wide chest. The thick ropes of his wet dreads stuck to his shoulders and teal eyes glanced up at you as you slowed. His thin clothes seemed to stick to his skin and you can't help but roll your eyes.

"Sticking your head out into the rain, hm Gorgol?" You ask him as he gives you a smirk and falls into line next to you. He almost seems to pout at you as both of your boots click along the wooden floor as you approach the foyer.

"Can't fault a man for wantin' to feel the rain," He countered back, before he stopped before the thick wooden doors. The wooden shutters are clamped shut on the doors and you can't even see through them as you stop next to Gorgol.

You level him with a curious glance, the question plain on your face. He sighs, and threads his fingers against his skull. "She's askin' for you," He starts, low enough that it can't travel through the door. "Didn't tell us much more than that. One cold ass motherfucker too, looks like she'd skin us if we so much as thought about touching her. Fleet, askin' for you specifically." Teal eyes flicked towards the door and your own hand rested down on the hilt of your sword. "I'll be here though, right outside the door. Rheine is outside the west doors, with Jacker too. We'll be just call away if you need it - "

You hold up a hand, tilting your head towards the doors and a smile on your face. "Please, Gorgol," You say with a touch of amusement. "You act like I can't handle myself. What's she going to do, honk at me?" The smile on your face widens into a grin and you take the moment to push into the room, throwing open both of the double doors.

It gives you a nice effect, you'll have to admit. Your skirts and your hair billow out behind you as you stride in like you own the place (which, by the way, you absolutely do) and your footsteps are quicky muffled by the plush damask rug across the floor. The foyer is mostly open air, with massive windows and a balcony wrapping around it and you can see the shutters on the other pair of doors on the opposite side of the room are open when you seen a glimpse of your other shipmates there. Lanterns hung across the ceiling, tiny paper things that cast a lovely glow across the room and plants crowed up the corners of the room where they tried desperately to reach the rain outside.

"Please tell me you didn't track mud on my carpet," You drawl out as you hold your head up high. Your steps are slow and languid as you walk into the middle of the room towards the large, dark and studded leather chair. It's your chair, strategically placed so it was facing a pair of smaller, more generic looking couches and you don't see a glimpse of a troll sitting on them. It's a curious thing, but you quickly see why when you see the troll perched so casually in your own seat.

What fucking attitude, you can't help but think as you take your time to round the chair, your eyes pinning the troll to the seat with a look that you know burns like fire. One hand comes up to the sword at your waist, fingernails tapping at the metal in a cascade of noise.

"Well well well," You say as you stop in front of the troll in the chair. Your hair falls to the side as you tilt your head, a smile spreading across your face. "Aren't you a rude little hellion?"

[orbemnews]

What Do You Call a Bunch of Black Holes: A Crush? A Scream? What do you call a black hole? Anything you want, the old joke goes, as long as you don’t call it late for dinner. Black holes, after all, are nothing but hungry. But what do you call a collection of black holes? The question has taken on an urgency among astronomers inspired by the recent news of dozens of black holes buzzing around the center of a nearby cluster of stars. In the last few years, instruments like the LIGO and Virgo gravitational-wave detectors have recorded space-time vibrations from the collisions of black holes, making it clear beyond doubt that these monstrous concentrations of nothingness not only exist but are ubiquitous. Astronomers anticipate spotting a great number of these Einsteinian creatures when the next generation of gravitational-wave antennas are deployed. What will they call them? There are gaggles of geese, pods of whales and murders of crows. What term would do justice to the special nature of black holes? A mass? A colander? A scream? Jocelyn Kelly Holley-Bockelmann, an astrophysicist at Vanderbilt University, and colleagues are developing an international project called the Laser Interferometer Space Antenna, or LISA, that will be able to detect collisions between all sizes of black holes throughout the universe. She was trying to run a Zoom meeting of the group recently “when one of the members said his daughter was wondering what you call a collective of black holes — and then the meeting fell apart, with everyone trying to up one another,” she said in an email. “Each time I saw a suggestion, I had to stop and giggle like a loon, which egged us all on more.” The question was crowdsourced on Twitter recently as part of what NASA has begun calling black hole week (April 12-16). Among the many candidates so far: A crush. A mosh pit. A silence. A speckle. A hive. An enigma. Or a favorite of mine for of its connection to my youth: an Albert Hall of black holes. The number of known black holes will only grow. LISA will be able to detect so-called primordial black holes, if there are any, left over from the early moments of the Big Bang, as well as more recent ones, presenting researchers with “basically a black hole smorgasbord,” Dr. Holly-Bockelmann said. The antenna won’t fly until 2034, she added, “so there is time to figure out the term if and when we need it!” The International Astronomical Union, which regulates cosmic nomenclature, has no rules on “collectives,” she added, so it is up to the people to decide. Dr. Holly-Bockelmann added, that among her personal preferences was “a ‘void’ of black holes.” My own candidate is a “disaster” of black holes, since the word disaster is rooted in the Latin “astro” — star — and, later, the Italian term for “ill-starred.” The previous black hole week was in the fall of 2019, when NASA replayed some of the scarier-sounding cosmic news, involving black holes exploding, eating stars or preparing to consume their neighborhoods. Now, against the backdrop of a global pandemic, black holes offer a respite and reminder of how small and fleeting our own troubles are in the grandest scheme. Black holes have become the cat videos of astronomy. So last week, NASA served up another smorgasbord of black hole news and public service announcements, like this animated video from NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center. You can’t tour a black hole, of course, but two years ago astronomers provided the next best thing: the first-ever image of one. The supermassive black hole — 6.5 billion suns worth of disappeared mass — sits at the center of the galaxy Messier 87. The image was taken by a worldwide network of radio telescopes known as the Event Horizon Telescope in April of 2017. Last month, the Event Horizon team refined that image to show the surrounding vortex of magnetic fields that streams gas and energy across space at nearly the speed of light. But there is more. While that first 2017 image was being taken, 19 other observatories in space and on the ground were collectively studying this jet of energy from M87. Their data has now been published along with a video of the jet as seen in different kinds of light and at different scales, from the most intimate dimensions of the black hole out to intergalactic space. The results, astronomers said, would help clarify how black holes work their violent magic, further test the predictions of Einstein’s theory of general relativity and perhaps shed light on the origin of cosmic rays. For its part, the Event Horizon team has just concluded a new series of observations of the black holes — in M87, at the center of our own galaxy and elsewhere — said Shep Doeleman, of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics and founding director of the telescope collective. “Each day we gather at 2 p.m. E.D.T. to review all the weather and readiness at the sites, then make the call,” Dr. Doeleman said in an email. “Sometimes it’s a piece of cake: good weather, everyone’s ready. Or, just as clear, weather at key sites is awful or there is a major technical issue to be run down. Some of the time it’s pure agony.” If you don’t have a rocket or a telescope, there’s plenty new to read about black holes. “Hawking Hawking: The Selling of a Scientific Celebrity,” by Charles Seife, is an unvarnished look at the cosmologist and black-hole expert Stephen Hawking, who died in 2018. The book, rich in reporting about Dr. Hawking’s breakthroughs and his life (and written in reverse chronological order), seeks to separate the man and his science from the Einstein-like aura of sagacity that he let envelope his public persona. And “Black Hole Survival Guide,” by Janna Levin, an astrophysicist at Barnard College of Columbia University, and illustrated by artist Lia Halloran, is a pocket-size tone poem to these cosmic curiosities. “Black holes are nothing,” the opening line reads. At the end, Dr. Levin contemplates the possibility of Earth and whatever remains on it eventually falling into the black hole at the center of the Milky Way. “That is where our data, our scraps of quantum information, may end up,” she writes. “Everything will wash down the central vortex, flashing spectacularly bright, the last desperate blasts of concentrated light in the cosmos, until all vanishes in a darkening silent storm in space-time.” And we might as well call the whole universe a graveyard of black holes. A smorgasbord of screams — just another black hole week. Source link Orbem News #Black #bunch #call #crush #holes #scream

[violetsystems]

Since the first person took two Edison cylinders home to their log cabin and put them in the top shelf of their chifferobe, record organization has been a logistical problem for everyone who collects records. Once you seriously start collecting a musical medium—be that MP3s even—how to organize that musical medium in a way that you can find that right song and record at the right time becomes a full time job (well, at least part time, weekends only).

But there’s very little practical advice on how to organize your records. Each record collector is treated as an island: you figure out how to organize your records on your own, without any guidance. So I’m here to help: I’ve assembled 10 different ways to organize your records, and laid out why a person would choose to organize their records that way, and followed that up with which people will find that method most amenable.

Option 1: You Don’t Organize Them At All

This option is the one that happens in the upside down, the darkest timeline, the version of history where Russia wins the Cold War, your mom and dad didn’t meet, and Bob Dylan died in that motorcycle crash. If you take this option, you are essentially saying that you crave disorder in your life, and you refuse to let logical human emotions and behaviors have any bearing on your day-to-day existence.

Best for: People whose appearance on a forthcoming season of Hoarders is already booked.

Option 2: You Organize By Genre

Spotify and Pandora and other algorithm based human experiences have taught us that humans like the novelty of having the art they appreciate broken down into tiny microgenres and labels that don’t actually have any bearing on the piece of art itself. So, you could choose to organize your records by genre, though that creates it own problem; how do you classify something like Purple Rain? How do you classify a 12-inch of Run-DMC’s “Walk This Way”?

Best for:If you are a soulless computer program organizing the record collection you got from your dad, Jeff Bridges in Tron: Legacy.

Option 3: You Alphabetize by First Name & Band Name

Alphabetizing something regarding your records is the most obvious and efficient way to organize your records. It’s how libraries are organized, and libraries are the shit (they have free books, and books are also the shit). This method is the province of people who like the obvious efficiency of alphabetization, but want to organize things like a maniac, where Kanye West sits next to Kings of Leon, and not Bill Withers (who’d be next to the Black Keys in this scenario). There is a way to be right, and awfully, maniacally wrong at the same time, and this is it.

Best for: The people who organize like this are like people who stayed in their rooms as the Titanic sank. They’re like “I swear, everything is going fine!” even as they get literally drowned by history.

Option 4: You Alphabetize by Album Title

This is self explanatory, and actually kind of a good idea, until you realize that this means having to remember the exact title of Our Love to Admire, instead of calling it “that sorta crappy third Interpol album.”

Best for: People who like album titles more than they like artist names; people who own Our Love to Admire and want to brag about it.

Option 5: You Organize Autobiographically

The High Fidelity nuclear option: you want to appreciate a movie that is actually super misunderstood (people seem to miss the point that judging someone based on what pop culture they like and consume is at least as bankrupt as basing someone’s value based on their looks) so you’re paying homage to John Cusack and his homie who ends up with the cool daughter from Roseanne at the end of the movie by organizing your records based on when you purchased/received them.

Here’s a video to explain this:

Best for: Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, John Cusack, people who have a memory like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, sociopaths.

Option 6: You Organize Chronologically

In this scenario, your records are organized based on the year they came out. This is a cool option, but also creates a weird level of organization conundrum: do you organize your copy of Rumours based on when the album itself came out, or when your club edition came out a couple years later? If you can look past that, and accept that your pressing will be messing up the chronology, this one should garner a lot of respect. This is a lifestyle as much as an organization technique.

Best for: People who are super good at making timelines; archivists.

Option 7: You Organize By Color

This is a trend for #shelfie enthusiasts the world over in the book world: organizing your collection not based on size, or genre, or alphabetically, but by the color of the spine. This method would be insane to see pulled off, but I don’t think it’s ever been attempted. I also suspect 74% of vinyl records have a black or white spine.

Best for: People who can see the full spectrum of the rainbow.

Option 8: You Organize by How Much Money the Record is Worth/You Paid For It

Look, a record collection is technically a commodity. It was bought, and it could be sold. What better way to celebrate that copy of Silent Alarm that sells for incongruent $95 on Discogs by putting it as the top slot of your record shelf. Conversely, it could be devastating to be constantly reminded you paid $300 for the first edition of 808s and Heartbreak only to see it’s value crater via a reissue. Though, that could also be a reminder that life is fleeting, and your relative value to society is only dependent on no reissues.

Best for: Business school graduates, Wall Street employees, people who check Discogs for record values as they crate dig, whoever is historically the opposite of Karl Marx.

Option 9: You Organize by Last Played

This is a fun one, but also feels just a shade removed from “not organized at all because I am a lunatic allowed to live among law-abiding citizens”: you organize based on when you’ve listened to the album last. The stuff you’ve listened to most recently goes all the way at the top, those Maynard Ferguson albums foisted upon you by your uncle will go all the way to the back. The challenge, of course, is finding the albums you forgot you own and suddenly decide you want to listen to.

Best for: People who own fewer than 10 records.

Option 10: You Alphabetize by Last Name & Band Name

This is, objectively, the only correct way to organize your records. Search your feelings: you know it to be true. It’s the way every record store on earth organizes records (after they organize by genre). If you walked into a library and things were organized solely by color, all hell would break loose. If you went to the courthouse to get a copy of your birth certificate, and they had to find it by your relative net worth, it’d take forever. This is how you know which way is right. Clint Black alongside Black Keys alongside Black Moth Super Rainbow. Fiona Apple next to Apples in Stereo. The thought of organizing my records any other way makes me break out into hives.

Best for: Everyone. Literally. Why don’t you organize like this?

[amollion]

The AnitVirus (Virus continued)

The Anit-Virus

***RECOVERED AUDIO RECORDINGS***

***ALL SUCH FILES ARE TO BE LISTEND AS BLACKWATCH***

***NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONEL MAY VIEW***

*** UNAUTHORIZED PERSONAL VIEWING WILL BE SUBJECT TO TERMINATION***

*Unknown scientist:

Since the development of the transwarpgate we have often theorized that the distance that we can send objects through may be infinite (We are still trying to figure out why living matter cannot go)

It may be possible to modify our current gates into a far larger one so that instead of connecting two gates we use one as a massive cannon. In theory at least (we have yet to do the maths) we can teleport objects into other galaxy's.  

*Unknown scientist

The mega transwarpgate is finished and finally, it's taken nearly 200 cycles and most of that was to get funding, the last bit of funding was redirected to the military after the Dewq uprising. Pesty insects interfering with our work.

*Scientist Bequtoni- Believed to be the successor of previous scientist.

The first test run of the Gate was....conflicting. What was sent was a probe that would send back data on the planets in the target system but it seems to have crashed on a planet, it sent only a few seconds of imagery and information saying the planet was a dead one then cut out. We might have to adjust the targeting array.

*Scientist Bequtoni log No. N/A

After a lot of trial and error tests we have successfully launched a probe into our neighbouring galaxy and the results are fascinating. Much like our galaxy the planets formed in a variety of ways but usually within a similar pattern. Only a very few were truly unique but that was not the best part. Life! Sentient life was in that galaxy and it was advanced or at least enough to roam the stars. We had our probes cloaked from view and their primitive sensors so we can observe them without interfering with their development. Such a unique insight to the development of our neighbouring galaxy.

*Scientist Popilon Log No.90

Something is wrong within our neighbouring galaxy, they formed into a coalition some three hundred standard Pholian years ago and have enjoyed relative peace but suddenly they are arming themselves and amassing huge fleets. Having watched these races all our lives we feel a sense of connection tot hem even if they do not even know we exist. Many of us are considering making contact but the Lords will not hear of it, they deem it a matter beneath our attention and our only mission is to observe. Many of us do not agree but we cannot defy the Lords.  

*Scientist Kogfirm Log 23

Our neighbours are at war on a galactic scale, using the information wee have gathered they seem to originate from the world where our first probe crashed, are we responsible for this? I hope not because whoever it is that our neighbours are fighting are spreading like a virus, even when our race conquered our galaxy we did not spread so quick..

*Unknown Military Officer

Because of our cloaked probes we can get detailed scans of this virus like aliens that are scorching their own galaxy, we have only limited scans of their actual bodies but their ships seem...alive. Our scientist say they are a combination of organic components and non organic components. One of their conquered planets we observed them growing a whole fleet in only a few weeks. We have classified these files should anyone get hold of them, if the subjugated races find them and start learning how to grow ships the whole empire would collapse.

*Unknown Biologist

We have gotten our first deep scans of these virus aliens and what we found was both terrifying and fascinating. Their entire body is full of mirco organisms and bacteria and even some parasites that are more symbiotic in nature to them, their touch is also deadly. We observed the transformation they wrought on a world just by simply being their, the soil died and the air became unbreathable to any but them. In a sense they are terraforming organisms. Their life spans are not long and it seems they are unaware of the carnage they are bringing to the galaxy. In the time it takes for them to take over a star system and move to the next many generations have passed. Whereas the other races of the galaxy have incredibly long lifespans and perceive time differently, the passage of months to them would be many years to the virus. Luckily they are not so advanced as to detect our probes, I shudder to think what they would do with such technology.  

*Unknown (possible scientist or military officer)

The last days of the coalition is upon them, they have fallen back to a single star system and are fortifying their position, we have begged the Lords to let us send aid but they simply say it would be pointless now. We watched as the virus arrived and began slaughtering them, it was heartbreaking to see an end of an era but it filled me with pride to see they did not back down and fought to the last even if the battle was brief. Many are talking about retiring the project as there is nothing left to observe, that whole galaxy is now dead and it is likely nothing will ever live there again. Not while the virus is there. I can only hope that they consume and destroy themselves.

*Gefensew (civilian star gazer)

Ever since the story of our neighbouring galaxy and their struggles became public I have been fascinated by them, I find myself steering my scope towards that part of the universe in a hope I'll catch a glimpse of one of their ships. In fact I may have found something else, a star that I charted has gone. It did not go supernova as it was not due to do so for man many more millennia. Since I saw this I have noticed other stars going dark, what is going on there?

*Scientist Veonp

The funding for our galaxy observation may have been cut to the bare essentials and now only a handful of the probes are working since we don’t send new ones to replace the ones we loose we are just waiting for them to go offline too. There is not anything to observe anyway, the virus just keeps swarming and swarming to every single planet or moon they can find. They will probably soon just consume themselves. That was until we witnessed something we have always thought impossible. It was a mega structure that covered an entire sun, at first we weren't sure what it was for but that soon changed. The suns light...went out. Just...gone. Has their hunger grown so much that they are resorting to consuming suns? How did they even do it? None of us can figure it out and only give random hypothesis. It seems our funding may go up.

*Unknown scientist.

We have launched a further 5000 probes into the galaxy, many failed to transmit but those that did are all telling the same story. The virus is consuming the suns of all the star systems and at an increasing rate. We calculate that in as little time as one of our centuries there will be no stars left.

*Unknown scientist.

There are no stars left, the galaxy has gone dark and can no longer be seen in the night sky on any planet. That galaxy's tale has finally and truly come to an end. As resilient as the virus was there is no way they can survive, nothing logically can. Even if they could, where would they go?

*Final transmission from outpost 6529 (believed to roughly some millennia later)

“Unknown vessels transmit your identification codes”

“Inaudible”

“Say again, transmit your identification codes”

“Still Inaudible but louder”

“Hold your position until while we scan your ships”

“Screeching sound”

***Transmission ends***

*Audio recordings of patrol fleet 183.987 investigating the situation from outpost 6529

“This is Admiral Oeal of the Pholion Empire please identify yourself”

“........”

“You are trespassing in Pholian space identify yourself or we will open fire”

“.......Hungry”

“Say again”

**Log ends***

*Audio recording from the Pholian Empire's Council of Lords.

Lord 1: “Are you seriously asking us to believe that a space faring race that consumed a galaxy has crossed the vast void without the use of a gate and is now entering our galaxy?”

Scientist: “The evidence shows that is the case, these ships bare the same markings and designs as the virus”

Lord 2: “Impossible, these ships are obviously just another space faring race that has remained hidden and are now looking to expand their boarders”

Lord 3: “What if it is true though, I would be happier if we sent the Scourge fleet just in case”

Lord 2: “That fleet is only used to wipe out stubbornly rebellious systems, not to calm your worries old man”

Scientist: “With respect my Lords, the evidence is rather overwhelming and if we do not act now and eliminate them now they will breed and spread”

Lord 2: “You speak above your caste, the military shall decide on what cause of action to take”

Military officer: “This incursion into our space is simply a rebellion that has some backing from an unknown source. I will personally go and break them to show the might of Pholian Empire”

**Applause**

Lord 1: Then go, destroy these rebels and make sure all remember to fear the Pholian Empire once more”

**The fleet enters the Virus's system and disappears from then on all Virus controlled sectors are referred to as Dead Sectors**  

*Council of Lords Audio recording (Roughly one Pholian Century since the Virus's arrival)

Lord 1: “What did you say!?”

Scientist 1: “We believe more fleets of the Virus have made two more incursions into our galaxy”

Lord 2: “How did they break the containment?!”

Scientist 2: “We believe these are separate hive fleets, the same race as the first hive fleet but not connected to them”

Lord 3: “We are barley containing the first hive fleet how are we going to face two more? Even the Scourge fleets can't defeat them and their planet sized Hive ships”

Scientist 1: “Well...we do have an idea”

Lord 2: “Speak”

Scientist 1: “We have been studying the remains of the Virus and we believe we can produce an Anti virus if you will”

Lord 1: “What do you mean?”

Scientist 2: “It is the same way we treat virus's within our bodies, we copy their genetic structure then program them to search out their own kind and destroy it thus curing the patient”

Lord 3: “Are you saying you want to clone these things?”

Scientists 2 “Yes and condition them to seek out and destroy the Virus which they would see as another species”

***Silence as the Lords speak amongst themselves***

Lord 1: “Since we do not have any immediate alternative you may proceed”

Scientist 1 “We will need a planet to birth and breed the clones”

Lord 2: “You will have it”

***Clones of the Virus as birthed quickly and placed on a planet to grow at their own pace with technology slowly introduced till they give the AnitVirus a small Virus ship and they soon begin building their own. These AntiVirus's have an artificial gene that when activated by the Pholians will make them seek out the Virus and destroy them. By the time the Clones are deemed ready 20% of the galaxy is now considered Dark Sector. The gene is activated and the AnitVirus's head in the direction of the Dark Sector. Cloaked probes monitor the battles which seem to end in stalemate, this prompts the Lords to order the creation of more AntiVirus to take over from their current fleets who are loosing control of the containment areas of the first Virus fleet***

*Audio recording of Admiral Fewqol as he leaves to engage the Virus with his AntiVirus fleet, this is believed to have taken place some thirty Pholian years after the AntiVirus's creation*

“This is Admiral Fewqol ready to lead an offensive into Dark Sectors”

“Good luck Admiral bring glory to the Pholian Empire once more”

“What's left of it” (It is believed he turn off his com before saying this)

-Admiral's fleet enters Virus held system-

“Ready the AntiVirus”

“All AntiVirus ships are green and ready to engage”

“Unleash them”

“Sending attack command now”

-Recovered data shows this system to be a heavily infested system and Admiral Fewqol has enough AntiVirus to match it-

“Virus ships inbound”

“Have the AntiVirus open fire now”

-Silence for approximately 6 seconds-

“Why are they not firing?”

“I don't know sir I have sent the attack signal three times”

“Sir? I am getting a com signal from the Virus's main Hive ship”

“So? All they send is screaming, ignore it”

“No sir, this is words, spoken in Pholian”

“.....Put it through”

“.............sickness..........slaves...........free.....will.....”

-Silence for 14.09 seconds-

“Sir...the AnitVirus ships are turning away from the Virus and locking weapons on us!”

“Get us out of-”

**All AntiVirus fleets suddenly turn on the Pholians, with no fleets available the Pholian Empire collapses, their homeworld is besieged but they do not fire but simply broadcast their screaming communication onto the planet. It is unsure how this caused the death of all 16 billion individuals**

***END OF RECOVERED AUDIO LOGS***

***FOR INFOMATION ON VIRUS BIOLOGY SEE FILE 2466***

***FOR INFOMATION ON VIRUS TECHNOLOGY SEE FILE 2467

***BOTH GALAXY X452 AND X453 HAVE GONE DARK AS ALL STARS HAVE BEEN CONSUMED AS WELL AS ALL PLANETS***

***GALAXY'S BOTH NOW LABELLED DEAD***

***CURRENT LOCATION OF VIRUS'S HIVE FLEETS***

***UNKNOWN***

[tw6464sloreblog]

The Necron Dynasties and the C'Tan

*Necron and C'Tan are pretty much the same as they in canon, except they aren’t as United under the Silent King, as he was killed during the War in Heaven. His personality was saved upon the Necron homeworld, however its location was completely wiped from all the Necron’s memories, so as to prevent a power struggle (which it failed to, spectacularly).

*There is also a sort of software virus going around amongst the Necrons… It removes whatever their previous personalities were, wipes out their memories and emotions and turns them into mindless killing machines (think the Necrons as they were portrayed in 3rd edition). Its origin is unknown, but some in the Ordo Xenos theorize that it could be the C'Tan attempting to tear away what free will the Necron Dynasties still have. Their single-minded, almost child-like, need for destruction and their unflinching loyalty to the C’Tan supports this theory. The Necrons call these corrupted Necron the Maltehk, which translates to “The Severed”.

*Necron Pariahs are also a thing that exists in this reality, but they're used by the Dynasties rather than Maltehk. The process of changing someone with the Null gene into a Pariah is a different process depending on what dynasty is recruiting them. While most will try to portray themselves as the Null's lost kin, some just plain kidnap them and force them through the process.

*The Various Dynasties all interact with the younger races and their ancient foes in differing ways. To list them all here is a very difficult task, but the Remembrancers have tried their best to compile it:

*Sautekh wishes to restores the glory of the Dynasties through subjugation and annihilation, and will crush all who stand in their path. Their Phaeron, Imotekh the Storm Lord, is a tyrannical despot and a cunning strategist, who is desperate to unite the Dynasties in order to combat the rising threat of the Maltehk (and to satisfy his own lust for power.)

*Mephrit continues to do as it has always done since the time the War in Heaven: mercilessly slaughter all in their path, although now their attention has been turned to slaughtering Humanity and the Maltehk rather than the Eldar or the Old Ones. Zarathusa the Ineffable, Phaeron of Mephrit, seeing that Mephrit has lost much of its glory now uses the Legions at his command to carve a new legacy: a legacy of terror and destruction.

*Nihilakh defends their territory and, by extension, the vast wealth they hold in their tomb worlds. Haughty, selfish, and greedy, the Overlords of Nihilakh constantly war with each other over the useless trinkets they all possess, their golden Legions destroying each other while ignoring the Maltehk at their doorsteps.

*Charnovokh is but a shadow of its former self after the devastation wrought by Hive Fleet Behemoth during the First Tyrannic War. As such, those left alive after the devastation have chosen to have a deep blue color to represent their mourning, with their Phaeron Thoekh’s body completely shaded in blue.

*Thokt uses the radiation of their Crownworld Meghoshta to power their legions. Many Crypteks seek to learn why this radiation has caused their legions to turn blue, as well to research any other applications this radiation could have.

*Novokh are still remembering their own violent and bloody past during the War in Heaven and the Wars of Succession. Their ranks contain a large number of those affected by the Flayer Virus, with their gruesome methods of killing their enemies echoing the methods of Novokh during the War in Heaven.

*Nephrekh’s Phaeron Sylphek became obsessed with consuming the stars themselves, as their territory is surrounded by many stars and suns. Marching out in a Golden Panoply that makes Nihilakh look like a Dynasty of Paupers by comparison, they make use

*Sekemtar is currently a vassal to Imotekh and the Sautekh Dynasty, but the Overlords of this dynasty constantly plot to overthrow the leaders who still pay tribute to Imotekh, having grown tired of his despotic rule.

*Sarnekh’s Crownworld, Zapennec, is in ruins, after a destructive conflict towards the end of the War in Heaven with the Eldar left it a blasted wasteland of Wraithbone and Necrodermis. Their Phaeon, Thaszar the Invincible, has decided that since they cannot access the resources of their planet any longer, they will just have to steal them, and so the Sarnekh legions have become feared for their lightning quick raids, something that many assumed the Necrons were incapable of.

*Atun is known as the “Wandering Dynasty” as they search constantly for ancient artifacts and wonders at the behest of their Phaeron, Atun.

*Oroskh fell long ago to the meddling of the Craftworld Alaitoc, who deliberately infected their number with the Flayer Virus, slowly devolving their population until they were no better than savages -- the perfect tools for the C’Tan to corrupt into the Maltehk.

*Ogdobekh is regarded by the Dynasties as a home of science and innovation. The Great Sleep took far less of their number than in other Dynasties, but they have chosen to devote themselves to finding a way to restore the Necron to the Necrontyr rather than setting out to conquer the galaxy.

*Khansu was always opposed to the Bio-Transference that coated the Necrons in living metal. When they joined the Rebellion against the C’tan towards the end of War in Heaven, the Resistance on Khansu was crushed by a number of obedient Dynasties and their C’tan masters, and the rest were forced to go through with the Biotransferrence, their minds wiped and reprogrammed for obedience. Their Phaeon, Rakszan, was one of the few thousand Khansu Necrons who escaped the reprogramming, but now they wander the galaxy, seeking the seal away all the C’tan.

*The malice and cruelty of Maynarkh was well known, even before the War in Heaven, and this monstrous behavior was only amplified after the Bio-Transferrence. They destroyed the C’tan known as the Flayer, Llandu’gor, whose destruction began the first Flayer Plague. Maynarkh was so bad that an alliance of the Dynasties was considered to crush them. however, the Silent King still had uses for them before his “death” at the hands of Imotekh changed those plans. The Phaeron of Maynarkh, Xun’bakyr, after awakening in the 41st millennium, swore to destroy and exterminate all life, falling victim to the corruption of the C’tan... transforming their Legions into the Maltehk.

*The Nekthyst have earned a reputation for betrayal and backstabbing, a reputation earned in the War in Heaven. From their Crownworld of Moebius, the Overlords of Nekthyst plot against their resurgent brethren until all that is left is Nekthyst.

*Oruscar stands as Sautekh’s ultimate rival, however their power has waned since the start of the Great Sleep. While their power may not be what it once was, they are still a force to be reckoned with.

*The Nephrekh Dynasty has multiple worlds filled with precious metals that they used to construct their legions. They now hunt other worlds from which to mine for these precious materials, as well as worlds they are rich in energy sources to power their legions with.

I wanted to write about some Xenos, so here you go! let me know what you think!! I had a surprising amount of fun adapting the Necrons to my AU.

i found pretty much all these dynasties on Lexicanum, and in the 5th and 7th edition Necron Codices, and adapted some of the brief descriptions that i found.

[nemesis-nexus]

Full Pink Moon 2019

AVE the Ancient Family; protectors, providers, guides and overseers, hear us! The Earth is beginning to awaken from the extended frost of the Season of Death, a slow process this year but one that will occur in its own time! The trees are barren yet they remain strong, much love to the Dryads who are working overtime to keep them healthy! For those who may not know a Dryad – also call the Lady of the Tree – are Wood Nymphs who watch over the trees - sometimes one, sometimes an entire grove – long story short their work is never done, not even in the Winter! It is amazing to think of how many other Beings are all around us all the time and yet seldom SEEN physically but you know they are their simply by the exquisite work they do with the flora and fauna!

As mentioned in my last sermon, the lesson of the trees is that no matter how desolate a situation might seem, if you stick it out, things will come around as they always do! The other lesson of the trees is that as tall and proud as they stand, they do not stand alone, with the Dryads to help them through, they are strong enough to withstand the weather no matter how cold it gets and to explode into blossoming beauty when the harshness of the Winter cold dissipates and gives way to the warmth of the Season of Rebirth! This lesson is to let people know that no man is truly an island, not even the lone wolves! Those who prefer solitude STILL must count on the herds to be around for hunting and the brush to be there to conceal their presence! We are all connected in the Hoop or Web of Life and without those that we rely on to be there when we need them, whether it’s another human or just the herds and the brush, we will surely perish!

This is why it is necessary for any tree that may need to be cut down, that an offering is given to the guardian and respect is shown before, during and after the cutting! Planting a sprout that will eventually grow into another tree to replace the fell one is also necessary as the guardian of the tree you took down will NOT take kindly to their home being taken from them but not replaced! This is why I have an issue with the lumber industry because a lot of the times, trees are cut down but NOT replaced which compromises the air and NOT just in the immediate area but for miles around! Another ongoing problem is the reckless disregard for the bee population. When ENKI and NINHURSAG created the Flora and Fauna, they made sure that EVERYTHING and EVERYONE was provided for and that all things would work in tandem with one another to keep the ecosystem going, however, that system is in serious breach and in turn, in serious jeopardy!

NINHURSAG tasked the bees with the extraction of pollen and the pollination of the plants and trees, but in recent days we are seeing the bee population dwindle to the point where they are facing extinction and why is this? Because people use poisons in their gardens instead of natural pesticides which the bees consume and if they make it, take it back to the hive thus poisoning other bees. People are also pulling up dandelions mistaking them for weeds that are choking their gardens or flowerbeds but the truth about dandelions is that not only are they a MAJOR food source for the bees, but that every single part of a dandelion is in fact consumable by humans! Pulling dandelions not only starves the bees but also deprives a human of a tasty salad or tea!

I don’t presume to speak for any of the Gods or Goddesses, but I can’t help but think that our Blessed Mother who gave us so much must cry tears of heartache and rage when she sees one group of her children treating another with such reckless disregard! Not just the bees, but the lives of ALL her OTHER children who suffer a result due to the serious lack of pollination because there simply aren’t enough bees left at this present time to do the job as thoroughly as they have been able to since the ancient past! We see the aftermath of this lack of pollination with massive droughts, withered crops and flowers and barely any grass or clover for Forest Dwellers to feed upon! This is unacceptable and has to change, our very existence depends on it!

NINGIZHEDA the Great Healer has also been working overtime, trying to help compensate the ecosystem and help some areas adapt to the changing climate, but he cannot do it alone! We humans need to WAKE UP and face reality that our ONE JOB was to take care of the planet, to only ever take what we need, use all we take, show the proper respect for its sacrifice for our survival and to replace it so that Life can continue to thrive! Instead we have humans taking MORE than they could ever possibly use or consume, wasting VAST amounts of it including food (when there are SO many starving who would eat even just the CRUSTS of a pizza just so they wouldn’t feel the pangs of hunger, even just for a few hours), cars (there is nothing wrong with having a couple vehicles but there are people who have an entire FLEET that NEVER get used, they just SIT there collecting dust) this is not only a waste of raw materials but creates the need for a place to house them which is usually a either a large garage or parking lot. In either case it requires the Earth to be paved over and sealed off from the sun and the air! Multiple homes that they don’t occupy very long - sometimes not at all, they have them because they had too much money and needed to spend it on something - when there are so many homeless that have a hard time getting a job due to the fact that they lack an address! These houses oftentimes fall to ruin and overgrowth of actual weeds that in turn choke out the life of any viable plant that a bee or another insect or animal might have feasted on for their own survival!

ENKI, Virile God of the Sweet Waters, I can only imagine the frustration he feels every time he looks at the lakes, rivers and oceans and sees just how well his children have taken care of the gift that he and his wife gave us! The drugs and other things that are flushed by individuals to the toxic runoff of industrial plants that intoxicates the water to the dumping of materials such as car tires, machine parts, plastics of ALL kinds that result in the strangulation and suffocation of marine life of various varieties including the anemones and coral reefs that fish feed on and utilize to hide from other predators! I saw a video of a sea turtle with a plastic straw jammed so far in its nostril that it took a TEAM of humans to remove it! There are whales that are washing ashore with stomachs FULL of plastic garbage! Richard Branson was curious what was at the bottom of one of the deepest areas of the ocean just to see what kind of marine life – if any – would be found so far down; he didn’t find any marine life at the bottom of the hole, the water pressure is simply too strong for any life form to handle (unless of course you are from the Abz-u of course!) What he DID find was – you may have guessed it – plastic garbage of all kinds at the very bottom of one of the deepest spots of the ocean!

Again, I do not presume to speak for any of the Gods or Goddesses, but also again, I can only imagine the level of disappointment and betrayal ENKI feels when he not only gave us the gift of existence but also the gift of REDEMPTION when he put his own neck and station on the line to save us from the deluge only to have the human race turn around and offer him THIS as a “thank you”! Is THIS how we show our gratitude when someone puts their own wellbeing aside to ensure our survival only to have us turn around and kick them in the teeth with our arrogance and egotism?!

This is in no way acceptable behavior from a race that likes to fancy themselves as gods! I can tell you right now NO HUMAN – myself included – is a god! How do I know? How godly are we when we don’t care what happens to the very Home that enables us to exist? How holier than thou are we when we treat ALL things - plants, trees, animals, other people - like they are only there to be used up and then discarded? How superior are we to anything when we treat EVERYTHING as though it is our right to lord ourselves over it – even Nature itself? How advanced are we when can’t seem to understand the basic needs of our Natural World to the point we act as they don’t matter but want to throw a fit when our favorite foods are no longer available because all the bees are dead so there is no honey or wildflowers or fruit trees? How great are we when we allow the blasting of Natural formations that are home to several animal species, the use of sonic detection underwater that compromises and even kill any marine life that gets in the way, the deforestation that cuts down the woods further and further back but humans want to whine about coyotes, bears, bobcats etc “invading” THEIR backyards and in some cases hunting down their animal companions as dinner NOT because they are overly aggressive but because they are simply applying their natural survival instincts but the humans demand these animals be SLAUGHTERED anyway even though if the human did not destroy these animals habitats, these animals would never have bothered them in the first place?

If we were truly godly in ANY context, we would not act as though we can “do without” any part of the ecosystem nor would we act like we are above the Natural Order! If we were truly godly we would be planting seeds, restoring the forests, cleaning up all the waters AND KEEPING THEM CLEAN NOT DUMPING COAL MINING DEBRIS IN THEM! If we were truly godly we would not be so apathetic to everything else in existence, instead we would exalt it and treat it with the same, if not MORE, regard and respect we would want for ourselves because ALL life matters! There is not one part of the Natural World we can survive without, if that were the case then neither ENKI nor NINHURSAG would have put it here! NINGIZHEDA would not be constantly trying to prevent the extinction of any more animal, insect or plant species! To quote Morgan Freeman as Principal Joe Louis Clark from the movie Lean On Me “We RISE, We FALL, We SINK, We SWIM, WE MEET OUR FATE TOGETHER!” in other words NO ONE is innocent! The ones directly causing the damage are as guilty as can be, but those who ENABLE or ALLOW it to continue will be judged just as harshly for refusing to WAKE UP to just how dire our situation REALLY is, who choose to keep their heads down and turn a blind eye because they either can’t or otherwise won’t accept the truth!

At the end of the day, when the sun sets on the human race for the last time, what will we have become? I believe that we are all Stardust, energy beings that were implanted in flesh suits so that we could live here in the literal paradise ENKI and NINHURSAG created and NINGIZHEDA maintains, when our mortal coil unravels, our flesh returns to dust and our Spirits return to the Qi until such time as it is reformed and ushered along to its next state of existence. However, how can this occur if we allow the annihilation of the planet that sustains us? The reality is the Earth does NOT need us to survive, in fact, at the rate we are going, it would be MUCH better off WITHOUT us! Our Great Mother can (and will) shrug her shoulders and cast us off of her if we don’t start treating her with all the Love and Respect that she has given us since second one! She, in fact ALL of them and I don’t mean JUST ENKI, NINHURSAG and NINGIZHEDA, have been VERY patient with us up to this point but that patience is running out and their compassion wearing VERY thin and I don’t blame them one bit!

Now is the time of the Pink Moon, so named because it’s the time of year when the wildflowers and berries start to bloom and blossom creating a beautiful symphony of color and texture and visual splendor for all to enjoy! The animals still in hibernation come back out and the forest is once again thriving with the hustle and bustle of squirrels running amok, beavers cutting fallen branches to make dams, deer return to the meadows and it’s all such a spectacular sight to behold! Who needs flashing lights and loud cacophonous electronics when you have a pollution free sky full of stars to take your breath away and the sound of a running stream take hold of your soul and reconnect you to this wondrous world we ALL call Home? I admit, I like my cell phone to keep in touch and to play the occasional game, but it will NEVER take the place of the magnificent display that only the Natural World can provide!

Now is the time for the human race to come out of its self imposed trance of materialism, distraction, apathy and disconnection and to reconnect to that which really matters and makes all the difference in THIS world and EVERY other – our Spiritual selves! We have lost the “connector cable” (our sense of self and personal responsibility) that hooks us up directly to the “Motherboard” (NINHURSAG, ENKI, NINGIZHEDA and the rest of the Ancient Family) and it shows! Our egos have gotten so out of control that some of us don’t take care of ourselves let alone each other or anything else in existence and again, it shows! How do we reconnect? The answer is simple but is certainly NOT easy; for starters we need to recognize that without every part of the ecosystem intact and NOT polluted we are simply poisoning ourselves and everything else thereby causing a slow death for everyone! We need to acknowledge that if we cut down the habitats of big cats, wolves and bears, that they ARE going to come wandering our way, not because THEY are trespassing but because WE are guilty of stealing THEIR homes! We need to stop judging other humans based on skin color, ethnicity, country/city of origin, socioeconomic status, mental illness or physical disability and learn to embrace one another as the diverse group of HUMANS that we were created to be! If we don’t do this then we are doomed to be the engineers of our own destruction and I for one have no intention of going out like that!

Like I said, the solution is simple but not easy, especially for the older generations who don’t know any other way but with the help of the younger generation CAN learn that there is in fact another way to look at things! Remember just because we may not be here 50, 75 or 100 years from now, OUR DECENDANTS WILL BE! So for those who have YOUNG children or grandchildren or great grandchildren (or even nieces, nephews or friends with kids) the attitude that WE won’t be here is assuredly UNACCEPTABLE! Unless you can look any ONE of your kids in the eye and tell them directly that THEY DON’T MATTER, then you better damn well start acting like they DO! Remember, our actions say more and speak louder than our words EVER will and what WE do NOW will have a significant impact on what THEY are able to do TOMORROW – like be alive because the ecosystem can still sustain life and because Mother hasn’t kicked our asses off of hers! This will take a concentrated effort and EVERYONE needs to do their part just like they should have been doing all along! There is really no reason why things should have ever digressed this far and gotten this severe but we are here now and the only way to go is forward! We CAN do this if we all just leave our egos at the door and work together! AVE NINHURSAG! AVE ENKI! AVE NINGIZHEDA! HAIL THE WHOLE FAMILY, EACH AND EVERY ONE ABOVE AND BELOW!

“A Call To Armistice

They say to make peace we must prepare for war,

I ask all these humans, what are we fighting for?

Are we fighting for oil? For riches? For fame?

Are we fighting to stay ahead in mans selfish game?

Do you not understand or simply choose to stay ignorant

While the Earth screams with each blow that you deliver it?

Do you care about anything at all or is everything fodder?

You are stealing the future from every son and daughter!

What’s even more perplexing that you don’t understand,

Is that all those health issues you have are by your own hand!

In pursuit of materialism you unleashed poison in the Water, the Air, the Earth,

Not comprehending that you’ve also been consuming it since birth!

But all is not lost, no this battle is far from over and done

We still have a chance, this fight can be won!

If instead we all choose to stop fighting and step back,

To see who it is that is suffering when we’re on the attack!

When we realize that it is not just us, but our bloodline and existence,

We have no choice but to rebound with full on persistence!

The will to live and thrive is possessed by one and all

All we have to do is answer the call!

The call to lower our swords and stop the onslaught,

To remember what it is that we’ve all been taught!

We are all born with memories of existences passed,

Each life we lead takes its lessons from the current and last!

If we are truly to recover our Home and reconnect to the Family,

We need to realize we are ONE even though we are MANY!

We each have a role and we each play a part,

We are all well embraced within the Dragons Heart!

But we cannot stay there if we continue to fuss,

The time will come when they’ve had enough!

So on this Full Pink Moon Night in the name of Justice,

I remind everyone we are all Family and send a Call of Armistice!”

ZI ANA KANPA! ZI KIA KANPA!

MAY THE DEAD RISE AND SMELL THE INCENSE!

Etiamsi MULTA Et Nos UNUM Sumus Nos Sto Validus Ut Nos Sto Una!

Semper Veritas, Semper Fideles, In NINHURSAG'S Nomen Nos Fides! AVE NINHURSAG!

(We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER!

Always TRUTHFUL, Always FAITHFUL, In NINHURSAG'S Name We Trust! HAIL NINHURSAG!)

AVÉ THE ANCIENT FAMILY!

AVÉ IGGIGI! AVÉ ANUNNA!

AVÉ DRACONIS! HAIL THE GREAT SERPENT!

HPS Meg “Nemesis Nexus” Prentiss

[ipreferweird]

Reticent and Red in the Face

Jinx studied the monitor, drumming her fingertips against the arm of her chair as she thought of new attack formations. She had stared at the screen for so long that her own battle strategies began to look less like meaningful plans and instead coalesced into a giant mess of symbols. She closed her eyes for a moment, musing the idea of sleep when she felt it: a gust of wind alerting her of his presence.

“So I take it that 'Evil never sleeps' is more than just an expression for you bad guys,” Kid Flash said, and Jinx didn’t have to open her eyes to know that he had that irritating grin plastered on his face.

“You guessed it.” She replied a moment later, her eyes fluttering open after deciding that ignoring him wouldn't make him leave any faster. "Now you know our big secret: After becoming a level three villain, you no longer need to sleep."

"Too time consuming?" he asked, tilting his head.

"No," she replied, giving a small yawn. "It's just not evil enough."

He chuckled, happy to see that he had caught her in one of the rare moments that she wasn't annoyed by everyone else's existence—his in particular.

"In that case, you guys have it great," he said, leaning against the wall. "All we get after level three is a pat on the back and a golden star from Batman."

She snickered at the thought of the Dark Knight carrying around something as cheery as a sticker when she caught a glimpse of red in her peripheral vision.

"A rose," she said, slipping it out of her hair. "And its red," she deadpanned as she placed it on her lap. "What a surprise."

"You don’t like red?" He asked, running a hand self-consciously through his hair.

“No,” The villainess said quickly, shaking her head. “I don’t have a problem with red— “Well that’s good to hear,” Kid Flash said, letting go a sigh of relief. “But, just to clarify: you’re tired of roses?”

She closed her eyes again. “Slow on the uptake as ever, Flash. Yes, I’m tired of the roses.”

There was a fleeting moment of silence, and next thing Jinx knew, she felt a familiar breeze; Kid Flash was gone just as quick as he had come. The only indication that he hadn't been a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep wasn't the red rose, but instead the bright red apple that had been left in its place.

The next day she found a red crayon outside her room and a poem that had been written crudely with it. This crayon is red This paper is white We’d make a cute couple You know I’m right! --your favorite speedster, KF Taking a pink marker from her art set, Jinx sat down and wrote a poem in reply. You’re an idiot That poem was dumb, too Enter my room again And I’ll murder you —Your greatest enemy, Jinx She wordlessly slipped it under the door and went about her day. Another week went by full of strawberries, cherries, and cupcakes with red icing. Jinx didn’t mind though, and neither did the boys on her team. No one questioned where the boxes of goodies had come from, and no one seemed to care who sent them. It was, after all, more food for the team—and they didn’t even have to steal it, which everyone agreed was a plus. A few days after the red gifts started appearing, she and the rest of the Hive Five had surprisingly pulled off a successful bank robbery. As they rounded the street corner, Jinx heard the wailing siren of a police cruiser, cursing as she saw its blaring red lights. Jinx continued to swear as her pink eyes scanned for their parked getaway car. When she finally found the spot, she unleashed a piercing scream of frustration; instead of their getaway car, the only thing there was a small, red toy truck. “Mammoth,” She ordered, rubbing her temples. “Find a vehicle for Gizmo to hotwire. Now.” He nodded, being prompted to move quickly by the angry pink sparks that flickered around her frame. “Not that one!” she growled a second later, and he placed the toy truck back on the pavement before moving towards a yellow SUV.  

The day after the Hive Five broke out of Jump City Jail, someone set off the security system when they approached their doorstep. “I think it’s one of those cruddy Titans,” Gizmo shrieked, pulling up their live security cameras. Jinx perked up, leaning towards the screen as she expected to see a familiar face. But she sagged back against the wall once the image showed, cursing herself for the twinge of disappointment she felt when she didn’t see Kid Flash. This one was also a redheaded guy, but he sported a larger frame, an athletic build, and a focused expression that Jinx was sure she’d never catch the cocky speedster wearingl

He was obviously a hero, judging by the way he carried himself—shoulders back and head held high. The possibility of the Titans delivering an attack on their home base sent them into a frenzied panic, and the sound of the hero knocking on their steel door only worsened it and prompted them to take defensive stances.  Billy multiplied, Mammoth picked up a couch and prepared to hurl it; surprise or not, they were all ready to attack first. “Quiet, idiots,” Jinx muttered, readying her hexes as she approached the door. “I don’t think he’d ruin a surprise attack by knocking.” “What are you, crazy?” Gizmo shrieked, waving his arms. “You can’t let a hero in—“ With a press of a button, the door slid open, and the hero in question was standing before them. “Hello,” he said, giving a slight wave of his hand and prompting her expression to furtherly harden. If anything, his greeting had confirmed their worst suspicions: He was definitely a hero. “Are you, Jinx?” He asked, his cordial Russian accent not fitting his appearance. Jinx raised an eyebrow. “That depends, who’s asking?”

“My name is Red Star,” he said, extending a gloved hand, only for it to awkwardly fall back to his side when Jinx failed to shake it. Ignoring his hand wasn’t an act of impoliteness on Jinx’s part—at least not purposely—she was too busy realizing why the speeding idiot had sent this Titan to her base.   Red Star. Of course.

Red Star cleared his throat, removing a small box from behind his back. “I have a package from—”

“—from Kid Flash,” Jinx deadpanned, taking the red box and examining its yellow bow. “I Figured.”

She almost closed the door, but instead did something so uncharacteristic it frightened her onlooking team. “Um, thanks Red Star,” she said, the words tasting foreign on her tongue. Afterwards followed another awkward pause as Jinx racked her brain for a ‘nice’ way to end their encounter. “I’m going to go now,” she said at last, closing the door in his face as she took the—surprisingly—neatly wrapped box to her room. “Sorry that we asked you to look after Jump on such a short notice,” Robin said, sighing before adding, “Again.”

“Usually we don’t call for so many favors,” Robin said, running a last minute check on their security system. “But the Brotherhood’s been forcing us to travel all around the globe, and I don’t like leaving the city unmonitored— “

“It’s cool Robin, I wasn’t doing anything important.” Kid Flash said, rummaging through their refrigerator as if he was at home. “That is, unless you consider cleaning out the Justice League’s fridge important.”

Cyborg shook his head, “I still can’t believe you cleaned out our entire fridge during your last stay. You even ate Starfire’s weird Tamaranean Lortmog stuff.”

“It actually wasn’t that bad,” Kid Flash said, then in afterthought adding, “That is, after you pick out the crawling parts—“

“Well, thanks again KF,” Robin interjected, not wanting to hear about the monstrosity that was Starfire’s cooking. “Remember to check the security system periodically and to feed Silkie twice a day.” Robin paused. “Also, please keep your flirting to a minimum while you’re in Jump. And especially don’t flirt with the villains.”

Kid Flash’s eyebrows scrunch upward. “Why would I do that?”

“Maybe because tons of them are around our age and you’re you?” Robin suggested. “The Flashes are as famous for their flirtatious natures as they are for their speed.” Kid Flash rolled his eyes. “And the entire Bat family is known for their fixation with clowns and brooding. Seriously Robin, I’ve got this.” Robin frowned, noticing that Kid Flash didn’t promise to not flirt with criminals, but instead of pressing the matter, he placed a box into Kid Flash’s hands.

“This arrived on the doorstep for you earlier today,” He said, crossing his arms. “It didn’t have a sender label.” “Rob, come on dude,” Beastboy said, sticking his head in the doorway. “We’re gonna be late for Spain.” “By the way,” Robin said, turning before he left. “If that box has any puppets in it, burn them.” And with that he and his team left without another word or explanation.

Kid Flash flipped the box over, curious as to who would send him a gift. He decided it was probably from a fan, and hastily began tearing off the crudely wrapped decorative paper. A quick glance at the contents revealed the sender, and in a blur of red and yellow he was dashing towards the Hive Base.

“Really?” Kid Flash asked, eyebrow raised as he held Jinx’s gift—if you could even call it that. “A pink wet floor sign?”

“Think of it as a memento of the great times we’ve spent together,” Jinx said, fighting the upward tug she felt the corners of her lips give as she watched his stunned expression.

“Oh yeah,” said Kid Flash, smacking his forehead in mock realization. “I forgot how much I enjoyed the concussion you gave me the last time you had one these.”

“Luckily for me,” Kid Flash said, rummaging through the box, “The next time it happens we can have matching hair.” He waved the box of pink hair dye she gave him for emphasis.

“I figured that would be your favorite part of the gift,” Jinx said, twirling one of loose strands that fell from her horned hairstyle with a smirk. “I mean, pink is a great color, after all.“

“I’ll admit that it’s a nice color,” Kid Flash said, opting to examine the dye before his admirative stare at her hair became too obvious. “But red’s better.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s the color of sunsets,” Kid Flash pointed out. “And they’re pretty cool. “You mean boring,” Jinx corrected. “, and overrated.”

“Tulips are red,” Kid Flash said, and, as if to prove his point, he pulled one out of what seemed like thin air.

Kid Flash: Fastest boy alive, bane to her existence, bearer of flowers.

“Too bad that I’m allergic,” Jinx said, wilting the flower with a flick of her hand. “To both them and your pick-up lines.”

“Funny you should say that,” Kid Flash said, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously as his smirk grew even larger. “Because your cheeks turn pretty red when you hear them.”

Jinx tilted her head and quirked an eyebrow in reply, which only seemed to prompt Kid Flash to keep talking. “Everyone knows that super speed makes speedsters fast,” He said, taking on a wistful tone that Jinx wasn’t accustomed to hearing. “But everyone forgets that it also makes everything else seem to slow down. It’s kind of strange when the fastest cars are brought to crawl and every drop of rain hits the ground in slow motion.”

“But the best part,” he said, closing the distance between them. “Is what you notice about the people.” Jinx realized all too late what he was suggesting, and immediately froze. She forced herself to show no signs of any emotion other indifference in hopes that he’d drop the subject altogether. But even she noticed the subtle change in her stoniness, and she swore inwardly because that meant that Kid Flash had saw it too. “You notice when the when the corners of their lips begin to tug upwards into a smile,” Kid Flash said, his own smirk widening as if in demonstration. “And the moment that their glances last a millisecond too long. You notice the way their eyes dilate and light up when they see something—or someone—they like.” “And you definitely notice when their cheeks redden the moment they begin to blush—kind of like yours are right now.” He said, nonchalantly pointing an accusing finger at Jinx.   She didn’t need super speed to see what he had pointed out; Jinx had felt the blush spreading against her will the moment he had stepped close. She decided then and there what she would do: After knocking Kid Flash out cold with a quick hex to the temple, she’d drag him far away, update the security system, and pretend they’d never met—all of which was far easier than giving him the satisfaction of admitting her attraction. But before she could do any of that, a breeze snapped her back to her senses. Kid Flash had stepped away, and was once again leaning on the wall, nonchalantly examining his glove as if he had been there the whole time. “But then again, you did say you were allergic to tulips,” he said, his tone smug as ever. “It could be an allergic reaction, I guess.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes. “What was your point, again?” “That everyone loves red,” he said in a singsong voice. “Your cheeks just happened to be an example.”

“Well I don’t love red,” Jinx declared. “A month of your gifts has made me realize how much I despise the color.”

“Is that so?”

“It is,” she coolly replied, and began counting off with her fingers.

“I hate red apples, red cars, and worst of all, redheads,” she said, not skipping a beat as Kid Flash feigned a hurt expression.

“Pink is an all-around better color. It’s powerful, its’ fashionable, it’s—“

“—delicate,” Kid Flash finished, and Jinx looked up to see him reading from the screen of his communicator. “—and empathetic. Known for representing a lack of power, pink is typically categorized as a sensitive color.” He read, not trying to hide his delight as Jinx’s confusion gave way to irritation.

“Unlike red, its more brash and exciting counterpart, pink is calm, non-threatening, and passive— “ He was cut off as she pulled him into a kiss, his usually cluttered mind going blank the moment her mouth met his. Jinx’s heart fluttered against her ribcage and Kid Flash felt his nearly stop as he focused on one amazing, undeniable fact: he was kissing Jinx. The soft lips that touched his, the cheek that he was caressing—they belonged to a villainess. It was wrong, and Robin would kill him for it later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care since right then, in that moment, it felt right. “How’s that for passive? “Jinx asked, grinning as she pulled away. The pink eyes that held his gaze had a sense of unsureness that didn’t fit her bold actions and tone, and before he could answer her question the familiar ring of his communicator filled the air.   He silenced it and searched for signs of uncertainty, longing, or anything , but instead all he found was the unperturbed, cool gaze that everyone knew Jinx for.

“Looks like you’ve got some hero duties to tend to,” she said. “Yeah,” he replied, not attempting to hide his dismay at the communicator’s timing. “I’ll see you later?” He asked, cursing himself for the blatant hopefulness in his tone.

Jinx shrugged. “You know where to find me.” Moments after Kid Flash left, Seemore came, muttering curses about how he had saw the stupid hero and that he had ‘told Gizmo to update their defense system’ after his last break-in.

“Are you ok Jinx?” he asks, stopping mid ramble as he frowned in concern. “Your face is all red.”

She absentmindedly raised a hand to her cheek, feeling its warmth and ghosting over the spot that Kid Flash had touched mere moments before.

“Allergic reaction,” she mumbled, closing the door without another word.

[chanceconstruction]

Kevin O’Connor – Host of This Old House

We’re kicking off our interview series with the host of This Old House, Kevin O’Connor. Six years ago Kevin was working in finance but was also an avid DIY homeowner intent on renovating his 1894 Queen Anne. His unlikely ascension to the “dream job” as host of This Old House has become legend. “In Kevin, we found the perfect mixture of optimism and energy, two ingredients an old house owner must have to survive” says Russell Morash, creator of This Old House.

Nominated for an Emmy award in his debut season, Kevin is currently hosting his 7th season of This Old House and Ask This Old House as well as his first season of co-hosting This New House.

C&H: Your casting as the host of This Old House was very serendipitous, can you please share this story? Kevin: It’s a remarkable story and even five years later I’m still surprised by it. My wife and I bought our first house five years ago and it was real fixer-upper. It needed everything, which is just what we wanted. It didn’t take long to get in over our heads though and after several months of working away we emailed This Old House for some advice. It seemed like a logical thing to do since I grew up watching the show and have always been a big fan.

Remarkably This Old House didn’t just respond to the email they came to our house and filmed a small segment for the TV show (for Ask This Old House to be precise). My wife and I were thrilled. I got to meet the crew and Jim Clark, the show’s painting expert and Tom Silva. We all know who he is. After half a day of filming and having a great time the crew left and I thought that was the end of it. I took my picture with the gang, cracked a beer and called some buddies to tell them about my foray into TV. The next day I put my suit back on and returned to my job as a banker.

About three months later, completely out of the blue, a This Old House producer called and asked if “I wanted to help with the show.” I had no idea what that meant and he was cagey about it but I figured I had such a good time when the crew was at my house I had nothing to lose. So I went to the studio for a meeting, then to one of Tommy’s job sites for another meeting. And then just like that they asked me to be host of the two most popular home improvement shows on television.

Bizarre. But I never looked backed.

C&H: How has your life been most impacted by your career change as host of TOH? Besides your DIY IQ going through the roof. Kevin: Day to day it’s just a job. You have to get up, work, travel, work some more and always fight to put out a great product. That weighs on you when you inherit a legacy and don’t want to be the guy to screw it up.

I say that because the biggest impact on my life is how the show has changed my life day to day. It’s a job for sure, but it’s also a great one. This job allows me to be creative, it challenges me, I learn from it every day, and I have great exposure and access to things I care passionately about. And I work with a team that cares passionately about those things as well. This might sound trite but the fame part, the being recognized in public, being asked for your autograph, getting a good table at a restaurant, all of that is fleeting. It quickly becomes background noise. It doesn’t satiate, or fulfill any part of me. Having the opportunity to work and to create is what excites me. And now, thanks to this job, I have that opportunity every day I show up at the office – or the job site as the case may be.

C&H: Do you have a favorite House Project and what did you like most about it? Kevin: I’ll always have a warm spot for my first project, the little barn conversion in Concord, MA. It was simple, elegant, and thrilling to do since it was my first. But my favorite of all time is the Carlisle project which we did the next year and was in celebration of our 25th anniversary. The project was huge. There were three buildings involved; we renovated one, completely rebuilt another, and converted a third from a working barn to a magnificent living space.

I loved the scope, the challenge, the fact that we spent longer than usual on the project (a full season of 26 episodes rather than the usual 18), which allowed us to dig deeper into the stories. And I loved the fact that we owned it, and weren’t working for a homeowner with a real life budget. Owning the property allowed us to build our dream house with all the bells and whistles, which makes for great TV but is also a lot of fun.

I’ve worked on six projects since and Carlisle is still my favorite.

C&H: How are things coming along in New Orleans? What is TOH’s philosophy towards the rebuilding of N.O.? Kevin: The New Orleans project is tough. There’s a labor shortage, problems with infrastructure, and everything seems to take longer in NOLA. We’ll get our project done but not without some incredibly hard work from our producer who is making miracles happen every day. And of course the craftsmen doing the work are the ones making it possible. When we do a project out of state we rely on our local team for everything.

Our philosophy? I’m not sure we have a company philosophy on New Orleans. It’s a good project and a great story. That’s all that matters.

That said I’m sure everyone on the crew has their own opinion of the project and the significance of being in New Orleans. Personally, I don’t get caught up in the politics and shouting about what should and what shouldn’t get rebuilt. When I met the homeowner and heard her story I was on board. She grew up in the neighborhood. She bought the home and spent a year fixing it up with friends while living in it.

Then she took on six feet of flood water after the levies brook and all her work was destroyed. She spent two years fighting to get back into her house, raising money, and putting a plan together to rebuild. Now, she has the help of This Old House and we’ll make sure her new house respects the historic nature of the original structure and her neighborhood. And along the way we’ll tell stories about individuals rebuilding their houses and teach people about New Orleans architecture and building styles. I’m on board for that.

C&H: What is your take on the growth of online DIY sites especially independent publishers such as ourselves or Houseblogs.net? Do you ever refer to any particular online resources besides ThisOldHouse.com? Kevin: The growth in DIY is remarkable. On the one hand I love it because I think it’s vindication for all of us house lovers and do-it-yourselfers. There are a lot of great shows and web sites out there that never existed and that’s great.

On the other hand there’s a lot of crap out there too. I can think of a dozen shows and web sites that wouldn’t hold my interest for a nanosecond.

C&H: How close are you with the other guys and is there anything you can share about them that the TV viewers don’t know (not too embarrassing of course). Kevin: The five guys are tight and I’m honored that they let me into their little family. They’ve all been together for 20+ years and I’m still the new guy. But despite that they made me part of the team from day one and now we’re tight friends.

Remarkably there aren’t any great secrets or revealing tidbits to share because each one of the guys is as down to earth and as regular as they come across on TV. Honestly, what you see is what you get, and I love that. After all this time and all this exposure each one of them is unchanged, approachable, humble, and dedicated to their craft, and I don’t mean just the craft of making TV. I mean their crafts of carpentry, plumbing, landscaping, etc. They are great role models as well as friends.

C&H: Can you share any particular remodeling/renovating trends you are seeing and which have the most relevance? Kevin: The single biggest trend in renovation right now is “green”, however you define it. It’s as if we’re in at perfect storm of consequences. People are aware of rising fuel prices, global warming, the resources our homes consumer and the impact that consumption has on the environment. That may seem like a predictable answer but it’s a revolution, for sure.

C&H: What will it take for the green building movement to become more widely accepted? Kevin: Instead of the practitioners pushing these ideas now the consumer is now pulling them, and I think that is a much more powerful force. And the field is only in its infancy. I think it’s impossible to predict what forms, technologies, or conventions will emerge as winners. But I will predict the movement is here to stay. The American consumer is a powerful force.

C&H: What stamp do you feel you’ve put on the show that may be different from your predecessors? Kevin: Approachability. The job of the host is to ask questions and to get great information out of the craftsmen who have spent a lifetime accumulating it. It’s not to become an expert on everything myself. That would just be bad, fake TV.

I have great respect for the guys I work with and I hope that comes though to the viewer. Despite our friendship and closeness I still know they are the real pros and I try to get as many great lessons from them and then get out of the way.

C&H: How is your own Victorian fixer-upper coming along? Kevin: Slowly. But we’re getting there. My wife and I have been working on it for five years and in a few months we’ll be done with Phase One, which is most of the necessary improvements. We’ve redone the kitchen, two bathrooms, turned an unfinished attic into three bedrooms and a bath, rebuilt the porch, an office, a playroom and a laundry room. We replaced the heating system, most of the electric and plumbing, and a lot of the old plaster. We reconditioned all the windows and tackled the landscaping. And we spent twenty grand to have the place painted. I’m getting hives just writing this.

It’s been and continues to be a great learning experience and rewarding. It informs my performance on the show, makes me a better interviewer and gives me a better respect for the real craftsmanship that we show on This Old House.

It also has been and continues to be hard and frustrating. There have been weekends when I’ve wanted to reach for my checkbook and pay to have it finished so I could play with my three year old son or spend more time with my wife – not discussing the house. But I’m committed to finishing. Hopefully that will be soon.

C&H: What are your interests outside of Home Improvement? Kevin: Would you believe finance? I love it and miss it sometimes. I used to be a corporate banker and loved working with clients and helping them with their capital structures and putting together deals. I was a deal junky and still read the Wall Street Journal everyday. It’s almost like the sports page to me. O.k. that was weird.

I also like golf and try to play as much as I can, which isn’t enough. And I love being at the beach with my family, both immediate and extended. We’re a beach clan and any activity within a whiff of salt air is fine with me.

And travel. I’ve been to about twenty countries in my life and would life to get to another twenty. Right now it’s hard with a little child at home but eventually we’ll get back on the road. Russia and China are high on my list.

C&H: Can you share your most important DIY tip? Learned before or during your time with TOH. Kevin: It will take longer and cost more than you think. It will cost more and take longer than you think. How else can I say it? Remember that, adjust your expectations, and you’ll be fine.

C&H: Well said, Thanks Kevin. This spring you can watch Kevin and the rest of the This Old House crew as they rebuild an 1892 New Orleans home of a fourth-generation Lower Ninth Ward resident, that was damaged by hurricane Katrina. photo courtesy of This Old House and Tracey Powell

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