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7 yrs ago
Current Sorry for my lack of posts lately. I've just... been struggling to get the energy to write something up. I'm trying some new meds through so hopefully that will change soon.
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The Second Council of the 8th Legion : An Abnormal Issue


The first proper 'meeting' of the leadership of the 8th legion took place within the confines of their barracks. The rest of the legion were being put through various drills and training exercises in order to try and foster a sense of unity and teamwork within the legion itself and it provided a rare opportunity for a relatively private discussion to take place.

Nine individuals had created something of a makeshift nonagon out of footlockers, foregoing the search for furniture that could actually hold their new found bulk in the process. Each wore a loin cloth, for none of them had yet to be granted anything even close to fitting 'civilian' attire... and it provided an unspoken sense of security. None of them had anything to hide and their seating ensured that all members could see the others easily enough. Old habits died hard after all.

The leader of this meeting, the Legion Master Pho Scraphurst, sat at the 'head' of the nonagon. Compared to his newfound brothers, Pho was a little bit shorter then the average and seemed to have originally been of a narrower frame of body that transferred over with the ascension. His footlocker seat was groaning a bit more then those of his peers whenever he shifted or moved, even as he looked over his subordinates with somewhat small brown eyes. His light brown skin showed the signs of heavy modification and scarring that all of them shared, through if it was from the process that turned them into super solders or before then was unclear. While shaved of his hair, blond hair was slowly growing back.

Going clockwise sat second in command Gallianus Vaarars. Also light brown in skin tone, the hair that was starting to grow on his head was a reddish coloration instead. Somewhat narrow in body himself, Gallianus was a bit taller then the average member of the legion and seemed to have a weight that properly matched his height. Small green eyes gazed out at the group, but whenever it turned towards Pho they seemed to narrow slightly.

Next was Catiel Ulstrecht. Shorter then the legion master, Catiel likewise seemed to share the burden of additional weight that filled out a more average build of body. Pale skinned with large grey eyes, what little of Catiel's hair that had started to regrow was a graying blond.

Roccex Al-Sharqawa was also on the taller side of the scale, through he seemed to be somewhat lighter on his feet then most. His skin was a medium brown which made his large green eyes stand out all the more. Auburn hair was starting to regrow on his head.

Jzzist Al-Allal was one of the shortest of those gathered, seemingly tied with only one other. Despite this, he was fairly muscular and board shouldered. Pale skinned with graying platinum blond hair, his average sized brown eyes tended to focus on one member of the circle more then others.

Valok Lichtenvind's light brown skin actually stood out among his peers in that the possible damage that had been done to it prior to the genetic modifications was somewhat different in nature. As the only member of the leadership circle that came from the nomad tribes rather then the hive gangs, this made a degree of sense. Quite muscular himself, Valok was closer to the average in both height and build. Small grey eyes looked out under regrowing greying golden-blond hair.

Giselwin Josch was the other contender for shortest of the group, broad shouldered and a bit pudgy. His grey hair was growing back a bit faster then the others, making his the 'longest' in the legion at the moment. Light brown in skin color, his average sized dark brown eyes focused on Jzzist more often then not... and whenever it did, muttering under his breath would start.

Elias Loffenbjorn was one of the tallest of the group... the fact that he was sitting next to one of the shortest only made him seem taller. Narrow and quite thin by marine standards, his pale skin makes both his brown hair and small, dark brown eyes stand out all the more.

Qvoro Muckstead rivaled Elias in height, and being next to the somewhat shorter Pho also had the ability to make him appear somewhat taller then he actually was... through not to the same extent as Giselwin and Elias. Narrow shouldered but fairly muscular, sitting next to Elias made Qvoro's very dark brown skin seem all the darker. Somewhat small hazel eyes looked around as brown hair was regrowing on his head.

With a sudden slamming of his foot against the ground, Legion Master Scraphurst brought all attention to him and brought a sudden end to the mutter in the background. Waiting until he was sure he had everyone's eyes on him, Pho finely started speaking in a calm, confident tone of voice. "Since time is a factor before the exercises reach a point where we are needed to personally be present, we shall skip the pleasantries and get to the heart of the matter. I have been approached by several parties, some of whom are in this room, in regards to issues with our auxiliary forces. The issues and goals of these parties are contradictory."

"Clearly a decision needs to be made on the matter and I am the one to make it..." He paused for a moment to bask before he continued sharply afterwards "However, I will not be known as a man who makes uninformed, reckless decisions. Since each of you represent your respective parts of the legion and know those who make up your hundred or so marines better on an individual level then I do, I am going to let you make the case that you believe best captures the spirit of your piece of the legion and we shall humbly strive to come to the best answer possible for us as a whole."

"Let us start with the more popular issue of the day. A number of our former gang members were not suitable for induction into the legions, be it our own or those dedicated to female marines and thus joined our auxiliary forces instead. This has been quite a divisive issue, since I have heard demands ranging from treating them with greater respect to purging them all from our ranks completely. The floor is now open to any who wishes to speak."

For a couple of seconds there was a chaotic mess of noise as several people tried to talk at once. It grew slightly less so as some of them realized that others were trying to talk at the same time and opted to wait rather then waste their breath. It feel silent completely when the foot came down and the stamp was loud enough to make everyone shut up. Pho for his part looked around at everyone present before pointing towards Roccex and saying "You first."

Offering a small nod as he rose to his feet, Roccex looked at his peers with a judgemental eye before spitting "Why is this even a matter of discussion? They are inhuman abominations that are a plague on this world. An insult to humanity by their mere existence, all they do is wallow in their own filth when they're not raiding and pillaging their betters or raping human women. The fact that there are those among our ranks that seem to tolerate these vile things is disgusting, but once they've been cleared out and some proper human auxiliaries replace them I can guarantee you'll never entertain this madness again."

The uproar that followed was somewhat loud, with individual words or statements lost to the chaos. However, with a gesture from Pho Reccex retook his seat before the legion master turned towards Qvoro and gestured for him to stand up and be heard.

Qvoro waited until there was silence before he started to speak. "This is a matter of discussion because if we let you have your way, you would have done something stupid without thinking about it Reccex." As the uproar threatened to start up again, not the least of which was Reccex raising to his feet again, Pho's foot stamped the ground again to cut it off and demand silence.

"If you can't show enough respect to your brothers in arms to be civil, you will be excused from this council and ordered to fight each other until all bad blood has been shed and the matter settled for good. Am I understood?!" Pho growled, daring anyone to object.

As ruffled feathers started to settle, Qvoro made the point of saying "Forgive me Legion Master. I will stay on point." With a gesture from Pho to continue, Qvoro refocused on his peers. "Mutants, abhumans... whatever you call them, all of them are treated poorly and often reviled by... well, everyone really. They can't even find peace among their own numbers since they generally get forced into the worst conditions, doing the most dangerous types of work and having to fight each other to survive."

While one might think that such words would come with empathy, Qvoro's tone was that of a man stating a fact. "Someone has to do those jobs and be crushed underfoot, but this provides us with an opportunity. When you treat these people with kindness, respect and even loyalty, they will zealously dedicate themselves to you and your cause with a determination that you just can't train into people easily. Yes we might have to train them a bit to give them better discipline and weapon skills, but in return we would get auxiliaries that will succeed at whatever task they are given or die trying because who else would treat them with even half the kindness and respect we could?"

Before Qvoro could be possibly answered, Catiel actually stood up and asked both Qvoro and the legion master "If I may add some more to Qvoro's argument?" After Qvoro respectfully nodded his head in consent to Catiel taking the floor and Pho acknowledged the change in speaker, Catiel continued "Qvoro is correct in his assessment, but I believe the situation would actually be more beneficial then he realizes. Most nations hate those who deviate from baseline humanity, the Imperium included. Having a reputation for a positive relationship with the mutant and the abhuman means that they would naturally flock to us since we can provide basic things like food and respect that others won't. Not only would we have a near endless reserve for our auxiliary forces, but we would be in a position to claim the cream of the mutant crop."

"Since the other legions and military forces see mutants as little more then fodder at best, most of them will come to us directly and other imperial forces likely won't care. It would even make it quite easy to sway mutants and abhumans of other nations to work with or join us, since I don't think there is anywhere that humans hold dominion where they are not treated like shit. Spy networks, sabotage, opening hidden entrances into enemy hives... the possibilities are incredible."

"Not to mention..." Elias began, not asking for permission to speak up to the mild annoyance of Catiel "Mutants, Abhumans... a lot of them are better at some things then baseline humans. More hardy, faster, stronger... more arms for faster reloading. Perfect for specialized roles. And if they just so happen to be one of the useless fucks who is worse then a baseline human... well, we'll word it differently but we could still make use of cannon fodder. Give them some basic training and equipment at mine disarming and when we order 'em to clear a minefield, they'll do it one way or the other."

There was a mild, dark chuckle that went around several points of the nonagon. Some didn't find the joke funny, but not many.

Since there seemed to be a relaxation among who was allowed to talk, Valok spoke up next. "While I can... appreciate some of the possible benefits discussed, they are rather dependent on if the abhuman and mutant... well, can be trained. Many of them are little better then wild animals in both actions and mind. Something that could be herded and driven towards an enemy position to be sure, but discipline? The only military action they could be trusted to understand is to charge and try and kill the enemy... and even then they are likely to forget whose side they are fighting for once the blood starts flowing."

"There is a time and a place for such near mindless violence." Jzzist pointed out. "Not every battle of course, but enough that we have use of such a dedicated fighting force... and enough of a consistant cull to prevent it from growing to large."

"All I'm saying-" Valok butted back in with a small bit of heat in their voice "-is that we might be better served by a more human fighting force. Still able to channel the dark and the bloody, but also able to be trusted with more advanced operations."

"Well of course Jzzist wants a mindless tide of carnage and beasts." Giselwin muttered as he glared at his once rival. "Do you also want to fill the auxiliary with your damned witches? Bind the spirits of the dead to march upon the living?"

"Well maybe-" Jzzist sniped back with a smile on his face "-if you had bothered to hire some witches of your own before you attempt to march on my domain, you wouldn't be so afraid of the dark, Giselwin."

"YOU TWISTED SON OF A-"

The THUMP of a fist slamming down into a metal locker was loud enough that all noise in its wake as Pho rose his fist out of the dent he had made. "Jzzist, Giselwin, get out! We'll deal with you both later. Gallianus, make sure they rejoin the training exercises without killing each other on the way."

Any protest or rebuttable never came in the aftermath of Pho's roar. Gallianus glared at the legion master, but after a few moments he answered with a somewhat sulky and sarcastic "Yes sir". Without a word, Jzzist and Giselwin both rose and slowly made their ways towards the door, with Gallianus following them to make sure that they actually left and that blood wasn't spilled between them yet.

The barracks was silent until after the door was closed and all three men were gone. Then Pho spoke up again. "Having listened to all of your counsel, I have made a decision. For the foreseeable future we will not only welcome those who are not baseline human into our auxiliary forces, but will treat them with the same degree of respect and investment that we would if taking in human solders. If the benefits that are believed to be possible from the arrangement manifest then we will continue. If not... we will revisit the matter at a latter date."

Turning his head slightly more towards Roccex and Valok, Pho finished "I want this message to be understood by all members of the legion. I do not expect or order anyone in the legion to be friendly with our auxiliary forces. But I expect you all to be professional enough to be civil and respectful when they are encountered and otherwise leave them be. Any legionary that fails that basic level of self control will be punished for it. Take comfort in the fact that you will almost certainly outlive our mutant and abhuman auxiliaries by a long shot."

Watching to make sure that the message was understood, Pho rose to his feet. "Now then, since that matter is settled... onto the next."
Pentious


Recording from Servo-Skull #5342
Mission: Spying on Orkoid entities known as 'Weirdboyz'
Video: #342


The recording started innocently enough as far as orks were concerned; The Burna Boyz tribe had gathered for a feast in order to celebrate... something. Normally such celebrations were held due to some victory or a successful raid, but cross referencing with other Servo-Skulls in the area revealed that such a thing hadn't happened with this tribe. Some Analysts suggested that the celebration might have been religious in nature, through the finer details evaded them. Others held the view that the Ork simply felt like throwing a feast and did it. Neither viewpoint was important for the purposes of this recording.

The festivities were suddenly interrupted as a 'Weirdboy' from the Stonemaulz seemed to arrive unannounced. "Hey, are you guys having a party?" There was a moment of confusion among the Burna Boyz at the arrival, which allowed the strange 'weirdboy' to walk forward and look at the ground. "Wow... your floors are so clean." before his eyes went in what could only be called an empty headed, thousand yard stare, his jaw opening up as he started making a loud, low droning "Ahhhhh" noise.

The local Burna Boyz 'Weirdboy' suddenly snapped to attention, removing the blindfold they were using to play 'Put the Gretchen into the Squiq' and cried "Oh frig, it'z an ambush!"

The warboss of the tribe, rather then be angry about the situation, seemed more frustrated and annoyed as he bellowed "Oh for the love of-" before reaching up to pinch the skin between its alien eyes "-not thiz curze thing again!"

"It's okay bosz, I've been practicing!" The local 'Weirdboy' announced. "I can win thiz time!" before closing their own eyes and starting to yell "Blahhhhh!" back at the first ork. While the sight was comically stupid at first, moments after it began as the two idiots were screaming at each other, the very ground itself began to shake as greenskins braced themselves and food started to fall off the 'table'.

After a few minutes, the screaming of weirdboys subsided and the earthquake started to fade away, the Warboss crying out in anger "Damn it! What in Gorkz name did you zogzing idiotz do thiz time?!"

The weirdboy from the Stonemaulz shrugged before answering "I don't know, he messed my curse up. You guys have some really clean floors."

The ... victorious(?) weirdboy announced as they pulled the blindfold off their head completely, rather then just wearing it like a bandana "Heck yes! And now we are tied!"

"What do you mean you don't know?! What did you do?!"

"I don't-" there was a sudden flash of light that blinded the recording for a moment alongside a roar of thunder. When the video returned, several of the orks were dead, smoking from something that had killed them. Some of the dead (and a few of the alive) were actively on fire. Observation of wounds suggested that all targets had been struck by lightning. There wasn't a storm.

.......................................


Recording from Servo-Skull #9532
Mission: Observe Orkish 'Mekboys' creating orkish weaponry.
Video: #12


The workshop of the Mekboy of the Twisted Blade clan was more of a sweatshop for the smaller greenskins called Gretchen then a proper factoria, with the so called Mekboy serving the role of taskmaster. Some would be assigned to the production of screws, nails, nuts and bolts and other crude metal creations, others would be assigned to straightening out pipes or hammering out scrap metal to create clips to put bullets into. The third group would be assigned to create stocks out of whatever was on hand for the task.

The fourth group and the one that the Mekboy tended to yell at and abuse the most were the ones that had to put everything together in order to create the clan's guns. All they literally did was take the items that the other groups were producing and hammering or 'gluing' it all together in order to make something that was vaguely in the shape of a firearm.

The fact that beyond the hammering or gluing, nothing was actually connected to anything in a meaningful way meant absolutely nothing, as despite the fact that the clip was hammered into the 'barrel' without any means for the nails that were packed inside to actually leave the clip or the fact that the trigger was more or less glued on without being connected to anything close to an internal mechanism, the Mekboy was still able to pick up the abomination of metal, aimed it at a Gretchen that had been tied to a pole for the purposes of target practice and actually fired off several shots.

They then proceeded to beat the gretchen that had made the 'gun' because the sights were off, since none of the shots actually hit the target.

...........................................


Many recordings were being processed by Rik as he openly walked towards the nearby greenskin outpost. Each one an example of Orkish stupidity, cruelty or the sheer insanity of their existence. Each one making his blood boil as rage started to grow.

It was a minor orkish outpost and Rik was alone, outside of some servo-skulls that were following at a safe distance. He was unarmed and unarmored, naked from the waist up and with what implants and additions had been added to his form over time either removed or turned off... through he did leave himself with those that had a more passive effect, such as his replacement limbs or those that monitored his vitals and recording equipment.

The calculations running through his mind for the battle to come were not optimized to the task of the extermination of the outpost and there was a part of him that honestly disliked the fact that he was using plans that had improvisation as a fundamental component, but it was an important part of the test and thus, he would tolerate it.

Ever since he was able to understand the teachings of his adopted mother, he had known that his biological body was the result of genetic engineering so incredibly advanced that even now, when he ran tests and tried to uncover the mysteries of his own flesh and blood, Rik couldn't help but be reminded of the saying 'Any technology advanced enough comes across as magic to those who do not understand it'. He would have loved nothing more then to obsessively dive into the mystery of his own creation, but there was simply too much that needed to be done to do so.

This test was less about trying to uncover the inner mystery of the self as it was about discovering the limits of the self. A field test to see what he could do without the assistance of technology or even weaponry... well, almost. Some exceptions had to be made, such as his replacement limbs, but such things couldn't be helped under the circumstances; Hobbling into battle on one leg might have been more organic, but it may have sewed the results more heavily. Besides, those limbs were as much apart of his being as his actual flesh and blood at this point.

Implants had also been disabled for the purposes of this test... including those that allowed for emotional regulation. It was way he was watching the archived recordings of the greenskins; Because of all the emotions he could feel, fury would be the most helpful to his biological brain for the purposes of what was about to happen.

...............................


It was... hard to put into words what happened next.

Everything was like a blur... but at the same time he remembered it all in clear, perfect detail. Completely in control of his own actions and yet... out of control all the same. The idea of stopping had never even occurred to him at the time.

He remembered grabbing the gretchen and throwing it directly into the open maw of the leaping squiq hard enough to force it to close its mouth long enough for him to punch it through the top of its head, grab and handful of its matter and using the corpse to block an axe strike. He remembered grabbing that ork and using the dull shiv that one of the dead gretchen had tried to use and slammed it into its chest and neck again and again in a sloppy, painful fashion because he wanted the ork to feel the pain before he jerked it to use it as a meat-shield against a spray of bullets... then as a projectile in order to knock the gunner down.

He remembered breaking the ork with a flamer's arm and forcing it in different directions, ignoring the attempts by the screaming greenskin to free itself from his grasp as he made it pull the trigger several times to roast his companions before bending the arm towards his own face.

He also remembered breaking the arm of that ork with the power 'klaw', forcing the metal limb towards his head before grasping the claw itself and pushing on it until the straining motors trying to keep it open finally failed, snapping shut and crushing the head of its owner. He remembered the looks of fear and pain in their voices and eyes in their final moments and felt the hatred he felt for all Orks proclaim that this wasn't enough... that he needed to kill all of them.

And he remembered hearing something coming up behind him and instinct being faster then thought for just one moment before his fist shattered the servo-skull that had drifted too close.

That was the moment where he stopped and turned on the emotional regulation implants again so he could properly examine the hatred, the sense of self justification for a slower kill just to see the target in agony as they died, the need for more victims in earnest and apply logic and true calculation to what the outcome would be if he allowed them to drive him forward.

Mankind had long associated anger with that of fire. Rik could see why; Both could carry someone through the harshest and darkest of events. Both requiring a degree of care-taking in order to continue burning and even after it was believed to have long died down, cinders and embers could be stoked to start it anew. But they could also both go out of control in an indiscriminate blaze, consuming everything around it and leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

Hate... was different. Many humans believed that hate and anger were fundamentally the same thing but as Rik found himself breathing heavily for reasons other then the physical actions he had just taken, he knew at his core that it was different. Hate had weight to it that simple anger didn't. It was like a black hole, pulling everything around it towards it to be consumed and only being visible via witnessing what was currently circling the event horizon. Hate consumed until only it remained, alone in the empty darkness... and that would be the fate that awaited him if he followed that path.

The Orks would have simply been the start.

They needed to die, but not because he hated them. They would die because their existence was a danger to all around them and if they were not stopped, they would be all that would remain.

Quietly, alone, a blood soaked Rik began the process of scooping up all the pieces of the broken servo-skull. It would be tricky, but far from impossible to put it back into working order... even if it would never be the same as it was. But while he couldn't undo the mistake he had made completely, he would still try to make things right.
The First Council of the 8th Legion Training Arena


The legion being built up around the geneseed of the 8th Primarch had a couple of internal issues that needed to be addressed at the start.

Of the eight hundred and sixty six members of the legion that had undergone the transformation into this new breed of super solder in the name of the Lord of Thunder, five hundred and eighty of them had originally been of ganger stock from the hives of Merica with the remaining two hundred eighty six being from nomad tribes that existed outside of those hives in one form or another. While the transformation had involved a high degree of indoctrination and hypnotherapy to create more refined solders for the Lord of Lightning, a fair degree of ego that had once inspired the former gangers and nomads to take positions of leadership or command remained.

It was quickly discovered by the Legion and soon after the bureaucrats connected to it that simply assigning these newly minted super solders ranks wasn't going to work: Those who were simply given ranks of command had a deep seated feeling of not earning it and thus, not having the respect of those under them while those who didn't get the rank they wanted felt snubbed over. Training exercises quickly broke down as infighting would pop up on all levels of the 8th, preventing them from achieving the cohesion they needed to be a fighting force.

This wasn't caused solely by issues with rank. Values and beliefs (not religious beliefs, of course) from their prior lives bled over into the new legionaries and this created... conflict. The lack of a recognized command structure among their own people deepened the issue since there was no arbitrator to settle the matter on issues that weren't matters of Imperial Law. Battle in arms they may have been, but if something didn't change things were going to get ugly.

It was unclear who originally made the suggestion, but the idea itself quickly picked up momentum as it started to spread. It resonated with a concept that both ganger and nomad had accepted as apart of their lives before their transformation and felt right even now: The Strong, the Cunning and the Brave rose to power... and those with all three kept it.

So with an understanding among themselves, the members of the Legion gathered in their training arena and some messages were sent to their support staff in order to bring them up to speed on what was about to happen. Rather then attempt to stop them, several representatives of the bureaucratic process instead came to witness and record events as they transpired, believing that this might bring an end to the issues that had plagued the new born legion.

The first stage of their trials for leadership was a simple question: Did you want to be in a command role?

Not everyone desired the responsibilities and weight that came with leadership and command and simply asking if they wanted it was a strong first step in thinning the herd.

The second stage might have surprised many. Of the candidates who had stepped forward, they were all divided into groups of six (with one group of four) in order to play a board game. The game itself was ancient, having been developed at some point before the Age of Strife and its original name lost, but in the modern era it was simply called 'Imperium'; A strategy game of some complexity, as one played as one of many factions that played differently, all with a mission of galactic conquest after the collapse of an all-powerful empire leaves a void for others to fill. It was a game that put as much emphasis on building an economy and diplomacy as it did warfare.

The first round lasted a grand total of eight hours, with the winners of each game carrying on to the second round of playing a new faction against the other winners of the first round... with one exception. The winner of the game of four caused for there to be one player extra. The solution was simple: The contenders of the second round would draw lots and the two 'winners' would fight it out in a bare knuckle brawl and the winner would stay on to play.

Balias Rasporian knocked out Konrad Amutiel after a brief but somewhat one sided exchange before the second round truly started, Balias simply overwhelming Konrad and leaving him laying on the floor in defeat afterwards.

The longest of the games of the second round lasted thirteen hours, with Balias being one of those eliminated.

Repeating the process of the winners moving on to face the victors of the other games, another 'odd one out' caused another round of lots to be drawn. This time, Catiel Ulstrecht would face off against Qvoro Muckstead on the field of honor. Unlike the first fight which was dominated by Balias from the start in an overwhelming show of strength and skill, the brawl between Catiel and Qvoro was much closer in abilities. In the end Catiel managed to prove that they had just that little bit more grit and determination as Qvoro fell to the ground and couldn't rise again before he was deemed to have lost, through afterwards Catiel helped his opponent back to his feet and escorted him over to get medical treatment in a show of respect.

The third and final round, unsurprisingly, played out the longest as the final game took eighteen hours to come to a close. Catiel came in a close second against the victor of his game, Gallianus Vaarars, but Gallianus was just able to earn enough victory points to achieve victory one turn before Catiel could.

This left two contenders standing at the end. Gallianus Vaarars and Pho Scraphurst. Their cunning had been tested against the best that their legion had to offer... but there could only be one person at the top of the legion and strength could only be truly tested one way.

The fight between Pho and Gallianus would be recorded in history as a good one, but it was clear from the get go that Pho was the better fighter. Gallianus for his part didn't go down quietly or quickly, briefly reversing the flow of battle with a surprise burst of speed and after Pho recovered from the surprise managed to hold his ground for a time... but in the end Gallianus ended up unable to stand and Pho Scraphurst became Legion Master Pho Scraphurst.

With the Legion Master established, a chain of command was established. Gallianus would become the second in command of the 8th, with Catiel, Qvoro and the other players in the third round being the primary candidates for the higher command ranks, selected via the merits and aptitudes of each individual. As ranks were filled and the third round players ran dry, the pool of second round players would be drawn upon by merit to fill ranks and roles as best suited their skills and abilities. If someone eligible believed that they would be better in the role then the selected person and could prove that they did have the skills required, a bare knuckled brawl would be issued and the victor granted the position.

Once the second round ran out, the first round players would be pulled from to fill whatever ranked positions remained.

Once it was all over, one of the admin representatives asked the newly promoted Legion Master why the legion had opted for... well, this method of deciding instead of opting for a method like fighting until only one remained standing. Legion Master Scraphurst considered the question for a moment before answering "While we might have disagreed on who deserved to be in charge... and there will still be matters to sort out in the days to come, every man here is here because in their heart..." he paused for a split second before correcting "...hearts possessed the bravery to face horror and terrible odds to survive day to day. While yes fighting is a big part of that, at the end of the day running an army is much like running a gang; It requires vision, logistical knowledge and the ability to be diplomatic as much as the ability to wage war."
@geminironin

It happens. I hope you feel better soon.
For his own part, Andrew was... quiet.

All this was a lot to take in after all. Either some of their students were truly destined for greatness if they ever left detention again, or there really was some hidden shadow war between the fey and the 'forces of darkness' that seemed to be called 'The Shroud'... or at least 'Lux' called it that.

However, the fact that one of the students might be in serious danger caused him to resist the urge to see if he could find a glass jar. Maybe later.

Stocktaking his resources, he had a knife on his person; It was one that he had crafted himself and it was surprising how many situations popped up in a day where being able to use a sharp object was handy. It wasn't really designed for combat, but in a pinch it would still serve as a weapon... but he didn't want to resort to that unless he had to. Instead, as Yui, Izumi, Sakura, Emiko,Shinobu and surprisingly Amber more or less signed themselves up to a magical girl career Andrew instead walked over to a little used cabinet on the wall.

Once upon a time, fire axes were kept in a glass case with a 'In case of emergency, break glass' sign. Such things had largely disappeared from the public domain; Too many people were getting cut by broken glass. Instead, the more modern versions tended to have fire hatchets in a case that could be opened alongside the fire extinguisher. Said hatchet was now in Andrew's hand as he turned around to look at his fellow teachers and the fairy. "I likely don't qualify for the whole 'magical girl' thing... but Lux was it?" He asked, more out of politeness then anything "...Show me where we're going and we'll take care of this. Just be aware that when there isn't a student in danger, we're all going to sit down and have a productive chat about what kind of benefits and payment plan these wonderful ladies are going to get for risking their lives to fight your war."

The shock of the discovery that a popular sub category of anime was less 'power fantasy' and more 'based on real events' was still clearly on Andrew's face, but in his eyes was a steely determination; He had a hatchet, a willingness to use it and a student to possibly rescue from otherworldly horrors that would drive a man insane.
For his part, Andrew Brown slowly looked down at the can of coke in his hand with a slightly... thoughtful look on his face at the sight of what appeared to be some kind of fairy creature at the window.

He had never been much of a morning person, but once you got into the routine of something it was somewhat easier to be up and ready in the morning. That being said, it still required the presence of caffeine in order to get a proper start to the day and personally he disliked the taste of the coffee that the school generally provided. He could have followed the example of Shinobu and stopped somewhere on the way to work to pick something up, but that would require getting up earlier then he generally wanted to be. So instead he had a can of coke and despite the fact that he didn't really enjoy the taste of it, it helped get his brain in working order.

And it needed to be in working order, because this week the first years of his class were going to be working on knives. Blood being spilled was a certainty, but the difference between someone accidentally nicking themselves because they weren't used to handling sharp objects and more serious injuries depended on if the students were screwing around.

And right now he seemed to be able to hear and see a freaking fey creature that had flown in through the window. He considered the possiblity of being drugged, but since some of his fellow teachers had also noticed and seemed to be interacting with the strange sight (with the exception of Amber) it seemed like he wasn't the only one seeing or hearing things. "Could be some students pulling a prank." He offered as a devil's advocate of sorts. "Through if it is, I'm sure they'll do well in drama."

The fact that the message this 'fey' was saying seemed to be warning that someone was in danger was what stopped Andrew from dismissing it completely. Even if it was a prank... "What kind of trouble?"

Pentious


Forge-Beta


Nature abhorred a vacuum. Orks merely saw it as an opportunity.

With the Kneekapperz's effectively destroyed as a tribe, with its leadership beheaded and its power base shattered and taken by the local humans, a power vacuum had been created in the orkish political landscape. While Forge-Beta had been a weaker position of power and production for greenskin kind due largely to the fact that parts of its self-destruct rituals had been triggered in earnest while an utterly brutal defense beforehand and during said rituals had spent most of its stockpiles and likewise damaged more of it in the process while other forges had by comparison been taken with relatively little issue, it had still been a position of power.

One that was, by Greenskin standards, now up for grabs. The fact that the humans had been the ones to take it and were intent on keeping it was more of a bonus in their violence loving, reptile eyes.

This was to be expected of course. Part of the calculations and plans for retaking Forge-Beta was holding it from those greenskins seeking to claim it for themselves. They had covered their bases in that regard because any campaign in which calculations of the possibilities weren't hammered down to the final 1 or 0 was one that was taking a high degree of unacceptable risk. They had been prepared for anything.

...So in true orkish fashion, they broke reality.

..................................


Examining the dead post battle was a sadly necessary tradition of humanity from well before they had originally left their homeworld. Normally it was to allow for recognition of the dead so that a life that was cut short for one reason or another could be officially declared deceased and the proper records kept, messages sent home to survivors, ect. Sometimes through, it was to work out just what exactly had killed them, in the hopes that the knowledge would help save others.

As Rik walked along the site of the now ended battle he felt the rage, horror and disgust that his body was producing at the brutal, unnatural things he was seeing. He isolated them, implants assisting with the process because right then and there they were merely a hindrance in performing the task in front of him... but once it was done he intended to allow himself to experience the sensations in full. Failing to experience them at all would have been inhuman after all.

Some of the dead had been killed in more... conventional manners. Blunt trauma, bullet wounds, blades... typical injuries and causes of death where orks were concerned. Their deaths were unfortunate and those skitarii would be missed, but they weren't the reason for this autopsy in the field.

Even from a distance, he could feel the warmth radiating from the still molten, still glowing corpses of the fallen. Even as he observed them, listening to the occasional pop or burst of some piece of cybernetic that had somehow survived being turned to slag finally surrendered to the heat, his mind was processing the combat footage. Those viewpoints that didn't reveal the information he needed were put aside until he had a collection of several feeds, showing an interesting pair of orks.

The first was designated as a 'Weird Boy'. Such creatures had been encountered by the humans of Pentious before, through they were rare. Their abilities were... poorly understood, with the how and why so far being unknown. Their rarity and habit of not dying in one piece (be it via their own unstable power or the effort needed to kill them) made dissection attempts few and far between.

What he did know was that the vid feeds showed the greenskin shooting some kind of lightning from its glowing eyes that 'chained' between several Skitarii. Despite the fact that the standard implants and kit of the Skitarii included means to ground themselves from electrical discharges, armor being non-conductive and had plenty of systems in place to prevent overheating, within seconds all those struck started to be cooked alive as all the metal in their bodies heated up to the point of melting... and remained in that state over an hour later. The screaming stopped after forty five minutes.

The second persona of interest was clearly a Mek Boy... and thus one was wielding something that was completely new to the war on Pentious as far as records Rik had access to could tell.

From the vid feeds, the Mek Boy had some kind of cage on its side filled with the smaller 'gretchen' subspecies and a strange, closed tube like 'weapon' under its other arm. It would take the time to fish out a clearly unwilling and unhappy Gretchen and shove it into a slot on the side of the tube before pointing it towards a target and pulling a trigger. Vid feeds tended to get... glitchy whenever the trigger was pulled, unable to properly record whatever exactly was happening. The aftermath, however...

Watching a gretchen be morphed with someone like what records revealed to be a technological teleport gone horribly wrong was terrible enough, but it seemed that whatever process the ork was using to teleport its 'ammo' also drove them completely insane as their cowardly nature was completely abandoned as they started to recklessly attack whomever they were now fused with or inside of, intent on digging themselves out.

The grand finale of the 'Weird Boy' loudly declaring that "'e could dos t'at too!' before looking towards a Skitarii and...

Well, the vid feeds didn't reveal exactly what happened. Much like the strange ork gun, all the feeds suffered glitches at the time... with those actively seeing what happened having their data corrupted and those moments lost to history. The aftermath could be seen with the naked eye through...

A popped balloon filled with blood and meat as the cybernetics tailored to be installed inside of a full grown human critically failed to co-exist with the squig that the meat part of the man had somehow been converted into.

The orks had withdrawn after that point. Tactically it had been a probing raid rather then a dedicated attempt at pushing for the Forge. But as Rik gazed upon the carnage and felt goosebumps form on his skin that had nothing to do with temperature, he allowed himself a moment of questioning how mankind was meant to overcome such inhuman madness as this... before he turned his thoughts towards answering that question.


Tell me what you think.

Edit: For the record, the image is AI generated. I couldn't find an existing picture for my purposes.
@LuckyBlackCat
Thanks! I’ll get a sheet underway. We shall fight evil with truth, justice, this sword I made and hope!
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