I have been writing as a hobby for longer than you have been alive. I have been a regular member and roleplayer of no less than fourteen different online forums during that time (including the old RPG), fivesix eight of which no longer exist.
I was previously a regular on the Homestuck forums, but I became so sick of thread turnover there that I asked around and eventually found the Guild. Since joining, I have exclusively only participated in Advanced RPs. Before Mahz gave NRPs their own subforum, I used to be an NRP regular in the Advanced Subforum. I am a Guildfall survivor, and know/regularly write with a few others.
If you ask anybody who has written with me in previous RPs, they should tell you that I have a generally open schedule, I post regularly and in a timely fashion, and I never drop an RP once I join unless the thread dies. Some of them may tell you that I have extensive expertise within the realms of Biology, Psychology, and Physics, which I will make no effort to validate since there is no way I can provide hard proof of aforementioned alleged expertise to anybody over the internet (though I am happy to try and answer any questions you send my way).
My favorite fandom is the Myst franchise, which seemingly nobody other than me has ever heard of.
I was a Contest Moderator for the Writing Contests Subforum for just a little bit over two years. I wrote the Moderation Policy for that subforum and I ran a contest called the Twelve Labours; you can still go there and see all of them and the entries people wrote for them in the Contests Section and the Victory Archives.
I have been quadruple secret banned from the guild discord. That is not a joke.
The Lands of Aurochylys In the Southwestern Heel of the Western Realm
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The lands of Aurochylys, before, had been barren and desolate. No life could flourish in the place, for it was a great bowl of ashes and dust, arid and without refuge nor break in the Earth.
But now in the center of those flats, where before they had been nothing save the scant, crumbling ruins of a remnant civilization long since past, there now arose a renascent city. The structures were all of recent make, simple in construction and being shaped from bricks of dried and fired clay excavated from the surrounding waste. Scaffolds of wooden planks and canvas rose and surrounded each dwelling, evidence of ongoing craftswork and labor, with the innermost structures rising to three heights and the outermost clearly intended to follow.
Though the city was filled with stockpiles and workyards, all orderly and tidied and brimming with tools and materials of trade, the city evidenced no granaries, nor wells, nor fields of crop, nor bakeries or butchers or even distillers. The city was one of and for the dead - nobody could have dwelt there for long without sustenance, of which there was clearly and evidently none. Yet somehow, the city still found itself populated with many peoples who did toil in the harsh light of the day, building ever on, heightening and lengthening the bounds of the growing settlement, seeming tireless in their efforts.
Come Nightfall, the many people would retreat to whatever dens and dwellings they had made of themselves, and the horror would begin. For as those who had labored during the day, those who had rested and made leisure would extend their arms and with the bite of a dagger, bleed themselves, pouring out their lifeblood as wine from a skein. Measures of flesh would but cut and flayed from the body - the both body and blood would be consumed by those who had toiled. In the next days, the cycle would repeat - on, and on, seemingly without end or beginning, for those who gave of their flesh partook of no sustenance and imbibed no mixtures, yet every night without fail they would surrender flesh and blood as though they had never done so before. Wives and husbands, daughters and sons, all surrendering, laboring, and partaking in turn in a ghastly and unnatural ritual of unending toil and bloodshed.
The city was a quiet one, even at the height of the day as most labored and worked, with quartermasters and headmen bellowing orders and instructions while heavy materials were shifted, lifted, and installed. The cause was evident, for though the city was alive with work, there was no commerce, no the bustle of trade and the many sounds of social gathering and exchange. All the materials in the settlement came from without, with teams and caravans arriving and departing daily from distant lands, carrying goods, which were distributed amongst groups, almost as handouts, rather than bartered and traded for. From there out, beyond the occasional groups of artisans who would gather to ply their custom with whatever was available - weavers and tailors to make clothes anew, or carpenters and smiths to fabricate new tools - there was little exchange between the peoples of that place. Humorless and devoid of mirth and talk, of wine and laughter, of hearth and hospitality were the dens that rose from the Earth in the barren lands.
Spread throughout the growing settlement city at regular intervals were tall pillars - topped with clay statues of a serene stylite, gazing onwards with a single raised hand, holding up an admonishing finger. Surrounding each pillar at their bases, without fail, would be a ring of desiccated corpses. Chained to its foundation and left there in the harsh and arid climate, those who had been left there were attended by small children, who would carry with them baskets of salt, and anoint the corpses as necessary every day. Though their skins were cracked and leathery beyond measure, the bodies there remained, eerily preserved, some still seeming as though they might be revived if attended to immediately.
Occasionally, during the day, a laborer would throw down their tools or drop their burden - and refuse to resume. To beg for respite, or to throw curses at all around them. Some of these, when consoled, would return to their homes to resume work the following 'morn.
Those who did not - those who refused to continue such joyless and hollow labor - were dragged, screaming, to be chained to one of the pillars, where they would struggle and shout in futility, where they would strain against their metal shackles for days on end, snarling and spitting at the children as they came every day and threw handfuls of salt at those who were bound - and then with time, as the sun rose and set again and again, their struggles would slow and cease, and soon after they would be but another desiccated and preserved corpse chained at the base of a stylite's pillar.
In the shadow of Evil did the city grow, mirthlessly and without cheer, all within and all who arrived at the place toiling thanklessly and with only the barest and most inhumane of sustenance to preserve them, and with little comfort save the embrace of their loved ones and family come the eve.
And yet, like a seething tumor, the city did grow, and grow. Soon, it would begin to approximate an actual civilized place, and as the weeks passed, facsimiles of more ordinary structures did begin to appear. Granaries holding naught but dust, fields that were left fallow, vintners that fermented only blood, butchers who dealt only with rancid flesh. Market squares were planned, arranged, and slowly erected - though for the moment, they remained empty. Though what dread and hollow services and exchanges would be established therein, soon, would offend the sensibilities of all civilized people.
And every day, as the City in the Shadow of Evil did grow, more and more people did arrive there, having trekked there across the thankless and dusty barrens - and those who arrived, rarely did they leave again.
There was another striking, eerie quality of the place as well, which although readily overlooked at first would have struck most people after several weeks. There were no cemeteries nor places of burial in all the settlement. No asheries nor crematoriums, nor medicae or herbalists nor healers. None of the people grew ill. None of the people fell and failed to rise again, save those who broke covenant with the master of that place and were condemned to become pillarbound.
The City of Aurochylys was a City of the Damned, populated only by the living dead, and governed through fear of stillness. A pall of menace hung over the whole of the place and all of its people, along with the single stark and certain promise: The city would grow, for the glory of Aurochylys, as certain as the day did dawn, and soon, all of the world would likewise be blessed with his boon, and work his sacred labors for all time - and the Nightmare would Never End.
But far afield, without the dustbowl the city sat in, in greener pastures and more joyful locales, there was nobody who knew of that dread and darkened city. None heard of the terrible fate which the Master of that place intended to inflict upon them. They only heard and saw what his many agents and servants said and did, and wherever they went, they cured injury and malady, bestowed life everlasting, and spoke of a distant paradise where their venerable Master, Aurochylys, did gather the worth to work in glory and raise the wonders the likes of which had never been seen before.
And so the cycle began to turn - as soon, it would turn without end.
12th Macroclade Fleet Praetor Alpha Primus Andron Axaltus
Life is Directed Motion.
The sheer volume of Human conceit that can be crammed into such a succinct phrase is so staggering that the no less than six thousand members of the Holy Synod of Mars have dedicated their entire careers to doing nothing other than writing treatises upon that single phrase. I have to permit that it is rather practically applied in a likely infinite number of allegories and parables. Such as this one:
In space, your motion is undirected and you are dead. On the ground, your motion is (usually) directed and you are alive. Inside a voidship in space, which has directed motion even though you do not, you exist in a paradoxical state of being both dead and alive at the same time, which is also true of the state of morale for most soldiers aboard voidships.
Voidship combat in particular has a way of canalizing the exact orientation of crew morale (dead versus alive) which explains how even entirely neurosynched crews can fall prey to schism and mutiny. Mutiny is, in fact, far more common amongst Mechanicum vessels than it is upon those of the Imperial Navy. Even Skitarii - as we are all adamantly loyal to our Tech Priest masters, as any of us will tell you - can fall prey to treason this way if we can but be persuaded by that single minder. So it falls to conductors of directed motion such as myself to motivate the sentiments of the Skitarii Legions and the Tachmata against such eventualities. Ironically, one of the best ways of promoting shipboard morale is via pitched shipboard combat. It tends to distract away from the larger crisis of flying through space in a giant glorified coffin which may or may not be in the process of exploding violently.
With Orks, this prospect is pleasingly simple, as their so-called 'tellyporta' have more than three times the range of even the finest Mechanicum Teleportarium. Similarly, their long-range void-weapon of choice, the voltaic 'Zapp Kannon,' has only a faintly shorter range than the Macroclade Fleet's own Nova Cannons and nearly perfect accuracy - while being, thankfully, drastically less potent. Predictably, Archmagos Explorator Mephitor has arranged for a wall of vanguard ships hosting the finest war cohort of the fleet proximal to the approaching horde of Ork voidships. When the Orks unleash their first salvo against the those vessels , and when those vessels' void shields drop and the first Ork boarding parties begin to teleport over - the entire fleet's morale will supposedly benefit from the thorough thrashing the Orks will be delivered.
The first step to securing such a victory for that cohort is to direct their enthusiasm towards the advantages of fighting the Orks in our own halls without reminding them of the nature of the flying coffins they will be fighting in and their predilection to violently explode when fought in.
"...Those ships are all filled with Castallen Maniples, so we will be getting the sloppy seconds once the Orks are done with them. We are not going in to fight them, we are going in to purge them. A reminder that Orks are resilient, their heads can be reattached just like ours, only entirely unlike us the reason they can do it is because they're too frakking dumb to realize they should be dead. Destroy theirs, and if you feel the insatiable need to embarrass your flesh, make sure to bend over and shove your own head up your ass so they can't hit it." Praetor Alpha Primus Andron Axaltus relayed the address over voxcast to the entirety of the Skitarii War Cohort at his command and the handful of Tech Priests who would serve as their neurosync minders.
The first wave of Ork boarding parties was completely overwhelming in number to the point that they started getting in their own way - they crammed the Cruisers they had targetted with so many Nobz and Gretchin they could scarcely move without picking fights with each other. A problem the utterly merciless and precise Castellen robots guarding the ships did not have. Armed with Flamers and Melta weapons, the robotic Maniples were perfectly equipped to deal with the thronging Ork hordes in close quarters - but even the mighty machines had their limits, and the Orks continually received reinforcements via tellyporta strikes while the few Gretchin who managed to evade the searing promethium volleys managed to work and work their way into every nook and cranny of the unfortunate vessels - including the voxhub. The War Cohort waited until the Ork Mekboys managed to plug into the systems to vox back to their own ships that the poor unprepared Hummies first ships had been taken.
And then the Skitarii appeared.
Silence scythed through the still air of the vessels as the Skitarii Vanguard calmly and orderly walked the halls of the ship, preceded by Sicarian infiltrators and Ruststalkers. The Ork Gretchin infesting the ships, even hiding in the ductwork and tiniest nooks and crannies, tended to simply die as the Sicarian killclades passed them by - the only symptom of their passage the abrupt loss of all sight and hearing as insidious neurostatic black noise thrummed through the ships' hulls, causing the smaller vermin to expire as their flesh bubbled and churned from the resonant dirge. The Orks themselves - made of sterner stuff - simply went blind and deaf. Even robbed of their senses however, they remained dangerous - and as the Sicarian Killclades began to butcher them, they retaliated in kind, their bodies able to endure being split open by transonic blades and turn wrath back onto their unseen attackers. This, too, had been anticipated - and as the Sicarian Killclades danced and spun with the Orks, one by one, the behemoths they could not cut down began to fall dead to the decks as a new and silent killer entered the fray.
The Skitarii Vanguard, emitting such immense radiation that not even Ork physiology could withstand it, walked calmly through the halls of the ship, subjecting any bodies they found to promethium and volkite rays. As more Orks reinforcements appeared via tellyporta, those too began to simply drop dead on arrival, the radiation levels in each ship having built too high for them to withstand.
Few plans withstand contact with the enemy however, especially an enemy as unpredictable and chaotic as Orks. There was exactly one kind of Ork the Skitarii and their Sicarian brethren could not cripple and slay with such contemptuous ease: The Mekboys who had established control over the ships. Their crude cybernetics let them detect and survive the initial bouts of the the rapidly building radiation - long enough to impossibly calibrate their shielding to protect them from the deadly energies. And though their bionic senses were no more protected from the dread song of the Sicarian Infiltrators than organic tissue, they were able to overcome the debilitating pain and register attack vectors through pain alone. Their likewise cybernetically augmented Gretchin assistants proved able to survive where others had choked on their own blood and died.
Fighting a handful of Ork Mekboys and their Gretchin would not normally have been an issue for a fighting force such as the Vanguard and the Sicarian Clades. But they were not fighting a handful. They were fighting untold thousands of them.
The only solace to be found in the situation was that as the remaining fleets of the Astartes legions joined the system, the focus of the Ork voidships broke apart and finally, at last, the never-ending torrent of Ork corpses materializing aboard the Mechanicum vanguard cruisers finally began to abate. What followed next was several days of dirty, treacherous fighting in the confines of the Cruiser as the Ordo Astranoma's armada began to disperse, its Macroclades heading for their own predetermined coordinates - leaving the Skitarii War Cohort to either live victoriously or die when the first Vanguard Cruiser's cogitators overloaded the engines in response to Orks seizing helm control. The explosion that followed would set off a cascade in all the other nearby cruisers, causing them to burst open like krak grenades.
"You had better not die or let them seize the bridge. That would be treasonous." Axaltus conveyed via voxcast at one point. "We are all due to arrive on Ullanor Tertius in a few days time to immediately fight the Ork Warbands there and being dead is no excuse for dereliction of duty to the Omnissiah."
As the days passed, punctuated in the void by ships performing line maneuvers to place additional shots with the Nova Cannons and in the ships by deadly pushes through narrow chokepoints by either the Skitarii or the Orks, Moral inevitably improved. Barring the unfortunates who were literally torn to pieces by swarms of Gretchin or had their heads stolen and whisked away to be eaten in a duct somewhere, true casualties amongst the Skitarii were few in number - as long as enough of their head remained to preserve in stasis, they could be given new flesh in the form of ceramite and battle steel to fight for the Glory of the Omnissiah once more. The Ork Mekboys were more interested in scavenging and repurposing the ships itself than destroying it, which was reflected in their tactics - and so the Skitarii Cohort slowly and surely ground away at them, purging and cleansing the Cruisers of Ork spore as they went. The battles were hardly one-sided, but victory was inevitable and in sight.
'Praetor, this is Magos Acquisitor Lictarii. We have an unexpected development. The Ork Technician omnispex readings showed as having set up in the rear anterior node relay junction access hall made a failed attempt to tap into the ship's power feed approximately two hours ago. Then are now moving directly for the reactor manifold. Their Gretchin are moving with them and many other swarms have abruptedly started to converge. We suspect an imminent, potentially hazardous act of interference with the functionality of the reactor by the Ork Technician.'
Andron Axaltus paused midswing to consider this. It was more of a figurative than literal pause, as he had overclocked by his sensory throughput and cognitive processing to such an extent that his perception of time in that moment had slowed to a crawl, in order to properly evaluate the situation along with his personal coterie, likewise overclocked and neurosynchronized with him. After a brief discussion about the placement of the nearest Maniples and a somewhat longer argument about the layout of the ship (due to a misconception by it not possessing a standardized template configuration), the edge of his power sword's energy field had finally crawled close enough to the surface of the 'Cybork' Gretchin's cranium to begin splitting it apart one atom at a time. Once they had all reached a decision, they all reset and recalibrated their feeds and processors and time screamed back to its normal breakneck pace, the screaming cybernetic Gretchin's entire body falling into a mix of organic and mechanical pieces as Andron's sword carved through it. As one, he and his entire Maniple turned on the spot and began hurriedly marching, single-file, through the corridors of the ship towards the reactor manifold, much to the confusion of the thronging Swarm of Gretchin they had been in the midst of disassembling. They continued to fight disgusting fungal xenos as they went, Mechdendrites mounted with laz and arc weapons blasting away at the diminutive creatures shooting from off the Skitarii's backs as they turned away.
It took the better part of an hour to fight all the way to the reactor manifold, with Gretchin and the occasional Ork Mekboy all seeming to suddenly conspire to abridge the Skitarii's progress. Gretchin could not fight the Skitarii head-to-head, but from ambush, sheer numbers, and ability to slip between the narrowest confines of the ship, they were able to wage a war of attrition. Skitarii would have their own weapons stolen and turned on them by them by mobs of snotlings erupting from ductwork or maintenance shafts. Sicarian infiltrators would have entire corridors collapsed on them with primitive, improvised explosives, while others would occasionally vanish through unsecured floor-hatches to be messily devoured in the dark. But as much as the Gretchin struggled, they could only inflict triffling losses on the advancing Maniple, who were relentless in their pace and broke for nothing.
Which was for the best, as when they arrived at the Manifold the Ork Mekboy had been halfway through the process of disengaging the reactor manual safety overrides by way of repeatedly smashing one of the control interfaces with a wrench while Grechin tore furiously through its mechanical innards in order to fulfill his incoherently screamed instructions.
"You hummies cannit stop us! Wez gotz all da scuzzy bits we needz to make the new tellyporta work!" The Mekboy crowed triumphantly as he turned towards the door and layed down a hail of withering arc-lightning with his shock cannon, the deadly voltaic energies grounding into the frame of the doorway and preventing entrance without the intruder becoming a lightning rod.
"I'll be taking yuz glowy WAAAAAAAAGH power thing and uze it to BLOW DIS JUNK. Gonna tellyport out wit the poz and let you go BOOM." The Mekboy continued to taunt as he hefted up a combi-bolter and started sending slugs through the same passageway just as an auger-servitor floated in front of it to gather intel from beyond the safety of the threshold.
'This one appears to be a Big Mek.' One of the Vanguard relayed over vox. 'Standard munitions will be ineffective, he has the equivalent of a voltagheist shield.'
'Acknowledged. I have dispatched such an enemy before. I will need a tactical solution for my approach vector that does not involve being fatally electrocuted.' Axaltus relayed. 'I will need to get within family portrait distance of them.'
'Devising a technical solution for their arc weapon now.' One of the Rangers answered as they retrieved their arc maul from their belt and began performing a number of hasty modifications to it on the spot with their one free hand and multiple mechadendrites.
'We can lay down suppressing fire as soon as the arc weapon is eliminated.' One of the other Vanguard members indicated. 'We have three Plasma Calivers between us here, which ought to keep his focus nicely.'
'Just so long as we can do this before this Ork sends us all to meet the Machine God.' Axaltus relayed back as he edged closer to the doorway and readied his power sword.
'Executing solution now.'
The first Vanguard held out his arc maul beyond the threshold of the doorway, immediately causing the arcing lightning from the Ok's shock cannon to fixate upon it - and with a small galvanic thud, the small melee weapon overloaded and cause multiple tracers of powerful feedback to rebound on the Mekboy's caster and make it erupt in a shower of sparks. Axaltus took that as his cue to step through the doorway and begin running a roundabout path towards the Mekboy from the other end of the reactor room as three other members of the Maniple piled into the doorway and unleashed a barrage of plasma fire into the enemy. Even altogether, the Skitarii's plasma calivers could not penetrate through the Mekboy's shielding - powered by the mysterious WAAAAGH energies the Orks obsessed over, it would likely have stood up to anti-tank munitions. But the sheer volume of fire the Skitarii were able to pour into it was an ample distraction, forcing the Mekboy to turn his full attention on them and lay down return fire with his combi-bolter even as he dropped the overloading shock cannon from his other hand and began reaching towards a haphazard pile of Orkish equipment by his side.
"Krak dat Hummie cybork!" The Mekboy howled even as he kept his focus on the doorway, and immediately a swarm of nearly two dozen heavily augmented Gretchin and Snotlings seemed to spring out of thin air and scrabble towards Andron, chittering vile Ork profanities all the way. Not stopping to engage them properly, a dozen or so small mechadendrites uncoiled from various points along each of his limbs and a small array of digital weapons mounted upon each began expending their charges to unleash inferno-blasts of energy upon the creatures, incinerating them so rapidly they did not even have time to blacken and turn to ashes - they simply stopped being there as the hellish energies tore through their bodies. Of course, the same weapons would now be unavailable for engaging the Mekboy due to having to be recharged with every use, but the Skitarii Praetor had not been planning on using them for that purpose in any case. Instead as he drew close, he threw himself into a full-body lunge with his power sword, stabbing directly into the field of Orkish WAAAAGH power surrounding the Mekboy, and then burying the weapon's blade into the deck plating - forcing the vicious power behind the shielding to ground itself into through the weapon as it penetrated.
The Mekboy was instantly blasted by a storm of Caliver fire, but with a roar he pulled on the alternate trigger for his combi-weapon and sent a contact grenade to explode in the doorway amidst the Skitarii clustered there, even as he hefted a crude but massive power claw in his other hand. The fire from the Plasma Calivers had torn entire chunks from his armor and cybernetics and, in a few places, had punched clear holes through his body - but such injuries were nothing to an Ork, and he barely noticed them as he turned his attention to the Skitarii Praetor.
Having buried his power sword into the floor, Axaltus barreled forward in a rollto come up beneath the Mekboy's aim and, with a chop from his bare bionic arm, sent the Ork's bolter to clatter across the flooor. He was then forced to throw himself fully back down onto the floor to evade a vicious swipe from the Mekboy's power claw. He then rolled out of the way of the Ork's follow-up strike, sprung back up to his feet, and swayed forward inside of the Mekboy's guard in order to get close enough for a shoulder-mounted mechadendrite tipped with a dataspike to lash out and bury itself in the Mekboy's head.
Roaring with unbelievable rage and completely ignoring what would have been a fatal head injury to any other species, the Mekboy grasped at the offending protrusion with his free hand and ripped it away, tearing it clear of the Praetor's shoulder and throwing it back in the Skitarii's face for good measure before hunching over and slamming forward to tackle him. Axaltus dived out of the way, landed in a roll, and came out of it with an overhead strike from the edge of his hand to spear into the Mekboy's back. Even as the Mekboy screamed in rage and turned to lash at the Skitarii with their power claw, Axaltus brought up their other hand and grappled onto the Mekboy's back, using their free hand to secure himself while his embedded extremity went burrowing through the Ork's body. After failing to dislodge their assailant after a number of bucks and desperate flailing towards their back with their over-sized arms, the Mekboy finally reoriented themselves and slammed themselves back-first into the nearest wall. Had he been fighting a member of the Imperial Guard, such a tactic might have been effective - but the Skitarii were more metal than flesh. Axaltus simply registered the damage to his chassis and its systems with cold analytical rationale and dismissed it as non-inhibiting. His hand then finished digging through the Ork's innards and, with a single deft motion, crushed the Ork's heart inside the creature's chest.
And then, since the Mekboy barely even seemed to notice and slammed him into the wall a second time, Axaltus resorted to his weapon of last resort when fighting Orks.
"Hey Ork Boy. I'm going to punch your heart out." He said aloud. He then shoved his embedded fist forward another foot to emerge straight from the Ork's chest as the stunned creature looked down. "You're dead?" Axaltus added, with an almost plaintive tone. After considering the proposition for a good three seconds, the Mekboy's limited intellect managed to overcome its own vigor and their eyes rolled back in their head as they fell forward onto the floor, having convinced themselves that they should in fact be dead.
"Orks are the worst." Axaltus muttered darkly as he hauled his right arm out of the Mekboy's carcass. "Maniple, status report."
'Heavy external damage to all members, Praetor.' Came the voxed response. 'No actual casualties but a few of us will require stasis. We should be able to hold our position for the moment though.'
'I am arranging for two other Maniples to come relieve you and to cleanse the manifold of spores.' Axaltus cast back. 'It seems that you will all unfortunately have to miss the crusade on Ullanor Tertius until your new bodies are ready, Omnissiah forbid.'
'Some of us should be able to atte-'
'That was not a suggestion, Skitarii.' Axaltus interrupted. 'If you are seeking to endeavor in sacred service to the Omnissiah, those of you who still can may assist with the ongoing cleansing of this vessel and you will like it. The Ork Spore is resilient and who here could possibly not enjoy burning away fungal grime in service of the Omnissiah?'
'Your meaning is received, Praetor.' Came the response. There was no real intonation over the Skitarii voxcasts, as they communicated in Lingua-Technis formulated by their internal cogitators rather than anything so crude as using their actual voices - and so nobody reviewing the vox logs would have been able to question the sincerity of Skitarii's words from their tone.
Axaltus began to mentally chart a path through the ship back towards the bridge, even while continuing to field vox-calls from other Maniple Alphas who continued to battle the remaining Ork Mekboys scattered throughout the ship. They would be arriving at Ullanor Tertius soon - it would be time to prepare for planetary insertion soon.
Regalion of the Deathless In the Lands of Clan Guinn of the Sinn Dhein
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Laird Gealle-Chriosid of Clan Guinn was by no means an old man. His hair, unlike many of his red-haired people, was jet black and not a single white strand was to be spied atop his head or in his beard. And his form was full and muscular, as befit the master of all the green pastures that lay between the vales of Buonlain and Wensau to the far off hills of Sruthgaercil. His cloak on his shoulder, with the blue, green, and red tartan of Clan Guinn sewn into it, a tunic of red and tights of green beneath, he looked every part the great laird of much and increasing kyne that he was. The Guinn, however, were a purebred highland people, and it was highland might that brought the green pastures of Buonlain and Wensau into their power. Only Guinn wandered the vales now, their herds and their flocks; and their children could run and frolic all the way to Sruthgaercil without fear. Where were those prideful and decadent M'Hnaen today?
'Whits th'news fae Acroasta, Feihnuil?' Gealle-Chriosid gave his one-eyed companion a sidelong glance, and Feihnuil grinned.
'We wilnae be seein' muck o' tha' M'Hnaen bas efter tha', ah kin tell ye.' Feihnuil said, rubbing his eye beneath the patch.
'Aye? Fled fur th' forests haes 'e?' The young laird asked.
'Hah! Why he likelie wishes th' earth wid swallow him! Bit we'll nae be giein' 'im that sort o' reprieve ferr yit, ye ken? That kyneless wee lowland git.' Gealle-Chriosid chuckled and scratched his crooked nose.
'We'll fall oan Acroasta tae in time. Let thaim gather up thair men 'n' pat thair kyne tae th' blade wance mair. See if thay kin do muck all ither than flee lik' gutless curs.'
'That's good. Don't wantae graw soft oan thae bonny wee hills, eh?'
'Aye. 'n', weel. That M'Hnaen bas - fur a' his dashing guid looks - haes th' boldest lass. Howfur a charioteering warrior lik' her could hae spawned fae a wiry scrote lik' that ah ne'er ken.' At these words, Feihnuil leered at his laird.
'Fauchelt o' ol' Maegda awready? Ye ainlie walkd th' tree afore this hail affair broke oot.'
'Maegda's a darlin', bit whit kin ah say? Th' flesh is a fickle reprobate.' As the two continued jesting with one another, a few figures suddenly appeared over the crest of a distant hill, causing Gealle-Chriosid to nod towards them suspiciously. Feinuil looked towards them, rubbing his blinded eye out of habit. 'M'Hnaen?' The Laird asked.
'Nah, dinnae lek it. Thay dinnae hae big uns lik' thaten thare.' He reached for a dord at his hips and turned towards the great Guinn encampment nestled at the top of a nearby crest and blew sharply twice. Hefting his spear, laird Gealle-Chriosid began walking down the hill at a leisurely gait, and Feihnuil soon followed. As they approached the strangers, a dozen other warriors had already joined them and it had become abundantly clear that not only were these strangers not M'Hnaen, they were not anything Sinn Dhein. They all wore curious armor that gleamed like bright copper in the midday sun, their weapons being made of a similar material. All of them were too tall - and unblemished, seemingly untouched by any mark or stain of injury or the passage of years. Their demeanor at being approached by the assembled warriors of the Guinn was one of vague and relaxed bemusement - despite evidently being warriors themselves they did not seem intent on battle just yet.
Two of their number, near the front of their formation, were more ordinary - dressed in simple cloth and bearing the visage of peoples known to the Sinn Dhein from neighboring lands. They seemed more tense than those they walked with, although as they were between two bands of warriors perhaps that was to be expected. Conversing with one of them, one of the foreigners was holding a great, tall wooden beam - and at its tip, capped with more of the gleaming copper-like material, was a wavering cloth banner of white, depicting a queer symbol.
"The fellowship of Providence bids greeting to you, peoples of the Sinn Dhein." One of the two fellows said - a man in his august years with a fading beard and darker eyes. "They do not speak as we do, but there are common tongues between us. I can speak between all of us." Gealle-Chriosid stared at the stranger who spoke for a few moments, then glanced at the tall unblemished men with an annoyed frown - their lack of scars and other marks earned over the years irked him, more so because they all seemed experienced warriors - before returning his gaze to the one who had spoken.
'Whit urr ye, some easterner? Fae Dinordow or someplace thare?'
"A little ways to the South of there. I'm just a tanner from a smaller village, doesn't even have a name. I speak the fellowship's tongue well enough and had knowledge of this place, so they privileged me with the opportunity to accompany them." The man said. "My fellow here," He gestured briefly at the other plain-clothed man with him - younger and clean-shaven, obviously anxious and somewhat out of his element. "-is much the same." Gealle-Chriosid glanced at the one-eyed Feihnuil, who shrugged. None of them had ever been further east than Dinordow, and they had certainly not ventured south. The man spoke funny, there was no doubt, but no less intelligible than any easterner.
'Aye? 'n' whit brings ye 'n' yer odd fellows sae far north?' The laird questioned.
The man turned to speak with the imposing foreigner with the banner before then turning back to pass on his message to the laird. "My odd fellows are followers of the sorcerer known as Aurochylys, the Lord of Champions and Judge of the Worthy. In exchange for their fealty and by his power, they have attained Immortality. They seek now to travel the lands, spreading word of him and his power, and seeking others worthy of his boons." The Clan Guinn warriors seemed taken aback by these words, and they muttered sceptically to one another.
'A sorceror ye say? We hae heard o' sic hings. Th' Seer haes spoken o' thae malignant beings fae th' bygone age o' th' gods.' Gealle-Chriosid said, 'Whit mak's this sorceror o' yers worthy o' lording ower champions?'
Another exchange of words between the interpretor and the bannerman. "He is a great healer. They say he can treat any injury, heal the blind and deaf, even restore lost limbs - and that he can grant eternal youth and life everlasting to those he favors. All of the men in this fellowship, here, are touched by his power - and so its potency should be evident." The band of warriors and their laird looked at the giants, and once more irritation flashed in Gealle-Chriosid's eyes, though some among his companions - missing limbs or eyes, parts of noses or fingers - looked with curiosity. Who did not want eternal youth and unblemished form, after all? And did not the Seer himself say that only a champion of unblemished form could ever be a true leader of men? And yet Gealle-Chriosid was that sort who liked his scars and broken nose and put them on display for all - lek 'ere, they said, this here's a Bran that's fought 'n' levd 'n' brought many a brave Bran wee.
'Aye? 'n' howfur ur we tae ken we ur champions brave 'n' true if we hae na need tae fear th' years or th' swords 'n' spears o' men?' The Clan Guinn laird asked.
"That is why Aurochylys is known as the Lord of Champions. He only blesses those who have proven themselves worthy of such boons. Only the bravest, most skilled, and most cunning of warriors can make the best use of such gifts - and so the same goes with those he blesses who are not warriors. He seeks great leaders of men, sages, forgemasters to judge." The interlocutor explained.
'Bit surely then th' bravest 'n' maist skilled, th' maist cunning 'n' maist gifted, hae na need fur this sorceror's gifts at a'. He is brave 'n' skilled by whit his kyne haes wrought, nae by some sorceror's guile!' And Gealle-Chriosid stamped his foot and his onyx eyes flashed with sudden anger... which dissipitated almost as soon as it arose. 'Bit let us lea this blether. Come, fur ye hae surely come a lang wey fae yer southlands. We wull feed ye 'n' shelter ye while yer among th' Guinn.'
"The fellowship extends its thanks for the hospitality of the Guinn." The interlocutor replied. The small warrior band of Clan Guinn turned about and Feihnuil led the way towards the nearest encampment. A passing cattle driver waved and shouted, and the warriors shouted in return, causing a number of wolfhounds to bark and run towards them before turning about. Gealle-Chriosid stayed by the foreigners and walked with them, telling them that these here hills soon gave way to the great vales of Buonlain and Wensau, pastures that stretched all the way towards the far away hills of Sruthgaercil.
'Nae lang ago th' prideful clan M'Hnaen drove thair herds 'n' thair flocks 'ere, thair bairns danced 'n' sang in th' vale 'n' thay bathed in th' lochs 'n' swam in th' rivers at ease. Bit thay wur a mean 'n' miserly lot, 'n' sae we descended oan thaim 'n' drove thaim fae th' greenery 'n' ease in whilk thay dwelled. 'n' noo th' flocks 'n' herds o' clan Guinn stravaig th' vale, 'n' it's oor bairns that sing 'n' dance whaur yesterday th' M'Hnaen wur. 'n' oan th' morrow we'll descend oan thaim again, 'n' all o' th' world wull seem tae wee fur that miserly lot then!' The laird gestured proudly here and there, inviting them to take in the beauty and bounty of the pastures that belonged to the Guinn. 'Na laird o' M'Hnaen cuid withstand mah spear, 'n' ah hae taken as many heids as tears thay shed. 'ere we ur th' warriors 'n' masters, 'n' na champion greater than ah treads th' land fae 'ere tae Sruthgaercil. Ah hae na need fur boasts, fur mah many scars a' speak fur me - bit yer foreigners 'n' wid nae ken, sae noo ye dae.'
There was a brief exchange between the interlocutor and one of the foreigners - and the man then relayed the question. "Where now do the M'Hnaen dwell? The fellowship has made little effort to hide their trail and may well have been followed. If by your enemies, they would seek to preserve you against them." The laird sneered at the interlocuter.
'Th' M'Hnaen ur holed up in Acroasta, 'n' thair weakling laird haes fled far intae th' forests 'n' left his daughter tae fend fur her fowk alone. If she comes, then th' warriors o' Clan Guinn wull coupon her, nae ye. If ye wish tae scratch yer itch, then ye kin ainlie trust yer ain nail efter a'. Mibbie ye shuid gang offer thaim a hawnd, if ye wish tae keep a'body against thair enemies.' He paused for a few moments. 'Nae that it wull dae thaim ony guid. They're a kyneless fowk. How come, yin loses kyne by warring wi' thaim!' The laird continued speaking to his guests, telling them of the beauty of his highland home and how the mountains forged true warriors and men while the lowlands sprouted such bonny wee tings.
And the guests were brought into camp and cows and goats were slaughtered and put on spits all over, and the Guinn prepared a great feast to welcome the foreigners who had placed themselves under their protection. Dords were blown and the Guinn from across the vale streamed about until it seemed that no hilltop or hillside was bare of them. Mead and wines were brought forth, as were an assortment of sweet-nuts and fruits. One of the warriors rose at one point and began reciting some poetry in praise of the great conquering laird Gealle-Chriosid, bane of M'Hnaen and taker of the two vales. Eventually the laird sat back, a clay goblet of mead nestled in his hands. 'Bit yer fellows hae nae tellt us thair names, southerner. An' neither hae either o' ye. Or does th' laird Aurochylys nae permit his chosen champions names?'
The interlocuter engaged in an exhaustive person-by-person narrative with each member of the Fellowship - who, through his proxy, went about introducing themselves. All of them - perhaps unnecessarily - appended 'of the Immortals' to their own introduction. The last to introduce themselves was the true giant amongst them - the one who bore a breatbow, curiously curved at its ends, which itseful was nearly the full height of the laird himself.
"...and the master of the Fellowship is pleased to announce himself as Regalion, First Amongst the Deathless and foremost Champion of Worth under the great Aurochylys." The interlocuter finished. As roasts from the spit and drink were passed around, the Fellowship were by large pleased to accept and to praise the quality of the stock and the means by which it had been raised - though when sustenance was offered to Regalion, he declined.
"Regalion, as one of the Deathless, no longer requires any sustenance. He may partake of it for pleasure alone, but would prefer not to be wasteful of what our generous hosts have offered the fellowship." The man explained. Those who heard, including the laird, looked from the interlocuter to Regalion with visible bafflement. Such manner of feasting, after all, could never be intended for sustenance alone - aye they ate and drank and made merry, but it was ultimately a display. Generosity, hospitality, wealth; all these were on display that all present may know that this was a clan of great power and kyne, and their laird likewise. A refusal to partake, for whatever reason, was an affront. It was a wound inflicted against the honour of the clan and laird - I shan't partake of your food and goodwill it said, you are beneath my recognition, it spoke. And when the laird frowned and sat back, others too sat back. And the eating and drinking came to a halt, and the singing too - slowly, slowly now across this hill and now that -, so that all was silent as the laird stared with furrowed brows at the giant who would not eat.
The second of the interlocutors - the younger, clean-shaven man - more familiar with the social mores of the Sinn Dhein and just as perturbed as they were by the display - hurriedly muttered an interjection to the fellowship's bannerman. What was clearly an argument of some sort ensued between the interlocutor, the bannerman, and two more of the supposed Immortals. The first Interlocutor - more nonplussed - translated a portion of the exchange aloud, much to the consternation of the Immortals sitting astride him, who grimaced and glared as he spoke.
"The fellowship are protesting their breach of your custom due to ignorance and by their own." He explained. "It is my opinion that Regalion intends no slight."
Moments the words left his lips, the Immortals arguing with with the second interlocutor finally turned to Regalion, addressing him in a mixture of inquisitive - and berating - tones.
Regalion then spoke in a lax, conversational tone, his manner unbidden. His voice was the low rumble of distant thunder, and his vision was darkly clouded in a manner that made his intent difficult to gauge. Whatever it was he spoke, both of the translators immediately flinched in apprehension. After they hesitated for a moment too long, one of the Immortals barked, and the elder interlocutor spoke, haltingly.
"Regalion of the Deathless abides without fear, shame, or apology. He has elected not to eat and will heed no imperative to do so." Gealle-Chriosid looked to the giant with cold, black eyes.
'Is that sae then,' the laird said, though it was no question, and he lifted his cup slowly, eyes not wavering from Regalion, and tipped its contents to the earth. It was meaning beyond words. 'If Regalion o' th' Deathless spurns oor goodwill 'n' fails tae be a goodly guest, then oor goodwill is hurled 'n' we shall nae be hosts tae him or his folk at a',' Gealle-Chriosid rose, and a number of his warriors stood too, hands on spears, and he spoke to the interlocutor, 'Ye kin see yerself 'n' yer master awa', ah wouldna pity mah kin wi' yer blood th' nicht. Bit let him ken that he is ma enemy th'day 'n' ever, 'n' mah folk his people's bane.'
The interlocutors relayed the message. The fellowship of immortals seemed to hold their breath as Regalion replied.
"...Regalion of the Deathless inquires if you speak for all of the the peoples of the clan of Guinn, from its warriors and its men, to all of its women and its children. He seems to believe you bear not the years nor the wisdom to be the elder of them all-:"
"Please also note we are merely translators, and are not part of this fellowship ourselves." The younger interlocutor burst out suddenly. "Permit us the opportunity to flee before you and this queer assembly calling itself a fellowship come to blows." Gealle-Chriosid's eyes flashed with a sudden cold fury and he snarled something at the interlocutor, and almost immediately a number of dords were blown and the Guinn encampment and all the hills about came alive again as the warriors and clansfolk who had not so long ago been feasting all rose and took up their spears and arms.
'Ye'll tell yer master this, southerner, there'll be blood betwixt us - o' that's na doubt. Bit ah will nae butcher mah people's kyne by killing him 'n' his folk whin a'd granted thaim safety. Sae git ye gaen 'n' let that be th' lest word - 'cause whin neist we meet, th' spear wull speak.'
The second interlocutor broke and ran then and there, much to the startled amazement of the first and the bemusement of the fellowship of Immortals. Pointing after him, the remaining translator babbled to the fellowship.
Their unexpected response was simply to fill the tension-filled air of the hillside with bellowing laughter. The bannerman exchanged a few words with Regalion before then issuing a new statement to the apoplectic translator - as Regalion rose like an ominous thunderhead from where he sat. As the interlocutor haltingly translated, two of the Immortals attended to the giant and began to assist him with the clasps of his armor, so as to shuck it off.
"Regalion of the Deathless acknowledges your grievance. He will permit you two blows with which to attempt to slay him, from which he will not evade. If you can fell him, his fellowship will acknowledge you as his better. If you fail, they shall all depart the land and pay you no mind forevermore, for you shall not be worth your own skins for them to pity with honorable death." The black-haired laird scowled and spat on the ground, his mind whirring behind his obsidian eyes. No laird worth his kyne could reject such a public challenge outright.
'Ah will accept - oan a condition. That he cast aside whitevur daemonic magicks grip him 'n' tak' mah blows as any Bran. Nae fair, is't, tae tak' mortal wounds whin ye've git some sorcerous daemon's magick oan ye noo is it? Hardly a Bran at a', 'n' ah needn't prove a'm better than something that's hardly a Bran.'
The interlocutor relayed the caveat, and the bannerman's response.
"They say this is the only redress for your grievance that is permitted. They have instructed me to repeat ernestly that you are either to accept their offer or still your whelp tongue and abandon your claim of affront, in light of your eagerness to boast that you should be the better of any blessed man by wit of your skill and prowess alone. You are either stronger without, or weaker and thus forfeit all privilege."
'Twa blows tae slay him ye say?' The dark-eyed laird asked, scratching his crooked nose.
"Two blows which he may not evade, and as you can see, he shall take them without armament." The interlocutor gestured to the now bare-chested Regalion as the giant strode forward, his very steps echoing about like tumbling boulders. His chest and abdomen were well muscled, but also layered with measures of fat - he was clearly not some preening sculptor of the body, though one might have been forgiven for thinking it, as no scars nor marks of any kind crossed his frame. He did not even deign the laird with a look - he simply gazed askance at nothing in particular, his expression bored, not even having the grace to behold his enemy with either contempt or appraisal. The Guinn laird grinned, though the aloof giant did not see, his black eyes flashing with sudden mischief.
'Hold yerself, ye muck oaf. Twa blows it wull be, 'n' ye shan't evade thaim. An' thay shall be delivered at a time o' mah choosing - return in five days, 'n' it wull be dane then.'
The interlocutor relayed the message. Regalion himself replied with a single utterance.
"Regalion hereby accuses you of cowardice." The interlocutor had the dignity to grimace as he spoke.
'Ah accuse ye o' faithlessness - ye gave yer word, 'n' ah accepted. Sae wull ye be held tae it or wull ye nae? Ah wull have the blows delivered whin ah please. Noo begone.'
The bannerman frowned as the translator passed on the words, and barked a harsh and lengthy sequence out in response.
"The fellowship will abide by their word, but believe you have demonstrated callowness and that you will flee come the chosen time. They demand promise or collateral to ensure your faithfulness." The interlocutor passed on warily.
'Yer ignorant o' oor ways, giant, 'n' that haes awready cost you,' the laird said, and spread his arms wide, 'my fowk ur witness, 'n' wull haud me tae accoont - wha, pray tell, wull haud you strangers tae accoont? Ye hae refused mah conditions 'n' noo attempt tae gang back oan yer word. If an'body's in need o' collateral, it's me.'
Paling, the translator faithfully relayed the message, speaking in turn as the laird himself did before then turning to pass on Regalion's response.
"Regalion shall remain where he stands now for five days and five nights without sustenance or sucor as collateral. If he should leave this place it shall be taken as a sign of forfeiture and his own fellowship shall turn upon him. The fellowship have instructed me to append that your calls for delay and delegation are piteous and the act of one born a gelding, and that you are a barking, toothless mongrel best put down rather than perturb the future of his people any further, and is evidence in and of itself that you are incapable of performing." The mischief in the laird's eyes faded and the beginnings of a snarl remained, but he calmed himself.
'Twa blows it shall be, in five days. Though 'tis th' hi'est gree o' cowardice tae bring magicks tae they wi'oot, as ye folk dae, ah shan't complain 'n' shall dae a' that wit 'n' micht gie me tae mak' they twa blows count.' The laird spread his arms and backed away with a small smile on his lips, 'ye bade richt in steid, oaf, 'n' ah will see ye in five days,' and with that he turned away from the foreigners and walked swiftly into the darkness while shouting for his lairdsdord and chariot.
"They are in accord with you, laird of the Guinn!" The interlocutor called back to him. The fellowship of Immortals, their blood now raised but without excuse to excise it of its fire, set about to putting up a makeshift camp about where Regalion stood. A number of the warriors of the Guinn remained nearby, keeping an eye on the giant to ensure he did not move from his place, but the encampment was gone at dawn along with the rest of the clan.
One of the warriors of the Guinn, who was more perceptive than many of his kin, watched the fellowship carefully as he did now - and noted that amongst their number, one who had arrived with them was now absent. Had one of them slipped away during the ruckus? And for what purpose?
The laird of Clan Guinn, Gealle-Chriosid, jests with one of his companions. They have been warring with Clan M'Hnaen over fertile pastures and have them on the run. As they are surveying their new pastures, Regalion & Friends arrive and there is a minor face off in which they attempt to showcase the superiority of their forms and their sorceror-lord. The laird is not impressed by what he essentially percieves to be cheating - how can you be brave and worthy if you have no need to fear any sort of harm or death, he reasons. Nevetheless, other warriors - missing limbs or scarred - do look upon the offered gifts with interest. Their laird's position holds them in place, however.
The Guinn host the fellowship and provide them with a great feast, but things go awry when Regalion does not eat, which is viewed by the Guinn as an insult. The miscommunication is explained, but Regalion chooses to stick with his guns and not eat, which the Guinn view as a definite insult this time. Gealle-Chriosid tells them they're not welcome anymore and should leave. And that they're now his enemies and the enemies of his tribe for this slight. Regalion offers the laird the opportunity to deliver two blows to him, which he would not attempt to evade or wear armour for, and if he manages to kill him then the fellowship will recognise his greatness. If he fails, they would leave because he and his people are unworthy. After a lengthy back and forth where the Laird attempts to get Regalion to shed his magick for this challenge, they agree that the blows will be delivered in five days time. The laird goes off to scheme and one of the Fellowship mysteriously disappears.
Aeoch of the Eternal In the Heel of the Western Realm
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In the open atrium grounds of the Palace of Kadesh-Caro, several dozen peoples made merry in celebration of the bonding of the young Quarrymaster Feldis and his new bride Baerike, the daughter of the local priest. Kadesh-Caro had graciously opened the atrium for the celebration to be held, and the bride's family had seen fit to supply the gathering with fermented drink. The groom had presented a ritual gift of three amphoras, as well as a copper coffer bearing cuneiform and jade figurines, and now came the traditional presentation of gifts from family and friends to the new bonded pair as they sat in union before everyone who was assembled.
With many parties having approached the two to present their gifts, with great murmuring and apprehension the line of guests parted, and a pall of dread fell upon the gathering as the figure known as Aeoch strode amidst the gathering and approached the wedded couple.
Before either party could speak, Kadesh-Caro himself rose from his place of honor and rebuked the intruder. The ruler of the settlement was clad in splendor, with pristine white robes, a headdress of copper, and bearing a ceremonial collar symbolizing his authority. "Stand fast, Eternal. Your schemes and troubling of the families of the wed are well-known by all who are assembled here today. If you have ill to wish upon this union, begone or suffer the bludgeons of my guard."
Aeoch, who wore but a plain gown of gray and a vest over a bared chest, with plain and unassuming features, replied.
"Although it is no secret that in my furtherance of my distant master's aims I have made many and frequent attempts to deter and prevent this union, I have come not to dissent but to pay homage. Although it be contrary to mine own purposes, the day of this joining is still a blessed day, for these two remarkable beings have found eternal joy and measure in each others' embrace. There is no further purpose in opposing such a union, nor in cursing it, and so there is no sense to pursue anything other than its celebration. I come here this evening with the intent to present a gift upon the groom, if it would so please him and if none in this gathering would object."
"Do you come bearing your gift seeking forgiveness?" Baerike's father, a priest of the ancient and passed Primordials, ask with suspicion.
"No. Even in light of the circumstances, I acted as I did precisely as I intended to, and would do it all again if I bore the need." Aeoch spoke with an open voice that carried easily over the crowd. "The gift I bear is presented not in the hopes of reconciliation, but merely as assurance that my deeds were borne out of duty alone and not from animosity. If they elect not to forgive me that is permissible, but absent animus they truly deserve to live without fear of possible retribution from myself or my master for their defiance of his wishes."
Aeoch's words greatly assuaged the crowd and the tension that had been brewing amongst them - there was even a smattering of impressed clapping amongst some of them, struck by the graciousness of the man and his humility in the face of those who had successfully opposed him and his efforts.
"But I will not force my gift upon the union if it and my presence are not desired." Aeoch continued as he turned from Kadesh-Caro back towards the wedded couple. "Feldis, Quarrymaster, will you tolerate my presence and my tidings?"
"Although your trespasses against us are many Aeoch, as a man of business and affair myself, I can understand how you may have enacted such unpleasant things in pursuit of your duty alone." The young groom said. "If my mate Baerike can bring herself to accept your presence, than we would be pleased to accept your gift."
"I do not believe I can forgive you for all you have perpetrated against us, Eternal." Baerike admonished Aeoch sternly. "But the sentiment of desiring to deter future animosity and allaying our fear of possible retribution is a compassionate one, and I see no reason not to accept."
"My thanks, young mistress." Aeoch nodded cordially to Baerike before addressing the crowd at large.
"As many of you doubtlessly know, Feldis here was offered eternal youth and immortality by my master, the Sorcerous Master Aurochylys, in exchange for his vow of service and fidelity. A vow which he could not take so long as he intended to wed Baerike, for her father had sworn that he and his issue were to never take avowal of my master. My master is not one to curry favor - he desires that the worthy be graced with the time and vigor to perform great deeds unhindered by time and frailty, and sees unity under his providence as a worthy means of facilitating that end. It sits ill with me to threaten and withhold the grace of timelessness from one so clearly capable, and so I offer now the gift of everlasting life and youth to Feldis."
"Just like that?" The priest asked incredulously amidst raised cheers from the assembled crowd.
"Just like that!" Aeoch affirmed with a nod.
"What must Baerike and I do to attain just a state?" Feldis asked eagerly.
"It is already done." Aeoch replied, his tone irreverent and conversational.
"What? Just now?"
"Well, in truth, several moments before I even arrived." Aeoch remarked contritely. "So it is just as well you are satisfied to have accepted it. You shall not suffer the passage of years upon your body from this day on."
"Oh Baerike, this is so wonderful!" Feldis exclaimed as he turned to join hands with his bride, now positively beaming with unexpected fervor. "To know we shall never again be parted, joined as one for all ti-"
A heavy silence struck upon the assembled party like the passage of distant thunder.
"I thought you said you intended to gift our union -"
"I specified you particularly, boy." Aeoch interrupted to clarify.
"But - but Baerike shall wither and grow old as I remain as I am!" Feldis cried. "That is a most cursed affliction! However am I to stand besides my love as an equal with youth eternal if she will eventually pass from this world without me?"
"It is not my business to dictate how you should lead your life, nor in what manner you should watch your mate die." Aeoch delivered with the contemptuous air of a serpent.
"Eternal! You have abused the hospitality of this union and of me!" Bellowed Kadesh-Caro. "I care not that you cannot know death! I will have you seized in bindings and entombed for this offense!"
Aeoch could do naught but shrug as Kadesh-Caro's armsmen came and seized upon him. "Do as you must. Come 'morn I will be gone from this place."
His very word proved two - for as Kadesh-Caro's armsmen came the next day to seize upon him from the cell where they had left him, they discovered he had gone.
Some distance away, Aeoch walked, barefooted, to meet with his attendants, all Immortals themselves, who had awaited and anticipated his need for a departure in haste and had set out in advance, in expectation that he would catch up with them.
"It is done." Aeoch declared as he exchanged salutes with his aide. "The Quarrymaster has been graced with life everlasting."
"Truly? And our Master is upholding his being?" The aide asked curiously. "Without the Quarrymaster having avowed his service, what purpose is there in such a thing?"
"It is merely the appearance of our Master's grace. I have left behind a servant to watch over their family. Whensoever the Quarrymaster's bride passes from this world, a moon thereafter his grace shall abate - and he will perish. The Master's grace is given solely so the fool may suffer under the burden of his preconceived eternity without his love."
"...Our Master seems a mite capricious." The aide ventured after a moment's hesitation.
"That he does." Aeoch admittedly freely. "So too, as I have heard in legend, were the gods of old."
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Regalion of the Deathless Traveling North
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The dark of the night was broken by a great bonfire in the midst of the plains, serving as host to a fellowship of twelve warriors - who had settled to eat, drink, and to maintain their kit - for their arms and armor were such as had rarely been seen in this corner of the world. Adorned in cuirasses of bronze that gleamed with a sickly luster in the firelight, with blades and spears edged much the same, the worth of the warriors' armaments exceeded that of an entire settlement. With how openly they bore their wear and blades, not even bothering to conceal them with cloak or garb and having piled high the bonfire they rested before, they would have made a most tempting target for any raiding party of the steppes. Yet they traveled openly and brazenly, ensuring all were aware of their passage with neither fear nor apology. For their fellowship of twelve all bore a grace unmatched in common men and women.
They were Immortals blessed by the sorcerer Aurochylys - and they would never die.
"...and he had a red scraggly beard." One of the Immortals finished recounting to the others.
"...So not a one of us met with the same lot amongst the Eternals." Another mused. "So when did Ayrochylys bless each of us? Is he omniscient? Can he see afar with his mind's eye as mere men such as ourselves can scarce conceive?"
"If he could, what need would he even have no attendants? No, I personally suspect he never saw any of us - but that he has some method, some magic, that he can pass to the Eternals for them to work on us and others."
"Well none of us are Eternals." Piped up another. "So how are we to spread Providence to the peoples of these lands? We've our mighty armaments to be sure, and with the gift of life given by our master we are sure to seize victory and overcome all adversity - but how are we to convey our honors to him, and his tidings unto new champions?"
"Our Master is a power of many means." The members of the fellowship turned to look on at their Twelfth member as he spoke, the man known to them as Regalion.
Regalion was a man of intensity and frankly terrifying immensity - he stood eight feet tall, and his body bristled with thick cords of muscle. In the long dark of the shadows cast by the bonfire, he sat and patiently oiled his greatbow - a monstrous weapon with oddly curved ends, which no normal man and indeed, many of the Immortals themselves, could not have ever hoped to so much as hold properly, much less draw. Secured in the ground by his side was the long, metal-capped pole which bore the standard of Aurochylys, and resting at his feet was a quiver of throwing-spears so thick around it could have carried a corpse wrapped in a burial shroud. But where the other members of the fellowship carried with them packs of provisions and sustenance, and measures of cloth for erecting makeshift shelter, the giant of a man carried neither food nor drink, nor any form of respite beyond his own oversized armor and cloth - for Regalion had not been graced merely with eternal youth, but with true defiance of oblivion itself. He was the First of the Deathless, and required neither sustenance nor shelter, and bore fear of no thing in the whole of the world.
"Unlike the lot of you, I have met with our master. I have not spoken with him, for I was only in his presence but a moment - but as the First of the Deathless, he has entrusted me with great duty and peerage. A means of informing him of our travels and of the worthy we might encounter has been entrusted to me - and where we go, Aurochylys will assuage the worth of all who stand before us."
"We did speak of this matter briefly before our departure of the Onris vale. What is our purpose in distant lands as we travel forth?" One of the Immortal queried Regalion.
"We shall assay the lands in the stead of Aurochylys. He will determine the worth of all we see. The worthy, we shall support and curry favor with. The unworthy, we shall sweep aside to be forgotten by the tides of history, swallowed whole by death like kidling preykind."
"What, just the twelve of us?" One of the Immortals scoffed. "No offense to you of course, bold Regalion, for I doubt any man save our master is your equal - but we are not numerous enough nor so skilled in the arts of battle that we may lay waste to entire settlements. How do you propose we so impress upon the realms our master's aims?"
"In the manner of champions." Regalion answered simply. "I do not bear for you answers to how we might overcome any and all opposition. Only that whatever opposition we face, it shall be our duty to overcome - with prowess to be sung about for a thousand years of glory." He paused, and then added. "Of course, our master shall likely press to add additional manpower to our fellowship, which shall never be unwelcome and will be most helpful in the spread of his Providence."
"Of course - one imagines that shall have to be done if only so there is always one amongst us who speaks the local language." Ruminated one of the Immortals in response. "But let us not question further or doubt our intentions, brothers. For our aims are clear. To spread our Master's Providence to the twenty-six corners of creation, and to do so in glory and with great valor!" This was met by a hearty cheer from the remainder of the fellowship, who then turned to more mundane topics.
In the far-off distance, a keen-eyed scout noted them, their numbers, their bearings, and their weapons - and then fled to report their findings.
Aurochylys - Lord of Champions, Master of Bloodlines, Judge of the Worthy, Thief of Will, Despoiler of Unions, Adversary of Conscience.
Potency:
Aurochylys is a healer. He is capable of healing great injury from which recovery would normally be impossible, and can cure a great many maladies that afflict the body. He can also promote vigor and cultivate strength, reshaping those graced by his boons into peerless bastions of peak physical performance. He is also renowned for his supposed capabilities to extend natural lifespans and to ward off death. However, these all pale before the utility of his most terrifying power: Having healed the body or granted good health, he can then take both away from the recipient - leaving them broken and ruinous husks of what they once were.
Rumors and gossip of the true nature of his powers are widespread, numerous, and run a wide gamut of unbelievable nonsense. What is consistent though, is as follows: Aurochylys cannot revive the dead, and despite having power over life and its very essence, cannot steal it from others. He can only take back the boons he has given. He can cure maladies such as blindness and deafness, but not for those who were born blind or deaf. He can promote the regrowth of missing limbs, albeit slowly.
Those who serve him are referred to as three groups - the Immortals, the Deathless, and the Eternals. The names of each group, while clear exaggerations, are nonetheless indicative of an individual's favor with Aurochylys. The Immortals are many, being numerous persons of wealth and influence who have been gifted with eternal life and youth. The Deathless, fewer in number, are for the most part all great warriors, soldiers, and champions of battle, who have been granted eternal life, enhanced vigor, and strength - who are possessed of preternatural physical ability and prowess, and fear only the most debilitating of injuries. The Eternals are the personal servants of Aurochylys, who resemble ordinary mortals, but who are rumored to be nearly entirely free of any fear of death - though the truth of the matter remains a mystery.
Ambition:
Rule By Providence - Aurochylys desires to establish dominion and control over the entirety of creation by proxy, through the control of royal lineages and bloodlines graced with his power - such that effective rule should always be equivocated with his favor and his will.
Life:
The personage of Aurochylys is shrouded in mystery - few have ever seen him. Many who have been graced by his power have admitted to not having known him on sight. He is usually described as having been a stylite in his early life, who faced persecution for his religious practices and was sentenced to death - only for his power to awaken within him upon his sentence of strangulation being carried out. As the stories go, the king who sentenced him to death became his very first servant - and slave. The circumstances of Aurochylys life are otherwise not well known - he is reclusive and mysterious, the nature and origin of his sorcerous powers unknown, and only the small, select few Eternals are known to have regular contact with him. Even to this day, with untold thousands living in his shadow, there are few who know his whereabouts or current plans. What little is known of him is contradictory and confusing - it is said he is generous and charitable, but also wrathful, vengeful to the extreme, and callously petty. It is often remarked that Aurochylys might well 'curse' an individual with great health just for the pleasure of one day depriving them of it. His temperament is best described as capricious, his actions born as much of whimsy as they are of discretion and deliberation.
Name: Augor Astren Gender: Male Homeworld: The Forge World of Last Light in the Duodeculi Sector.
Augor Astren is a lifelong member of the Cult Mechanicus, and prior to the discovery was an Electropriest of the Corpuscarii amongst their lower orders. The Primarch still carries evidence of that upbringing with him and possesses heavy cybernetic modifications, bionic implants, and electoo outside of his armor.
Augor stands approximately 3.35 meters or 11 feet in height. His skin coloration is an ashen grey due to a combination of drug regimes, continuous exposure to electrical current, heavy bionic installation, and the saturation of his bloodstream with trace amounts of bionic serum. He is completely bald, and his cranium is ringed by a massive surgical scar that does not heal (largely by choice), evidencing the installation of several cerebral bionics. The twelfth Primarch's natural eyes are absent, having burnt into molten rudiments due to continuous exposure to intense electrical current as is typical amongst the Corpuscarii of the Mechanicum. The missing organs have since been replaced by bionic prosthetics, although the Primarch is often known to forego them outside of the battlefield, especially in social or formal gatherings.
Augor possesses six Mechadendrite prosthetics extending from his hips, lower back, and shoulders, all of a modular, multipurpose design. He also has a dorsal electrostatic generator running along the length of his spine, and no less than eight power capacitors integrated into the lengths of his arms and legs. Both of Augor's hands have been modified with implanted electrostatic Corpuscarii gauntlets, and he has numerous other unseen bionics and augmentations not immediately apparent at first glance such as the expected black carapace used by Astartes as well as a wireless MIU and an accessory parallel cogitator.
Augor's power armor is highly stylized and adorned in ritual symbolism of the Cult Mechanicum, including in its design a decorated tabard and featuring several prominent Cog Mechanicum motifs. All instances of the Imperial Eagle are replaced instead with deliberate depictions of the Aquilla Mechanicum, half-flesh and half mechanized. His armor is prominently Martian Red, with gold trim, Martian-ebony insets, and almost silvery electric-blue highlights. The armor is notable for having an extremely conspicuous servo-harness featuring not only six servo-arms, but also a mechadendrite hive centered on the back. Augor's armor has been specially modified with front-loaded gyroscopic mechanisms and weights balances to help offset the tremendous weight and shifted mass added to Augor's frame by the servo harness. The munitions and tools regularly employed by Augor's servo-arms are multifarious, but an almost regular sight is an integrated conversion beamer he has taken a shining to.
Both in and out of his armor, Augor is never seen without his Omnissian Combi-Axe, which functions both as a standard power axe as well as a Fulgurite Electroleech stave.
Augor is the archetypical zealous crusader and battlefield chaplain. His fanatical devotion to the Machine God and the Emperor as the Omnissiah drives him both to spread the glory of mankind to the furthest reaches of the Galaxy while also crushing xenos, purging techno heresy, and plunging into the darkest reaches of the stars themselves in pursuit of the Mechanicum's eternal quest for knowledge. Reflecting his Corpuscarii background, he is given to recitation of litany and is known for taking frequent breaks during work and campaigns to go on long - occasionally meandering and spurious - lectures or 'sermons' to everybody in the immediate environs. He is quick to lend the screed of the Mechanicum as advice to those he perceives as troubled, and equally quick to adopt the traditional tactics and habits of his adoptive culture.
In quieter moments, Augor is given to cerebral contemplation and musing, or else examination of newly discovered or particularly intriguing ancient technology. His fanatical devotion to the Mechanicum and their views often leads him to paradoxical and difficult dilemnas of choice and consequence, and at times he can waver with uncertainty in the face of unclear problems. In a sense, despite his predilection for proselytizing and directing those around him, his beliefs often render him little more than a blunt instrument. While he is well-known for being a unifier and charismatic leader even in spite of his extensive bionics, he nonetheless also often fails to establish a common bond of camaraderie with those around him - for the flesh is fallible, and there is always another task to be performed or a secret to unearth.
Augor is generally slow to anger, but extremely quick to take extreme stances and measures - and as a consequence, his behavior in minor skirmishes and utter crises tends to be identical. His extreme modes of thought also make convincing him of alternative viewpoints or strategies difficult - even when he knows others are sincere, he is likely to immediately decide they are likely mistaken or misguided if their thoughts and his should not align.
Augor's original and native Psychic Grade (Epsilon) has never been meaningfully measured, and his relatively late discovery in addition to his initial service as an Electropriest of the Corpuscarii makes estimation of what his grade could have been difficult, arbitrary, and likely inaccurate. Further compounding the matter is Augor's usage of Psionic Amplification devices and chemical treatments intended to strengthen the power of his meditative and trance capabilities.
Presently, Augor has several latent if untrained Psyker abilities which have manifested in-line with and according to his upbringing and duties. As an Electropriest and a past-member of the Corpuscarii, the following abilities have been observed, often manifesting in conjunction - and therefore almost indistinguishably - with associated actions upon the battlefield on his part. Biolightning intermingles with electrical discharge from his gauntlets and capacitors, causing enemies to burst into flame as they are electrocuted and tearing the very essence of life from the bodies of the few who survive. Inhuman insight visits him, overlaying his already redundant and overlapping senses and enhanced perception. His thunderous presence and earth-shaking litanies inspire allies to even greater action while overwhelming his foes with eerie sensations of dread and foreboding.
All of these things are already inherent to the capabilities of the Mechanicum's Electropriests - albeit the Primarch, through the use of peerless technological amplification and bionics, has heightened those to tremendous degrees that beggar belief and stagger the senses - beyond that, to what degree his abilities are borne of his equipment and bionics, and what originates from his powers as a Psyker, remains unknown.
[The following Psyker Powers can be reviewed here.] Smite Enfeeble Life Leech Haemorrhage Perfect Timing Scrier's Gaze Spontaneous Combustion Mental Fortitude Terrify
One of Augor's most deliberately practiced Psychic capabilities is his trance state, wherein he can suppress his conscious and unconscious mind in order to refocus and hone the entirety of his being and the holistic breadth of his knowledge in contemplation of any single notion at once. The intensity of this trance state is significant enough that it would normally place immense strain upon Augor's body or potentially even kill him outright if he did not mediate the trance state with a combination of integral and externalized bionics, life support systems, and cogitator cores dedicated to maintaining his body. If a large number of these devices were to fail or falter during one of Augor's trance states, it would lead to significant or even permanent deleterious side-effects.
Gifted Orator: Even in spite of his numerous bionic implants, Augor is eloquent, loquacious, and charismatic - he can effortlessly bolster morale wherever he goes with perfunctory speeches or turns of phrase, and excels at inspiring his subordinates to overcome failure and to aspire to greater heights of victory.
Titanic Presence: Augor is anything but subtle. On the battlefield, he continuously screams a mixture of inspiring litanies or hellish torment, all the while ablaze with the power of a Pyroclastic flow, lightning and power radiating from him and being channeled across the battlefield in devastating arcs while enemy attacks turn to dust harmlessly against his voltagheist field. The very presence of him opening up with his weapons on the field is a tremendously galvanizing sight and bastion of power for allies, and a portent of dread and a harbinger of imminent loss for enemies. Of course, this same visibility makes him a very open and obvious target at all times...
Faithful Guidance: Between his electromagnetic Electropriest perception, his latent Witchsight, his redundant bionic eyes, the various sensors bristling across his mechadendrites, servo-arms, the tactical Scryerskulls floating around him at all times and the heightened awareness gifted to all of the Primarchs - Augor possesses close to perfect localized perception. There is almost nothing in the whole of the galaxy that can evade his numerous senses, and his genetic and cogitator-assisted tactical ability allow him to predict most physical events immediately before they happen. He is even capable of perceiving Blanks and Nulls (within a certain distance) using his technological senses.
Motive Elemental: Augor's extreme specialization between his bionics, equipment, and psyker abilities have turned him into a living, breathing electrical storm of such intensity and power that it would put shame to most plasma detonations. Most mundane energy weapons are utterly useless when directed against him - laser, plasma, power weapons and projectiles will all fade, dim, and be extinguished in his presence if wielded by a foe. Worse still, they will usually have their power grounded into his capacitors to be unleashed again upon his enemies. Most electronics and equipment with unhardened power sources will likewise prove extremely vulnerable to his influence on the open battlefield and either malfunction or fail entirely.
Augor Astren was sent by the Chaos Gods to the distant Forge World of Last Light in the Duodeculi Sector of the Ultima Segmentum. One of the most distant forge worlds colonized by the Mechanicum's early navigator-thrall Explorator colony efforts, it lay precariously on the fringes of space where the light of the Astronomican would be at its dimmest and most distant, beyond which lay only the dark and nebulous reaches of the Ghoul Stars.
As a child, Augor Astren was seized and quantified by the Tech Priests of Last Light - who proved so distant from the Imperial Realm that news of the Treaty of Mars had not yet even reached them. Augor's great warp presence was immediately noted and, rather than being inducted into the ministry or the ranks of the Skitarii for his exceptional characteristics, was stored in stasis for later experimentation and study of his abnormal warp-related qualities. It would not be until decades later when news of the Treaty of Mars and knowledge of the Emperor and his Primarchs reached Last Light that anybody would realize his true significance. Brought out of stasis amidst a drastic restructuring of Last Light's Mechanicum Hierarchy to be Treaty-Compliant, the Primarch was finally named Augor Astren - a Cant Mechanicum-corrupted High Gothic turn of phrase meaning 'Auspicious Starlight.' Having identified the young Augor as a potential Primarch and son of the Emperor, the Synod of Last Light wasted no time indoctrinating him amongst their ranks to serve as an exemplary representative of the Mechanicum's interests amongst the Emperor's children. It was decided that due the child's projected rate of accelerated growth and the need for him to attain full maturity unimpeded by excessive cybernetic augmentation that he would be inducted into the ranks of a caste of Tech Priests requiring comparatively few augmentations - the Electropriests and, more specifically, the Corpuscarii. The volatile ranks of the Electropriests nominally only required Electoos and a number of externalized and non-invasive bionics, while still being noted for their zealous and extreme devotion to the creed of the Mechanicum.
Decades passed once more, with Augor quickly reaching maturity. News and confirmation of his nature had by this time been passed back down along the Astropathic chain of communication towards the Imperium proper, but had not yet received any response. Augor lived a deeply entrenched and isolated life of monastic study and discipline, devoting his years to the mastery of different realms of the Mechanicum's secrets and eventually attaining the official Cult status of Magos, and then Archmagos within the Holy Synod of Last Light. He was promised, repeatedly, that once the Emperor formally recognized him, he would be made the Archmagos Intendant of Last Light and become an officially listed Archmagos of the Holy Synod of Mars itself. He was not spoiled or spared the trials and deliberations of his office however. Knowing that he would not survive otherwise, the Mechanicum pushed him to strive and attain the deepest of sanctioned Mechanicum secrets, to proselytize to the indentured working citizens of Last Light, and to hunt down and destroy Hereteks in the deepest and darkest of Last Light's underforges. His eyes, much like those of every other Corpuscarii, were boiled inside of his skull to dribble as the Omnissiah's own tears from their sockets. Their molten and desiccated effuse, to this day, remain enshrined on Mars as a holy relic. Augor was encouraged to forgo the use of bionic optics until he had been confirmed as a Primarch, in order to hone his senses and simultaneously deepen his devotion to the Machine God.
Eventually, Astropathic messages of response returned to Last Light: The Emperor and his agents were coming to Last Light to render it Compliant and Unify it with the Greater Imperium of Man, as well as to confirm the presence of a Primarch. The reception of the Emperor and his Legions was meticulously planned out, and Augor spent several weeks in deep contemplation in anticipation of his personal meeting with the Emperor.
The Emperor arrived, and nearly everything went according to plan. Augor was confirmed to be one of the Emperor's Primarchs. Last Light was formally declared Compliant and unified with the Empire as a Forgeworld of the Mechanicum. Augor Astren was graced with the privilege of command over one of the Emperor's mighty legions.
But the Emperor, not to be politically exploited and in order to remind the Mechanicum as to the inviolate and exigent nature of his command, issued a decree: Augor Astren would be permitted to retain their station as the Archmagos Intendant of Last Light, but he would be forever barred from holding any status or recognition upon Holy Mars or within its Synod - and was forbidden from ever setting foot on the Red Planet. The Emperor would accept the Primarch's exemption from acknowledging Imperial Truth - but the Mechanicum would never be able to use him as a political instrument as one of their servants assembled in Taghmata. He would forever be an independent and higher party of the Mechanicum itself, akin to the Ordo Reductor: Inviolate and, if acceding to their requests, never subservient.
With his hopes of ever journeying to Holy Mars dashed but ultimately undaunted, Augor Asten then took command of the Twelfth Legion of the Space Marines, and renamed them the Stargazers. He would immediately reorganize their internal command structure hierarchy to mirror that of the Mechanicum, with the intent to create a dual, integrated extension of the Mechanicum itself. Driven by the decree of the Emperor, the Primarch become driven to transform the Twelth Legion into a true higher and independent extension of the Mechanicum to rival and eventually exceed even the Ordo Reductor itself.
After a brief and cursory campaign alongside several other Primarchs and the Emperor himself upon Molech, Augor Astren's first campaign of true note was the immediate and consecutive Rangdan Xenocides. The crushing campaign would nearly destroy the Stargazers legion, which sustained a casualty rate of almost 85% during the struggle due to a combination of complications arising from their internalized restructuring and Augor's own inexperience, pitted against the most terrifying and advanced adversary the Imperium had ever known. To this day, the Astartes of the Stargazer legion have yet to fully recover from that brutal campaign - and for a time they were known primarily for standing as but another cadre of an expanded force of the Mechanicum, whose forces were called upon to fill the severely depleted and weakened Stargazers legion.
Augor Asten would spend the next several decades a broken and disgraced figure, who spent their time at the furthest reaches and darkest fringes of space at the head of Explorator fleets, charting and finding little of significance or note while the survivors of the Stargazers licked their wounds. In the century to follow Augor Astren would personally lead the diminished legion to numerous laudable victories - but none that could make up for the shame and scope of his utter defeat in the Rangdan Xenocides.
It would not be until 970.30m - an exact 100 years after the eve of his Legion's devastation - that Augor Astren would fully redeem himself for his folly and loss, by leading his legion to victory against a Cabal of Alpha-Grade Warp Witches who ruled over the Vaomir Reaches. During the long campaign, Augor Asten would personally make battle with the terrifyingly potent Psykers while his Legion would engage in protracted standoffs and sieges with their occult slaves. The conflict culminated in a legendary final battle where Augor would personally duel and defeat the Cabal Maven - a suspected Alpha-Plus Pysker - before the assembled forces, driving them all into a panicked rout that saw the Stargazers legion victorious with only minimal losses despite the terrifying potency and numerical superiority of their foes.
Although Augor Astren would then spend the next several decades once more on the fringes of uncharted space heading Explorator fleets once more, thereafter the now once again widespread and partially recovered Stargazers Legion finally had a leader they could stand tall and claim to be proud of with neither shame nor apology.
[A chronological list of Augor Asten's personal campaigns and accomplishments follows.]
Compliance of Molech 869.30m. Augor Asten personally participated in the Compliance efforts along with several other Primarchs and the Emperor. - Rangdan Xenocides 870.30m. Augor Astren leads the Stargazers Legion to a disastrous victory alongside other legions. A combination of the enemy xenos' ferocity and advanced technology, coupled with the Primarch's inexperience and complications caused by their newly implemented Mechanicum-compliant Legion hierarchy, results in close to 85% casualty rates across the entire legion. - Crisis of the Hungering Gyre 891.30m. Due to the drastic reduction of his legion, Augor Astren would personally lead most of their significant military campaigns over the span of the next several decades, including here. Paramar V is made a vassal domain of the distant Forge World of Last Light. The Primarch spends the remainder of the decade as part of Explorator efforts in distant regions which come to little fruition. - Compliance of Tarsis 900.30m. The Stargazers come across the Human-inhabited planet of Tarsis, at the time rife with a powerful and influential occult polity. Unwilling to risk a lengthy war of Compliance with the advantage of surprise lost and no nearby Legions available to provide assistance, Augor Astren planned a campaign to capture the hearts and minds of the people of Tarsis by manufacturing great technological marvels he claimed would elevate their lives if they would abandon their superstitions and join the Imperium. After a full year of political jockeying and posturing, Augor Astren successfully reunified Tarsis with the Imperium of Man and vowed the Mechanicum would assure the planet's prosperity for all time. A large assembly of servitors and Tech-Priests journey to the planet, which eventually becomes a prominent Fleet Anchorage and Pleasure World, carefully maintained by the Mechanicum. A permanent detachment of the Stargazers Legion stands guard over the planet to this day in order to hold it secure against all comers. - Compliance of Tethonus circa 900~.30m. Augor Astren leads the Stargazers Legion in a protracted military campaign against a heavily entrenched xenos species. Drawing inspiration from the Ordo Reductor, Augor Astren has his legion reconstruct an unlisted siege engine template that breaks the xenos fortifications much earlier than anticipated. With several other Legions in attendance bearing witness, the event becomes widely publicized and cements the specialization and capabilities of the Stargazers in the eyes of the Imperium writ large. The Legion remains thought of and dismissed as an undermanned band forlorn pariahs, but they are finally acknowledged as a capable Campaign force in their own right. - Assault on Dahinta circa 900~.30m. Augor Astren and the Stargazers Legion encounter a world populated by self-aware machines called the Overseers. The Primarch immediately calls in the Ordo Reductor and a Titan Legion and, after a brief campaign, performs Exterminatus upon the planet with a two-stage Cyclonic Torpedo, completely coring out and reducing it to debris drifting in space. - Xenocide of Kamenka Troika circa 950~.30m. At the behest of a request directly from Mars, Augor Astren leads the Stargazers to eradicate an Ork Empire on the three satellites of Kamenka Ulizarna. The Emperor then declares a writ of war against the same empire and the Stargazers are joined by other legions. It is during this campaign that Andron Axaltus, the newly appointed Commander of the Ordo Astranoma's Skitarii Legion, begins to make a name for himself. During several ensuing fleet engagements and chases, Augor Asten comes to the conclusion that the Stargazers and their fleets are once more numerous enough to render traveling as a single amassed armada inefficient. The Stargazers fleets are split into a number of Macroclade groups that then begin to patrol and venture across the Ultima Segmentum independently. - The Fall of the Lords of Gardinaal circa 950s~.30m. Although not initially involved in the campaign, upon hearing the rebel forces involved possessed multiple STCs Augor Astren's personal Macroclade fleet performed an interstellar flanking maneuver which completely bypassed the defensive blockade of the Gardinaal system. They then seized the homeworld of the rebel empire in a surprise attack on its capital lasting only a few hours, forcing an unconditional surrender. - The Melkeji Salvation 957.30m. The Stargazers Legion Genetors fabricate a plague that exterminates a parasitic xenos species that had been controlling a population of Humans in Melkeji, who immediately surrender to the empire thereafter. The Genetor Solisios Carnelan opens a formal line of correspondence regarding a new innovative form bio-pogrom. - Persecution of Vaomir Reaches 970.30m Augor Astren and the Stargazers encounter several Alpha-grade Warp Witches who are immediately branded as Hereteks, resulting in a protracted but successful campaign to eliminate them. After a climatic confrontation with the Warp Witch Cabal Maven, an Alpha-Plus psyker, the Primarch Virus Bombs each of the planets involved. Augor Astren then declares the Twelfth Legion to have nominally recovered from the losses of the Rangdan Xenocides and officiates a change in Legion policy concerning communications with other branches of the Imperium. The Stargazers begin much more aggressively broadcasting and asserting their presence within Imperium-controlled sectors whenever present. Amongst other immediate effects, a mutual disdain begins to ferment between the Legion and the forces of the Imperial Army. - The Hunting of the Ak'Haireth 980.30m. The Stargazers Genetors once again fabricate a virus which utterly exterminates a species of xenos which had been predating Human colonies in a span of space. The same virus wipes out approximately 7% of all Humans in that sector, who had been infected with rudiment trace substances from the xenos species. Solisios Carnelan is formally granted privileged access to the Throne-Secret of Factor-CRWE in pursuit of developing a more effective xenocide pogrom. - Compliance of Nurth 999.30m. The Stargazers Legion responds to a call for help from a nearby planet. The legion immediately identifies a warp-tainted Heretech artifact and, using stasis munitions, isolate and quarantine it. The Heretech Artifact, a Black Cube, is seized for safe containment in a Black Vault. The planet is subsequently virus bombed.
Augor Astren had been awaiting the arrival of the Emperor of All Mankind, Lord and Master of the Imperium - the Omnissiah - for several hours now. Waiting, tension mounting as he listened to the furious and jubilant cries of the citizens and priests lining the industrial causeway leading to the chambers of the Holy Synod as the Imperial procession slowly made its way forward. He had heard the sound of the tremendous Synod doors being opened, the uncountable tumult of armored footfalls that was the Emperor's Custodes vanguard. The high and aggrandized ritual sermon delivered by the Archmagos Veneratus.
Eventually, the time came. As he remained still, kneeling before a private altar to the Machine God in his cell, he heard him. The singular, thunderous footfalls of divinity itself as it approached down the corridor. The Emperor. The Omnissiah. Augor began to subvocalize the previously mental Cant Mechanicum litanies he had been reciting for the past half-hour, now muttering along to the audible Lingua-Technis static hiss of the nearby vox-caster.
The door opened. Augor's breath caught in his throat. There it was - the electromagnetic bloom was his. Augor's empty eye-sockets were utterly blind, but he still had his Emperor-gifted Ether Sight. He raised his head, smoothly rose to his feet, and turned to gaze at glory itself.
Perfection greeted him.
The Machine God!
A colossus of gleaming iridescent metal, precisely and gracefully curving and contorted into the shape of a Human skeleton - with three great sets of wings embedded with bionic eyes, each beaming like shining supernovas encompassing the whole of the room. The eyes of its skull were galaxies, and its crown ran over with fractal halos of birefringent sparks and lightning. The God's organs were gem-encrusted cogitators and veinous mechadendrites that pulsed in and out in divine binary, iterating the fundamental constants of reality itself - and its blood, winding and spooling through its veins of circuitry, churning betwixt great clockwork mechanisms, was pure molten auramite.
Augor's eyes were gone, but his tear ducts still worked - he wept tears of rapturous and joyous awe. His voice abandoned him and he let out a wordless sound of self-annihilated bliss, his hands automatically falling into a muscle-memory pattern of benediction and ritual gesture of worship. Eventually he was able to cry out a single word as he bowed his head in simple reverence.
"Omnissiah!" He choked.
The silence that followed that word was deafening. A moment passed. Perhaps it had been decades, or centuries. What meaning was time, in the presence of the Infinite?
"Augor Astren." The voice was hard - stern and...was that disappointment? Shame? Perhaps even contempt - it was difficult to gauge. Augor looked up, and the Omnissiah was no more.
Before him stood just a man. A man standing taller even than Augor himself, wearing immaculate golden armor, with perfectly chiseled statuesque features and a dazzling radiant aura - but just a man nonetheless, and nothing more. His features, if handsome and perfectly sculpted, were even somewhat plain. His eyes, though intensely penetrating, had but an ordinary sort of spark to them. Had he still eyes of his own, Augor might have blinked reflexively in confusion.
He quickly gathered his wits together though - this was but a test. The Omnissiah was omnipotent - the dispersion of all knowledge and of the Motive Force was but a trial of the worthy, of their chosen people. Augor knew then that what he had just seen before had truly been the Machine God. What he witnessed now - was its Human Avatar, the Omnissiah - embodying the limitations of fallible flesh even in its omniscient perfection, and itself a test of resolve and acceptance.
"I am, Omnissiah!" He answered feverishly. "I - am I worthy of your lineage?"
"...You are a Primarch. Of this, there is no doubt." The Omnissiah said in that same stern force. "Cease your gestures and stand honestly before me, not in worship or in praise. I am no god, for there are none and never have been. I am the Emperor of All Mankind - and I am not your Omnissiah."
Augor instantly straightened himself to his full and intimidating height - still standing well short of the Emperor's stature - and relaxed his hands and arms. He understood. His worthiness was being tested. His true worth might hang in his answer.
"Of course...Emperor. Your accord with the Mechanicum, the Holy Synod, and the Fabricator General of Mars was simply an arrangement of mutually beneficial political convenience for the sake of uniting all of Mankind. You have come here to impress upon me the imperative nature of the Imperial Truth, despite my exemption from it according to the Treaty of Mars. You are not a god, merely the Emperor of us all." Augor paused.
"I pray, of course, that you will understand that despite knowing that truth...you shall always be, now and forever, my Omnissiah - my Emperor."
"Your obstinacy is not useful - and sets a dangerous example." The Emperor replied. "It is just as you said. You and your brothers are far beyond the delusions and lies that lesser men will tell themselves and others. You must be greater than the childish fantasies than have been foist upon you. My arrangement with the Mechanicum was a necessary deceit for the betterment and unification of all mankind - a deception which will not survive our species' inevitable ascension. I have delivered my assurance already that I will honor the Treaty of Mars to the Synod of Last Light, but you will accept Imperial Truth - privately, if not publicly - here and now before me."
Silence reigned as Augor considered the test the Omnissiah had laid before him - noticing, as he did, the deepening frown on his perfect and unblemished face.
There. That would be his inspiration. The Flesh is Fallible.
"Of course, my Emperor. Though I must, of course, do my part to ensure that for the sake of political convenience if nothing else, I continue to uphold the creed of the Mechanicum in public. The Imperial Truth is reality as it should be, but many would look askew if I were to ignore the Treaty of Mars. You have my assurance that the Imperial Truth shall be what I know, even if I must say otherwise in my guidance of others along the course of your greater plan for all mankind."
"You cannot hide your true thoughts from me." The Omnissiah said, and Augor instantly knew it to be true, for the Omnissiah was omniscient in all manners and ways. "Your conceited and selfish adherence to the lunacy of the Mechanicum is nothing more than simple and base delusion. You will abandon it. There is no future for you in my legions unless you do so here and now."
"My Emperor...I must confess the vulnerable nature of my flesh." Augor tried. "I have been taught nothing else in all my life. No other way or belief. I will genuinely endeavor to do as you say. To unshackle myself from these chains of faith of bind me. I will confront these delusions of my faith and attempt to rid myself of them - honestly and fully, with the most discerning rationale and skepticism that I can muster. I will try to embrace the Imperial Truth."
As he spoke the tainted words, Augor knew that as he spoke, he must do in reality as well. If he were not wholly truthful, both to the Omnissiah as well as to himself, he would not be leaving this room.
"I do however beg your lenience - these are not trappings I can abandon in the span of a single moment. Not even we, your sons..." He faltered for a moment, his voice almost cracking before he recovered and continued. "...Have your strength. Your will. Your conviction and certainty. I cannot accept your Imperial Truth - as I stand now, I am mentally incapable of doing so. I do promise however - I will, to the fullest extent I am capable, attempt to change myself so that one day - standing in your presence once more - I will be able to show you that I have made my peace and accepted it, wholly and honestly. Until then...I cannot assure you of what is not true. It is more than that I am merely exempt from the Imperial Truth - as I stand before you now, it defies me, for I am not worthy of it."
The Omnissiah's expression remained hard. Stern, thin, and unamused. A faint trace of what could almost be anger stalked across its brow - or was that disgust?
"I accept your promise." The Omnissiah said with a cold and stinging air. "You will remain here until I summon you." He then turned and left Augor's cell.
Nearly a full minute after the Emperor had left, Augor's head sank once again in feverish ecstasy.
"Your grace and your mercy are as boundless as your wisdom...Omnissiah..." He whispered in Cant Mechanicum.
Legion Name: Stargazers (Originally known as Warhounds) Legion Number: XII Legion Strength: Due to the near devastation of the original legion during the Rangdan Xenocides, the present-day Stargazers Legion has only an approximate average of 40,000 Astartes. It is noteworthy however that the Legion has a vast number of subcults, orders, and legions from the Mechanicum filling out its ranks which in a sense, make the Stargazers legion drastically larger than most others in terms of numerical composition.
A newly and fully-initiated Astartes of the Stargazers Legion who has yet to design their own servo-harness and whose tabard is lacking in personalized embroidery patterns. Note that most Stargazers Astartes possess self-designed decorative patterns for their tabards, usually signifying noteworthy campaigns they have participated in with mono-servitors weaving duplicates as necessary.
Many of the Legion's Astartes, particularly past the rank of Lieutenant, are Tech-Marines with increasingly elaborate and personally modified armor. The standard tabard is typically abandoned in favor of elaborate ceremonial embellishment of the armor itself.
Heavy bionic modifications and replacements amongst Captains and other veteran Astartes are considered ordinary, though they are not mandatory. A bare minimum threshold of sophistication and development for personalized armor and weaponry is required for most officers however. Captains in particular are expected to craft their own Iron Halos as part of their ascension rites, and the use of a servo-harness in some capacity becomes a requirement. The degree of personalization and development invested in each suit of armor by the rank of Captain is occasionally significant enough to qualify as Artificer armor, indicative of the technical prowess and proficiency of the Stargazers marines.
The Legion's symbol, always displayed on the LEFT shoulder pauldron, is a single simplified eye, drawn as a horizon boundary looking upwards into a field of stars, with a number indicative of Macroclade affiliation. The RIGHT shoulder pauldron always displays, in contrast, the standard image of the Cog Mechanicum. Variations upon the latter symbol are typical to designate Battalion affiliation, with highly stylized and drastic flourishes being used to distinguish individual Companies. The more veteran and distinguished a Company, the more elaborate the insignia tends to become.
End of Armor Appearance Section
Warcries: The most frequent battlecries recorded by Historitors are as follows: "For the Quest Unending!" "Remember Vaomir!" "Victory is Preordained!" "For the Omnissiah!" A discarded and defunct battlecry remains recorded in the form of "Remember Rangdan!", the use of which is prohibited by Legion regulation.
The Stargazers Legion, by deliberate design of its Primarch, has been completely restructured to mirror the hierarchy of Imperium Compliant Forge Worlds and that of the Mechanicum of Mars. It is referred to collectively as an Ordo (the Ordo Astranoma) rather than a Legion. Astartes Space Marines make up only a single branch of the hierarchy, itself being called the Astartes Legio, being a parallel to the Skitarii Legions normally entailed in the Mechanicum Hierarchy.
The Ordo Astranoma does not have an analogue to either the Ordo Reductor or its own dedicated Titan Legion. However, it is to be noted that the Ordo Astranoma as a whole has a relationship to the Mechanicum similar to that of the Ordo Reductor, being treated as a largely independent and unfixed extension of the Mechanicum as a whole with broad privilege and command authority outside of its own Ordo hierarchy.
All Astartes Officers within the Stagazers are considered to be Tech-Priests of the Mechanicum, although as they do not typically serve as Priests on a given Forge World they have no officially recognized status in the Holy Synod of Mars - giving them status that has been ascribed as honorary if nothing else. This status is treated with differing degrees of respect and consideration depending on the political affiliations of the individuals the Legion may be dealing with at any given time, as well as the actual technical proficiency and seniority of a given Officer. This does not bar them from becoming members of the Synod of a given Forge World, and it is not uncommon for Astartes Officers to hold Synod seats in distant and disparate Forge Worlds which may have been granted in reward for local campaign achievements. Officers can even be members of the Synod of multiple Forge Worlds in this way. In practice, most of these seats are entirely honorary, although it is not unheard of for venerable Astartes to partially retire and become full members of a given Synod they are seated in.
[The Following is a stratified depiction of the Stargazer's Astartes Legion Hierarchy]
Archmandriture Mercaerath Kyrius, Legion Equerry and immediate successor to the Primarch (Full title Archmandriture Veneratus Dominus)
Archmagos Praetors The Legion's Praetorian Guard.
Archmagos Consuls Legion special representatives and chiefs, such as the Chief Apothecary.
The Stargazer Legion consists of approximately 40 Macroclades, which are the equivalent of Legion Chapters. Each Macroclade contains approximately 1000 Astartes, 2000 Skitarii, 250 Legio Cybernetica Robots and Warform Servitors, and a varying number of affiliated conventionally ordained Tech-Priests.
Archmagos Dominus Equivalent to the Lord Commanders of Chapters.
Archmagos Locum Praetor Bodyguards for the Macroclade's Command elements.
Archmagos Locum Consuls Senior Specialists and advisors, bearing additional titles indicative of expertise.
Each Stargazers Macroclade contains 2 War Cohorts, which are the equivalent of Legion Battalions. Each War Cohort contains on average 500 Astartes, 1000 Skitarii, 125 Legio Cybernetica Robots, etcetera. The Second War Cohort of every Macroclade is standardized and are highly uniform in composition. The First War Cohorts of the Macroclades are commonly heavily specialized or otherwise irregular in composition, with dedicated force allocations for a particular intended purpose. More First War Cohorts of the Macroclades are standardized than not however, and it is not unusual for multiple Stargazers Macroclades containing numerous uniform War Cohorts to have only a single specialized War Cohort amongst them.
Archmagos Locum Dominus Equivalent to Battalion Commanders.
Magos Praetors Bodyguards for the War Cohort's Command Elements.
Magos Consuls Specialists and advisors, bearing additional titles indicative of expertise.
Each War Cohort is comprised of 5 Maniples, which are the equivalent of Legion Companies. Each Maniple has 100 Astartes on average with an according composition of supporting Skitarii and Legio Cybernetica elements. Depending on whether they are sorted within the First or Second War Cohort of a Macroclade, Maniples can either be highly uniform or irregular in composition. Even First War Cohorts lacking a distinct specialization might have irregularly arranged Maniples owing to some internal tradition or preferred order of battle.
Magos Dominus Equivalent to Company Commanders.
Magos Locum Praetors Bodyguards for the Company's Command Elements.
Magos Locum Consuls Specialists and advisors, bearing additional titles indicative of expertise.
Each Maniple is divided into four squads of 25 Marines each with an according composition of supporting Mechanicum elements. Each squad is further subdivided into 4 Fire Teams of 6 Marines each with 1 Sergeant in each Fire Team. All four Fire Teams are commanded by a single Captain. Although Fire Teams are distinguished between for organizational efficiency, it is against standard operating procedure for a Maniple to split up or disperse significantly - a left-over surviving habit of the days when the Stargazers were still newly diminished and overly cautious. The myriad battlefield conditions that would normally give rise to the necessity of splitting Fire Teams off from the main body of the Maniple are instead regularly delegated or entrusted to attached Skitarii elements, while the core Astartes Maniple serves as the ceramite-clad fist and heart of the formation.A standardized Maniple will contain a 2:1:1 ratio of Tactical Fire Teams, Devastator Fire Teams, and Terminator Fire Teams respectively on average. The Stargazers traditionally eschew the use of Assault and Scout Fire Teams due to their lower Legion numbers and in favor of dedicated Skitarii support elements. During larger and more protracted campaigns, it is common for multiple Fire Teams of the same disposition to aggregate into solid specialized Squads rather than retaining the nominal mixed Fire Team elements amongst each Maniple, which allows for appropriate force concentration relative to the scale of a given campaign or conflict.
Magos Locum Dominus: Equivalent to Company Captains or Lieutenants. These are the most Junior Officers in the Stargazers Astartes Legion, but not within the greater Stargazers Ordo - comprised of the Skitarii Legion and Legio Cybernetica cohort which necessarily contain a myriad of Lower Priesthood and Laypriests. Sergeants, entrusted with directing and rallying individual Fire Teams, are often only accorded the authority of Squad Veterans and only informally comprise the Maniple's command elements.
This hierarchy of the Stargazers Astartes Legion is integrated and parallel to the hierarchy of Tech-Priests in the Ordo. It is thus ordinary for Astartes Officers to lead non-Astartes squads as support elements attached to their Legion squad. This is not always the case however, and on occasion it has been known for high-ranking non-Astartes Tech-Priests to take command of Squads, Maniples, or even entire War Cohorts - although this occurring with Macroclades is almost entirely unheard of (with a few notable exceptions).
In practice, the joined command structure means that the Ordo Astranoma is almost always deployed as a combination of both Astartes alongside conventional Mechanicum infantry and military elements as opposed to just one or the other as is typically observed with standard Astartes Legions and the Taghmata of individual Forge Worlds.
The elaborate senior hierarchy of the Stargazers Astartes Legion alongside the regular uniformity of several of its constituent subgroups often grants a false impression of a rigidly structured and tightly coordinated force. In truth, the entire hierarchy is built upon the loose and somewhat lackadaisical foundation of the Maniple Fire Teams. A common criticism of the Stargazers by experts is that their entire force of regulars are haphazardly arranged around Cults of Personality centered around the Maniple Captains, with sergeants having only informally recognized authority and predictably leading to miniature power vacuums and interpersonal conflicts whenever a Captain dies or becomes either reprimanded or promoted. The reason for this slapdash disorganization at the foundation relates back to the Legion's restructured hierarchy being predicated on the organization of the Mechanicum's own Taghmatas, which structurally mirror the standard composition of an Astartes Legion except, critically, at the lowest level of organization. Many analysts have attributed this disorganization at the Maniples level as having been the leading cause of the Legion's catastrophic losses during the Rangdan Xenocides.
In the proceeding century and a half since Rangdan, the dynamic has remained the same but has developed a new point of equilibrium. Each individual Stargazers Maniple practically adopts the culture of a subcult of the Mechanicum unto itself, with individual Captains approaching the renown of living saints within their 25-man universe, whose word is typically unquestioned and unopposed save by the higher pantheon of Senior Officers within the Legion. Exceptional Captains breed peerlessly capable Maniples while the incapable inevitably lead to dissolution and decreased productivity, which has contributed in part to the Stargazers slow rate of reconsolidation since the Rangdan Xenocides. The failing of a Maniple Captain often leads to the failing and redistribution of the entire Maniple - or at least those who survive.
Despite these marked drawbacks, the unusual command structure or lack thereof at the Maniples level affords itself to a number of discrete strengths. The Maniple Lieutenants are always jockeying amongst themselves not only for approval and favor from the Maniple Captain, but also race and compete with each other to develop the most bleeding-edge technical proficiency and expertise amongst the Maniple in anticipation that one of them will some day be deemed worthy to ascend to Captaincy themselves in addition to attaining the vaunted title of Magos Locum, effectively becoming honorary Tech-Priests in the process. A reflection of this same jockeying and competition occurs amidst the Maniple Fire Teams. Stargazers Maniples therefore compromise, even compared to other equivalent Legion Squads, heavily modified, effective, and battle-tested armaments and munitions, and a plethora of knowledgeable and technicians and experts with a broad and diverse range of applicable battlefield skills and capabilities.
Or in brief - Maniples that manage to solidify around an effective Captaincy form a comparatively superior fighting force compared to normal Legion Squads, with abundant adaptive and tactical capabilities that allow them to manuever and engage in warfare ordinary Astartes could not even begin to contemplate. Maniples that cannot manage to solidify in this manner tend to be lackluster, undriven, and prone to either dissolution or routing - especially and even substantially moreso in comparison to the Squads of other Legions.
End of Hierarchy Section
Archmandriture Mercaerath Kyrius originally hails from the planet of Tarsis, having aspired to join the ranks of the Stargazers ever since Primarch Augor Astren visited the planet in 900.M30 - being one of numerous individuals who elected to do so following the planet's compliance. He was the only one to survive the trials and treatments necessary to become an Astartes, and started out at the lowest ranks, working his way up to become one of the Legion's Praetors through what some might call an unremarkable string of participatory actions in largely successful and one-sided campaigns. He is one of the few Astartes in the upper hierarchies of the Legion who is not a devout worshiper of the Omnissiah or an adherent to the faith of the Mechanicum. He is, quite simply, the Legion's man, loyal only and singularly to the Primarch and the soldiers of the Ordo Astranoma. He can recite the creed Mechanicum from memory and is rated as a qualified theological scholar despite being forward with admitting he only upholds the principles and ideals of the Mechanicum because that is how the Primarch would want it. He and Augor have closely bonded over the years with Mercaerath always having a relatable word, story or proverb to share with the Legion which the Primarch would not otherwise be able to effectively impress himself. The simple Astartes soldier, in many ways, is able to solidify and humanize the cold and mechanical connections between the members of the Legion and add the personal spark to the Primarch's connections that would otherwise be absent. Augor has since come to rely on Mercaerath as the legion's father figure, able to connect with its soldiers where Augor himself is unable to despite his oratory skills.
The senior-most Apothecary in the Stargazers Astartes Legion, Corneceus in infamous amongst Apothecaries, particularly amongst other legions, for refusing to administer the Emperor's Peace to even the most critically injured and anguished of fallen Astartes. Taking after the habits of the Mechanicum, he is of the opinion that no mortal injury is so great that a Marine cannot continue to serve the Omnissiah. He is quick to cauterize, amputate, and install bionic prosthetics - it is rumored that he has retrieved the Progenoid Glands of hundreds of fallen warriors only to then remove their still-living heads for installation upon a cybernetic chassis. His methods and his teachings, disseminated through the Apothecarions of the Stargazers, has left the Astartes of many other Legions filled with dread at the thought of fighting alongside the Stargazers only to become mortally wounded and subsequently 'saved' by the horrifying ministrations of Corneceus and his ilk.
Explorator Mephitor is the voice of Mars within the Ordo Astranoma. As half of the Ordo's purpose is to further the ascension of Humanity and to seek glory in the name of the Omnissiah, so too the other half is the Mechanicum's eternal Quest for Knowledge - overseen and observed by the scrutinizing gaze of Explorator Mephitor, who commands the Ordo's fleets in immediate seniority with only the Primarch and Archmandriture having greater authority. Although officially he is only present in the role of a consultant and advisor to the Primarch, there are few illusions that he is anything else other than the Holy Synod's voice in the Ordo's ear. His presence and influence in the Ordo, amongst other factors, adds to the suspicion amongst other Legions as to whether the Stargazers are as independent as the Emperor originally designed - or whether they are now purely a political tool of the Mechanicum.
The Commander of the Ordo Astranoma's Skitarii Legion. It is common knowledge that even most of Andron's brain is Genetor-designed neuron-circuitry, as he was a vat-grown soldier of the Mechanicum designed from conception to be one of the Skitarii. He is known for his unsettling but surprisingly disarming sense of humor as well as for his startlingly cogent and practical grasp of terrestrial and astro logistics alongside the practical realities of being a soldier of both the Mechanicum and the Ordo Astranoma specifically. He acts as an ear to the ground for Ordo Command amongst their own rank and file on top of his nominal duties, and he also holds the distinguishment of being the single most skilled melee combatant in the entire Ordo, having personally battled and executed no less than six Ork Warbosses and numerous Warp Witches in a series of duels and protracted firefights. He is considered to be the Legion's point-man and poster-figure, and even the Astartes find inspiration in his accomplishments - even if they are unsettled by the knowledge that his body mass is effectively less than 2% flesh.
A Questor Mechanicum Baron from the Knight World of Caelrumoste. He and his entire lineage of retainers have been permanently assigned to attend to Ordo Astranoma, and have sworn new vows of fealty directly to the Ordo and its masters specifically. The Baron was required to abandon a decadent personal lifestyle in order to do this - and many of his armsmen were cybernetically lobotomized during their induction into the Ordo and permanently grafted into their armigers for the sake of efficiency, most of whom were close personal friends and bondsmen of the Baron. He is a very terse, private man - some speculate that such abandonment has largely drained him of the will to live, outside of battle and the opportunity to be one with the Machine. He is noteworthy for having a personal scryerskull that is hard-tethered to his cortex which accompanies him at all times, day and night.
Originally simply a field command Magos of the Magos Secutarius, Tienxia is the only one of the exceptionally few historical cases of a Tech-Priest who has commanded Macroclades of the Ordo Astranoma as opposed to an Astartes. During the Vaomir Campaigns, a Warp Witch used a massive, chain-curse Warp Rite to systemically dismantle the command hierarchy of the Ordo's 13th Macroclade using tactical information thought to have been obtained from Warp Divination. Tienxia was the last surviving senior officer in the entire Clade. At the time, she simply took over command of the Macroclade and drove a breaching assault to disrupt the ritual site, precluding additional attacks of that nature and then surrendering Command to a Junior Astartes Commander from the 18th Macroclade who had been mobilized to retake control. Tienxia received a commendation for their vigilance under pressure and was graced with the honored rank of Veneratus. However, since that day, in every single campaign the 13th Macroclade has taken a part of, every Senior Commander leading it has either died or been incapacitated in a string of suspicious coincidences which have always led Tienxia to once more take temporary command over the Macroclade. Rumors abound that the Macroclade itself has been cursed, or that Tienxia is a secret Heretek Psyker. Ordo Command has formally investigated Tienxia no less than four times for suspected Techno Heresy and found her above reproach every time, but her presence within the hierarchy has begun to negatively affect morale and some think it is only a matter of time before she is cast out for good...
A Lectro-Maester of the Magos Secutarius, Numilus leads the Ordo's own Mechanicum Subcult of Electropriests. As a Lectro-Maestro, he is hailed as a Prophet of the Omnissiah - and as a senior member of the Prefecture Magisterium, he bears the authority and privilege of declaring Excommunicate Traitoris as well as Edicts of Obliteration as writs of persecution against Techno Heresy. He is both a religious icon and an oppressive inquisitorial judge of character and propriety. He is infamous for his condemnation and summary execution of members of the Ordo Astranoma whom he deems have been found guilty of Techno Heresy, and his fanatic ideals have spread to his Acolytes - the Electro-Priests of the Ordo Astranoma. In addition to their normal combat roles in the Taghmata, they have also come to pull double-duty as military police, making them regular and unnerving sights amongst the Ordo's ranks. They are just as likely to sing high sermons of victory and glory for the Omnissiah and all mankind as they are to identify and publicly execute soldiers they find wanting.
The much-acclaimed Mechanicum Genetor Carnelan is credited with the development of numerous synthetic xeno-viruses used to utterly exterminate multiple Xenos species encountered over the course of the Ordo Astranoma's history, most prominently including the Melkeji Parasites as well as the Ak'Haireth Symbiotes. Although famed and praised for his extermination of xenos, he is originally a vat technician who specialized in the growth and creation of gene-modded Humans and Abhuman varieties - and rumors persist that he has been in ongoing communications with the Imperium Administratum concerning a secret project he has been working on with their assistance for some time. Whatever the truth of the matter, he has been classed as an Ordo VIP, with his own Praetorian Guard and permanent oversight from the Prefecture Magisterium. His Acolytes are omnipresent during the Ordo's campaigns, sampling not only xenos material, but also the material of disparate Human and abhuman cultures..
An original Veteran who was a member of the original War Hounds legion, and one of the few who survived the Rangdan Xenocides. Thoroughly traumatized by the horror of the Rangdan crusade, Seydaros became a death-seeker who would throw himself into extreme combat conditions in the hopes of dying with glory. Unfortunately, he was simply too good at utterly unmaking his enemies and never encountered a circumstance so overwhelming that he would not come out on top. He was eventually warned by Senior Officers that his reckless behavior, even if it did not pose a great risk to himself, was jeopardizing the safety of his battle brothers in combat conditions - and that if he continued he would be severely sanctioned. Seydaros then resorted to the extreme in order to free himself of the burden of his mental trauma - he willingly underwent the Rite of Pure Thought, replacing the right hemisphere of his brain with a cogitator to rid himself of his fallible Human motives. This, too, did not work quite as he intended. Although the process reduced him to a taciturn and stalwart machine of cold logic for several decades, the ability of the Human mind and its ability to recovery and compensate for even severe neurological impediments over time won out. Slowly, over the course of a century, Seydaros has regained a semblance of his original emotional and creative ability due to the remaining left hemisphere of his brain adapting to the removal of the right. Once more haunted by the horror, shame, and guilt of the Rangdan Xenocides, Seydaros had in the interim become a veteran of the Stargazers Legion and particularly of the Vaomir campaign - and was finally able to live with his horrid memories, alongside the new ones.
The tactical doctrine of the Stargazers Astartes Legion is simply one of combined tactical deployment with permanent attachments from the assembled Taghmata of Augor Astren's Ordo Astranoma, and vice versa. In a sense, the Astartes Legion has been swallowed whole by an independent and nomadic element of the Mechanicum. This is a wholly deliberate and intentional doctrine devised by the Legion's Primarch.
Despite this doctrine of combined technological and military supremacy, the Ordo Astranoma's major deployments and campaigns, on the surface, are not altogether drastically different in composition from the campaigns of other Space Marine Legions. This is due to a combination of the Ordo being based around Macroclade-Based Fleetgroups, and the Astartes Legion's comparatively small number of Chapter-Equivalents compared to the other Space Marine Legions under the other Primarchs. The Ordo Astranoma has fewer Chapter Fleetgroups to spread around the galaxy than most of the Primarchs' more conventional Legions. The overall appearance of an Ordo Astranoma fleetgroup thus bears a strong resemblance to that of an Underpowered Legion composition with a strong reinforcement of Mechanicum ships and troops. The Ordo Astranoma's advantage lies in that their Astartes never fight alone, but with numerically significant Mechanicum support, and vice versa.
The obvious disadvantage of this doctrine is that of slower tactical maneuverability overall. Although Astartes Techmarines have command-priority over Taghmata elements and can therefore direct Taghmata groups as though they were actual Tech-Priests, the sheer bulk of most Taghmata groups combined with the Astartes Legion results in more cumbersome maneuvers and tactics overall, as well as a higher rate of causalities and a lower projected immediate combat strength since Astartes do not do the bulk of the fighting in the Ordo despite always being present, simply by a degree of proportion given how numerically superior their Mechanicum attachments are.
The strengths of this doctrine is that the Ordo Astranoma, overall, is highly adaptive in numerous different situations and is not limited by the specialties or expertise of a limited number of Astartes Legion veterans. The Ordo is also well-equipped and able to manufacture a solution to nearly any problem that presents itself if given the time to do so. The Ordo Astranoma, much like the Ordo Reductor, is well-known for the staggering and diverse array of advanced technology available to it that would normally be outside of the means of other Legions.
The Stargazers Astartes Legion are, almost as a whole, adherents to the faith of the Mechanicum and worshipers of the Holy Trinity of the Machine God, the Motive Force, and the Omnissiah. They are all exempt from the tenants of Imperial Truth (although not all of them reject it), and as a Legion embrace the Mechanicum's ongoing Quest For Knowledge as their primary pursuit, alongside the furtherance and elevation of Mankind as the galaxy's dominant species as well as for the glory of the Emperor in his aspect as the Omnissiah.
All Officers in the Stargazers are honorary (and occasionally actual) Tech-Priests. Techmarines with servo harnesses and heavy bionic augmentation are not uncommon amongst them, and most of their number possess casual to advanced technical and mechanical proficiency. They are, in effect, an Astartes Legion acting as an extension of the Mechanicum, holding both the will of the Emperor and the aims of the Mechanicum up as dual - and equal - goals.
The Emperor of Mankind: There exists an unspoken underlying tension between the Emperor and the Ordo Astranoma - which exists wholly as a perversion of his Astartes Legion, an extension of his own will and power which has been reshaped and corrupted by the influence and resources of the Mechanicum. Officially relationships between the two bodies are cordial and reverent in turn - the Ordo Astranoma views the Emperor as a living god and follows his decree without hesitation or delay. The Emperor, however, is often given to handling the requests and issues of the Ordo Astranoma with more deliberation than often necessary, or otherwise deferring judgement for unusually long spans of time to the point where his simply unspoken snubbing of the Ordo has made clear to all who accept the Imperial Truth that the Ordo has fallen on the far side of his patience.
Adeptus Administratum: The Ordo Astranoma possesses a hierarchy that mirrors that of the Mechanicum - and likely reflects the Mechanicum's connections and bureaucracy. The Ordo remains in constant contact with Terra via a distribution of Astropathic Relays from which the Administratum receives a continuous and unending deluge of reports, analytics, intelligence, requests, and even instructions. Even the immense volume of communications traffic in this vein, however, is but a drop in the ocean compared to the ongoing communications between the Administratum and the Mechanicum of Mars itself - and as such, the Ordo Astranoma tends to occasionally be lost, overlooked or otherwise mixed-in with the logs of its parent organization. They are rarely treated with explicit deference unless their communications are explicitly headed and authorized by a member of the Ordo's Astarte Legion or otherwise by the Primarch himself.
Adeptus Arbites: Although typically informed of the Mechanicum and the Ordo Astranoma's writs through the Adeptus Administratum, the Arbites and enforcers of Imperial Law treat the decrees of the Ordo as if they were the decrees of the Mechanicum. Declarations of excommunication and decrees of obliteration called for by members of the Prefecture Magisterium are relayed to the Arbites where pertinent by the Adeptus Administratum - however slowly - and the Adeptus Arbites then enforce those declarations as the will of the Emperor himself. The Prefecture Magisterium derives its authority directly from the Treaty of Mars and the Exigency of the Emperor personally - meaning that however stern the relationship between the Emperor and the Ordo might be, their writ is taken seriously by the enforcers of Imperial Law.
Excertus Imperialis: The Mechanicum of Mars was already predisposed to look down upon the mundane and purely Human Imperial Army and Fleets of the Emperor. The Ordo Astranoma, comprised of a mixture of holy figures and exalted commanders of the Mechanicum alongside a child of the Omnissiah and a Legion of the Emperor's own Astartes - looks long and far down upon the Imperial Armsmen and their forces, often treating them as tertiary support elements even in critical crusade sectors. This has resulted in the development over time of a level of professional disdain and mutual contempt between the two bodies - not yet quite spilling over into a rivalry, if only because the Ordo Astranoma is hardly even a fraction of the greater Imperial Army's size.
The Mechanicum: Augor Asten has been forever barred from holding seat in the Holy Synod of Mars or from ever setting foot on the red planet. The effuse of his molten eyes is enshrined there as a holy relic however, and veteran and exalted members of the Ordo Astranoma are known to make regular pilgrimages to Mars as a matter of course. The Ordo enjoys a vaunted status within the Mechanicum, being treated as though it had analogous or ever superior authority to the Ordo Reductor over the rest of the Mechanicum as a whole. There are many who see the Ordo as the most blessed union of the Mechanicum's spiritual core and ideals embodied in a child of the Omnissiah and one of his mighty legions - and so, to an extent, the Ordo is venerated and held as one of the Mechanicum's most sacred institutions. At the same time, however, there remains small numbers of the Mechanicum's hierarchy who remain secretly convinced that the Emperor is no God - and that both he and his children are false prophets. Although these small factions can do little to oppose the Ordo itself, they can, where able, go out of their way to be needlessly bureaucratic and obstructive.
The Citizens of the Imperium: The Citizens of the Imperium view the Ordo Astranoma much as they would view any other branch of the Mechanicum - as perplexing, mysterious, unsettling, and that of a necessary evil. The leadership of a Primarch and the presence of an Astartes Legion makes little difference to the common man, as those vaunted elements are rarely seen unless battle is at hand. Even those who think highly or are grateful to the Ordo remain reluctant to praise it to openly, for fear and confusion that entertaining and offering praise of the Omnissiah might somehow be in violation of the Imperial Truth they have already accepted. The Ordo as a whole is thus something to be acceded to and expedited along its missions and ventures, hopefully to not be seen again anytime soon.
Work in Progress Primarch Sheet: Complete Legion Sheet: Complete
Name: Augor Astren Gender: Male Homeworld: The Forge World of Last Light in the Duodeculi Sector.
Augor Astren is a lifelong member of the Cult Mechanicus, and prior to the discovery was an Electropriest amongst their lower orders. The Primarch still carries evidence of that upbringing with him, as he possesses heavy cybernetic modification, bionic implants, and electoo outside of his armor.
Augor stands approximately 3.35 meters or 11 feet in height. His skin coloration is an ashen grey due to a combination of drug regimes, continuous exposure to electrical current, heavy bionic installation, and the saturation of his bloodstream with trace amounts of bionic serum. He is completely bald, and missing his natural eyes, which long ago melted in their sockets as is typical of most electropriests. Augor's eyes have since both been replaced by bionic prosthetics. Augor possesses no less than six Mechadendrite prosthetics extending from his hips, lower back, and shoulders, all of a modular, multipurpose design. He also has a dorsal electrostatic generator running most of the entire length of his spine, and no less than eight power capacitors integrated into the lengths of his arms and legs. Both of Augor's hands have additionally been modified with implanted electrostatic Corpuscarii gauntlets, and he has numerous other unseen bionics and augmentations not immediately apparent at first glance, such as the expected black carapace used by Astartes, but also a wireless MIU and an accessory parallel cogitator.
Augor power armor is highly stylized and adorned in ritual symbolism of the Cult Mechanicus, and includes in its design a decorated taberd and features several prominent Cog Mechanicum motifs. All instances of the Imperial Eagle are replaced instead with deliberate depictions of the Aquilla, half-flesh and half mechanized. His armor is prominently Martian Red, with gold trim, Martian-ebon insets, and almost silvery electric-blue highlights. Augor's armor is notable for having an extremely conspicuous servo-harness featuring not only six servo-arms, but also a mechadendrite hive centered on the back. Augor's armor has been specially modified with front-loaded gyroscopic mechanisms and weights specifically to help offset the tremendous weight and shifted in mass added by the servo harness. The munitions and tools regularly employed by Augor's servo-arms are multifarious, but an almost regular sight is an integrated conversion beamer he has taken a shining to.
Both in and out of his armor, Augor is never seen without his Omnissian Combi-Axe, which functions both as a standard power axe as well as a Fulgurite Electroleech stave.
Augor is the archetypical zealous crusader and battlefield chaplain. His fanatical devotion to the Machine God and the Emperor as the Omnissiah drives him both to spread the glory of mankind to the furthest reaches of the Galaxy while also crushing the xenos, purging techno heresy, and plunging into the darkest reaches of the stars themselves in pursuit of the Mechanicum's eternal quest for knowledge. Reflecting his Corpuscarii background, his is given to recitation of litany, and is known for taking frequent breaks during work and campaigns to go on long - occasionally meandering and spurious - lectures or 'sermons' to everybody in the immediate environs. He is quick to lend the screed of the Mechanicum as advice to those he perceives as troubled, and equally quick to call for arms and direction from the servants of the Emperor.
In quieter moments, Augor is given to cerebral contemplation and musing, or else examination of newly discovered or particularly intriguing ancient technology. His fanatical devotion to the Mechanicus and their views often leads him to paradoxical and difficult dilemnas of choice and consequence, and at times he can waver with uncertainty in the face of unclear problems. In a sense, despite his predilection for proselytizing and directing those around him, his beliefs often render him little more than a blunt instrument. While he is well-known for being a unifier and charismatic leader even in spite of his extensive bionics, he nonetheless also often fails to establish a common bond of commeraderie with those around him - for the flesh is fallible, and there is always another task to be performed or a secret to unearth.
Augor is generally slow to anger, but extremely quick to take extreme stances and measures - and as a consequence, his behavior in minor skirmishes and utter crises tends to be identical. His extreme modes of thought also make convincing him of alternative viewpoints or strategies difficult - even when he knows others are sincere, he is likely to immediately decide they are likely mistaken or misguided if their thoughts and his should not align.
Augor's original and native Psychic Grade (Epsilon) has never been meaningfully measured, and his relatively late discovery after he had already been a corpuscarii for some time makes estimation of what his grade could have been difficult.
Presently, Augor has several latent if untrained Psyker abilities which have manifested in-line with and according to his upbringing and duties. As an electropriest and a past-member of the Corpuscarii, the following abilities have been observed, often manifesting in conjunction - and therefore almost indistinguishably - with associated battlefield acts on his part. Biolightning intermingles with electrical discharge from his gauntlets and capacitors, causing enemies to either burst into flame as they are electrocuted and tearing the very essence of life from the bodies of the few who survive. Inhuman insight visits him, overlaying his already redundant and overlapping senses and enhanced perception. His thundrous presence and earth-shaking litanies inspire allies to even greater action while overwhelming his foes with eerie sensations of dread and foreboding.
All of these things are already inherent to the capabilities of the Mechanicum's Electropriests - albeit the Primarch, through the use of peerless technological amplification and bionics, has heightened those to tremendous degrees that beggar belief and stagger the senses - beyond that, to what degree his abilities are borne of his equipment and bionics, and what originates from his powers as a Psyker, remains unknown.
[The following Psyker Powers can be reviewed here.] Smite Enfeeble Life Leech Haemorrhage Perfect Timing Scrier's Gaze Spontaneous Combustion Mental Fortitude Terrify
Gifted Orator: Even in spite of his numerous bionic implants, Augor is eloquent, loquacious, and charismatic - he can effortlessly bolster morale wherever he goes with perfunctory speeches or turns of phrase, and excels at inspiring his subordinates to overcome failure and to aspire to greater heights of victory.
Titanic Presence: Augor is anything but subtle. On the battlefield, he continuously screams a mixture of inspiring litanies or hellish torment, all the while ablaze with the power of a Pyroclastic flow, lightning and power radiating from him and being channeled across the battlefield in devestating arcs while enemy attacks turn to dust harmlessly against his voltagheist field. The very presence of him opening up with his weapons on the field is a tremendously galvanizing sight and bastion of power for allies, and a portent of dread and a harbinger of imminent loss for enemies. Of course, this same visibility makes him a very open and obvious target at all times...
Faithful Guidance: Between his electromagnetic electropriest perception, his latent witchsight, his redundant bionic eyes and the various sensors bristling across his mechadendrites and servo-arms and tactical Scryerskulls floating around him at all times on top of the heightened awareness gifted to all of the Primarchs - Augor possesses close to perfect localized perception. There is almost nothing in the whole of the galaxy that can evade his numerous senses, and his genetic and cogitator-assisted tactical ability allow him to predict most physical events immediately before they happen.
Motive Elemental: Augor's extreme specialization between his bionics, equipment, and psyker abilities have turned him into a living, breathing electrical storm of such intensity and power that it would put shame to most plasma storms. Most mundane energy weapons are utterly useless against him - laser, plasma, and power weapons and projectiles will all fade, dim, and be extinguished in his presence if wielded by a foe, and worse, will usually have their power grounded into his capacitors to be unleashed again upon his enemies. Most electronics and equipment with unhardened power sources will likewise prove extremely vulnerable to his influence on the open battlefield.
Augor Astren was sent by the Chaos Gods to the distant Forge World of Last Light in the Duodeculi Sector of the Ultima Segmentum. One of the most distant forge worlds colonized by the Mechanicum's early navigator-thrall Explorator colony efforts, it lay precariously on the fringes of space where the light of the Astronomican would be at its dimmest and most distant, beyond which lay only the dark and nebulous reaches of the Ghoul Stars.
As a child, Augor Astren was seized and quantified by the Tech Priests of Last Light - who proved so distant from the Imperial Realm that news of the Treaty of Mars had not yet even reached them. Augor's great warp presence was immediately noted and, rather than being inducted into the ministry or the ranks of the Skitarii for his exceptional characteristics, was stored in stasis for later experimentation and study of his abnormal warp-related qualities. It would not be until decades later, when news of the Treaty of Mars and knowledge of the Emperor and his Primarchs reached Last Light, that anybody would realize his true significance. Brought out of stasis amidst a drastic restructuring of Last Light's Mechanicum Hierarchy to be Treaty-Compliant, the Primarch was finally named Augor Astren - a Cant Mechanicus-corrupted High Gothic turn of phrase meaning 'Auspicious Starlight.' Having identified the young Augor as a potential Primarch and son of the Emperor, the Last Light Mechanicum wasted no time indoctrinating him amongst their ranks to serve as an exemplary representative of the Mechanicum's interests amongst the Emperor's children. It was decided that due the child's projected rate of accelerated growth and the need for them to attain full maturity unimpeded by excessive cybernetic augmentation that he would be inducted into the ranks of a caste of Tech Priests requiring comparatively few augmentations - the Electropriests and, more specifically, the Corpuscarii, who nominally only required Electoos and a number of external, non-invasive bionics, while still being noted for their zealous and extreme devotion to the creed of the Mechanicum.
Decades passed once more, with Augor quickly reaching maturity. News and confirmation of his nature had by this time been passed back down along the Astropathic chain of communication towards the Imperium proper, but had not yet received any response. Augor lived a deeply entrenched and isolated life of monastic study and discipline, devoting his years to the mastery of different realms of the Mechanicum's secrets and eventually attaining the official Cult status of Magos, and then Archmagos within the Holy Synod of Last Light. He was promised, repeatedly, that once the Emperor formally recognized him, he would be made the Archmagos Intendant of Last Light, and become an officially listed Archmagos of the Holy Synod of Mars itself. He was not, however, spoiled or spared the trials and deliberations of his office. Knowing that he would not survive otherwise, the Mechanicum pushed him to strive and attain the deepest of sanctioned Mechanicum secrets, to proselytize to the indentured working citizens of Last Light, and to hunt down and destroy Hereteks in the deepest and darkest of underforges. His eyes, much like those of every other Corpuscarii, were boiled inside of his skull to dribble as the Omnissiah's own tears from their sockets. Their molten and dessicated effuse, to this day, remain enshrined on Mars. Augor was encouraged to forgo the use of bionic optics until he had been confirmed as a Primarch, in order to hone his senses and simultaneously deepen his devotion to the Machine God.
Eventually, Astropathic messages of response returned to Last Light: The Emperor and an Explorator Fleet of the Imperium was coming to Last Light to render it Compliant and Unify it with the Greater Imperium of Man, as well as to confirm the presence of a Primarch. The reception of the Emperor and his Legions was meticulously planned out, and Augor spent several weeks in deep contemplation of how to utilize his personal meeting with the Emperor.
The Emperor arrived, and nearly everything went according to plan. Augor was confirmed to be a Primarch of the Emperor. Last Light was formally declared Compliant and unified with the Empire as a Forgeworld of the Mechanicum. The Primarch was graced with the privilege of command over one of the Emperor's mighty legions.
But the Emperor, not to be politically exploited and in order to remind the Mechanicum as to the inviolate and exigent nature of his command, issued a decree: Augor Astren would be permitted to retain their station as the Archmagos Intendant of Last Light, but they would be forever barred from holding any status or recognition upon Holy Mars itself - and was forbidden from ever setting foot on the Red Planet. The Emperor would accept the Primarch's exemption from acknowledging Imperial Truth - but the Mechanicum would never be able to use him as a political instrument as one of their servants assembled in Tachmata. He would, forever, be an independent and higher party of the Mechanicum itself, akin to the Ordo Reductor: Inviolate and, if acceding to their requests, never subservient.
With his hopes of ever journeying to Holy Mars dashed, but ultimately undaunted, Augor Asten then took command of Legion XII of the Space Marines, and named them the Stargazers. He would immediately reorganize their internal structured hierarchy to mirror that of the Mechanicum, with the intent to create a dual, integrated extension of the Mechanicum itself. If he were to abide by the Emperor's command, he would do so fully, and transformed the XIIth legion into a true higher and independent extension of the Mechanicum itself to rival and eventually exceed even the Ordo Reductor itself.
After a brief and cursory campaign alongside several other Primarchs and the Emperor himself upon Molech, Augor Astren's first campaign of true note was the immediate consecutive Rangdan Xenocides. The crushing campaign would nearly destroy the Stargazer's legion, which sustain a casualty rate of almost 85% during the struggle due to a combination of complications arising from their internalized restructuring and Augor's own inexperience, pitted against the most terrifying and advanced adversary the Imperium had ever known. To this day, the Astartes of the Stargazer legion have yet to fully recover from that brutal campaign - and they are known primarily for standing as but another cadre of an expanded force of the Mechanicum, whose forces were called upon to fill the severely depleted and weakened Stargazers legion.
Augor Asten would spend the next several decades a broken and disgraced figure, who would spend their time at the furthest reaches and darkest fringes of space at the head of Explorator fleets, charting and finding little of significance of note while the survivors of the Stargazer's legion licked their wounds. In the century to follow Augor Astren would personally lead the diminished legion to numerous laudible victories - but none that could make up for the shame and scope of his utter defeat in the Rangdan Xenocides.
It would not be until 970 - an exact 100 years after the eve of his Legion's devestation - that Augor Astren would fully redeem himself for his folly and loss, by leading his legion to victory against a Cabal of Alpha-Grade Warp Witches Vaomir Reaches. During the long campaign, Augor Asten would personally make battle with the terrifyingly potent Psykers while his Legion would engage in protracted standoffs and sieges with their occult slaves - culminating in a legendary final battle where Augor would personally duel and defeat the Cabal Maven - a suspected Alpha-Plus Pysker - before her forces, driving them all into a panicked rout that saw the Stargazers legion victorious with only minimal losses despite the terrifying potency and numerical superiority of their foes.
Although Augor Astren would then spend the next several decades once more on the fringes of uncharted space heading Explorator fleets once more, thereafter the now once again more widespread and partially recovered Stargazers Legion finally had a leader they could stand tall and claim to be proud of with neither shame nor apology.
[A chronological list of Augor Asten's personal campaigns and accomplishments follows.]
Compliance of Molech 869. Augor Asten personally participated in the Compliance efforts along with several other Primarches alongside the Emperor. - Rangdan Xenocides 870. Augor Astren leads the Stargazers Legion to a disastrous victory alongside other legions. A combination of the enemy xenos' ferocity and advanced technology, coupled with the Primarch's inexperience and complications caused by their newly implemented Mechanicum-compliant Legion hierarchy, results in close to 85% casualty rates across their entire legion. - Crisis of the Hungering Gyre 891. Due to the drastic reduction of his legion, Augor Astren would personally lead most of their significant military campaigns over the span of the next several decades, including here. Paramar V is made a vassal domain of the distant Forge World of Last Light. The Primarch spends the remainder of the decade as part of Explorator efforts in distant regions which come to little fruition. - Compliance of Tarsis 900. Augor Astren is attacked by a number of mysterious assailants from ambush after concluding the Compliance of a newly discovered world, but is saved by a native soldier. In a display of Humility, Augor Astren bent his knee to the soldier and vowed the Mechanicum would assure the planet's prosperity for all time. A large number of servitors and Tech-Priests journey to the planet, which eventually becomes a prominent Fleet Anchorage and Pleasure World, carefully maintained by the Mechanicum. A permanent detachment of the Stargazer's Legion stands guard over the planet to hold it secure against all comers for the remainder of the century. - Compliance of Tethonus Early 900s. Augor Astren leads the Stargazers Legion in a protracted military campaign against a heavily entrenched xenos species. Drawing inspiration from the Ordo Reductor, Augor Astren has his legion reconstruct an unlisted siege engine template that breaks the xenos much earlier than anticipated. - Assault on Dahinta Early 900s. Augor Astren and the Stargazers Legion encounter a world populated by self-aware machines called the Overseers. Augor Astren immediately calls in the Ordo Reductor and a Titan Legion and, after a brief campaign, performs Exterminatus upon the planet with a two-stage Cyclonic Torpedo, completely coring out and reducing it to debris drifting in space. - Xenocide of Kamenka Troika Mid 900s. At the behest of a request directly from Mars, Augor Astren leads the Stargazers to eradicate an Ork Empire on the three satellites of Kamenka Ulizarna. The Emperor then declares a writ of war against the same empire and the Stargazers are joined by other legions. - The Fall of the Lords of Gardinaal Mid 900s. Not involved initially, but upon hearing the rebel forces involved possessed multiple STCs, performed an interstellar flanking maneuver which completely bypassed the blockade of the Gardinaal system and seized the homeworld of the rebel empire in a surprise attack on its capital lasting only a few hours, forcing an unconditional surrender. - The Melkeji Salvation 957. The Stargazer's Legion Genetors fabricate a plague that exterminates a parasitic xenos species that had been controlling a population of Humans in Melkeji, who immediately surrender to the empire thereafter. - Persecution of Vaomir Reaches 970. Augor Astren and the Stargazers encounter several Alpha-grade Warp Witches who are immediately branded as Hereteks, resulting in a protracted but successful campaign to eliminate them. After a climatic confrontation with the Warp Witch Cabal Maven, the Primarch Virus Bombs each of the planets involved. - The Hunting of the Ak'Haireth 986. The Stargazer's Genetors once again fabricate a virus which utterly exterminates a species of xenos which had been predating Human colonies in a span of space. The same virus wipes out approximately 7% of all Humans in that sector, who had been infected with ruminant trace substances from that xenos species. - Compliance of Nurth 999. The Stargazer's Legion responds to a call for help from a nearby planet. The legion immediately identifies a warp-tainted Heretech artifact and, using several stasis munitions, isolates and quarantines it from several Heretek cultists on the planet. The Heretech Artifact, a Black Cube, is seized for safe containment in a Black Vault. The planet is subsequently virus bombed.
Augor Astren had been awaiting the arrival of the Emperor of All Mankind, Lord and Master of the Imperium - the Omnissiah - for several hours now. Waiting, tension mounting as he listened to the furious and jubilant cries of the citizens and priests lining the industrial causeway leading to the chambers of the Holy Synod as the Imperial procession slowly made its way forward. He had heard the sound of the tremendous Synod doors being opened, the uncountable tumult of armored footfalls that was the Emperor's Custodes vanguard. The high and aggrandized ritual sermon delivered by the Archmagos Veneratus.
Eventually, the time came. As he remained still, kneeling before a private altar to the Machine God in his cell, he heard him. The singular, thunderous footfalls of divinity itself as it approached down the corridor. The Emperor. The Omnissiah. Augor began to subvocalize the previously mental Cant Mechanicus litanies he had been reciting for the past half-hour, now muttering along to the audible Lingua-Technis static hiss of the nearby vox-caster.
The door opened. Augor's breath caught in his throat. There it was - the electromagnetic bloom was his. Augor's empty eye-sockets were utterly blind, but he still had his Emperor-gifted Ether Sight. He raised his head, smoothly rose to his feet, and turned to gaze at glory itself.
Perfection itself greeted him.
The Machine God!
A colossus of gleaming iridescent metal, precisely and gracefully curving and contorted into the shape of a Human skeleton - with three great sets of wings embedded with bionic eyes each beaming like shining supernovas encompassing the whole of the room. The eyes of its skull were galaxies, and its crown ran over with fractal halos of birefringent sparks and lightning. The God's organs were gem-encrusted cogitators and veinous mechadendrites that pulsed in and out in divine binary, iterating the fundamental constants of reality itself - and its blood, winding and spooling through its veins of circuitry and churning betwixt great mechanisms, was pure molten liquid auramite.
Augor's eyes were gone, but his tear ducts still worked - he wept tears of fascinated and joyous awe. His voice abandoned him and he let out a wordless sound of self-annihilated bliss, his hands automatically falling into a muscle-memory pattern of benediction and ritual gesture of worship. Eventually he was able to cry out a single word as he bowed his head in simple reverence.
"Omnissiah!" He choked.
The silence that followed that word was deafening. A moment passed. Perhaps it had been decades or centuries. What meaning was time, in the presence of the Infinite?
"Augor Astren." The voice was hard - stern and...was that disappointment? Shame? Perhaps even contempt - it was difficult to gauge. Augor looked up once more, and the Omnissiah was no more.
Before him stood just a man. A man standing taller even than Augor himself, wearing immaculate golden armor, with perfectly chiseled statuesque features and a dazzling radiant aura - but just a man, nonetheless, and nothing more. His features, if handsome and perfectly sculpted, were even somewhat plain. His eyes, though intensely penetrating, had but an ordinary sort of spark to them. Had he still eyes, Augor might have blinked reflexively in confusion.
He quickly gathered his wits together though - this was but a test. The Omnissiah was omnipotent - the dispersion of all knowledge and of the Motive Force was but a trial of the worthy, of their chosen people. Augor knew then that what he had just seen before had truly been the Machine God. What he witnessed now - was its Human Avatar, the Omnissiah - embodying the limitations of fallible flesh even in its omniscient perfection, and itself a test of resolve and acceptance.
"I am, Omnissiah!" He answered feverishly. "I - am I worthy of your lineage?"
"...You are a Primarch. Of this, there is no doubt." The Omnissiah said in that same stern force. "Cease your gestures and stand honestly before me, not in worship or in praise. I am no god, for there are none and never have been. I am the Emperor of All Mankind - and I am not your Omnissiah."
Augor instantly straightened himself to his full and intimidating height - still standing well short of the Emperor's stature - and relaxed his hands and arms. He understood. His worthiness was being tested. His true worth might hang in his answer.
"Of course...Emperor. Your arrangement with the Mechanicum, the Holy Synod, and the Fabricator General of Mars was simply an arrangement of mutually beneficial political convenience for the sake of uniting all of Mankind. You have come here to impress upon me the imperative nature of the Imperial Truth, despite my exemption from it according to the Treaty of Mars. You are not a god, merely the Emperor of us all." Augor paused.
"I pray, of course, that you will understand that despite knowing that truth...you shall always be, now and forever, my Omnissiah - my Emperor."
"Your obstinacy is not useful - and sets a dangerous example." The Emperor replied. "It is just as you said. You and your brothers are far beyond the delusions and lies that lesser men will tell themselves and others. You must be greater than the childish fantasies than have been foist upon you. My arrangement with the Mechanicum was a necessary deceit for the betterment and unification of all mankind - a deception which will not survive our species inevitable ascension. I have delivered my assurance already that I will honor the Treaty of Mars to the Synod of Last Light, but you will accept Imperial Truth - privately, if not publicly - here and now before me."
Silence reigned as Augor considered the test the Omnissiah had laid before him - noticing, as he did, the deepening frown on his perfect and unblemished face.
There. That would be his inspiration. The Flesh is Fallible.
"Of course, my Emperor. Though I must, of course, do my part to ensure that for the sake of political convenience if nothing else, I continue to uphold the creed of the Mechanicum in public. The Imperial Truth is reality as it should be, but many would look askew if I were to ignore the Treaty of Mars. You have my assurance that the Imperial Truth shall be what I know, even if I must say otherwise in my guidance of others along the course of your greater plan for all mankind."
"You cannot hide your true thoughts from me." The Omnissiah said, and Augor instantly knew it to be true, for the Omnissiah was omniscient in all manners and ways. "Your conceited and selfish adherence to the lunacy of the Mechanicum is nothing more than simple and base delusion. You will abandon it. There is no future for you in my legions unless you do so here and now."
"My Emperor...I must confess the vulnerable nature of my flesh." Augor tried. "I have been taught nothing else in all my life. No other way or belief. I will genuinely endeavor to do as you say. To unshackle myself from these chains of faith of bind me. I will confront these delusions of my faith and attempt to rid myself of them - honestly and fully, with the most discerning rationale and skepticism that I can muster. I will try to embrace the Imperial Truth."
As he spoke the tainted words, Augor knew that as he spoke, he must do in reality as well. If he were not wholly truthful, both to the Omnissiah as well as to himself, he would not be leaving this room.
"I do however beg your lenience - these are not trappings I can abandon in the span of a single moment. Not even we, your sons..." He faltered for a moment, his voice almost cracking before he recovered and continued. "...Have your strength. Your will. Your conviction and certainty. I cannot accept your Imperial Truth - as I stand now, I am mentally incapable of doing so. I do promise however - I will, to the fullest extent I am capable, attempt to change myself so that one day - standing in your presence once more - I will be able to show you that I have made my peace and accepted it, wholly and honestly. Until then...I cannot assure you of what is not true. It is more than that I am merely exempt from the Imperial Truth - as I stand before you now, it defies me, for I am not worthy of it."
The Omnissiah's expression remained hard. Stern, thin, and unamused. A faint trace of what could almost be anger stalked across its brow - or was that disgust?
"I accept your promise." The Omnissiah said with a cold and stinging air. "You will remain here until I summon you." He then turned and left Augor's cell.
Nearly a full minute after the Emperor had left, Augor's head sank once again in feverish ecstasy.
"Your grace and your mercy are as boundless as your wisdom...Omnissiah..." He whispered in Cant Mechanicus.
Legion Name: Stargazers (Originally known as Warhounds) Legion Number: XII Legion Strength: Due to the near devastation of the original legion during the Rangdan Xenocides, the present-day Stargazers Legion has only 40,000 Astartes to its name. It is noteworthy however that the Legion has a vast number of members from the Adeptus Mechanicus filling out its ranks which, in a sense, makes the Stargazers legion drastically larger than most others in terms of numerical composition.
A newly, fully-initiated Astartes of the Stargazer's Legion, who has yet to design their own servo-harness and whose taberd is lacking in personalized embroidery patterns. Note that many of the Legion's Astartes are Techmarines with their own self-designed and customized servo-harnesses and appendages, and most Stargazer Astartes possess self-designed decorative patterns for their taberds - usually signifying noteworthy campaigns they have participated in - which mono-servitors usually weaving duplicates for them.
The Legion's symbol, always displayed on the LEFT shoulder pauldron, is a single simplified eye, drawn as a horizon boundary, looking upwards into a field of stars. The RIGHT shoulder pauldron always displays, in contrast, the standard image of the Cog Mechanicum. Minor variations upon the latter symbol are typical to designate Battalion and Chapter affiliation, while highly stylized and drastic differences in the former are used to distinguish individual companies. The more veteran and distinguished a company, the more elaborate they tend to become.
End of Armor Appearance Section
Warcries: The most frequent battlecries recorded by Historitors are as follows: "For the Quest Unending!" "Remember the Rangdan!" "Take After Vaomir!" "For the Omnissiah!"
The Stargazers Legion, by deliberate design of its Primarch, has been completely restructured to mirror the hierarchy of Imperium Compliant Forge Worlds and that of the Mechanicum of Mars. It is referred to collectively as an Ordo (the Ordo Astranoma) rather than a Legion. Astartes Space Marines make up only a single branch of the hierarchy, itself being called the Astartes Legion, being a parallel analogue to the Skitarii Legions normally entailed in the Mechanicum Hierarchy.
The Ordo Astranoma does not have an analogue to either the Ordo Reductor or its own dedicated Titan Legion. However, it is to be noted that the Ordo Astranoma as a whole has a relationship to the Mechanicum similar to that of the Ordo Reductor, being treated as a largely independent and unfixed extension of the Mechanicum as a whole, with broad privilege and command authority over the vast majority of the Mechanicum outside of its own Ordo hierarchy.
All Astartes Officers within the Stagazers are considered to be Tech-Priests of the Mechanicum, although as they do not typically serve as Priests on a given Forge World they have no officially recognized status in the Holy Synod of Mars - giving them status that has been ascribed as honorary if nothing else. The status is treated with differing degrees of respect and consideration depending on the political affiliations of any actual Tech-Priests members of the Legion may be dealing with at any given time, as well as the actual technical proficiency and seniority of a given Officer. This does not bar them from becoming members of the Synod of a given Forge World, and it is not uncommon for Astartes Officers to hold Synod seats in distant and disparate Forge Worlds, which may have been granted in reward for local campaign achievements. Officers can, in this way, even be members of the Synod of multiple Forge Worlds. In practice, most of these seats are entirely honorary, although it is not unheard of for crippled Astartes to retire and become full members of a given Synod they are seated in.
[The Following is a stratified depiction of the Stargazer's Astartes Legion Hierarchy]
Archmandriture Mercaerath Kyrius (Immediate successor to the Primarch, full title Archmandriture Veneratus Dominus)
Archmagos Praetors The Legion's Praetorian Guard.
Archmagos Consuls Legion special representatives, such as the Librarius and Apothecarion.
The Stargazer Legion consists of approximately 40 Macroclades of 2 War Cohorts each.
Archmagos Dominus Equivalent to the Lord Commanders of Chapters.
Magos Mechae Praetor Bodyguards for the Macroclade's Junior Command elements.
Magos Mechae Consuls Senior Specialists and advisors, bearing additional titles indicative of expertise.
Each Macroclade of the Stargazers Legion is comprised of 2 War Cohorts of 5 Maniples each.
Magos Mechae Dominus Equivalent to Battalion Commanders.
Magos Praetors Bodyguards for the War Cohort's Junior Command Elements.
Magos Consuls Specialists and advisors, bearing additional titles indicative of expertise.
Each War Cohort is comprised of 5 Maniples of 100 non-Officer Astartes Space Marines. Each Maniple is further divided into 4 Squads of 25 Astartes Space Marines, each led by a Magos Locum Dominus.
Magos Dominus Equivalent to Company Commanders.
Magos Locum Praetors Bodyguards for the Company's Junior Command Elements.
Magos Locum Dominus: Equivalent to Company Lieutenants. These are the most Junior Officers in the Stargazers Astartes Legion, but not within the greater Stargazers Ordo.
This hierarchy is integrated and parallel to the hierarchy of Tech-Priests in the Ordo. It is thus not uncommon for Stargazers Astartes Space Marine Officers to lead non-Astartes squads as support elements attached to their Legion, usually but not always specifically organized by Chapter (and thereby Fleetgroup) basis. This is not always the case however, and on occasion it has been known for high-ranking non-Astartes Tech-Priests to take command of Squads, Companies, or even entire War Cohorts - although this occurring with Macroclades is almost entirely unheard of (with a few notable exceptions).
In practice, the joined command structure means that the Ordo Astranoma is almost always deployed as a combination of both Astartes and more conventional Mechanicum soldiers and military elements as opposed to just one or the other as is typically observed with standard Astartes Legions and the Tachmata of individual Forge Worlds.
End of Hierarchy Section
Archmandriture Mercaerath Kyrius originally hails from the planet of Tarsis, having aspired to join the ranks of the Stargazers ever since Primarch Augor Astren visited the planet in 900.M30 - being one of numerous individuals who elected to do so following the planet's compliance. He was the only one to survive the trials and treatments necessary to become an Astartes, and started out at the lowest ranks, working his way up to become one of the Legion's Praetors through what some might call an unremarkable string of participatory actions in largely successful and one-sided campaigns. He is one of the few Astartes in the upper hierarchies of the Legion who is not an accomplished technician or engineer, and who is not a devout worshiper of the Omnissiah or an adherant to the faith of the Mechanicum. He is, quite simply, the Legion's man, loyal only and singularly to the Primarch and the soldiers of the Ordo Astranoma. He can recite the creed Mechanicus from memory and is rated as a qualified theological scholar despite being forward with admitting he only upholds the principles and ideals of the Ordo because that is how the Primarch would want it. He and Augor have closely bonded over the years with Mercaerath always having a relatable word, story or proverb to share with the Legion which the Primarch would not otherwise be able to effectively impress himself. The simple Astartes soldier, in many ways, is able to solidify and humanize the cold and mechanical connections between the members of the Legion and add the personal spark to the Primarch's connections that would otherwise be absent. Augor has since come to rely on Mercaerath as the legion's father figure, able to connect with its soldiers where Augor himself is unable to despite his oratory skills.
The senior-most Apothecarion in the Stargazers Astarte Legion, Corneceus in infamous amongst the Apothecarions, particularly amongst other legions, for refusing to administer the Emperor's Peace to even the most critically injured and anguished of fallen Astartes. Taking after the habits of the Mechanicum, he is of the opinion that no mortal injury is so great that a Marine cannot continue to serve the Omnissiah. He is quick to cauterize, amputate, and install bionic prosthetics - it is rumored that he has retrieved the Progenoid Glands of hundreds of fallen warriors only to then remove their still-living heads for installation upon a cybernetic chassis. His methods and his teachings, disseminated through the Apothecarions of the Stargazers, has left many other Legion Astartes filled with dread at the thought of fighting alongside the Stargazers, only to become mortally wounded and subsequently 'saved' by the horrifying ministrations of Corneceus and his ilk.
Explorator Mephitor is the voice of Mars within the Ordo Astranoma. As Half of the Ordo's purpose is to further the ascension of Humanity and to seek glory in the name of the Omnissiah, so too the other half is the Mechanicum's eternal Quest for Knowledge - overseen and observed by the scrutinizing gaze of Explorator Mephitor, who commands the Ordo's fleets in immediate seniority, with only the Primarch and Archmandriture having greater authority. Although officially he is only present in the role of a consultant and advisor to the Primarch, there are few illusions that he is anything else other than the Holy Synod's voice in the Ordo's ear. His presence and influence in the Ordo, more than anything else, creates the greatest degree of suspicion amongst other Legions as to whether the Stargazers are as independent as the Emperor originally designed - or whether they are now purely a political tool of the Mechanicum.
The Commander of the Ordo Astranoma's Skitarii Legion. It is common knowledge that even most of Andron's brain is Genetor-designed neuron-circuitry, as he was a vat-grown soldier of the Mechanicum designed from conception to be one of the Skitarii. Known for his unsettling, but surprisingly disarming sense of humor and for his startlingly cogent and practical grasp of terrestrial and astro logistics and the practical realities of being a soldier of both the Mechanicum and the Ordo Astranoma specifically. He acts as an ear to the ground for Ordo Command amongst their own rank and file on top of his nominal duties, and he also holds the distinguishment of being the single most skilled melee combatant in the entire Ordo, having personally battled and excecuted no less than six Ork Warbosses and a number of Warp Witches in a number of duels and protracted firefights. He is considered to be the Legion's point-man and poster-figure, and even the Astartes find inspiration in his accomplishments - even if they are unsettled by the knowledge that he his body mass is effectively less than 2% flesh.
A Questor Mechanicus Baron from the Knight World of Caelrumoste. He and his entire lineage of retainers have been permanently assigned to attend to Ordo Astranoma, and have sworn new vows of fealty directly to the Ordo and its masters specifically. The Baron was required to abandon a decadent personal lifestyle in order to do this - and many of his armsmen were cybernetically lobotomized during their induction into the Order and permanently grafted into their armigers for the sake of efficiency, most of whom were close personal friends and bondsmen of the Baron. He is a very terse, private man - some speculate that such abandonment has largely drained him of the will to live, outside of battle and the opportunity to be one with the Machine. He is noteworthy for having a personal scryerskull that is hard-tethered to his cortex which accompanies him at all times, day and night.
Originally simply a field command Magos of the Magos Secutarius, Tienxia is the only one of the exceptionally few historical cases of a Tech-Priest who has commanded Macroclades of the Ordo Astranoma as opposed to an Astartes. During the Vaomir Campaigns, a Warp Witch used a massive, chain-curse Warp Rite to systemically dismantle the command hierarchy of the Ordo's 13th Macroclade using tactical information thought to have been obtained from Warp Divination. Tienxia was the last surviving senior office in the entire Clade. At the time, she simply took over command of the Macroclade and drove a breaching assault to disrupt the ritual site to preclude additional attacks of that nature and then surrendered Command to a Junior Astartes Commander from the 18th Macroclade who had been mobilized to retake Command of the Macroclade. Tienxia received a commendation for their vigilance under pressure and was graced with the honored rank of Veneratus. However, since that day, in every single campaign the 13th Macroclade has taken a part of, every Senior Commander leading it has either died or been incapacitated in a string of suspicious coincidences which have always led Tienxia to once more take temporary command over the Macroclade. Rumors abound that the Macroclade itself has been cursed, or that Tienxia is a secret Heretek Psyker. Ordo Command has formally investigated Tienxia no less than four times for suspected Techno Heresy and found her above reproach every time, but her presence within the hierarchy has begun to negatively affect morale and some think it is only a matter of time before she is cast out for good...
A Lectro-Maester of the Magos Secutarius, Numilus leads the Ordo's own Mechanicum Subcult of Electropriests. As a Lectro-Maestro, he is hailed as a Prophet of the Omnissiah - and as a senior member of the Prefecture Magisterium, he bears the authority and privilege of declaring Excommunicate Traitoris as well as Edicts of Obliteration as writs of persecution against Techno Heresy. He is both a religious icon and an oppressive inquisitorial judge of character and propriety. He is infamous for his condemnation and summary execution of members of the Ordo Astranoma whom he deems have been found guilty of Techno Heresy, and his fanatic ideals have spread to his Acolytes - the Electro-Priests of the Ordo Astranoma, who in addition to their normal combat roles in the Tachmata, now also pull double-duty as military police - making them regular and unnerving sights amongst the Ordo's ranks. They are just as likely to sing high sermons of victory and glory for the Omnissiah and all mankind as they are to identify and publicly execute soldiers they find wanting.
The much-acclaimed Mechanicum Genetor Carnelan is credited with the development of numerous synthetic xeno-viruses used to utterly exterminate multiple Xenos species encountered over the course of the Ordo Astranoma's history, most prominently incuding the Melkeji Parasites as well as the Ak'Haireth Symbiotes. Although famed and praised for his extermination of xenos, he is originally a vat technician who specialized in the growth and creation of gene-modded Humans and Abhuman varieties - and rumors persist that he has been in ongoing communications with the Adeptus Ministorum concerning a secret project he has been working on with their assistance for some time. Whatever the truth of the matter, he has been classed as an Ordo VIP, with his own Praetorian Guard and permanent oversight from the Prefecture Magisterium. His Acolytes are omnipresent during the Ordo's campaigns, sampling not only xenos material, but also the material of disparate Human and abhuman cultures..
The tactical doctrine of the Stargazers Astartes Legion is simply one of combined tactical deployment with permanent attachments from the assembled Tachmata of Augor Astren's Ordo Astranoma, and vice versa. In a sense, the Astartes Legion has been swallowed whole by an independent and nomadic element of the Mechanicus. This is a wholly deliberate and intentional doctrine devised by the Legion's Primarch. Despite this hand-in-hand integration, the Astartes Legion of the Ordo Astranoma is still known to deploy on specific isolated ventures on their own, much in the same capacity the Skitarii, Knights, or Tech-Priest divisions might do so.
Despite this doctrine of combined technological and military supremacy, the Ordo Astranoma's major deployments and campaigns, on the surface, are not altogether drastically different in composition from the campaigns of other Space Marine Legions. This is due to a combination of the Ordo being based around Chapter-Based Fleetgroups, and the Astartes Legion's comparatively small number of Chapters compared to the other Space Marine Legions under the other Primarchs. The Ordo Astranoma has fewer Chapter Fleetgroups to spread around the galaxy than most of the Primarchs' more conventional Legions. The overall appearance of an Ordo Astranoma fleetgroup thus bears a strong resemblance to that of an Underpowered Legion composition with a strong reinforcement of Mechanicus ships and troops. The Ordo Astranoma's advantage lies in that their Astartes never fight alone, but with numerically significant Adeptus Mechanicus support, and vice versa.
The obvious disadvantage of this doctrine is that of slower tactical maneuverability overall. Although Astartes Techmarines have command-priority over Tachmata elements and can therefore direct Tachmata groups as though they were actual Tech-Priests, the sheer bulk of most Tachmata groups combined with the Astartes Legion results in more cumbersome maneuvers and tactics overall, as well as a highler rate of causalities and a lower projected immediate combat strength, since Astartes do not do the bulk of the fighting in the Ordo despite always being present, simply by a degree of proportion given how numerically superior their Mechanicus attachments are.
The strengths of this doctrine is that the Ordo Astranoma, overall, is highly adaptive in numerous different situations and is not limited by the specialties or expertise of a limited number of Astartes Legion veterans. The Ordo is also well-equipped and able to manufacture a solution to nearly any problem that presents itself if given the time to do so. The Ordo Astranoma, much like the Ordo Reductor, is well-known for the staggering and diverse array of advanced technology available to it that would normally be outside of the means of other Legions.
The Stargazers Astartes Legion are, almost as a whole, adherents to the faith of the Adeptus Mechanicus and worshipers of the Holy Trinity of the Machine God, the Motive Force, and the Omnissiah. They are all exempt from the tenants of Imperial Truth (although not all of them reject it), and as a Legion embrace the Mechanicum's ongoing Quest For Knowledge as their primary pursuit, alongside the furtherance and elevation of Mankind as the galaxy's dominant species as well as for the glory of the Emperor as the Omnissiah.
All Officers in the Stargazers are honorary (and occasionally actual) Tech-Priests. Techmarines with servo harnesses and heavy bionic augmentation are not uncommon amongst them, and most of their number possess casual to advanced technical and mechanical proficiency. They are, in effect, an Astartes Legion acting as an extension of the Adeptus Mechanicus, holding both the will of the Emperor and the aims of the Mechanicus up as dual - and equal - goals.
The Emperor of Mankind: There exists an unspoken underlying tension between the Emperor and the Ordo Astranoma - which exists wholly as a perversion of his Astartes Legion, an extension of his own will and power which has been reshaped and corrupted by the influence and resources of the Mechanicum. Officially relationships between the two bodies are cordial and reverent in turn - the Ordo Astranoma views the Emperor as a living god and follows his decree without hesitation or delay. The Emperor, however, is often given to handling the requests and issues of the Ordo Astranoma with more deliberation than often necessary - or otherwise deferring judgement for unusually long spans of time, to the point where his simply unspoken snubbing of the Ordo has made clear to all who accept the Imperial Truth that the Ordo has fallen on the far side of his patience.
Adeptus Administratum: The Ordo Astranoma possesses a hierarchy that mirrors that of the Adeptus Mechanicus - and likely reflects the Mechanicum's connections and bureaucracy. The Ordo remains in constant contact with Terra via a disposition of Astropathic Relays from which the Administratum receives a continuous and unending deluge of reports, analytics, intelligence, requests, and even instructions. Even the immense volume of communications traffic in this vein, however, is but a drop in the ocean compared to the ongoing communications between the Administratum and the Mechanicum of Mars itself - and as such, the Ordo Astranoma tends to occasionally be lost, overlooked or otherwise mixed-in with the logs of its parent organization. They are rarely treated with explicit deference unless their communications are explicitly headed and authorized by a member of the Ordo's Astarte Legion or otherwise by the Primarch himself.
Adeptus Arbites: Although typically informed of the Mechanicum and the Ordo Astranoma's writs through the Adeptus Administratum, the Arbites and enforcers of Imperial Law treat the decrees of the Ordo as if they were the decrees of the Mechanicum. Declarations of excommunication and decrees of obliteration called for by members of the Prefecture Magisterium are relayed to the Arbites where pertinent by the Adeptus Administratum - however slowly - and the Adeptus Arbites then enforce those declarations as the will of the Emperor himself. The Prefecture Magisterium derives its authority directly from the Treaty of Mars and the Exigency of the Emperor personally - meaning that however stern the relationship between the Emperor and the Ordo might be, their writ is taken seriously by the enforcers of Imperial Law.
Excertus Imperialis: The Mechanicum of Mars was already predisposed to look down upon the mundane and purely Human Imperial Army and Fleets of the Emperor. The Ordo Astranoma, comprised of a mixture of holy figures and exalted commanders of the Mechanicum, alongside a child of the Omnissiah and a Legion of the Emperor's own Astartes - looks long and far down upon the Imperial Armsmen and their forces, often treating them as tertiary support elements even in critical crusade sectors. This had developed, over time, a level of professional disdain and mutual contempt between the two bodies - not yet quite spilling over into a rivalry, if only because the Ordo Astranoma is hardly even a fraction of the greater Imperial Army's size.
The Mechanicum: Augor Asten has been forever barred from holding seat in the Holy Synod of Mars or from ever setting foot on the red planet. His molten eye effuse however, is enshrined there as a holy relic, and veteran and exalted members of the Ordo Astranoma are known to make regular pilgrimages to Mars as a matter of course. The Ordo enjoys a vaunted status within the Mechanicum, being treated as though it had analogous or ever superior authority to the Ordo Reductor over the rest of the Mechanicum as a whole. There are many who see the Ordo as the most blessed union of the Mechanicum's spiritual core and ideals embodied in a child of the Omnissiah and one of his mighty legions - and so, to an extent, the Ordo is venerated and held as one of the Mechanicum's most sacred institutions. At the same time, however, there remains small numbers of the Mechanicum's hierarchy who remain secretly convinced that the Emperor is no God - and that both he and his children are false prophets. Although these small factions can do little to oppose the Ordo itself, they can, when able, go out of their way to be needlessly bureaucratic and obstructive.
The Citizens of the Imperium: The Citizens of the Imperium view the Ordo Astranoma much as they would view any other branch of the Mechanicum - as perplexing, mysterious, unsettling, and that of a necessary evil. The leadership of a Primarch and the presence of an Astarte Legion makes little difference to the common man, as those vaunted elements are rarely seen unless battle is at hand. Even those who think highly or are grateful to the Ordo remain reluctant to praise it to openly, for fear and confusion that acceding to the praise of the Omnissiah might somehow be in violation of the Imperial Truth they have already accepted. The Ordo, as a whole, is thus something to be acceded to and expedited along its missions and ventures, hopefully to not be seen again anytime soon.
Untold Ages Ago The Vyrnul Archipelago The Island of Ssthrlihe Mt. Mandjet The Carmot Throne
The night was dark - there were no stars in the sky, and the moon had been occluded. Even the normally radiant lights of the surrounding den spires were but dim motes in the background. Here, at the peak of Mt. Mandjet, the very earth shone with alchemical providence - a star-like gem upon the world. No other light could compare - it drowned, saturated in the empyrean light cast by the throne by the Rashommai Matriarch. Yet the light of the mountain was dim, dusken in quality - as it enraptured and suffocated the natural light from the world around it, the air in its presence dimmed and darkened. It was 'twixt profane and hallowed at once, and so it would remain.
Until the Matriarch anointed the throne.
Lystunet - a Rashommai, one of the half-serpent, half-fair rulers of the Archpelago - swayed up the temporary, suspended ramp of ceramic. Nothing that had ever lived could make contact with Carmot without suffering transublimation, and so an elaborate network of ramps, catwalks, and suspended paths criss-crossed the peak, leading up the throne itself. Lystunet and her brood had been responsible for its assembly, which by necessity had occurred after the the peak of Mt. Mandjet had been transmuted. For her role in making the Matriarch's ascension possible, she was thus privileged to observe the ceremony as it took place. She was accompanied by her trail of slaves - pitiful and frail Humans, though not so wretched and stained as their ilk were wont to be. These specimens had been thoroughly sterilized in every sense of the word and clad in spotless ivory samite to render them tolerable merely to proceed in her wake and tend to her whims here, at the culmination of her efforts.
Lystunet herself was a towering braid of scales, muscle, and arms. In the dark of Mandjet's peak her serpentine eyes were alight with pale, sickening light. Her visage, swathed in the dingy and oppressive light, was thankfully too unresolved in clarity to be discerned properly by her attendants.
Winding her way onto the terrace beneath the throne's dais from where the anointing would be viewed, she found waiting her peer, the Naga Ructys, augur of the Iris, who would speak on its behalf. Her form was much the same as Lystunet's own - colossal and terrible, her frame wreathed in squirming uncertainty. They greeted each other silently in the way of the highpool, subtle gestures made with their off-limbs, a nuanced shift in the posture of their midriffs and their alignment of their spines. They speak in their pitiless language with vocal cords thicker than twine, longer than a finger and more plentiful than trees in a grove.
'Augur, does all proceed according to the design of our masters?' Lystunet inquired. Her voice was gravel disturbed by rain, more defined by its volume than by its substance. Her inquiry is neither impatient nor rhetorical. She already knows the answer, but seeks confirmation.
'Yes. Our servants were wisely chosen. They render due seizen unto us in due time.' The Augur answers, and her voice is embers, popping and hissing as a log is tossed to the flames.
'...Yet upon supplication to our master, they have deemed that all which is unnecessary shall be undone. The ceremony has room enough, certainly, for those of privilege, for those of need, for those who must witness, for the reagents. No other shall be worthy of the dignity of the Demiurge who is to come.'
'I see. Is it yet certain as to all who are necessary?'
The augur's head tilts, ever so faintly in the dark. 'No. Yet soon. The chaff may yet subdominate those who presently serve our purposes. If they should fail to do so...' She silently indicates the incandescent mountainscape, the flawless, smooth, rolling curvature of the transmuted peak.
The Naga then both turn to look upon you. Your effort to evade the notice of your betters so as to evade their displeasure with your unworthy existence a failure. Their eyes are pale citrine flames. They do not move, but your skull is riven as their wills drive hooks, nails, and flensing rods into it. They do not ask of you. They determine of you. What you are is not enough.
They turn away. You are not even worthy of their attention, now. When the time comes, you shall be cast to the mountainside with the rest of the worthless chattel, insensate failures that you are, useless as anything but ceremonial offerings for the sake of formality and traditional observance. Already the other darkened forms of the Nagas' attendants approach you - they lay their equally unworthy hands upon you, sink their fingers into your flesh. You skin shall burst! You shall be torn to pieces!
You fall, screaming and flailing as they start to tear away your fingers and teeth, flailing and swiping blindly at the air. You choke on nothing and bite your tongue, your limbs feel weighted as though with lead, you cannot move...!
You blink. You are in your chambers, on the floor, ensnared within your bedsheets as your writhe in panic. They are soaked through with your sweat and tears. You glance at the door. You hear nothing in the distance - your turbulent slumber went unnoticed. Your body seethes with heat, as though you were in fever, but a chill has seized upon your nape.
You are running out of time. Your Adversaries tighten the noose around your neck.
888888888888
Present Day The Caelrumoste Archipelago The Island of Apocea Mannet's Bastion, Depot 4
Iikka Guiomar, newly appointed broker and ambassador for the Caelrumoste Regency, hurried through the forlorn cobbled streets of the small, desolate township that had once grace the Eastern shore of Apocea. He was perhaps 1.78 meters in height, with a slim build and lanky arms. His face was tall and thin with paunch and pale cheeks accentuating feline cheekbones and amber-colored eyes. His hair was dark, his skin an ashen bronze, and he wore the faded azure and violet robes of his newly appointed station. The surrounding dwellings were decayed and barren, and if not reclaimed soon would likely be condemned. Iikka was accompanied only by a single guardsman. Although he was now counted as one of the highest ranking political officials in all of Caelrumoste, there simply were not enough men or resources to go around to afford him a larger guard - or even so much as a carriage. He had set forth out from Old Yearning the better part of a week and a half ago with his guard, on foot, and made his way hurriedly to the coast. The roads had been crowded with haggard trains of refugees, seeking the nearest ports so they could beg and ply for passage back to their native ancestral islands, where hopefully the famine would be less severe. Thankfully, few bodies lined those same roads - otherwise unemployable mages and wrights, wearing starkly colored yellow armbands to identify them as magic-users and accompanied by haggard but wary militia watchmen, traversed the roads and cleared them of bodies, moving them to consecrated - if improvised and roughshod - burial sites a bare step above mass graves.
The foot traffic had died down as Iikka and his man had come to what remained of Mannet's Stead. There was nothing here but ruin, unless one counted the bastion. Since the township surrounding it was abandoned, at the first sign of trouble the whole lot of it could be burnt and razed to the ground, depriving potential attackers of easily fortified terrain. The Bastion itself - a six-walled fort with a renovated keep and dungeon serving as a warehouse now - was still, its wall crowded with stern and watchful sentinels manning siege engines. They would not have been able to beat off a determined and disciplined assault, but there was hardly enough of anyone or any order in all of Caelrumoste left for an actual attacking force to be either of those things.
Iikka and his guard were stopped at the portcullis leading into the interior, and the both of them were subjected to the standard battery of tests. They were stripped naked, thoroughly frisked, and dowsed. Their blood was drawn, a lock of hair cut off, and fingernails clipped away for examination. They sat in awkward, naked indignity in the middle of the road while a mage carefully examined each sample before determining that, yes, these two people were, in fact, human, and were not carrying nor recently exposed to refined Ammacre.
"You are clear. For now." The sergeant said flatly as the two of them struggled back into their clothes. "You will be reexamined every time you leave, and every time you return. So don't be doing that unless you have a fancy needs ticklin'."
"I must speak with your cohort commander immediately, under orders from the Regent." Iikka indicated glumly as he shrugged his undershirt back on. "I have a letter-"
"Found it when we searched your pack, its been verified already. You're expected." The sergeant supplied. "Corporal Raish here will be accompanying the both of you for the duration of your stay. You are not to leave his sight for any reason, or else he shall raise the alarm and we'll use you both to repaint the insides of the latrines." The sergeant smiled faintly at the thought.
Absolutely nobody commented upon the indignity or unusual nature of the conditions by which a formally appointed ambassador would visit the Bastion. Anything less during the Cursed Days could have led to the entire fort being compromised from within. The Cursed Days were over, at least in theory, but what remained of the Royal Army of Caelrumoste remained vigilant. Too many loyal soldiers, comrades-in-arms, and blood brothers had died to treachery and subterfuge. A lifetime of caution and wariness had been bred into the survivors that remained. Death waited behind each soldier's eyelids. Few of them would ever let their guard down again.
Iikka, his guard were both guided by the corporal into the keep, and down a level, where the proverbial serpent's hoard was lain under the earth. Long pallets, each stacked high with thirty-six sealed bronze coffers and secured with repurposed cords of halyard. Faint iridescent light shone betwist the seams. The supports for the roof had been very selectively sabotaged and supplemented with supports connected to switch-blocks, overseen by swarthy men with hammers. At the first sign of trouble, the whole ceiling could be brought down on the Ammacre reserves here, burying them. It was merely a token measure - any Adversary who penetrated this far in would hardly be deterred by a few hundred tons of rock and stone.
The commander for the Cohort garrisoned at the bastion awaited Iikka below, at a wooden table already prepared, graced by a map of the known world, with upholstered (if dusty) chairs already set out and a small cask of wine with goblets lain out for them. The Commander himself was on the young sign, but already hardened - and plagued. A chunk of flesh was missing from the left side of his neck, and his eyes were habitually wide and attentive. He stared right through Iikka as they clasped arms and exchanged their greetings.
"You will be sent directly to the Ivory Palace in Sanghara." He stated. "As a reminder, you are not to sell off any of the allotments to individual delegates, senators, princes, or families, at least at first. You are selling them directly to the collective assembly of the Senate. You are a representative of the sovereign authority of Caelrumoste, not a guild merchant. If you get tangled up in trying to dispose of all of...this..." He waved to the contents of the vault. "To individual parties, the biddings will get cluttered up with the dredging of all of their pissant movers trying to one-up each other. Establish a formal line of bidding between the Regency and the Republic first, and when and if you finally cave to individual offers, all sales must be finalized and notarized through the proceedings of the senate itself."
The instructions sounded almost rehearsed - which they might have been. Iikka was hardly the only ambassador being sent out abroad to manage the bulk exportation of Caelrumoste's native ammacre. It was possible the commander had recited this segue before.
"Am I already expected at the Ivory Palace itself?" Iikka inquired.
"Oh yes. At least formally. We officially sent notice and were given a receipt." The Commander said, somewhat absently. "Now whether or not that means anybody has actually seen that notice is another matter. But there is an established chain of communication. You'll have all the proper documentation and references to prior correspondence you'll need to get into the halls the proper way, although depending on how obstructive they are feeling it may take a few weeks. Or months. But if they're smart, they will lay out the Amaranth carpet for you." He paused for a moment to take a sip from his goblet, grimacing faintly at some unvoiced and unpleasant thought. "You have broad discretion otherwise to act as you see fit - but please, no bribes and graft. You do not have much of an operational budget for your stay over there. You'll barely be able to stay in laundered robes, let alone grease any palms."
"It might help if I have samples to showcase. I understand I am being sent with..." Iikka began.
"Your carrack is sailing out with a full two allotments of assorted bulk cuts." The Commander cut him off. "Varied-up shipments rather than uniform, so you have more of it to show off." He gestured to three nearby footmen, who hauled up a number of bronze coffers onto the table and began undoing their metal clasps before throwing open the lid.
Stacks of multicolored, crystalline gemstones alight with power shone from within. Shimmering gold-and-orange octahedral suns, opalescent cubes that glittered darkly with twilight, icosahedrons of blinding white brilliance, tetrahedral emeralds, rubies, and saphires the size of pebbles sparkling in heaps - all offset by a single tray of carefully wax-set and leaden-textured dodecahedrons, stark and harrowing in the absence of any internal light.
"Are those..." Iikka squinted. "...are those pieces in the wax warmage cuts?"
"Not as such. As I understand it, those are...volatile ritual cuts."
"Volatile...As in depth and density." Iikka licked at his thumb and pressed it against one of the dodecahedron's flat tops. He immediately pulled the digit back with a hiss, shaking his hand as though it had been caught in a snare, faint wisps of steam rising from the tip of his thumb as his saliva was flash-vaporized.
"Very deep. Very dense." The Commander agreed, though if he was concerned it did not show. "I believe one of the craftmages who was running deliveries said one of those could, perhaps, keep an open flame burning for twelve kalpa using one of those. Or animate something big for twelve minutes."
"Is it wise to be selling...weapons of this nature?" Iikka asked, giving the commander a look.
"Perhaps not. But perhaps wiser than keeping it here." The commander retorted. Iikka nodded somewhat sullenly in response.
"And also, I have something special for you here..." The Commander opened a smaller lockbox set near the corner of the table - within were held perhaps three-dozen or so pyramid-cut, amethyst-colored stones. Their internal light was dull.
"These are our gestalt stones for this endeavor." The commander supplied, carefully picking one of the stones out carefully with a pair of calipers. "Touch one with your bare hand, and the knowledge of every leading bid per-allotment enters your mind. We'll be giving you six of these, to distribute amongst the Senate and Assembly and one or two for yourself. However, you are advised that you should not distribute any of them until such time as you receive an initial leading bid for the allotments."
"What, so we keep our buyers in the dark until they actually put forward actual value? That's a little discourteous." Iikka commented.
"'Discourteous' would be wasting our and their time fretting about statistics they don't yet have a stake in." The commander retorted. "It's all the same either way, but the way forward is clear." He turned in his seat to look back at the vast rows and columns of the assembled pallets and the bronze coffers stacked on them.
"The sooner we can rid Caelrumoste of every scrap of Ammacre there is, the sooner we can stop looking over our shoulders, jumping at every shadow and waiting for somebody to plunge the knife."
I have been writing as a hobby for longer than you have been alive. I have been a regular member and roleplayer of no less than fourteen different online forums during that time (including the old RPG), [s]five[/s] [s]six[/s] eight of which no longer exist.
I was previously a regular on the Homestuck forums, but I became so sick of thread turnover there that I asked around and eventually found the Guild. Since joining, I have exclusively only participated in Advanced RPs. Before Mahz gave NRPs their own subforum, I used to be an NRP regular in the Advanced Subforum. I am a Guildfall survivor, and know/regularly write with a few others.
If you ask anybody who has written with me in previous RPs, they should tell you that I have a generally open schedule, I post regularly and in a timely fashion, and I never drop an RP once I join unless the thread dies. Some of them may tell you that I have extensive expertise within the realms of Biology, Psychology, and Physics, which I will make no effort to validate since there is no way I can provide hard proof of aforementioned alleged expertise to anybody over the internet (though I am happy to try and answer any questions you send my way).
My favorite fandom is the Myst franchise, which seemingly nobody other than me has ever heard of.
I was a Contest Moderator for the Writing Contests Subforum for just a little bit over two years. I wrote the Moderation Policy for that subforum and I ran a contest called the Twelve Labours; you can still go there and see all of them and the entries people wrote for them in the [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/forums/45-writing-contests]Contests Section[/url] and the [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/79562-the-twelve-labours-victory-archive/ooc]Victory Archives.[/url]
I have been quadruple secret banned from the guild discord. That is not a joke.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I have been writing as a hobby for longer than you have been alive. I have been a regular member and roleplayer of no less than fourteen different online forums during that time (including the old RPG), <span class="bb-s">five</span> <span class="bb-s">six</span> eight of which no longer exist.<br><br>I was previously a regular on the Homestuck forums, but I became so sick of thread turnover there that I asked around and eventually found the Guild. Since joining, I have exclusively only participated in Advanced RPs. Before Mahz gave NRPs their own subforum, I used to be an NRP regular in the Advanced Subforum. I am a Guildfall survivor, and know/regularly write with a few others.<br><br>If you ask anybody who has written with me in previous RPs, they should tell you that I have a generally open schedule, I post regularly and in a timely fashion, and I never drop an RP once I join unless the thread dies. Some of them may tell you that I have extensive expertise within the realms of Biology, Psychology, and Physics, which I will make no effort to validate since there is no way I can provide hard proof of aforementioned alleged expertise to anybody over the internet (though I am happy to try and answer any questions you send my way).<br><br>My favorite fandom is the Myst franchise, which seemingly nobody other than me has ever heard of.<br><br>I was a Contest Moderator for the Writing Contests Subforum for just a little bit over two years. I wrote the Moderation Policy for that subforum and I ran a contest called the Twelve Labours; you can still go there and see all of them and the entries people wrote for them in the <a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/forums/45-writing-contests">Contests Section</a> and the <a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/79562-the-twelve-labours-victory-archive/ooc">Victory Archives.</a><br><br>I have been quadruple secret banned from the guild discord. That is not a joke.</div>