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Current Sorry for my lack of posts lately. I've just... been struggling to get the energy to write something up. I'm trying some new meds through so hopefully that will change soon.


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@Dark Cloud

With the change in order, Grindan once again fell silent for a time. Unlike with the situation with the woods, this silence was one of contemplation and thought; While a massive, haunted wood was beyond his abilities, forcing a well protected village to change its allegiance without directly assaulting it was merely a challenge, rather then outright suicide.

If the Village had just been on its own, brute force could work, but it would be a costly endeavour. A narrow river crossing combined with the natural chokepoint that was the entrance stairway offered the defenders great advantages to prepare defences… if they were competent. Considering the primary defenders would be militia or solders of the old king, that wasn’t too likely… but desperation made for dangerous foes.

However, the village wasn’t on its own. The mountain pass that went via the village offered them reinforcements from the Goron, who were a hell of a lot more dangerous and competent then any solders in hiding would be. The river also provided easy access to the Zora, who could intervene and assault an attack from behind. Direct force was to be avoided then, as Ganondorf had rightly figured out.

As far as alternative options went, one clearly stood out in the executioner’s mind; siege.

Truthfully, it was the best option. Because of the wild monster attacks, farms had been abandoned or destroyed while those left had a more dangerous time transporting their goods. Refugees from Castle Town and the abandoned farmsteads had fled to Kakariko for safety, but this almost certainly put the village above its ability to feed itself. It was almost certainly dependant on outside supplies coming in to make up for the reserves it likely had to start using…

Not to mention, depending on numbers the village well might not be enough to cover their water needs alone anymore.

So after the moment of silence, Grindan at last offered his liege a small bow. “I will be taking some forces with me, but the village will change their tune soon enough. Any decrees you desire me to deliver once they do, your majesty?” there was the confidence that the executioner used for his tasks.
So what kind of monsters were people thinking of?
Also interested.

In the end, with the assistance and guidance of the Master and the Lich King briefly glancing towards the Duskwood, two candidates (outside of Bautic himself) stood out as deeply connected enough to the powers of necromancy to attempt ascension to lichdom.

One was actively hiding their position, but they were somewhere in the western part of the wood…

Finding that one was going to prove tricky, because alongside the measures they had taken to hide themselves from the dead, the shadow of the second prospect helped cover them like a blanket.

Morbent Fel. Necromancer lord of the Ravenhill Cemetery and ally of some of the last guardian’s undead pets. His ties to the latter group was concerning; Fel hadn’t come to necromancy via the Lich King, but due to his own ambitions and agents of the burning legion.

And yet, despite this, he was still a power of the region and getting him onside would provide a strong, his untrustworthy ally. It would also allow access to the cemetery and its resources, alongside the ability to have living agents openly walk around without being attacked by the dead and making locating prospect number 2 a great deal easier.

And so it was that Bautic would send an opening message of greeting to Morbent Fel, using an undead bird as a carrier. They had some things to discuss.


Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

In the intimidate aftermath of what could only be the direct, divine intervention of the Omnissiah itself, it was as if a great weight had lifted from the atmosphere of Forge-Alpha. In part this was metaphorical in the sense that death was no longer hanging over the forge and everyone inside of it, but there was a literal element to it was well: Orks generally weigh a lot individually and a great deal of the greenskinned xenos bastards had ceased to exist in a very short amount of time.

While Forge-Alpha currently wasn't celebrating the surprise victory and the death of its long hated enemy, this was due to the fact that there was a lot to do and suddenly time to do it in, what with not being dead and everything. The impact explosion had largely missed the Forge complex, but some of the outer defenses had been damaged, alongside some servitors and tech-thralls that had been positioned in the area that now needed to either be patched up or recycled for parts if they were too badly damaged. Jobs and maintenance for the Forge in general that had been put on hold now needed to be attended to.

Outside, squads of skitarii were stalking the areas around the impact zone on a seek and destroy mission for any ork or greenskinned related that was still alive. Logically, this operation should have been a waste of time but experience had shown time and again that Orks didn't really understand logic and were generally too stupid to realize that something should have killed them. The Skitarii were calulated and professional of course, but their handlers could tell in their communications that there was a vindictive joy in their solders at being able to give any greenskin they came across a remedial lesson on 'dying'. So far two shell shocked orks had been properly educated and the tracks of a third were being followed.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

One of the first tasks to be taken was to send out a salvage crew in order to locate and see what could be recovered of the object that had offered them deliverance from the greenskin. The footage that had been sent back by the tragically destroyed servoskull was evidence enough that it was a man made object in nature and if any of it survived the crash then it was their intention to enshrine it as a holy relic.

The salvage team had not been expecting to find the pod mostly intact... or the badly hurt, screaming child within.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

So it was that the Metasurgeon stood in their medical bay, gazing with utter fascination at the child that had been pulled from the pod. The tests she had run on the infant had revealed a masterwork of genetic engineering with base materials of such fine value that her machines were simply not up to the task of identifying them properly. As a genetor it was truly humbling to bare witness to what was clearly the best and brightest of humanity and its knowledge dedicated to the act of creating a physically perfect human being...

...And to see that work marred and damaged so badly broke her heart, almost as much as the fact that her patient was barely a toddler.

Early reports on the pod that had contained the child, which she was keeping tabs on as they were updated, revealed that while the majority of the pod had survived the crash landing, it had been damaged in the process. It was unclear if it was caused by the angle of decent combined with the speed of entry, if it was some flaw in the other masterfully craft pod that had only been revealed due to the extreme conditions of entering atmosphere and smashing into a planet... or the third and horrifying theory that the damage was some final laugh from the dead Warboss Kracker'Laker, who's dense skull might not have been enough to make him an unmovable object but might have still damaged the unstoppable force that hit him.

Regardless of the cause of the critical damage, the machine spirits of the Pod had acted to safe guard their charge swiftly and effectively. Without the measures it took, even such a genetically enhanced child like this wouldn't have survived. Unfortunately, it hadn't been enough to stop a considerable amount of harm to be inflicted on the child to the point where her calculations on the matter clearly stated that if the child hadn't been as amazingly genetically crafted as they were, they would be dead.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The damage they had endured was intense. The left leg had been gone with just a tiny, burned stub near the hip remaining, while the right leg had suffered such terrible sixth degree burns throughout that it had just been dead weight that was draining both his patient and her resources and threatening the child's life. She had been forced to amputate it at the knee in order to stabilize the situation. The left hand was gone, having been cut off as the pod's internal shielding had kicked in to try and shield its charge from harm and their hand was considered an acceptable loss considering the damage that would have occurred if it hadn't.

There were also a degree of other burns covering the child's body; A result of a terrible moment of exposure to the forces outside of the pod as it failed before the internal systems snapped into action. The worst was a fourth degree burn running along his belly, but it and the lesser burns that covered a great deal of his remaining flesh were manageable.

Recovery was going to take a great deal of time and she didn't know how the damage of the child's arrival would effect his growth and development but... he would recover from this, she had no doubt. He would also need mechanical replacements and enhancements; Considering the degree his genetic engineering, it seemed like a crime to even think such things but... they simply didn't have the resources or know-how to recreate the pieces of his body that were lost.

But she watched as the boy hung suspended in a fluid designed to keep his burns clean and speed the recovery of the lesser burns as the skin grafts were being grown from his dna, she couldn't help but listen to the study, strong heartbeat of the sedated child on the monitors. There was something... reassuring about it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

To say that Grindan was confused by the request that his liege had made would be an understatement. "...I'm sorry, did you just ask me to hunt down and kill the mythical, immortal forest children? The fairy tale stories that live deep in the depths of the magical, cursed forest in which Hyrulians go in, get lost and never return?" The executioner had heard stories of the southern woods. Any Hyrulian would have. For the first time in the long history of Grindan and Ganondorf knowing each other, Grindan looked... uneasy about something. Almost afraid.

"Look... I respect the vote of confidence, but I don't have access to the raw magical power that you do... or magic at all. If a strong arm and a solid axe was all it would take to defeat that forest, it would have been kindling years ago. I'm not saying that I won't try to do it, but unless you have the ability to teach me how to bypass or overcome the enchantments of the forest not much is going to come of the attempt."


They had done the calculations. Gone through every possible scenario with the data and information that they had access too... and even ran a few 'What if' scenarios on top of that if the search for anything that might change the outcome that they kept reaching. Defeat=Certain no matter what they tried, provided that 'Defeat' stood for the continued free existence of humanity on the planet of Pentious.

Even with the most generous of calculations, the death of Target: Warboss Kracker'Laker would cause a period of infighting among the remaining greenskins, but the greenskins conquest had already gained enough momentum that a new Warboss would simply come to power before the infighting reached the critical mass to break the Orkish force up. It would buy time but... nowhere near enough for them to recover enough to change their outcome.

Once human survival was removed as a requirement through, the situation started to look a bit less grim... for a given value of grim.

So it was that Arch-Explorator Gifonadis Friedeg found himself standing before the core of the final human held Forge on Pentious. Once, it had been the heart of the capital ship of their fleet before it had been repurposed to give life to a new bastion of technology and scientific progress. Now, he performed the rites that would cause it to consume everything that himself, his loved ones and friends had worked so hard over the years to build as it died forever.

Even as he performed the Rites, Gifonadis felt the need to suppress his emotions to a more manageable level; It would be an insult to his peers if he messed up the process by not being professional enough to avoid slipping up something this important due to being overwhelmed by his emotions. Yet... he allowed himself to feel them all the same, even if in their suppressed form. It felt... right to acknowledge them in what was likely going to be his final hours.

The Greenskins had not yet began their final assault. Sensors indicated that they were celebrating the battle to come in order to boost their already high morale. But if the fall of Forges Gamma and Delta had taught anything, it was that the rites of self destruction took time in order to be properly initiated.

In the case of Forge Gamma, it's loss held a more personal pain then most. Forge Delta hadn't been finished when the Orkish tide struck, but Forge Gamma had been... and because of that fact, Arch-Magos Cykand van Ci's faith in the power of human technology to stand against the xeno tide caused him to insist that the Forge Gamma could be held. That the Orks could be broken against the bastion and driven from the world. Cykand had always been an inspiring figure as the original leader of Explorator Fleet XXXIV and his unshakeable conviction that the Orks could be defeated had been something to rally behind...

It was such a shame that his faith ended up being misplaced in the end. By the time his leader had discovered this harsh truth, it had been too late to fully perform the Rites of Self Destruction. Granted, the damage he was able to do in the short time he had almost certainly brought them a number of decades, but even now the ruined Forge Gamma had been twisted and brought back to 'life' in a mockery of the Omnissiah's vision and will by the vile greenskins. Forge Alpha would not suffer the same fate.

In different parts of Forge Alpha, Archmagos Prime BH-885 was overseeing the final preparations for the battle to come. What remained of the skitarii that had endured the long war with the greenskins were performing final rites of maintenance on their gear while the surviving Enginseers and Myrmidons made peace with the Omnissiah in their own ways as they prepared for what was going to be their final stand. The remaining machines of war were being awoken for one last fight as the tech-thralls were being positioned to meet the greentide first when they charged the defenses and soak up both the charge and bullets.

The battle plan, such as it was, required fighting the Orks for every inch of ground. They would bleed the greenskins dry and when, at last, the Orks began overrunning the Forge, Gifonadis would complete the final part of the Rite and take as many of the xenos with them as possible. Since the Warboss and some many of his bigger orks were committed to this battle, the hope was that as many of them as possible would be caught in the blast and wiped from existence, cutting the head off a depleted horde and causing their forces to splinter and fight each other rather then press on to attack other planets.

A black box had been prepared and hidden away from Forge Alpha that would transmit a signal should another Explorator Fleet arrive. A history of their Fleet, their forgeworld... and why it was cut short. Gifonadis could only have faith that it would one day be found and their story known to Mars. It would be a disservice to those from his fleet that had died during this campaign and those who had taken up the mantle in their absence if their names and deeds were completely lost to history.

Thoughts of his friends and peers caused Gifonadis to reflect on his suppressed emotions, even as his body continued the process of the Rite. Sorrow was consistant, as being the last living techpriest from Explorator Fleet XXXIV meant that there was a lot of memories of loss to process. Friends, peers and loved ones who had given their all to get to them this far, both prior and after planetfall... only for it to not be enough in the end. Bittersweet memories surfaced from the pools of sadness and Gifonadis took what comfort from them he could.

Rage was also competing for his attention. An unending fury at the lives lost, their mission compromised and their works being taken and twisted by the brutish, stupid half fungi creatures that were called greenskins. It was insulting that the bane of Pentious was an ork with the utterly stupid name of Kracker'Laker. The only balm was that if all went well, he would die with Forge-Alpha and no planet would ever again suffer the indignity of being victim to Warboss Kracker'Laker again.

And this was the moment in which the Forge itself seemed to shake as something big impacted... somewhere.

For a moment, pure terror gripped Gifonadis's heart and tempted him to trigger the destruction of the Forge... but logic and reason managed to restrain him as he opened the vox channel to the Archmagos. "[What is going on up there?!]" He barked in binary.

"[Trying to work that out.]" The much younger BH-885 answered back. "[We're getting mixed reports but...]" There was a pause of four seconds. To a normal human this would be something to note, but for the speeds at which the followers of the Omnissiah could share information it was a literal lifetime and a matter of great concern. "[...You're not going to believe this.]"


The final moments of Warboss Kracker'Laker were, in fact, captured by a servoskull that was spying on the orkish war camp to alert Forge-Alpha when the assault would begin. While the skull itself would be destroyed, the footage was recorded and kept both for important historical reasons... and because it was hilarious for those who had endured the horrors of the Warboss for years.

The footage starts with Warboss Kracker'Laker seated at the center of the orkish festivities when an Ork whose name was unknown but its appearance suggested that it was an orkish psyker (or 'Weirdboy') of some age due to its size. The start of the conversation is lost due to distance and the general noise of orks, but both those problems disappear as the Warboss suddenly slammed down a fist onto his table, shattering it as he shouted "W'AT DID YOU JUST SAYS TO ME?!"

While the other orks were stunned into silence by their suddenly loud and angry boss, the pskyer ork didn't seem phased in the slightest. "I SAID, YOU DEAF GROT, TAT WE JUST HAD A VIZION OF YOUR IMMPENDING DEFEAT! TAT STAR IN THE SKY-" and there was a pointed gesture skyward "-IS A OMEN OF YOUR DEAT'!"

As the Warboss rose to his intimidating size to clearly beat the living shit out of the orkish psyker, one of the bigger orks (or a 'Nob' as they are called by their own kind) was looking towards where the Psyker had pointed before saying loud enough to be heard in the silence "...Is it just me or is tat star ting getting bigger?"

In the four remaining seconds of footage, all the orks in view look skywards... before a bright, burning light enters sight and the footage ends. Slowing down the footage and using techniques to clean it up/dim the brightness of the light, it is possible to see what is clearly some kind of advanced, man made pod enter the line of sight of the servoskull, wrapped in the flames of reentry. One can also see the dumbfounded look on Warboss Kracker'Laker's face as it slammed directly into his head, taking it off before impact ends the footage.

A sigh escaped Grindan. This was a discussion they had gone through before and it was one they disagreed on. He understood the logic of what Ganondorf had said about the undead holding a purpose, Grindan's stance was that crushing them also served a purpose in solidifying Ganondorf's rule. "If you insist on letting the undead pests run loose, I'll oblige. But I warn that their presence does serve to make it harder for you to take advantage of the resources of your domain and can be viewed as the sign of a ruler too weak to maintain control over his own realm."

Some might have viewed what Grindan just said as disloyalty. That the king's word on the matter was final and that attempting to discuss the matter further was a sign of disrespect. The people who would think like that were, to Grindan, idiots and spineless worms unworthy of King Ganondorf's attention. Grindan would follow the commands of his liege, but it was his duty to point out some of the consequences of his decisions that may come up in the future to consider.

"At any rate. What would you have me do, your majesty?"
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