BotL - Monthly fluff challenge

[Jagus Kumkani]

Okay, thanks Blunt. I'll come up with something.

[Jagus Kumkani]

From the Deep

 

The hold of the submersible was cramped to say the least. Sergeant Berudes sat surrounded on all sides by his brothers. Brother Merec on his left, his second, and Brother Gagiel his weapon specialist to his right. The other two warriors across from him were Sckalca and Hestys. They sat in silence as they awaited their deployment to the beachhead. The only thing that could be heard was the creaks and groans of the structure as the craft moved through the water. If the compact space enclosing the shoal wasn't bad enough, the stifling acidic air in the compartment didn't help. The water, if it could be called that was slowly eating away the adamantium of the submersible. The chemical slush that equated to the ocean of Mordeh IV had long been a means for the hive cities to dump the toxic waste of their factorums. It now ate at the very thing that spirited them to their target. "I'll be surprised if this bucket gets us their in one piece." said Merec. "Look, it erodes away as we speak" Merec added. Sergeant Berdus looked at the dull gray metal all around him, a clean fissure of metal riveted together down the middle of the craft and the faint outline of the Legion symbol on the opposite wall of him. The Kraken, in all of its majesty, the keeper of the deep. Now but a faint echo of its former glory. Sickly black liquid dripped from the bulbous rivets and ran down the walls on the Kraken. Turning it black, destroying what it once was. Berudes pondered this revelation...the Legion had strode a dark path, and Berudes believed he had made the right decision to follow his brothers and his Primarch into that darkness. + We are the Keepers of the Deep. The darkness has always been in us +. But he had made his decision, he was one of the Drowned, a Copper Mouthed Reaper, and he would bring the suffering and pain to those that opposed his master.

 

[WIP, just what I jotted down today]

[simison]

Undoubtedly, Morro had been well aware of Alexandros' approach before he spoke. The senses of a Primarch were far superior than what mortals were aware of. Yet, it was only now did Morro turn his eyes down upon Alexandros. Despite the festivities, Morro wore no smile and was grim of demeanour. It was a shame, really. While the Emperor's sons were beyond such things, Morro may have been the most handsome among their number. Long, dark hair and piercing eyes, his appearance was soured by the naked bitterness that touched his features. After a pause, Morro returned, "Warmaster."

 

Alexandros inwardly winced. It was far too easy for a diplomat of his experience to notice the subtle venom lacing the title. Which meant it was probably intended as such. Still, Alexandros was not willing to surrender this early. "I wish to thank you for coming. It's been quite some time since we've had the chance to converse."

 

The ghost of a cruel smile touched Morro's lips. "The last time we saw each other, I had the good fortune of acquiring another Gloriana."

 

Even after mentally and emotionally preparing for the conversation taking this direction, Alexandros felt his anger smoldering. Regardless of past animosity, the dead deserved to be respected. Alexandros allowed none of his darker emotions to reveal themselves as he continued to embody the good-natured host. "So rarely does our brotherhood gather in its entirety. It is my hope that we all can enjoy such an opportunity as we prepare for our future."

 

"Yes, clearly what the Great Crusade required was a chance for you to flaunt your promotion."

 

"I seek no such adulation," Alexandros quietly protested. 

 

"Yet, you waste time with such frivolity," Morro accused as he swept a hand over the arena. "Not only the three days wasted on Terra, but the weeks it will take us for us to return to our warzones! While we stand and dither, the war continues on. Or have you forgotten our true nature?"

 

"We are men."

 

Morro scoffed. "We are no such thing. We may appear to be so, but we are nothing more than weapons, created in the Emperor's lab. Our worth is measured in our conquests."

 

It had meant to be a barb, but Alexandros sensed the underlying bitterness. Ah. I see now. Alexandros eased some of the tension out of him as he whispered, for Morro's ears alone, "I have never thought of you inferior, or I superior, based on the number of Compliances we've enacted."

 

Morro became very still as his face darkened. Without conscious thought, Alexandros was reminded of the darkness of the depths. After a moment, a furious whispered answered, "Stay out of my mind, mutant!"

 

"I've not used my powers," Alexandros replied gently. "A good eye and an alert mind can be just as capable as more esoteric craft." 

 

Morro's glower did little to suggest that he believed Alexandros' explanation.

 

Offering a hand, Alexandros pressed on, "If nothing else, believe me that all I want is brotherhood. I seek neither to take glory away from you or to domineer you. All I want is friendship."

 

Morro stared at the hand and Alexandros with naked suspicion. Then, for the briefest of moments, Alexandros thought he saw something break beneath the hostility. 

 

The sound of cheers thundered behind them. 

 

Turning to the noise, they saw the Drowned on the ground, defeated. The Warrior of Peace duelist merely bowed to his adversary, but Alexandros could see Morro focusing on the crowd, his face darkening. "There's your beloved humanity," Morro grumbled.

 

Trying quickly to salvage the situation, Alexandros began, "Morro..."

 

The Lord of the Sixteenth cut him off with a chop of his hand. "Enough. I will not listen to any more of this drivel. I will take my leave, Warmaster." After wrapping the title with as much bitterness as he could muster, Morro walked away.

Edited January 3, 2018 by simison

[simison]

Given just how much of the holidays ate writing time (and the fact that we have no entries), how do people feel expanding the Drowned to January as compensation?

[MikhalLeNoir]

Good about it

[bluntblade]

Sounds good

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Works for me

[Jagus Kumkani]

Yes, I've been crazy busy.

[Beren]

My first contribution to the Botl project.

 

 

 

The facility had gone dark. Power emissions were minimal. Only what was considered necessary to stay alive. Life support, scanners, weapons systems... Creatures that had once shyed away from its burning light now slunk back under the cover of darkness, the watchful abyss reclaiming it's sovereign territory.

 

“You’re certain, right.? I’ve heard stories about these people. If they so much as glimpse us we're dead.” The tech-priest listened to the foreman's declarations, analysed them,and stored them under the segments of her cortex due to be data wiped, along with most of the other comments the man had made, since and before the present crisis .

“Scanners were calibrated from the outset of this posts installation to detect any movement caused by an object larger than a 10cm spherical item . Probability of undetected hostiles is non-existant. Calculations indicate that defensive precautions are more than sufficient to eliminate a Legiones Astartes outrider force under surprise conditions and current environmental constraints.”

 

He was seeing it on his readouts now. Close to their quarry, yet well outside the gaze of it's artificial eyes. The mortals had most likely think that their isolation would save them. His brothers judged otherwise. The Sorrowsworn had made it clear, the depths were to be their own, and theirs alone. He recalled them being called Lanterns once, yet it was always just outside the light cast by their brothers that they had lingered. Not willingly. Not till now.

 

"Specifications:Trilobite class submerged mining base. Capable of surviving 6 Terran months in isolation(T-4 months till supply depletion.) Merilian type sensor grid. 16 automated torpedoes launchers in total . Conclusion :In 4 months the traitor astares will have withdrawn and been replaced by Army forces lacking subaquatic capabilities. Sending salvage teams to destroyed facilities via submersibles will be of utmost priority." After that the human let the matter rest. Those words might have been more reassuring had it been a well maintained base, yet every morning he awoke to stained and pitted walls. The region was tectonically stable, the wildlife was near harmless, and if something wasn't going to kill you in another week you didn't give it much thought. Hell, he wasn't even sure if the bulkhead protocols were working. The coghead had spent all her time working on the torps...

 

Footsteps seemed to echoe in his ears . Many animals in nature, he reflected, evolved and grew themselves iron hides and sturdy shells, the better to withstand attacks of their enemies and their enviroment. Humans built their shells with metal and labour, yet strip that away and they were just as weak and vunerable as ever. And in a place like this they would die without their predator having to move another muscle.

 

The foreman sucked in another lungful of acrid air. Gnarled hands played over one another as if partaking in some fiendish concerto of unease. The viewing panels were sealed shut, had been for as long as he could remember being this light forsaken place. There wasn’t that much to see really, and all too much that might see you. His eyes flicked back to the tech-priest, a precision image of stillness. He recalled the stories he had heard once at the starport. A small band of Imperial Army soldiers in a bar, telling stories of their home system. Of the planet their social and military elite had fled to, barricaded away in mountain vaults that they reckoned could wistand the wrath of the gods.

 

He strode onwards , onwards through the night towards his prey. The only light was that of lumen globes dangling from his subordinates, the only noise that of tricking rivulets of water and the deafening, grinding roar from ahead.

 

There were survivors, or so he'd been told. Those who had been judged to isolated or limited to prove any threat. They spoke of munitions that burst through the ground, marking tunnels like bullet ridden corpses. They harried and isolated without even being seen . They strangled movement, collapsed tunnels. Then the sea -green giants made their kills. The inhabitants of the final holdout had buried themselves under so many layers of metal, so many elaborate defences , that they considered themselves safe. They'd forgotten about the water . Those tunnels that ran so deep, were so cold and treacherous that they were considered impenetrable . The giants had come anyway. Those people had believed themselves safe because they had sealed themselves away in a self made coffin, the foreman considered, not all together unlike this one.

 

The auspex confirmed it. Not far now. His cell mates slowed, bracing themselves for the rushing torrents.

 

The tech-priest normally prided herself with maintaining emotional clarity, even when relegated to this outpost. Yet this man was testing her patience. She was detecting increased circulatory and respiratory rates, movement aberrations and other cues indicating a state of heightened agitation. The chances of their location being ascertained were minimal.

“If you so wish, you may inspect the sensor returns yourself. I assure you that you will locate no anomalies .” His reply was drowned out by the screeching of sirens, cries of human alarm also beginning to reverberate through the passageways. The tech-priest disbelievingly checked the sensors and defense perimeter. Nothing had changed. Everything was just as still as it had been seconds ago. Nothing was moving. In his blind panic it was the foreman's addled mind that stumbled across it first. They were the structural integrity alarms , not the perimeter . As he sprinted into the darkness to the tech-priest had minutes to analyse his cryptic cry of “bedrock” before the roar of rushing water drowned out all else.

 

The wall of force first slammed into their braced forms, then rushed past. As it subsided he clambered out of the hole, through the narrow gap between bedrock and base, into the ragged hole torn by the breaching drill and within the metal carcass. They found nothing but the dead.

Edited January 10, 2018 by Beren

[simison]

Good work, Beren. Excellent use of viewpoints and descriptions.

[simison]

[Combining the two halves for easier editing.]

 

The Under-worlder and the Over-worlder

 

"Come, Warmaster!" Daer'dd cheerfully declared, his voice casually carrying over the din. "Give the audience a taste of your station!"

 

Privately, Alexandros feared this particular request. He had only been Warmaster for a few weeks now and did not want to come off as becoming arrogant with his new place in the Great Crusade. Already, there were whispers that this three-day celebration was a sign that the new Warmaster lacked his father's sense of duty and restraint. 

 

Or, worse, compared to Icarion's. 

 

Yet, he did not want to disappoint his much taller brother or the crowd now watching him. An actual insult to one of his closest supporters would cost more than a potential criticism down the road from his detractors. Having decided all this in less than a second, Alexandros flashed his biggest grin at Daer'dd before raising the Spear of Terra aloft. Filling the Spear with a portion of his will caused streaks of lightning to flare off of it. 

 

A modest display. But the Great Bear himself released a peal of delighted laughter before saying to Hectarion. "A worthy of successor to our Emperor! This calls for another drink!" 

 

Before Alexandros could respond, he spied an opportunity to repair a broken relationship. "Hec, I think Daer'dd has had twice as much as you've had. Surely, you'll not let this stand?"

 

Daer'dd released a happy cry. "You wish to challenge me, little brother? Very well, I accept!"

 

Whether or not Hectarion enjoyed the fact that he had been thrown into a drinkng game, he threw himself into the contest as he hastily downed his next drink. 

 

Slipping away from the contest, Alexandros walked down the marble steps of the collesseum, aiming for one of the entrances to the combat floor. In addition to the feasting and revels, the floor of the collesseum had been opened to Legionaries wishing to prove their skill against one another. Few things could enthrall an Astartes as well as a duel between champions. As of the moment, a Drowned officer wielded a harpoon and net against a Warrior of Peace grandmaster fighting with a pair of hook swords. Even from a glance, the two veterans were well matched, and the Legionaries watching shouted praise and insults amid betting. The Warriors of Peace contingent, of course, providing the lone spot of silence as they carefully watched, and judged, their brother.

 

None of this was of Alexandros' concern. His priority lied elsewhere. Standing in one of the collesseum entrances to the dueling ring was the Lord of the XVI^th. Even within this dazzling place, Morro was keeping to the shadows as best as he could, his eyes fixed on the duelists. Pointedly, Morro held his goblet his left hand. The augmetic replacement for his hand was kept behind his back. 

 

Alexandros stepped into the arch before giving Morro a deep nod. "Brother."

 

Undoubtedly, Morro had been well aware of Alexandros' approach before he spoke. The senses of a Primarch were far superior than what mortals were aware of. Yet, it was only now did Morro turn his eyes down upon Alexandros. Despite the festivities, Morro wore no smile and was grim of demeanour. It was a shame, really. While the Emperor's sons were beyond such things, Morro may have been the most handsome among their number. Long, dark hair and piercing eyes, his appearance was soured by the naked bitterness that touched his features. After a pause, Morro returned, "Warmaster."

 

Alexandros inwardly winced. It was far too easy for a diplomat of his experience to notice the subtle venom lacing the title. Which meant it was probably intended as such. Still, Alexandros was not willing to surrender this early. "I wish to thank you for coming. It's been quite some time since we've had the chance to converse."

 

The ghost of a cruel smile touched Morro's lips. "The last time we saw each other, I had the good fortune of acquiring another Gloriana."

 

Even after mentally and emotionally preparing for the conversation taking this direction, Alexandros felt his anger smoldering. Regardless of past animosity, the dead deserved to be respected. Alexandros allowed none of his darker emotions to reveal themselves as he continued to embody the good-natured host. "So rarely does our brotherhood gather in its entirety. It is my hope that we all can enjoy such an opportunity as we prepare for our future."

 

"Yes, clearly what the Great Crusade required was a chance for you to flaunt your promotion."

 

"I seek no such adulation," Alexandros protested. 

 

"Yet, you waste time with such frivolity," Morro accused as he swept a hand over the arena. "Not only the three days wasted on Terra, but the weeks it will take us for us to return to our warzones! While we stand and dither, the war continues on. Or have you forgotten our true nature?"

 

"We are men."

 

Morro scoffed. "We are no such thing. We may appear to be so, but we are nothing more than weapons, created in the Emperor's lab. Our worth is measured in our conquests."

 

It had meant to be a barb, but Alexandros sensed the underlying bitterness. Ah. I see now. Alexandros eased some of the tension out of him as he whispered, for Morro's ears alone, "I have never thought of you inferior, or I superior, based on the number of Compliances we've enacted."

 

Morro became very still as his face darkened. Without conscious thought, Alexandros was reminded of the darkness of the depths. After a moment, a furious whispered answered, "Stay out of my mind, mutant!"

 

"I've not used my powers," Alexandros replied gently. "A good eye and an alert mind can be just as capable as more esoteric craft." 

 

Morro's glower did little to suggest that he believed Alexandros' explanation.

 

Offering a hand, Alexandros pressed on, "If nothing else, believe me that all I want is brotherhood. I seek neither to take glory away from you or to domineer you. All I want is friendship."

 

Morro stared at the hand and Alexandros with naked suspicion. Then, for the briefest of moments, Alexandros thought he saw something break beneath the hostility. 

 

The sound of cheers thundered above them. 

 

Turning to the noise, they saw the Drowned on the ground, defeated. The Warrior of Peace duelist merely bowed to his adversary, but Alexandros could see Morro focusing on the crowd, his face darkening. "There's your beloved humanity," Morro grumbled.

 

Trying quickly to salvage the situation, Alexandros began, "Morro..."

 

The Lord of the Sixteenth cut him off with a chop of his hand. "Enough. I will not listen to any more of this drivel. I will take my leave, Warmaster." After wrapping the title with as much bitterness as he could muster, Morro walked away.

Edited January 18, 2018 by simison

[bluntblade]

I wonder if collectively we make Daer'dd shout too much. Apart from anything else, with those lungs his voice carries without any real effort.

[helterskelter]

He's the Brian Blessed of our primarchs

[Chief Captain Redd]

I think we can use Daer'dd shouting a bit more effectively. Like speaking up and being louder than everyone I could see being perceived as a shout. But when he actually lets loose maybe have him shattering glass and knocking non trans humans to the floor a bit like a concussive grenade or something.

[Sigismund229]

I think we can use Daer'dd shouting a bit more effectively. Like speaking up and being louder than everyone I could see being perceived as a shout. But when he actually lets loose maybe have him shattering glass and knocking non trans humans to the floor a bit like a concussive grenade or something.

Speaking as someone who's voice carries, I can second this. When I think I'm just raising my voice, other people tell me I'm shouting(it's very annoying), meaning that I generally don't need to shout properly to be heard

[simison]

So, is there anything I should change or are these just general suggestions for the future?

[bluntblade]

I'd lose the bellowing, with Alex noting that Daer'dd never has to shout. Also perhaps he beckons with his glass, and Alex thinks that'd be a small motion for anyone else.

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Dedrego Fleshtwister

Born of Styx, Dedrego Fleshtwister served the 8th Tendril as a Techmarine for well over six decades before his gene-sire dragged his legion into the depths of betrayal and corruption. During his time spent learning from the Techpriests of the Red Planet, Dedrego found he had a particular interest in the disciplines of the Magos Biologis, the complicated workings of the biological form, and how best to augment it. By the time his sojourn amongst the Mechanicus had come to an end, he had mastered the secrets of the human body, and with this knowledge returned to serve his legion.

 

Like many of his fellow Drowned, Dedrego willingly followed his father into damnation, and saw the new course of the Legion as an opportunity to pursue one of his darker fascinations; Torture. Taking all of his accumulated knowledge, Dedrego began searching for the choicest specimens with which to practice his craft, practicing first with mortal humans unfortunate enough to be captured rather than killed, before discovering a sort of perverted pleasure in practicing his craft on the Eldar form instead.

 

Dedrego pushed his subjects to the extremes of both pain and pleasure in equal measure, but soon grew frustrated by his subjects tendency to expire, viewing the loss of each subject like a lover views the loss of their partner. Seeking to rectify the situation, he soon began augmenting his subjects to strengthen them physically while at the same time he broke them mentally.

 

Soon realizing the potential of his biomechanical abominations, Dedrego sought to perfect his creations, which he referred to as his “Sirens,” and before long was reported marching into battle surrounded by keening machines fused with the still living, though often mutilated, bodies of captured Eldar.

C&c welcome and appreciated

Edited January 29, 2018 by TheBlindPrimarch

[simison]

Tweaked, what else could I do to improve the piece? It feels a little thin.

[simison]

Since I've heard nothing, I'm going to assume the piece is complete and move onto my next submission.

 

For this one, I'm going to switch to FW-style and detail the Tendril Fleet that served with the V Legion. Helter, if you have any suggestions, recommendation, or anything you want to see in this piece, speak now or forever hold your peace.

 

EDIT: Helter has given the green light without suggestion. Therefore, I'm picking the 17th as the numeral of this particular Tendril fleet. 

 

They are led by Ayatalloh Kuly Musaviya.

Edited January 22, 2018 by simison

[simison]

Alright, we're one week out from the next month. Time to vote for who gets Feb. As a reminder, here is where we stand:

 

Previous entries:

 

December/January - The Drowned

November - Imperial Army

October - Warbringers

September - Eagle Warriors

August - Fire Keepers

July - Warriors of Peace

June - Grave Stalkers

May - Void Eagles

April - Dune Serpents

March - Steel Legion

 

Remaining Legions:

 

I - Harbingers
III - Crimson Lions
IV - Void Eagles
V - Halcyon Wardens

VI - Iron Bears
VII - Berserkers of Uran
VIII - Godslayers
IX - Warbringers
X - Fire Keepers
XII - Wardens of Light
XIII - Eagle Warriors
XIV - Dune Serpents
XV - Grave Stalkers
XVI - The Drowned
XVII - Warriors of Peace
XVIII - Steel Legion
XIX - Scions Hospitalier
XX - Predators

 

In three months, we will do another non-Legion faction. 

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Wardens

[simison]

Wardens

 

Which one?

[TheBlindPrimarch]

Oops, Halcyon Wardens

[simison]

Three days to go, so I've randomized the list of judges. As a reminder, only three judges henceforth.

 

1. simison
2. Breezy
3. Beren

*sigh* Even with 11 candidates and only 3 slots, I still have no luck. 

 

Be prepared. I highly recommend people who've already submitted to make sure their work is clean of mechanical errors. Everyone else, we're coming down to the wire.

 

For next month, we have a single vote for the Halcyon Wardens.