jjkk - badness

EotS Chapter 10: Capture the Flag (Part 2: The Ork Stronghold)

Sep 25

Some edits to the previous chapter as usual.

Big thanks to the local purveyor of shenanigans for the help as always.

Savant Militant Konstantin of Zamor

The orks barely had the time to realize what just happened before the sentinels were on them, gunning them down as they quickly broke and tried to flee only to be run down by the charging Mavians.

And despite the added risk, the furious guardsmen took their sweet time stabbing any ork they could bring down to death with their bayonets, happily throwing their lives away in the name of retribution.

"That is the last of them." I said as I sensed the final ork get brained by a sentinel multilaser.

"It doesn't make sense." Lt. Bell said as she squatted over a dead ork, glaring at the dead alien and failing to find any real reason they had such a hard time spotting them before.

"Xenos sorcery, Lieutenant." The Commissar informs her. "I would advise against thinking about it too deeply. That way leads to madness."

"Right." She accepted curtly and looked at the sole practitioner of warp fuckery around. "You can detect them?"

"Now that I know what they feel like?" I shrugged. "Certainly, ma'am."

"Good." She nodded. "Climb a sentinel and lead the way. I've lost enough men to xenos tricks. It's about time we turned the tables on them."

Saluting in agreement I did as she asked and after ten minutes of taking care of the wounded and reporting in, we were marching out again.

The next ambushing warband didn't know what hit them. They had formed up on the cliffs surrounding a creek that provided the best marching path through the dense woodland and had likely been waiting for hours to leap atop anything unfortunate enough to walk beneath them.

Unfortunately for them, I was here.

A multirocket launcher equipped sentinel dropped a frag barrage on their most critical positions and we repeated our feat of cutting down the disoriented beasts with great efficiency.

Only their boss managed to keep them together for a moment, but I quickly put paid to that by pulling him down into the open with a telekinetic tug, leaving him completely helpless in front of an entire company of imperial guardsmen.

Psychic powers were delightfully unfair sometimes.

I quickly smashed those thoughts into tiny little pieces as my transport began moving again. Getting arrogant in this shithole of a galaxy was an incredibly expedient way of getting dead, if you were lucky.

Instead, I began scanning the area again while my thoughts drifted to what would ironically be considered a far more heretical line of thinking.

The Mavian 32nd fielded a total of twelve sentinels and twenty chimeras.

Thirty two vehicles made up the mechanized component of a twenty thousand strong infantry force, and they were additionally spread out across three separate columns.

Even the air force was technically under the command of the transport vessel currently loading up food above the planetary capital, delegated to the Colonel instead of being under him officially.

The system that explained this made a once-upon-a-time history nerd like me cringe in disgust.

Every regiment had one singular intended role they were meant to perform, and as a matter of fact, the only role they were allowed to perform.

Combined arms tactics were only made possible when a greater command was present to coordinate them.

Now that usually wasn't a problem. Most proper Astra Militarum operations consisted of dozens of regiments if not more and could work around the issue with enough competence from the ones in charge.

And therein lie the problem. They had to work around the system.

And why? Because a regiment could potentially betray the Imperium, and it wouldn't do to have them be too independent so the other regiments could hard counter them with ease.

As if that sort of treason wasn't usually of a much higher scale than a single regiment going rogue.

It was a paranoid, backwards system, and it was thoroughly fucking us over now.

It took Fritz hearing about hundreds of losses and probably more before he decided to risk his few armored vehicles on scouting operations.

Armored vehicles that were currently cutting down another ambush with such glorious efficiency I was tempted to clap if not for the fact it would look completely ridiculous.

And so instead I clapped two fleeing orks against each other, smashing them into tiny bits with pure kinetic force, and almost getting hit with another peril for my trouble.

All my mirth died in an instant and I discarded any and all distractions, guiding the sentinel forward and watching out for ambushes.

Minutes passed in tension before the terrain shifted and I realized we were near the ork stronghold.

It came as no surprise that even orks didn't enjoy being holed up in dense forests whenever they could avoid it. The local super predators might have been smart enough not to attack large formations of humans but from what little I overheard from the Frumentari huntsmen they happily feasted on ork parties whenever they could.

Which is why our target wasn't just more jungle, but a steep hill topped by tiny plateaus and peppered with numerous cave entrances, that were themselves covered in the signature ramshackle constructions of the xenos and topped with great WAAAAGHHH!!!! banners.

Multiple paths led up to the stronghold but only one was wide enough for vehicles to advance, and it was covered by a great gate made of scrap metal and immense wooden stakes and flanked by fortified towers and cliffs.

It was a killing ground and judging by the amount of orks I could sense positioned around it, they knew it as well.

The Mavian troops immediately set about creating a foothold, digging shallow trenches while the few surviving Frumentari sent over with the central vanguard were too stunned by the sight and busied themselves gawking.

At least until Marcus walked over and started barking orders at them while looking like he was one twitch away from decimating them.

That got them digging pretty quickly.

Soon, more and more of our scouting units began catching up, reporting on their own clashes with the orks and the death of a Lieutenant before folding in with our unit under Bell.

"Blast it, I was sure I would be the one to reach the foe first!" The jovial voice of one Sir Ferdinand vis Hermin reached us from the jungle as he and his unit of huntsmen caught up.

The foppy and overly colorful nobleman didn't seem nearly as bothered as his levies were by the sight of the enemy position and merely ordered his retinue to set up camp while he approached our group.

Unlike his troops, the man clearly spared no expense in equipping himself, sporting multiple las pistols in holsters and bandoliers, and a decorated long las rifle hanging off his shoulder, as well as what I was certain was a sleek suit of carapace plate under his puffy and suspiciously clean mantle.

"You are alive." Lt. Bell noted coldly.

Ferdinand removed his wide brimmed feathered hat and offered an elaborate. "My most sincere apologies for the lateness my lady Lieutenant. My messenger boy took an arrow in the thigh see, and he was the only one who could operate the vox."

"Uh huh." Bell deadpanned. "Now pull the other one."

"I beg your pardon?" The nobleman frowned.

"You can beg after the operation." Bell shot back. "For now, have your men set up defensive lines in case the orks try to sally out. We need to hold this position until the Colonel arrives."

The nobleman's jolly expression twisted into a glare. "Understood." And he walked off.

Bell looked at his back like she wanted to shoot him, and I quickly joined her as the man's retinue continued leaving the forest, a good fifty of them tugging a collection of fresh ork heads on their backs, still dripping with blood.

"Those bastards…" Jaremy, whose squad had been commandeered by Marcus to serve as my temporary bodyguard, growled. "While we were dying, they were taking their sweet time gathering trophies?!"

"Have a care Sargent." Lt. Bell said with her eyes still fixed on the Frumentari man's back. "They are our allies, and that is still a good number of dead orks."

Despite the praise, her voice was just as disgusted.

"Yes ma'am." He saluted mechanically.

Minutes passed as the trench was dug out but no movement came from the greenskins staring us down from their walls. We were right in the open, only slightly outside their weapon range, and they weren't even attempting to inconvenience us.

Something anyone with even a slight understanding of how orks worked would consider extremely suspicious.

By the time I concluded something was entirely off, the main column had already arrived and were setting up for an assault.

Fritz hopped out of his chimera transport as soon as it stopped moving and squinted up at the stronghold. "That's a damn narrow path." I heard him mutter before he grunted and approached our command detachment.

"Vickers I want those mortars set up yesterday." He ordered as he walked. "Covering lines with heavy bolters wherever possible, tell them to conserve bolts."

The Captain saluted dutifully and ran off.

"Bell." Fritz stopped as he reached us, eyeing myself and Marcus briefly before focusing on his subordinate officer. "Report."

The woman opened her mouth to do just that when a loud voice came from atop the ork stronghold.

"OI! HUMIEZ!" The familiar roar of the Ork Boss echoed across the jungle clearing. "YOU'Z SURE TOOK YOUR TIME GETTTNG 'ERE!"

Graveboila was standing on top of the second tallest plateau, surrounded by a band of armored mobs and clad in even more steel himself. He was back to having two arms as well, though the replacement seemed just a bit too small for his body size, and in it he held-

'Is that a megaphone?' I thought incredulously.

"Cursed beast." Fritz muttered to himself, a hateful glare forming on his face before he yelled back. "Silence xeno! Your death has come!"

"HAH!" Boss Graveboila laughed. "DAT WOULD BE SCARY IF YOU 'AVENT COME 'ERE LOOKIN' LIKE YOU'Z GOT STOMPED BY OTHER ORKZ ALREADY."

"What nonsense are you saying?" Fritz demanded.

The ork laughed again, much louder this time, and then he spoke in a mocking voice that seemed to carry despite the reduced volume. "Those weren't my boyz down dere in the trees, humie." His lips split into a massive grin. "They'z belonged to WARBOSS SHADE-SPLITTA! AND YOU'Z JUST POKED HIM IN THE EYE YOU DID! WAHAHAHAHA!"

"Another warband?" Fritz hissed to us.

Marcus answered him calmly. "Judging by the form of address, this 'Boss Graveboila' seems to be subordinate to the other one, or at the least so far below him in the xeno hierarchy that he speaks with respect even in his own domain."

"Or he is simply trying to intimidate us." I noted softly.

"We cannot rely on that." Marcus shakes his head.

Annoyingly, there wasn't much I could say to counter that.

Fritz pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Hett is right. We have provoked a much greater beast."

"That is correct, sir." The Commissar nodded. "Though I will note a fight alone is often reason enough for them to join."

That fact did not seem to reassure Fritz at all.

As we spoke a loud charging sound cut through Graveboila's laughter, only for the massive ork to dodge aside on pure reflex, letting the overcharged las shot pass him by before raising his smaller hand and pointing accusingly.

"OI! DAT WAS RUDE!"

"Tsk." Sir Ferdinand clicked his tongue from a few steps away from us, lowering his ornate weapon.

"A shame you missed, Sir." Fritz snorted at the irritated ork who was still yelling down insults and provocations. "That kill would have been worthy of a medal."

"I will not miss again." Ferdinand assures and raises his gun but the Nobs had already reformed around the Boss and they were descending the highest plateau and into cover.

"A hunter is rarely given a second shot." Fritz comments just a touch snidely, earning a light 'touché' from the nobleman.

"Sir!" The vox operator calls suddenly. "The right flank reports a massed attack! They are being overwhelmed!"

"What?!" Fritz rounds on him, immediately catching on to what must have happened. "How many xenos are attacking?"

"Thousands sir." The man goes pale as he listens in on the vox. "Our men are out of position."

Fritz closes his eyes and despite him remaining almost perfectly still I feel an immense wave of panic roil off him like a hurricane, it is almost immediately replaced by grief, before ultimately settling on a low but hardy determination.

All of five seconds pass in silence before he opens his eyes again, his gaze holding a hardness that wasn't there moments ago. "Tell Zolk he is to hold them off for as long as he can. All incendiary ordinance is his to use."

The vox caster relays the information, looking shaken but keeping his voice steady as he relayed the answer. "Captain Zolk hears and obeys, sir."

"Good." Fritz nods lightly. "How close is Marlene's detachment?"

"Captain Fritz reports ready to engage, sir."

"Tell her to prepare for an all-out attack from her flank in three minutes." The Colonel shows nothing on his face despite the wave of hesitation radiating off him, instead as the vox operator follows his command he faces the rest of us.

"We cannot fight on two fronts." He informs us bluntly. "We cannot retreat as we will be hunted down and picked apart. We cannot dig in as we will be outflanked."

He exhales and lights up his trusty lho stick. "All that is left is to attack and win before the other orks arrive and use their own fortifications against them."

"But my lord, that is-" Vickers begins only to be cut off.

"Suicidal, yes." Fritz scoffs. "It is also our only option."

The Captain schooled his features and saluted. "Of course, my lord. Forgive my lapse."

"My, this has certainly escalated." Sir Ferdinand chuckled bitterly. "I thought the Shade-Splitter was a mere myth. How foolish of me."

"You know of the xeno?" Fritz demands.

"Only from old wives tales." The Frumentari nobleman raises a placating hand. "And if any of them are true I advise we follow your plan immediately. We won't have much time to chat otherwise."

"Well you've heard him." Fritz begins moving. "Grenadiers and specialists on me. Sentinels pick off strong points. Psyker." He turns back as he flicks on his power maul, a low furious growl entering his voice. "Clear us a path."

My eyes trailed to the great wooden gate the orks thought would protect them. "With pleasure, sir." I smiled eagerly, and once more my veins became ice.

Glossary:

Long-las: High powered sniper equivalent, not as strong as a hellgun but generally standard issue to most IG regiments.

Damn we ran out of general terms quickly

Here, have some extra neat stuff then;

Current named Mavian 32nd characters for reference:

Colonel Garett Fritz

Major Amelia Grant

Commissar Marcus Hett

Enginseer Fidelis-Rho

Captain Joseph Vickers

Captain Aurelius Zolk

Captain Marlene Fritz

Lieutenant Glinda Bell

Savant Militant Konstantin of Zamor

Quartermaster Cornelius Falk

Sargent Jaremy Hickins

Private Marian Morkin

Private Jack Bilby

Private Bill Stocke

Private Fabian 'Brick' Miller

Auxiliaries:

Sir Ferdinand vis HerminEotS Chapter 11: Capture the Flag (Part 3/3: King of the Hill)

Sep 28

Previous chap has been edited a good bit. No great changes except from making Graveboila address Shadesplitta as Warboss instead of Big Boss but other than that it should read a whole lot smoother now.

Colonel Garett Fritz of the Mavian 32nd Foot

He grit his teeth as the psyker closed his eyes and the air became charged with warp foulness. His men weren't spared the unease either but they held themselves like true Mavians should and squared their shoulders without complaint.

The feeling only grew with each moment that passed in silence, and soon he could see small cracks of ice begin to form under the psyker's feet as he began slowly walking towards the xenos infested hill.

Suddenly the pressure doubled, and then tripled, nearly sending the squad unlucky enough to be his escort flying off their feet as the cursed warp energies became visible to the naked eye.

Garett felt his teeth begin to vibrate.

Then, with a mighty CRACK! he did not hear with his ears the pressure completely disappeared, and a great bolt of translucent pale blue energies was hurled from the psyker's hand, slamming into the immense xenos gates with a mighty boom that sent chunks of wood and metal flying in every direction, shaking the very hill around it, and crumbling most of the ramshackle towers around the impact zone.

An intense feeling of foreboding assaulted his mind, and he clutched his hellpistol as he looked at the hunched psyker leaning against his staff that now crackled with unnatural motive force.

The man took a sharp breath and turned back, revealing eyes that arced with those same energies as he stared directly into Garett's own. "Well Colonel?" The psyker asked hoarsely. "What are you waiting for?"

Garett sneered to hide his relief and raised his trusty commander's baton. "Brave soldiers of Mavus! Warriors of the Emperor! CHAAAAARGE!"

Vickers' mortars let loose their first barrage, the heavy bolters opened fire, and the hills shook once more under the weight of imperial boots.

Savant Militant Konstantin of Zamor

The warp was screaming into my ears as I began running forward despite all reason dictating I stay put and cool down. I didn't have the luxury of being reasonable at the moment.

The more guardsmen died in the assault the less guardsmen would stand between me and a Warboss.

Briefly closing my eyes again I began mentally reciting one of the many mantras taught to me during my time on Terra, effectively hypnotizing myself into ignoring the voices that attempted to distract me.

We made it halfway to the entrance before the dust thrown up by my telekinetic bombardment settled and the orks began firing at us, peppering us with large stone-tipped arrows and inaccurate shootah fire from their few surviving positions.

Their accuracy didn't matter much when shooting into a mass of charging infantry, and casualties among the rank and file guardsmen began to mount rapidly.

Then the grenadiers got into range and began firing back, blowing out defensive positions with their grenade launchers and freeing the others from the suppressive fire.

Fritz didn't let us slow down for long, and we punched through the first line of defense through sheer weight of fire, our backs covered by a creeping mortar barrage preventing the orks from retaking the positions we cleared.

We swiftly reached the first plateau.

And were immediately charged by the mass of savage ork boyz waiting for us.

They had chosen their position well, standing just beyond the slope leading up and ready to use our own weight against us in a way that would not allow us to fire at them.

Unfortunately for the xenos, I was ready for them, and before they could crash into our lines a wave of pure telekinetic force slammed into their ranks, pushing the entire horde back a few meters and giving the Mavian grenadiers enough space to open fire and deploy frag grenades.

Fritz didn't waste a second in pressing the advantage. "FLAMERS FORWARD!" He bellowed before raising his sidearm and putting down the Nob trying to push the horde onward.

Other orks tried covering them from above but the creeping mortar barrage and suppressing fire from our rear lines kept their heads down, and those few xenos insane enough to throw themselves at us quickly found themselves making a fine impression of swiss cheese as they were shot to pieces by concentrated las gun fire.

The flamers soon reached the front and began massacring the clumped up orks and only one threat remained in the form of a shaman standing behind their lines, waving his skull-tipped staff around and gathering the surrounding warp energies in an attempt to empower the rest.

I blasted the nearest WAAAGH!!! banner with a telekinetic push, and the ork psychic field destabilized, bursting the already straining shaman's head and ruining the remaining xenos' cohesion even further.

Resistance sputtered into nothing, and the first foothold was ours.

We took a minute to reorient ourselves.

Unlike the single entrance leading up to it, this plateau had more than a dozen branching passages leading onto higher plateaus or one of the many caves around and under us.

"We cannot allow the orks to hold positions behind us unchallenged." Fritz declared after glaring at the tactical nightmare. "Vickers take five battalions and hold this position, set up medicae stations and prepare for outside assault. I will take the grenadiers and two battalions of foot with me to hunt the leader. The rest advance into the side passages and clear out any xenos presence. Understood?"

"YES SIR!!!"

"I will join you in chasing your quarry." The Frumentari lordling declared, strutting over to us like he hadn't just charged a fortified position, with a big grin on his face. "I will not leave a hunt unfinished!"

His men looked nowhere near as enthusiastic but still squared their shoulders.

"Good." The Colonel grunted. "We've wasted enough time. Forward!"

Far lighter in numbers we advanced up the steep hillside, fighting through smaller ork positions as we went and only slowing down when the enemy position proved particularly awkward to attack and only so we could decide how to most efficiently dislodge them.

This meant a lot of grenades, so much so we were starting to run low by the fourth strongpoint.

The pressure on my mind grew with each use of the warp, nowhere near critical yet but I took the hint and began limiting myself to scouting and blasting apart particularly hardy enemy positions while Fritz and his grenadiers led the charge.

As we neared the summit, we reached a passage leading through a large cave, and as we gunned through the few xenos defenders every single one us stopped in our tracks at what we saw, and smelt.

Rickety wooden cages stacked to near bursting with thoroughly beaten down and emaciated humans, most of whom simply ignored our presence while only a few desperately reached for us through the bars.

The space around me frosted over as the sight shook me more than the warp's incessant babbling, and for once my escort didn't seem at all surprised or unnerved by the reaction.

Their faces mirrored my own scowl.

"Leave them." Fritz ordered softly. "They will just slow us down."

Even some of his own lifeguards looked at him in horror.

"We will free those held in bondage when we are victorious." Commissar Marcus spoke then. "They will likely need medical assistance, and for that we need to clear the area of xenos first. Focus on the task, soldiers."

I barely even paid attention to them, staring into the people held like cattle and feeling an old fury bubbling up inside.

Fritz grunted in annoyance, almost as if to say, 'That is what I meant.' And began marching onwards, the rest of the soldiers snapping into action a moment later, taking their positions around the man.

And we were lucky they did because the moment the first man stepped out of the cave and onto the narrow path leading to the next enemy position they were cut down by heavy machinegun fire, Fritz getting yanked back just in time to miss getting his head exploded by the heavy rounds.

"FRAK!" He cursed as he scrambled onto his feet but by the time he was ready to start barking orders again I'd already walked by him and into the open.

The heavy shells slammed into my psy shields like hammer blows, failing to so much as slow me down as I walked up the pass and made a crushing motion with my free hand, imploding the scrap bunker with the machinegunner inside it, and launching the shredded shrapnel into the troops hiding behind it.

As I crushed the filth a stubby mek clambered onto one of the nearby cliffs, hefting a taped together rocket launcher and aiming it directly at me with a massive grin on his face.

I didn't even look at him as Sir Ferdinand put him down with an eye shot from his long las, merely grabbing the discarded rockets he'd just barely managed to fire off and lobbing them onto the enemy positions, detonating the gate and opening the way forward.

I was just about to press on when I heard a high pitched and terrified: "Waaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!" coming from above, feeling the flying object just in time to step back and have the winged gretchin slam into the stone below me.

I stared at the orkoid for a moment, eyeing what I suspected was a suicide vest tied around his chest, and blinked.

The little shit looked up at me with an almost apologetic expression on its face.

Then I charged my leg with a modified ironhand technique and punted him with all my strength, bursting the disgusting creature and slamming its remnants into what remained of the orks' defensive positions.

As the Mavians and their auxiliaries rushed in from behind me other gretchins began trying to doom dive us while the orks attempted to launch a counterattack from above.

The gretchins were too few to avoid being gunned down, and the orks were unlucky enough to meet one very pissed off pyromancer.

'The sheer fucking audacity on these discounted fungi.' I growled internally as I bathed them all in warpfire, drowning them in the flames before they had the time for terror. "None of you are getting out of here alive!"

The few orks trying to crawl away from the firestorm cried as they were yanked back inside and this world became just a little bit cleaner. I quickly got to work sanitizing the rest of them.

Feeling Marcus and Fritz walk up behind me I forced myself to calm down, and orchestrated the flames to rapidly die down.

"Savant." Marcus said firmly. "You will compose yourself."

Inhaling a sharp breath I nodded and began the brain splitting process of regaining my focus again. "Apologies. That was… Foolish."

"Your fury is righteous. And believe me when I say it is more than shared." The Commissar inclined his head by an inch. "But it must not be allowed to take your senses."

"He can cool down when we have the ork's head." Fritz cut us off impatiently. "Can you sense the damned beast?"

"Yes, sir." I pointed up the singular passage leading up. "He is on the next level. With his retinue."

He doesn't respond save for waving for us to follow and immediately begins marching upwards.

To my surprise and suspicion there were no enemy positions over our flanks as we marched, no ambushes or tricks, just an open scrap gate flanked by WAAAAGH!!! banners and a grand open space surrounded by tribalistic hide tents and scrap-made boxy buildings.

And in the center stood Graveboila and his ten remaining Nobs, one of them holding the Mavian regimental standard in one hand and a torch in the other.

"YAHAHAHA!" The ork slapped his knee with his smaller arm as he saw us. "DAT WAS A FUN WATCH DAT WAS!"

Fritz was already reaching for his gun, but the ork Boss raised a finger almost mockingly.

"'OLDUP HUMIE." He points at his Nob standard bearer who brings his torch slightly closer to the banner. "WE'Z ARE DOIN' DIS BY MY RULES SO SIT DERE AND LISTEN."

You know at first I could almost laugh along with the comedy routine that was the usual ork behavior. It was one of the few honest things in this universe, even when they were making fun of comrades slain by the thousands.

But now? After seeing what I saw? All the far too jovial fungus' behavior made me feel was bone deep anger.

And so, I clutched my hand, my force staff buzzed with power, and the Nob detonated into flames, the Mavian standard zipping through the air and into my extended hand faster than the orks could realize what was happening.

Brick immediately shouldered his flamer and took up the standard with a reverent look on his face, while the rest of his squad took positions around me.

"OI!" The ork Boss snapped in outrage as someone stole his toy, he went to speak further but Fritz no longer had anything to hold him back, and three things happened in the same instant.

The Mavian Colonel quickdrew his hellpistol and deposited his entire power pack into the nearest Nobs, Ferdinand of Hermin put another down with a crack shot to the eye, and I fed all of my irritation into a telekinetic pull, flinging a looming WAAAAGH!!! banner into the largest mass of xenos and either outright crushing them or taking them out of the fight.

The Nobs gave it their best shot, charging at us with no hesitation or thoughts of running away, and were gunned down by the grenadiers for their troubles, while Graveboila managed to shrug off enough of the fusillade to close in with a furious bellow on his lips.

Fritz was prepared for him this time though, and a grenade had already landed on his foe's path, detonating and mangling the xenos' legs as the Mavian noble dashed in and flicked his maul's power field, gouging the bewildered ork's head off in a brutal downwards swing.

He holstered his sidearm and reached down, bringing Graiveboila's massive head above his own and roaring in victory, a roar that was quickly echoed by most of the troops.

The Boss fell, the WAAAAGH!!! field shifted and even as I watched the grenadiers clear out the remaining stragglers, I could feel the remaining xenos positions crumbling, suddenly bereft of their usual fighting spirit.

Even those not yet in the fight abandoned positions and fled into the jungle or at least attempted to. The other Mavian detachment had wasted no time in covering all exits and reaped a bountiful harvest of xenos.

We had no time to celebrate though, and tired or not we immediately began clearing out the final few holdouts and securing the fortified hill so that we could use it as a landing zone.

Within ten minutes, valkyrie gunships and arvus lighters began landing on top of the tallest plateaus, bringing medical supplies and ammunition alongside the Enginseer and his retinue who looked at the blasphemy committed by the orks' looting of imperial tech with exactly the sort of outrage you could expect from the machine worshiping zealots.

Bastards didn't even let us pilfer Graveboila's personal loot pile. Xenos contamination my ass.

Institutional injustice aside, I quickly found myself back on the first plateau alongside the rest of the command staff, staring off into the jungle with Marcus while Fritz berated Captain Marlene (who just happened to be his niece if the 'What am I to tell my brother if you died?' meant anything.).

He was apparently pissed at her for leading the charge herself despite doing much the same, conveniently forgetting he was the most important man in the regiment.

Not that anyone was going to call him out on it.

Imperials loved commanders who led from the front, and even I found it difficult to dislike someone willing to stand on business like Fritz did.

"That's it sir." The vox operator declared somberly, cutting the familial spat short. "All contact with Captain Zolk has been cut off."

"Four thousand men." Fritz whispered so softly I barely caught it. "Enginseer, have you been able to pinpoint the enemy positions yet?"

"The honored Magos aboard the Saturnine Tithe was forced to recalibrate our auspex parameters multiple times. The machine spirits were most angered." The cyborg laments.

Fritz looked quite ready to throttle the cyborg for his vagueness but either through sheer luck or good sense of the officer's intent, the tech priest quickly elaborated.

"They did detect large scale xenos movement where Captain Zolk's men performed their intended function."

"Where are they now, Enginseer?" Fritz demands.

"Scanning…" The tech priest twitches as he looks down on the forest edge. "Xenos positions detected right in front of us, Colonel."

The guardsmen naturally react to that by leaping into defensive positions, forming around heavy weapon emplacements and making prayers to the Emperor.

I approached the edge of the plateau and opened my senses.

There were thousands of them down there, skulking much like our other ambushes did and yet looking far less jittery than them, the WAAAAGH!!! field above them all concentrating towards a single spot in their wide formation.

I traced the path immediately, having to pull on the warp to extend my witch sight further and then I saw it.

He was a towering savage ork, at least three times as large as Graveboila, with skin so dark green it almost looked black. He scanned our positions from the distance for a moment, and then his eyes found me.

The ork grinned widely, and then turned around, back into the jungle, his horde following after him without making a single sound.

An uncomfortable shiver passed down my spine.

"Colonel." The Enginseer sounded almost worried now. "The ork signals… they are leaving."

The Colonel asked for confirmation and we all remained in complete silence for a few minutes before another auspex ping caught the ork horde dispersing completely.

The moment the Enginseer finished speaking Fritz took off his cap and lit up a lho stick, and the guardsmen broke out into cheers, happy to live another day instead of facing even more orks.

Marcus allowed it, as he was too busy staring into the jungle with suspicion in his eyes.

And I wasn't any better. An ork deciding to cut his losses and preserve his forces instead of challenging us to any kind of fight?

Either he was a coward which was impossible judging by his size, or he had some genuine intellect between his ears.

And that only made him all the more terrifying.

Random facts:

Motive Force: Mechanicus for electricity.

SHOOTAH!: Ork for gun.

Orks do indeed practice slavery on humans and other races, mostly to entertain themselves by bossing them around and being all around brutal assholes.

Ironhand (biomancy): Empowers the muscles with extra explosive force.

Grots/Gretchins: Smaller orkoids, usually sneakier and cleverer than the normal orks (by virtue of having to be) but still just as orky, they are the servant "caste" of the species.

Orchestrate flame (pyromancy): Controls the duration of a flame, able to extend or end it.

Ignite (Pyromancy): Set fire to an enemy, at Konstantin's level of power it can indeed straight up detonate most creatures.EotS Chapter 12: Liftoff

Sep 29

Important note at the end.

Colonel Garett Fritz of the Mavian 32nd Foot.

[Come now my dear Garett, there is no need to be in such a rush. We can prepare you a fine triumph in Khadul. It is the least you and your men deserve for hunting that foul beast down in my name.]

Each word the wench said grated on his ears as it had been for the past hour. "As I said my lady." Garett spoke patiently into the vox. "We are honored by your praise, but we must reorganize and tally our losses before leaving Frumentum. Our duty waits for no one."

[Oh, very well.] Her voice was full of disappointment. [At least come for a short visi-]

"My lady?" Garett asked loudly. "My vox seems to be malfunctioning. I can't…" He flipped the switch and ended the call.

"The blessed machine is not malfunctioning, Colonel." Enginseer Fidelius-Rho stated. "I have personally appeased its Machine Spirit."

"And so it isn't." Garett nodded easily. "But our dear Lady Governor doesn't need to know that, does she?" Not waiting for a response, he looked to his second in command. "Grant, have you finished counting our losses?"

"We still don't have an exact number, sir." She said as she tapped on her data slate. "But we are currently at over six thousand lost in the march and subsequent assault with another three thousand wounded, around two hundred of which will not be able to return to the frontlines without intensive medicae work and augments."

Garett closed his eyes and held back a curse. Add the near two thousand losses from the ork assault and almost half of the regiment had been slaughtered in that accursed forest, and even then they had to flee from the greater threat and thank the Emperor the xenos filth let them.

All of this just to soothe his pride…

"Sir?" Grant's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Yes? What is it?" He asked quickly and wiped at his brow with a sleeve, trying to hide the strain from his voice.

"The Captain of the Saturnine Tithe is ready to accept our men again. She is asking how soon we can begin."

"See to it that it is done quickly." He waves the issue away. "The sooner we are off this planet the better."

Grant nods and gets to work.

"What of our other issue?" Hett's cold voice cuts in. "Has the Lady Governor been informed of the threat?"

Garett rubs at the sides of his head and holds back a sigh. "Damn it Hett." He mutters. "She wouldn't hear of it." He says a bit more loudly. "So I warned the lesser nobility instead. The rest will be up to them."

"With all due respect Colonel-" The Commissar begins.

And Garett cuts him off with a raised hand. "The ork is a threat, I understand that and I agree. But I cannot demand resources are moved on yours and the psykers hunch. We will report the issue to high command when we can and leave it to them."

Not like a mangled regiment like theirs could do much else-

The Commissar's lips thin into a line as he inclines his head. "As you say sir."

"Any other immediate issues?" Garett asked his command staff after a moment, getting a few shaking heads in return he grunted and moved to leave. "Good. I am going for a bit of air. Continue without me."

No one tried to stop him.

His soldiers saluted him more fervently as he passed them by, and where there was once suspicion and envy of his noble lineage now there was respect and even reverence.

He had led these soldiers into the flames of battle and onwards to glorious victory. It was only right he had won their respect.

Once he might have relished it, but now?

All of it tasted like ash on his lips.

Soon he reached the outside and was just about to go and find a private spot where he could enjoy a lho stick by his lonesome when he heard a familiar voice, one that had no right being that exuberant so early in the morning.

"And I insist my fine fellow!" Sir Ferdinand vis Hermin declared to psyker who looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else. "There is no need to be humble despite your unfortunate origins. You have done me and my house a service and deserve to be rewarded!"

He wasn't sure how those cursed empty eyes managed to convey a deadpan so perfectly but even the Frumentari noble looked somewhat chastened under their gaze.

The psyker then sighed. "Very well, Sir. I will not disrespect you by refusing."

"Most excellent." The overly colorful man clapped his hands and cleared his throat. "Let it be known then that one Konstantin vis Zamor-"

"That would imply I was the world's ruler not-" The psyker attempted to correct him but went completely ignored.

"-Is hereby granted full hunting rights on all the lands of House Hermin. And is to be welcomed as a friend and an ally by all members of the house in perpetuity." He pointed at one of his attendants. "Scribe, see to it that such a document is ratified with the Administratum."

"It will be done my lord." The bald adept bowed.

"Thank you, Sir." The psyker bobs his head a touch awkwardly, earning a few chuckles from the guardsmen watching the scene. "I will make good use of your generosity, I'm sure."

"Nonsense!" The nobleman declares. "'Tis merely a symbolic gesture of appreciation. There is no need to feel obliged."

"Right." The psyker says sounding even more unsure now.

Garett decided he'd heard enough and cleared his throat. "Sir Ferdinand. What a surprise to find you at our garrison. A continent away from your territory."

Savant Militant Konstantin of Zamor

The Colonel kept his tone from being completely accusatory only just so he could deny it later and whatever reaction he was expecting it certainly wasn't the Frumentari nobleman bursting into another bout of merry laughter and patting his chest.

"I assure you my good lord Colonel, that it is no surprise at all!" The agri noble declared. "I am here to make a petition!"

"And bribe my soldiers with titles and privileges." The Colonel noted dryly.

"It is only just, my lord." Ferdinand doesn't so much as twitch at the accusation.

'At least make the bribe more tangible you fop!' I wanted to yell at him but by some miracle I managed to keep my mouth shut. This entire conversation had been surreal enough.

Fritz looks like he is holding back a groan by pure iron will as he stares at the Frumentari and then simply asks. "What do you want, Hermin?"

"Why to join you, of course!" The man grins brightly. "Seeing your men in action has awakened my faith in the Emperor's commandments anew, and I wish to hunt the xenos across the stars!"

"Mhm." Fritz hums disinterestedly and lights up his cigar, taking a deep drag and only then asking; "And what's the actual reason?"

"Weeeeelll…" Ferdinand's voice finally falters a bit as he scratches the side of his head. "With my fellow coalition nobles slain in battle I fear our honored Lady Governor may… take issue with some of my rather unfortunately open statements."

"You fear she will have you removed?" Fritz frowns.

"Almost certainly, my lord." Ferdinand nods. "Which is why I have already abdicated all my lands to my son and heir and come here with my retinue to join you."

"And what is stopping Lady Khadul from simply taking her fury out on your heir?" I asked, earning a slightly amused exhale from the Colonel.

Ferdinand looked outright outraged by the prospect. "That is just not done, my good man! My willing exile should be more than enough to placate the Lady Governor, thus it has been done since word of the Emperor graced our planet."

"Never pays to remove old lines, opens the way for ambitious upstarts." Fritz elaborates for him and then focuses back on the Frumentari. "How many men have you brought with you?"

"Three hundred of my finest! All bloodied in our assault." Ferdinand declares. "We are ready and willing to serve your fine regiment, so long as I am granted a rank befitting my status of course."

I can almost taste Fritz's immediate impulse to tell him to stuff it and get out. Except he'd seen the Frumentari in action, and despite their very subpar equipment they had proven themselves adept at woodland reconnaissance operations, and they did not balk when the time came to break out the bayonets.

In fact, their long martial tradition fighting the orks made them far superior in melee combat when compared to the basic bayonet wielding Mavians.

They wouldn't be a terrible addition.

And Fritz seemed to agree. "Fine. Congratulations Lieutenant." He damn near growled. "Report to Major Grant for your battalion's quartering and retraining."

"I am overjoyed by your warm welcome, my lord!" Ferdinand offered an elaborate bow, looking like he is about to launch into another tirade only to get cut off by Fritz.

"That was an order, soldier."

The fop blinks and then quickly makes a salute. "Yes, sir!" And marches off, in the direction opposite the strategium.

As soon as he left, Fritz shot me and the other soldiers nearby a glare. "Not. A. Word." And then he stalked off towards a nearby guard tower that led up to the walls.

Unwilling to poke the walking ball of tension further, I huffed and returned to the nearby table we'd been occupying before Ferdinand decided he needed to 'honor me for my many deeds on and off the battlefield.'

Sure, having noble recognition in any form was useful but he could have at least given me a few hundred thrones, that would have made me feel much more honored!

Oh well, you win some you lose some.

Speaking of which.

"Well Lieutenant, it seems the good landholder will be officially joining us from now on." I said a touch too cheerfully as I joined the young blonde woman.

Glinda Bell, the woman in charge of the battalion Jaremy and his squad served in, made a deep scowl. "Stuff it."

The soldiers gathered around us laughed.

"What did he do to you anyway?" I asked as I began dealing everyone in on another round of poker.

I wasn't allowed to play for obvious reasons but I could still chip in by dealing the cards.

Bell's scowl somehow deepened. "He tried to and I quote 'woo me with his warrior's charm'. The man is three times my age."

Absently, my eyes trailed to the spot where the nobleman had been standing previously.

Huh, awfully spry for a seventy something year old.

Bell quickly realized my train of thought and glared at me as I finished dealing the cards and we whiled the hours away talking about anything other than the battle that happened two days ago.

No one was eager to go through that again, even if we all knew a repeat was inevitable.

Knowing what I knew, it was probably all downhill from here.

---

The boarding process lasted for three days straight, and only because most of our supplies had been lifted off well in advance. The Saturnine Tithe had a good enough shuttle complement to lift us of far more quickly but the Captain of the vessel decided to take her time, and no one was in a rush to gainsay her.

Blessedly, I was left for last along the command staff, but my trip back into yet another flying coffin was inevitable, and soon I was riding a lighter off of Frumentum and into the great troop transport vessel.

It was a monstrosity of metal, a city sized voidcraft as large as an Imperial Navy cruiser but lacking the signature broadsides of such a vessel.

No, this beast was made exclusively for ferrying troops from point A to point B and ferrying up to damn near a hundred thousand of them with supplies at a time as well.

Marcus, myself, and a few squads of Mavians landed into one of the berths alongside the ship's hull and the rank and file were immediately guided away into the barrack module assigned to the regiment.

Marcus and I on the other hand were approached by a squad of naval armsmen.

"Commissar." Their leader saluted gruffly. "This the psyker?"

"Indeed." Marcus nodded. "I trust your ship is equipped with the appropriate lodgings?"

"He in good standin'?" The armsman asked while side-eyeing me suspiciously.

"He is." Marcus confirmed without hesitation.

The tension around the navymen's shoulders unclenched ever so slightly. "He's to be bunked near the Navigator's Sanctum then."

"That is appropriate." Marcus agreed. "Savant, you are free for the rest of the day. Make no trouble for our hosts."

"Of course not, Commissar." I inclined my head and turned to the armsmen, two of whom made immediate warding signs of the aquila.

"Well gentlemen." I hid an evil smile at their reactions. "Shall we?"

Imperial light cruisers are about 3km long, with a crew complement of anything from 60k to 90k people usually needed to keep it going. It is a floating city in space and living on one sucks just as bad as you think.

Le important note:

And thus we come to the end of the first operation our boi shall participate in, as well as the perfect point for me to address certain issues before they become actual problems later on.

I will not be posting chapters this thursday or friday in favor of going through the whole thing and doing a whole load of editing, world building, adding descriptions, and generally just improving the vibes.

Giving the story the certain oomph it may currently lack.

I know, I know, a bit early on for me to already be doing one of these but the longer I delay it the more challenging the fixes will be for me later on, and writing almost completely from scratch is new territory so some extra care must be taken before I start posting this on the free sites in a week and a bit or so.

Big thanks to Aliya for helping me bounce my thoughts about and plan some things out.EotS Chapter 13: All Aboard

Oct 5

All previous chapters have been edited (most affected are 4, 6, 11 with the latter being by far the most changed) with some extra details and just general improvements all around. (about an extra chapter's and a bit worth of words spread out in there)

Also fixed the discrepancies between ranks and organizational units, LT's lead battalions not companies (those are for Captains), though it doesn't truly matter all that much since those units are incredibly bloated size wise compared to their modern counterparts.

Relevant for this chapter: The transport ship has been renamed from the Grim Tithe to the Saturnine Tithe as the former felt more fitting for something like a black ship and not a basic ass troop carrier.

Also I nerfed Konstantin a tiiiiny bit in chap 11 by taking away his fireball 'spell'. Felt a tad early for him to start crossing over between disciplines like I had him describe it.

Big thanks to Aliya for helping me think smart thoughts basedly.

Savant Militant Konstantin of Zamor

Hearing the doors of my newly assigned lodgings shut behind me I let out the relieved groan that had been building up ever since we reached this part of the ship.

The area surrounding the Navigator's sanctum was heavily warded against warp influences, and while most psykers usually felt discomfort at their connection being blunted like this I was more than happy to give it up for some Emperor damned quiet.

It was like being afflicted with permanent super tinnitus and having it suddenly go quiet. For the most part.

This also made it a perfect spot for meditation, and so with great effort I ignored the very inviting bed and sat cross legged on the floor, activating my witch sight and looking inward.

For someone of my natural potence, my control was excellent but still nowhere near perfect, and the bits of uncontrolled warp energies still rampaging through my flesh proved that point most glaringly.

Being a biomancer was both a curse and a blessing, it allowed one to affect one's own flesh or that of others directly, rapidly healing wounds, reinforcing organs, even slowing aging to a crawl or outright improving themselves permanently with enough skill.

It also allowed the warp to affect them in that same manner on its own, if they let it.

Dealing with such things was an almost weekly chore by now, so with minimal whinging I began reordering the energies into their proper place and drawing the excess into my psy-inhibitors to be safely expelled.

Done with that, the temptation to lay my head down and rest grew but the day was still young, and I needed to use the time productively if I wanted to increase my chances of not becoming a random daemon's snack meal.

So, I grit my teeth, focused, and began grinding away at my mental shields, bringing them into something resembling geometrical order.

The mind palace wasn't going to build itself.

The feeling of someone's attention on my face woke me up, and despite knowing there was no escaping it I was very tempted to go right back to sleep.

This damn bed was way too comfortable.

But doing that was inevitably going to bite me, so with a mildly annoyed grunt I opened one of my eyes to find a tall blonde youth dressed in the formal fatigues of an Imperial Navy Cadet standing at attention a few steps away from me, trembling with nerves but keeping his back straight despite it.

"Gimme a second." I mumble as he goes to speak and get up, stretching and feeling my bones pop satisfyingly while the kid failed to hide a look of ingrained disapproval at seeing me sleeping in my robes.

I did him the kindness of not laughing at the reaction. Outwardly.

"How can I help you, Cadet?" I asked him, not bothering to question what he was doing in my room in the first place. I felt no hostility, and the only way he could enter was either with instructions or permission from someone way above me.

I was unfortunately far too used to such breaches of privacy.

He looked hesitant but still cleared his throat and spoke: "The honorable Lord Navigator cordially invites you to share a meal with him and his family this evening. The specifics have been forwarded to your personal data slate."

Heeding the implied instruction, I grabbed the device from a nearby shelf and quickly browsed it. "That's a good bit of time later." I muttered. "Am I allowed to roam the ship in the meantime?"

He nods. "Yes but do keep disorder to a minimum. The lady Captain considers the guard as guests on her vessel and proper conduct is expected."

"Of course. Please inform the good Navigator I will happily pay him a visit. Was that all?"

"Your robes will serve as fitting attire." He says with great reluctance. "Just make sure to mind your manners in his lordship's presence."

The genuine worry in his voice made me chuckle. "I know my courtesies."

"Good." He nods and salutes. "Savant."

"Cadet." I return the gesture and he leaves.

Most of the ship was understandably barred for us.

Only the regimental leadership was permitted to attend the higher decks and even then, they were made to feel unwelcome by the naval staff who hated outsiders with an intensity that approached the religious.

Meaning that in a true fit of irony, my new rooms were even more luxurious than Fritz's, as he had wisely elected to stay close to his regiment instead of demanding the 'proper' lodgings for someone of his station.

The barrack modules still had officer's decks of course, but they were nowhere near as luxurious as those of the actual naval leaders.

As I went about the task of killing time I made the mistake of looking for Marcus first, finding him at our assigned training chambers as he led the new Frumentari recruits in their morning exercises alongside a battalion of Mavians.

He did not slow as he noticed me, merely indicating for me to join him while looking at me with eyes that clearly said it was not a request.

And so, I spent my morning running, crawling, and engaging in some light cqc exercise with the new recruits.

The soldiers were only somewhat hesitant to accept me among them but quickly became far more vocal as they felt my reinforced bones completely destroy their efforts.

Which is of course when Marcus decided I was his sparring partner now and proceeded to fold me in seven different ways before tossing me on my ass.

His smug eyes made it oh so tempting to cast iron hand and give him a whack, but I knew bait when I saw it and merely accepted my asswhooping like a man and left while I still could.

My next stop was the shooting range, where I found Jaremy's freshly reinforced squad practicing with their Lt. And I happily joined them in honing my aim on the many moving targets the grounds were equipped with.

"You really can shoot, huh." Jaremy whistled.

I smirked. "Told you."

"It's passable." Lt. Bell commented from nearby. "Slightly better than the average recruit at least."

A few of the soldiers snickered while I playfully clutched at my heart.

"Might want to visit the markets before we set off." The Lt. went on. "The bastards will start hawking prices the moment we set off from the planet."

I squinted at her. "With what money, Lieutenant?"

"Did you already spend your pay?" She asked, genuinely confused.

I couldn't help but snort. Pay? What is that?

Which only seemed to confuse her further as a hint of suspicion entered her tone. "Go visit Cornelius. He should sort you out."

"…Alright." I shrugged and turned to leave for the armory, and the moment I stepped out of hearing I heard the Mavians begin to snicker between themselves, while Bell looked outright exasperated by something.

Well, at least they were having fun.

"Psyker." The busy looking Quartermaster greeted without looking up from his work as I approached him. "What do you need?"

"Lt. Bell sent me." I leaned against a nearby wall and crossed my arms. "Something about me having a salary and not being told."

He looked up at me with slightly raised eyebrows before going back to tapping on his cogitator and for a moment I was almost ready to think he wanted to ignore me.

But then he finished what he was doing and sharply whistled for one of his orderlies, sending them into the deeper armory before addressing me again. "You were on my list, but we've been stuck dealing with aftermath of the battle.

His expression sours. "Half the damned squads needed merging and keeping track of their wargear is a nightmare."

"Right." I did my best to appear contrite.

A tiny bit of tension leaves him at how easily I accept it, and the orderly returns a few seconds later, depositing a small box onto the Quartermaster's counter. The large man sends the man away and pats the container. "There you go, two hundred throne gelt. Don't spend it all in one place, won't get any more for a month."

I quickly take the box, feeling oddly excited despite having had all of my needs already seen to, and opened it to find a bunch of neatly ordered golden coins stacked into rows and stamped with various imperial symbols.

"It's been at least fifteen years since I've been paid." I chuckled. "I think I am going to splurge a little."

The Quartermaster grunts and shakes his head. "Its your money."

'And so it was.' I grinned, wished him luck, and made for the markets.

Though calling it a market was something of a misnomer.

Technically the area I was headed to was designated as an unused storage yard near the middle of the lower decks, but in truth it was a sprawling multi-level shanty town pretending not to be one, operated by those who were neither part of the navy nor the guard.

The 'camp followers' that hounded nearly every imperial army and ship.

Crooks, dealers, thieves, performers, whores and more, if it was a profession that could extract the pay from stressed soldiers, it could probably be found in this ship-borne shanty town.

And I walked directly into it.

My distinct robes and looks drew immediate attention, but unlike the usual sort I was expecting I was instead immediately hounded by a bunch of the locals, offering all manner of products or services while yelling over each other.

It was almost like they could smell a fresh paycheck from hundreds of meters away.

That was until one of the fools became a bit too enthusiastic in her attempts and tried getting too close, and a nearby grizzled old naval armsman proceeded to smack her into the ground with the butt of his shotgun, glaring the rest into silence and giving me an annoyed grunt before waving me forward and never once turning his eyes away from me for the entire time I was down there.

Either someone was keeping an eye on me, or the man had seen what happens when a psyker gets overwhelmed and was looking to do everyone a service.

Not that it stayed on my mind for long.

Two hundred throne gelts was a considerable sum of money, about the equivalent of a standard guardsman's kit in value, and I wasn't leaving the place until I spent most of it.

I immediately began tossing my money around, grabbing two pairs of solid steel-toed boots and a dozen sets of under-clothes, as well as a metal instrument that vaguely resembled a guitar that was sure I could work out how to play on the way to our next destination.

Finally, I grabbed a few months of high-quality kaff for personal use and a crate of excellent rations that wouldn't spoil for years.

You never knew when you needed to bribe a few guardsmen here and there, and on the front money was worthless.

On my way out I grabbed a few sticks of mystery meat and tossed one to the armsman who helped me out earlier.

He simply grunted at me and bit into it, still staring at me as I left for my quarters.

The inner section of the Navigator's sanctum was a small fortress within a fortress, protected by overlapping killzones and manned by elite naval armsmen, it held enough defenses and firepower to stall out a full-blown assault by anything less than a space marine.

Its inhabitants proved to be both more and less intimidating as I was welcomed into the palatial chambers they resided in.

My host, Graccus of house Belisarius of Terra, was a truly corpulent man, almost entirely covered in silks and ornamental plates of armor, he sat in his mechanical platform as wide as three men, and things wriggled under his robes where limbs should not exist.

Only one of arms was visible, appearing surprisingly human save for a deep pallor as he waved me over in a lightly hacky but still jovial tone. "Come, dear guest, and be welcome."

"My lord Belisarius." I offered a deep bow. "I thank you for your gracious invitation, even if I must admit to some surprise you would deign to spend your time on someone as lowly as myself."

The words flowed out of me with ease. Navigators were to be given all due courtesy when onboard a ship, something Marcus saw fitting to remind me before I left my quarters.

"You are already our guest." The man waves me up from my bow. "It would be rude not to extend an invitation. Besides, it is so rare we have such interesting guests."

He then points at the inhumanly tall woman standing just off to his side, thin as a reed and at least two and a half meters tall, her features were likewise completely hidden behind a crimson veil.

"My beloved wife, Zenobia." Lord Belisarius introduces her as she bobs her head and finally points at the excessively pale child staring up at me with too wide too large eyes with both curiosity and excitement. "And my daughter and heir, Gratiana."

'Ah.' I chuckled inwardly. 'I suppose there is the true reason for my presence.'

"My lady." I bowed to the wife, and then to the child. "My lady."

The kid giggled and I could almost feel the Lord Navigator's jovial grin widen behind the folds of his cowl. "Please, be seated dear guest, and dispense with the formalities. Simply call me Graccus for the evening."

"And you may refer to me as Zenobia." A musical voice reached me from behind the red veil, the lady Navigator looking at her husband with what I felt was fond exasperation before focusing fully on me. "It is rare for the uninitiated to be so at ease in our presence."

Saying I was completely at ease would be a lie, but I shared very little superstition with most of the Imperium.

"I beg you do not take offense, my lady." I kept my tone formal despite the invitation. "But compared to the horrors that trouble me every night, seeing your great sacrifice in the flesh makes me feel nothing but a deep respect."

The woman raises a gloved hand of far too many far too elongated fingers over her veil and titters at my declaration.

Before either of them can truly respond to my declaration, the kid finally loses her patience and demands: "Tell us about the battle!"

The patriarch laughs again and requests I indulge her, feeling quite curious about it himself, and so I spend the next few hours talking to them about the operation.

At first I tried softening it a bit for the kid, but Graccus quickly had me dispense with the sugar coating and just detail everything as well as I could.

Kid gloves weren't really something that had a point when her destiny was to stare into the abyss on the regular and repeatedly live to tell the tale with only rampant mutations in her flesh and soul.

So she eagerly listened to what I had to say, and I tried to make it as educational as possible just in case she ever needed it. Soon the topics shifted to wider things like the state of the sector or ship politics, and I took my chance to familiarize myself with as much void etiquette as I could.

At some point, as we were feasting on some truly decadent meals, the navigators began to seem almost too welcoming of my presence, but the more we talked the more I understood their position.

Navigators were necessary for the Imperium to function, but they were also mutants, and the Imperium abhorred mutation. It did not help that they inevitably grew even more disfigured throughout their long lives of service.

They were respected, honored even. But never accepted.

And in comes someone more psychically attuned than they were, and displays absolutely no disgust for them behind the usual polite words.

A random courtesy invitation quickly turned into a genuine discourse we all enjoyed.

So much so that when a servant rushed over to whisper something into Graccus's ear he seemed almost reluctant to see things end.

Still, he was a man of duty and stood with surprising balance considering his girth. "Apologies, Konstantin. But the lady Captain demands we set sail within the hour."

"Of course, my lor-" I felt his third eye squint at me from within the warp. "Graccus." I corrected myself with a huff. "Let us hope our trip through the warp will be nice and peaceful."

We shared a long look, and then both laughed.

From what little I've searched the internet it seems like lore wise psykers aren't meant to be paid for their services whatsoever but I feel that is a bit too grimderp even for 40k so I'm making it that the lower "unproven" ranks of sanctioned psykers (anything below Savant or Scholar) don't get anything while those above do.

It simply feels more fitting considering the amount of influence psykers actually have in the Imperium.

Random stuff go brrrrr:

Navigators/ The Navis Nobilitae: Mutant strain of humanity able to peer directly into the warp and lead imperial vessels through the literal plane of chaos hell, ravaged by mutations that grow over their long lives they are respected but kept at a distance by most of the imperium.

The main mutation that permits them to do this is their signature third eye.

They also engage in a lot of... family fun, as breeding with normal humans produces simple humans and not navigators, so you would not be out of your mind to imagine Zenobia as either Graccus' sister or cousin. They are freaky like that.

Naval Armsmen: Soldiers tasked with policing and guarding imperial void ships, usually somewhat below IG standards and armed with shotguns as using anything too powerful when in the middle of space is considered a poor life choice.

Cogitator: ComputorEotS Chapter 14: Unwelcome Reinforcements

Oct 6

I tried battling my shitty sleeping habits for as long as I could. Defeat was inevitable.

Previous chapter has seen the usual overall edits while the navigator interaction has been improved considerably in my most humble of opinions.

Savant Militant Konstantin of Zamor

Travelling through the warp was an experience I would wish only upon my worst enemies… If not for the fact they already lived there.

Even from my quarters, buried deep within one of the most warded areas of the Saturnine Tithe, I could still acutely feel the endless hellscape scraping against the thin bubble of reality projected by the gellar field.

Knowing that the only reason we were not immediately devoured whole was that we were too tiny and inconsequential to be noticed only made the feeling that much more unsettling.

And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it except sit and wait.

As soon as the order came through to prepare for warp entry, another quickly followed that dictated I was to be kept in my quarters at all times, with a small battalion of armsmen sitting just outside in case I cracked.

Truth be told it was awfully generous of Captain Domitia Konstanza to merely place me under house arrest while we sailed the immaterium and not just shove me into a metal box and keep me comatose, like I'd seen many weaker psykers end up.

The unfortunate souls probably needed it too…

Despite my weeks long 'imprisonment' I did not often leave my thoughts to wonder as they did, dedicating the time instead to finishing my first readthrough of the Tactica Imperialis primer, and honing my mental defenses against the horrors around me.

Or trying to make the guitar thing I bought sound somewhat less like a strangled cat whenever I plucked at the strings, to the immense irritation of my guards.

It was a work in progress.

Time passed at a painful crawl in those long days, but pass it did, and when the ship wide announcement came that we were leaving the warp, quickly accompanied by me feeling the entire process, I was not ashamed to admit I did a little dance to celebrate.

I was slightly ashamed to have been caught by that one Cadet again but this time he did not seem even slightly bothered by the display.

Everyone felt terrible while in the warp, psychic senses or not.

The kid simply waited for me to calm down and then informed me I was free to move around again, which is how I found myself in the Mavian's officers' quarters, accompanying a sourly Marcus to a strategium room containing most of the 32nd's leadership.

We weren't the last to arrive either, so we took our seats while the remaining few officers trudged in, a good number of them looking ever so slightly intoxicated.

Not even Marcus commented on it.

Seeing his niece sheepishly slink into the room, Colonel Fritz finally cleared his throat and stood, face completely serious as he looked over his subordinates. "We've received news from the front."

All joviality left the officer cadre as they sat up straight.

"The war on Simeus III has intensified, and the traitors' heresy has began to spread to the nearby systems." He indicated at the table and a hololith display of Subsector Tracia sprang into action, showing at least five worlds that were currently contested, and three that were already under enemy control.

At least the sub-sector capital seemed safe for the moment.

"The enemy has breached containment, gentlemen." Fritz declared gravely.

"Has there been a change to our orders, my lord?" Captain Vickers was the first to speak up.

"A minor one." Fritz confirmed with a nod. "We are to enter orbit of the local mining world, Grund II, and take on extra conscripts for the war effort. After that we are to proceed to the Simeus system without delay."

"Conscripts?" One of the captains muttered with clear distaste.

"A penal legion." Fritz elaborated. "Thirty thousand men strong."

The same Captain scoffs. "We might as well move on immediately and save the rations."

Fritz smothered a noise of agreement and shook his head. "We have our orders."

The officer bowed his head, disgruntled but obedient.

Satisfied, Fritz went on. "High command has also instructed us to equip more flamers and adapt our small arms tactics to compensate." He looks at Vickers preemptively. "No, they did not elaborate."

I felt a small pit in my stomach.

"Use what little time we still have to drill your men into the ground. High Command has not been forthcoming with information about the frontlines but the fact they found conscripting criminals necessary tells me this won't be a roadside picnic."

Fritz takes a moment looking at his subordinates before adding: "And be ready in case our new guests try something. Emperor knows we can't turn our backs to the scum."

The officers murmured in agreement.

"Hett." Fritz pointed at the Commissar. "One of yours will be commanding the rabble. Make sure they don't bother my men."

"Understood, sir." Marcus salutes.

"Good." Fritz grunts and eyes the grumpy Cornelius in the corner of the strategium. "Quartermaster, have you finished the tally yet?"

The meeting goes on for hours and I quickly tune out most of the minutiae in favor of overthinking the implication of a single instruction from High Command.

Maybe, hopefully, I was simply jumping to conclusions, seeing connections I thought I should see when there were none, but everything pointed at the heretics being servants of fat jolly and rotting.

Fritz needed to be warned.

And thankfully he'd already learned not to dismiss my concerns out of hand.

The doors of the strategium shut as the final officer left, leaving behind only myself, Major Grant, Commissar Marcus, and the Colonel.

"Well?" Fritz asked.

I looked at the trio briefly, momentarily working my jaw as I thought on how best to put it.

"Out with it, psyker."

"We will need extra supplies." I began. "Rebreathers and as much environmentally sealed armor as we can get."

The Commissar looked like he barely stopped himself from tensing up, his eyes widening so minutely in my direction that normal sight would have missed it completely.

Fritz waited but seeing me not elaborate further he grew annoyed and demanded. "Why?"

"It is a… hunch." I said hesitantly. "Based on forbidden warp lore. I am not permitted to share more."

"Another hunch, hm?" He grunted, and as he did whenever he was feeling stressed, he lit up a cigar, giving the Commissar a side glance and finding him offering a heavy nod.

"Fine." Fritz growled. "Grant see to it. And psyker." He pointed his cigar at me. "Pray your hunch is right."

"Please forgive me if I do the exact opposite, sir."

He did not find my words reassuring.

As soon as the meeting was over, I requested a separate training ground which needed facilitating by the ship instead of the regiment and spent as much time as I could afford honing my pyromantic abilities.

A flame shield would have been a perfect addition to my arsenal, but I was not nearly skilled enough to keep that stable for the duration of a battle so setting my goal to simply burning everything in sight would have to do.

I paced myself properly and did not stop until my implants started activating on their own, leaving the thoroughly scorched training room in favor of skulking my way to the hangar where our new recruits were to be received.

Fritz had categorically refused to welcome the penal legion and sent Marcus to welcome his colleague from the Praefectus while he busied himself prodding the ship's Captain for more information about the surrounding sector.

Colonel Commissar Baldemar cut an impressive figure in his masterfully engraved coat as he stepped out of his valkyrie transport accompanied not by his new soldiers but by a squad of imperial stormtroopers.

He exchanged minimal pleasantries with Marcus and effectively told him to kick rocks before the minute was out, sending his fellow Commissar away as the Grundian legionaries began landing in the hangar bay.

And what a sorry sight they made.

The mining world they inhabited had a lower gravity level, which made them taller and thinner than the Mavians on average and the working conditions on the barely habitable rock under us did the rest.

Their skin was a sickly pale and damn near all of them displayed signs of malnourishment, only somewhat receded as they were given proper rations instead of whatever goop they were fed previously.

The same could not be said about their equipment.

The Grundians carried no armor whatsoever, the closest thing they had to it were their thick and coarse looking grey coats, and the weapons slung lazily over their shoulders were not much better.

Thin uncovered things made up of metal that looked to have been recycled over a dozen times, their lasguns looked barely half a step above a las-lock, and that was only because I noticed their power packs which at least seemed to be standard issue.

Even the feudal Frumentari had a certain gravity to them with their old style weaponry and armor but the Grundians?

They made for a truly sad sight.

As if to echo my thoughts, one of the emaciated soldiers stumbled over his steps and into the back of one of his comrades only for the man to round on him and deck him in the face, starting a small brawl in the middle of the landing hangar.

The Colonel Commissar gave them all of one second to get back into line before he started executing them, one for each second they failed to stand at attention.

What a waste of bolt rounds.

"Ekh." Jaremy spat onto the nearby floor and took another shot of cheap amasec. "Barely three days in realspace and they already want us to head back in."

"Already?" A… lady of the night, Marian had under his arm asked in surprise.

"Front's moving quick." The Sargent shrugged. "Least that's what the LT. said."

"Don't worry girl." Marian grinned. "Me and the boys 'll keep you safe."

Everyone around the table made a damn near simultaneous snort.

"Oi!" The private sputtered and the amused prostitute quickly began placating him.

"You lads hear what happened on the cargo deck?" Brick spoke up while nursing his drink.

"Who hasn't by now?" Jaremy scoffs. "Damn Grundians can't stay still for a day without starting some shit. Even locked up they find new ways to 'get lost'."

"I heard talk that noble fop from Frumentum went hunting for them who escaped." Stocke smiled wryly. "People are already starting to come up with stories about them minesweepers."

'Not even a week and they already have a slur for them.' I couldn't help but chuckle, drawing the squad's attention. "That's not a rumor actually. Lt. Ferdinand was quite boastful about his 'scores' in the lower decks."

"Frak, that sounds just like the cunt." Jaremy snorts. "Sure would beat patrolling their damn barracks in any case."

"Thirty thousand men is thirty thousand men." I shrugged. "The lady Captain was not planning on taking on that sort of liability on route, so its only natural we chip in by keeping order."

"We." Jaremy rolls his eyes. "Like you're the one who has to spend your time around the rats for a whole ass day."

"Wait." Stocke's eyes narrow as he leans forward. "Why do they let you twiddle your thumbs anyway?"

His comrades shot him looks of warning but I just sipped my drink and chuckled again. "Well, aside from being a dangerous warp witch." I smile at him. "I am technically an officer."

""Groxshit."" Stocke and Marian declare immediately.

"No, he's right." Their Sargent waves them down with amusement clear on his face. "He's got no real authority but anyone under Captain can't order him around. Officially anyway."

"How would you know?" Marian scowls at him.

And his amusement disappears as he groans, head lolling down in pure exhaustion. "Lt. had me reading through some big-ass book until I could recite the bits I needed backwards. I can't even read all that good!" He throws his hands up.

"She has you reading the tactica?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"Yes, that damn thing!" He points at me and his two disbelieving buddies groan as my claim is confirmed then and there.

"Well look at it this way." I say with a small grin as I look around just in case Marcus was skulking nearby. "At least it's more useful than the Primer."

Jaremy points at me as if he is about to make a counterargument, then thinks better of it and lowers his hand in defeat, letting out another tormented groan before Brick decides to intervene and, in a few seconds, we are back to talking shit about the new guys.

It was a good thing they weren't allowed anywhere near the camp followers.

Much to the entire regiment's frustration, we were soon entering the warp again, and I was shoved back into my room, locked up for the foreseeable future.

At least I managed to get a pair of gas masks and a small crate of filters beforehand. Major Grant did her best but most of the regiment still ended up underequipped on such short notice and I wasn't about to trust anything that came from Grund after seeing the state of their soldiers' wargear.

They may be penal troops but even those were supposed to be given a base standard of gear if only to last a bit longer while drawing enemy fire.

The ship translated into the warp and I made sure to keep my mind focused during the process but soon enough it was back to the previous routine of doing my utmost to kill the time.

Days passed in isolation as nothing changed, nothing save for a tiny ephemeral sense of foreboding scratching just at the edge of my senses.

It was the seventh day of travel when the sensation intensified, and despite not trusting it one bit I still made sure to forward this to my superiors before going to sleep.

My eyes snapped open as alarm klaxons blared and the doors to my quarters hissed open, letting in five of the Grundian legionaries inside as they stepped over the corpses of the naval armsmen assigned to guard me.

One of them, looking paradoxically sickly and energetic at the same time, opened his mouth to speak, bright exultation clear in his bloodshot eyes.

A wet thud is all he managed as his crushed corpse was embedded into the thick metal walls behind him.

Random stuff go!

Voidship Captains are considered pretty much second to the Emperor himself on their vessel, their word is law.

Gellar Field: A field of projected "reality" imperial ships cast around themselves while traveling through the warp. They make it considerably more difficult for daemons to invade the ship. If a gellar field generator is destroyed within the warp it usually means the ship is sentenced to death.

Hololith: Hologram projector table thingy.

Penal Legion: An imperial unit made up of convicts tasked with paying for their crimes through military service. They are given the bare minimum equipment and sent to the most dangerous tasks as a matter of course. They are the cannon fodder of the cannon fodder.

Colonel Commissar: Rarely, if they have proven their ability or the situation demands it, a Commissar may be given command over an Imperial Guard formation. Notably a Penal Legion assignment is far more common as they are notoriously undisciplined and expendable, a Commissar already knows how to properly motivate them.

Las-lock: A single shot lasgun, the equivalent of a laser musket. They can be of good quality and thus quite powerful but usually they are cheap wastes of good metal.

The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer: All guardsmen are required to keep this booklet about their duties and the enemies of man on them at all times, reading it is mandatory and some Commissars were known to shoot soldiers who could not quote it on demand.

It holds such grand wisdoms as orks being slow and cowardly and equally grandiose gems in its many folds.

It is also known as a great source of toiletry when on the battlefield, just don't tell the Praefectus.

Chapter 3 - jjkk