Chapter 1: Into the wild black yonder IC

Lethia looked out the viewports, only partially understanding the tactics of the LZ-It was not her domain of study.

She disliked how heavily defended the tower was. They would have to clear it no matter what LZ they chose, it was good that they were heavily outclassed by the attackers.

While the others talked about hard decisions, she let her mind drift to the empyrean, perhaps there was a hidden threat here that could make the answer a much easier decision to make.

Torian observed the team's functioning quietly and intently, as he did most things. He felt pride at their efficiency and competency. This was a team into which he could put faith. He welcomed the young martyress and communicated his desire for her and her flock to prepare for departure at once. He instructed her to liaise with the ambassadorial team within the day to get aboard-ship. As they walked to the field to inspect the battalion he keyed the Anatem, ordering another ambassadorial suite be prepared, including a small chamber to be used as a private chapel. He noted mentally that the initiation rites for the archeocogitator should begin as soon as possible, and to request a team of Magi to assist him in the initial stages. He also made a mental note to order Ignatio to rest however a Magos rests. He knew even the Magi had their physical limits and required some measure of sleep. There would be much work to do on Glacea and he needed his team able to fully engage.

In the short time he was aboard before departing again, Torian gave a flurry of orders. Such was the life of a captain, keeping things moving. He commended the barge pilots for their efficacy, ordered the dismantling of the temporary refugee camp that had been erected for the freed slaves, and ordered the materials therefrom be put towards the new project of preparing barracks for 1000 to accommodate their new influx. He also ordered that a suitable chamber to accommodate 50 be stripped near the new barracks, to be turned into a temple for the knights. He put in a word with Brenonya, "I have put into motion the necessary actions for a temple to be erected specifically for the use of your knights. Perhaps you could work with them on its construction, maybe even bring in some of your zealotry into its design. It could be an effective means of ingratiating yourself and endearing them to our cause, as well as improving unit cohesion. I will leave it to you to inform them."

He knew something should be done to deal with potential morale issues and bring some sense of unity between the Anatem crew and the new Glacean and knighted battalions. Such matters were always best handled preventatively rather than reactively. He sent word to the now-planetside ambassadorial team to inquire about the purchase of enough fresh fish to provide the entire crew a hearty, proper fresh meal. It would also be a nice boost to the economy of their new allies, and begin the crew associating new worlds with the prospect of luxury and boons.

As the Aquila approached the LZ, Torian spoke up: "I propose a multi-pronged approach, similar to what worked so effectively previously. Let ourselves and a few elite troops land directly on the Dongon after a bombardment and with sufficient suppressing fire from the Aquila and Claymore, while simultaneously our barges deploy on the walls and courtyard. The troops on the walls will suppress any potential archer fire that would plague the troops in the courtyard, and the initial wave can secure and open the gates for the second wave, which would deploy outside the castle. We have the distinct advantage of mobility, let us utilize it to its full effectiveness."

[With Torian]

"I am honored, my lord. I do hope to see them prove their loyalty to the Immortal Emperor soon. I hope to have them become devout followers and to realize that their faith must extend across the Imperium." She thought about this temple and wondered how much incense it will take to purify and sanctify the barracks for her small band of crusaders.

[Earlier with the Commander Knight]

She beckoned the soldier to take a seat in front of her, and began the conversation, "now please tell me, how far are you willing to go to cleanse the universe of your god's enemies?"

[Torian]
You would better talk to the priests for a temple. That is the point of the Dead Company-as we are no longer considered living, we are not bound by the endless cycles of masses and sermons. Our only obedience is to destroy the servants of Satan and guard the faithful.

[Brenonya]
Okwaho was oiling his weapon, a large great-sword that showed significant wear & repair. We was strong enough to wield it in one hand, do a few practice slashes, which he followed with a "tsh" and returned to oiling. He responded to Brenonya:

To death and back. I have already accepted I will die facing god's enemies, and so I will ensure that my death is not wasted. There is no tactic, no method, no extreme I will not go to defeat them, short of using the power of Satan.

He continued to oil his sword, then took another few practice slashes that seemed somehow smoother, made an acquiescent "huh", then slipped it into its sheath.

Bren looked at his stance, assessing his ability, and she pondered the condition of this weapon. She readied her chain sword and said, "I believe those words, I know belief is a strong steel itself. But it can't make that sword unbreakable. The Imperium makes swords that can shred and grind and maim your foe. The Imperium can forge a soldier that will not blink at swiftly fracturing the foe's body, brain, and spirit simultaneously. I want to test this metal you hold, and this shall be your first lesson as my personal crusader: to serve the Immortal Emperor you must wield the might of the emperor in your hand."

With that she drew closer holding her chain sword with both hands, it was a wide stance with one foot pointing at the command one ninety degrees from there. She held it closer to far hip. She waited for him to take his stance before striking.

[Before the battle]

Okwaho took an aggressive stance that took full advantage of his reach, which was nearly 1.5 meters with the greatsword.

It is not the sword that is the weapon, but my spirit. And my body will be destroyed long before it will.

He was facing you directly, with no hesitation in his eyes.

[In battle]
The claymore buzzed the castle, its attempted shots doing little more than scoring the courtyard. The shuttles opened up to whole, but somewhat defended walls. Okwaho's & his knights jumped out, surprisingly limber for being in plate armor, smashing into the chainmailed archers who pointlessly fired at the shuttles.

Your own vessel set down on the central bastion, lightly defended allowing an easy landing.

As the Aquila lander made its final approach, Ignatio used its sensors to take stock of the battlefield. The sight of multiple entrances into the bastion's interior rendered the immediate use of his melta unnecessary.

Instead, when the lander set down, he marched out with his hellgun in hand, cracking quick shots at any defenders who happened to be standing on the bastion's roof, then moving to the edge to spray hot death at the defenders as they tried to regroup, taking particular aim at any who wore heavy armor.

Alexium sat cross legged on the floor of the Aquila as it departed. The team had only just come from one battlefield only to jump to another. They took a moment to reflect upon what an Imperial Guardsman must feel, jumping from fight to fight, battle to battle, war to war. They were thankful that their service to the God Emperor had placed them in their current position.

A deep breath in. Held. Tight. So tight that they could feel the vibrations of the cosmos upon their soul. Then slowly, like a tiny hole in a bottle of water, it came out. With it came a calm and centered reassurance for the entire team and battle group.

~~ The Lord God Emperor of Humankind is within you now. Do not fail Him and He will not fail you. Hardened your resolve, strengthen your souls, and bring honor to your planet and the Filianatus Dynasty ~~

Torian heard Alexium's words reverberate through his mind, and took comfort in the knowledge that witchery was on his side of the fight this time. He strode out as the lander settled down, firing full auto from his boltgun. Once the immediate area was clear he joined Ignatio in raining death down upon groups of the enemy below them. The tactics here needed little oversight.

Roderick's first pass was unsatisfactory. Glancing shots would not do, especially in front of the new troops. He pulled the controls around for another pass, and lined up on the courtyard, keeping in mind the troops that would begin pouring onto it at any moment.

Strategic Battle Turn 1

Roderick's first pass was unsatisfactory. Glancing shots would not do, especially in front of the new troops. He pulled the controls around for another pass, and lined up on the courtyard, keeping in mind the troops that would begin pouring onto it at any moment.

The claymore buzzed the castle, its attempted shots doing little more than scoring the courtyard. The shuttles opened up to whole, but somewhat defended walls. Okwaho's & his knights jumped out, surprisingly limber for being in plate armor, smashing into the chainmailed archers who pointlessly fired at the shuttles.

Your own vessel set down on the central bastion, lightly defended allowing an easy landing.


Torian heard Alexium's words reverberate through his mind, and took comfort in the knowledge that witchery was on his side of the fight this time. He strode out as the lander settled down, firing full auto from his boltgun. Once the immediate area was clear he joined Ignatio in raining death down upon groups of the enemy below them. The tactics here needed little oversight.

As the Aquila lander made its final approach, Ignatio used its sensors to take stock of the battlefield. The sight of multiple entrances into the bastion's interior rendered the immediate use of his melta unnecessary.

Instead, when the lander set down, he marched out with his hellgun in hand, cracking quick shots at any defenders who happened to be standing on the bastion's roof, then moving to the edge to spray hot death at the defenders as they tried to regroup, taking particular aim at any who wore heavy armor.

Alexium sat cross legged on the floor of the Aquila as it departed. The team had only just come from one battlefield only to jump to another. They took a moment to reflect upon what an Imperial Guardsman must feel, jumping from fight to fight, battle to battle, war to war. They were thankful that their service to the God Emperor had placed them in their current position.

A deep breath in. Held. Tight. So tight that they could feel the vibrations of the cosmos upon their soul. Then slowly, like a tiny hole in a bottle of water, it came out. With it came a calm and centered reassurance for the entire team and battle group.

~~ The Lord God Emperor of Humankind is within you now. Do not fail Him and He will not fail you. Hardened your resolve, strengthen your souls, and bring honor to your planet and the Filianatus Dynasty ~~

Lethia looked out the viewports, only partially understanding the tactics of the LZ-It was not her domain of study.

She disliked how heavily defended the tower was. They would have to clear it no matter what LZ they chose, it was good that they were heavily outclassed by the attackers.

While the others talked about hard decisions, she let her mind drift to the empyrean, perhaps there was a hidden threat here that could make the answer a much easier decision to make.

Lethia stepped out of the vehicle into the cold wind and battle. Surrounded by a coterie of warriors, she felt safe from any immediate threats but that did not mean she was not invulnerable.
She popped off the occasional shot from her hot shot las pistol, but she left most of the fighting to the group that she stuck with.
"Bren, I sense no psychic tracings here. You can proceed without psychic intervention."

Brenonya stalked out of the Aquila lander at the head of the Filiantius entourage. In her full power armor, with her chainsword and bolt pistol, she had every element of a Sister of Battle sent by the Emperor to lay His enemies low.

She took a moment to survey the battlefield, watching the deployment of the Dead Company into the courtyard with pride. With that army of faithful at her back, she could lead a crusade.

Hearing Lethia mention the lack of threat of witchcraft, she gave the navigator a curt nod. "Good. Then there's no reason to hesitate."

Stalking toward the nearest door leading into the bastion, she raised her chainsword and brought it whirring to life above her head. The call came from deep within her, pouring out of her throat as if propelled by unstoppable pressure. "FOR THE EMPEROR!" She roared as she charged forward.

Reaching the door, she swept her growling blade down across it, cutting it in two before she slammed her shoulder against it, exploding through the threshold and making her way into the heart of the stone bastion. She intended to add the Blackguard's head to her list of trophies.

The battle started sedately. Despite your advantage of superior technology, the defenders where holding their own. The beachhead was established however-the walls where taken, and troops where starting to disembark. In addition, some of the defenders where starting to try to reach your location, trying to get thru the trapdoors leading to your location.

(TURN 2 BEGINS)

Strategic Battle Turn 2

Lethia kept pace with the bulk troopers as best as she could. She would not be found alone without their protection. She had decided to save her navigator powers for only if they were needed, and she dearly hoped they would not.
She takes the occasional shot as she kept pace with the soldiers, making herself as little a target as possible. She was a petite and her carapace armor made her look to be a child wearing an oversized piece of equipment, almost comically. She looks to Alexium and notices that the armor fits her better, she would have to have the armor sized to her more appropriately.

The Magos watched with disappointment as the battle failed to resolve immediately, despite their advantage. Suppressing his emotional center took more emotional effort with each hour he remained awake. But now was no time for such distractions.
When a trap door opened next to Ignatio, he pitched a grenade down the gap, to the confusion and then the suffering of the men climbing up from within. With the time that bought him, he backed towards the Aquila lander, using its impenetrable hull to reduce the area he had to keep watch on as more warriors boiled up from within the bastion.
He heard the hard chatter of the vehicles mounted bolter laying down fire on another part of the roof, and resolved to ensure that the pilot was protected and that their escape route was kept secure.
Cracking off hellgun shots at anyone who poked up from beneath, he readied to pull his power axe if the armored figures managed to reach the lander's bay door. The predictable movements of the armored warriors emerging from below made them easy targets, and their armor was less than useless against hellgun shots, instead just spraying the wound with molten steel shrapnel.

Claymore sliced through the air in constant arcs. Roderick was growing more in tune with the machine, and their bond was strengthening. He felt comfortable enough to even begin clearing with walls with the twinlinked lascannons, deftly vaporizing defenders that were yet to get locked into melee with their new shock troops. It all seemed to be going rather well really. Almost time for another sniff of Amasec...

Torian kept up a stream of fire from his boltgun, adding to the immensity of fire hammering into the defenders. He followed Brenonya into the breach, laying down suppressing fire and striding behind her wake.

Bren made her way through the bastion against the stream of defenders attempting to reach the top, but that current quickly switched as her chainsword tore the front line apart. With Torian backing her up, she cut a path of blood and shredded steel on her way deeper into the stone fortification.
As she burst through another door on her brutal advance, she found herself facing a dozen men in the process of readying themselves to climb up to the top. She had to laugh at the expression on their faces as she’d caught some of them still putting on their helmets, and if the sound of that didn’t chill their corrupted souls, the vision of her blessed power armor, sanctified in the blood of The God-Emperor’s enemies must have.
Against these primitive weapons, she was nearly invincible, and with her roaring chainsword she was nearly unstoppable. Raising that spinning blade, she waded into the mass of warriors while they still scrambled to defend themselves from this new angle of attack. Unfortunately, while she clashed blades with the ones in front, the rest seemed even more motivated to charge up the ladders and assault the top.

When you took a moment to look past the dungeon, to the walls beneath you, the sight of the Dead Battalion was surprising. To an untrained eye, they seemed to fight like animals, charging forward with heedless regard to their safety. But to the trained eye, they where a revelation, and leagues ahead of the paltry enemy knights you faced today. True, their armor slowed them relative to your own troops, but they seemed to be taking advantage of the extra weight to add power to their charges and strikes, giving the impression that they where always on the edge of tripping as they bisected heavily-armored knights. And when a foe was too far away, they would launch these large iron rings that embedded themselves in the enemy. In addition, their cohesion was incredible-every seemingly ''heedless'' charge involving whole groups, who ensured none of them where ever flanked. This ''Dead Battalion'' where of considerable skill-equipped with modern weapons and adamantine plate armor, they would likely be equal to veteran stormtroopers.

The claymore cleared the last few enemies that where outside the castle, giving you victory on the battlements. Your group managed to hold firm, Bren leading the troops to successfully break into the dungeon. The enemies fought a running battle, but coming from the higher ground left their defensive plan completely in shambles. While your other troops hunted down the knights trying to hold the lower floors, your group broke into a large, central throne room, where a few dozen knights stood between you and an unusually tall knight in twisted, glowing armor wielding a large, black-metalled greataxe.

Enemy:

Battle turn 1:


Lethia had stayed near a large cluster of soldiers. Never too far away if she needed the protection they offered. When they started to enter the complex, she steeled her nerves and entered aloong with them. Inwardly, she wanted to make herself as small a target as possible. Still, in present company she provided little threat compared to other members of the party. It does not prevent her from firing a shot from her hotshot laspistol at the nearest enemy.

Torian saw the monsterous knight and smiled. This would be an excellent opportunity to see Brenonya's skills in action; and if that didn't work... a melta would blast apart the whole room if need be. He dropped to one knee and braced his boltgun, ready to lay down suppressing fire and keep the other knights away from Bren as she faced off against this champion.

Torian releases a full auto burst from his boltgun, the close range making easy targets of the bulky knights. The bolts tear into the squires directly in front of the obvious main threat. Each bolt tore through the squire's heavy steel armor like paper before exploding deep within their flesh. Their flesh and and blood sprayed backwards onto the red-armored knight as they both fell to the ground in a pool of their own effluent.


Alexium moved with the group, seeing the battle ebb and flow and paying close attention to the new shock troops they had acquired. They were a sight to behold, making battle look like song or dance more than the brutal crushing reality of it.

It was the Big Bad Evil Guy that threw off their focus. Shit... get your head back into it Alexium.


Brenonya marched forward steadily, her open hand going back to her side and raising again with bolt pistol in hand. She quickly chanted a prayer and pulled the trigger without breaking her stride.
Sweet Emperor, guide this missile into the hearts of Your foes.
Unfortunately, whatever effect this may have had did not offset the jostling of her aim, and her shot went wide. Scowling, she moved to put the pistol away once again.

Ignatio considered the tactical situation, but his creativity centers were drained from the extended binge of sleeplessness and Widawake. Selecting the standard tactical options of 'take cover' and 'apply melta to hard target' he followed through by moving up to the large brazier on the right, taking cover behind the giant metal bowl, and bringing the meltagun to bear on the heavily armored foe on top of the platform.

Unfortunately, firing over the heads of his minions meant accepting only catching the armored monster's shoulder in the beam of superheated gas.

The chaos warrior seemed to jet forwards, holding his massive axe in two arms despite the melta-shot having taken out a chunk of its shoulder. His muscles bulged and rippled, his heavy armor barely containing them. When he finally reached the golden warrior, he struck down with all his might on her head. This knight, however, was not properly equipped-his simple weapon of wood & steel bounced off the advanced composites of the exoskeleton, doing relatively little damage. His strength was enough to shatter the flagstones when his sliding weapon hit the ground-but strength alone would never be enough.


Roderick saw the defenders suddenly bleed from the battlements to be replaced their own cohort. He nodded to himself and stroked the dash in front of him. We won't be much good up here anymore old chap. Time to get these hands dirty the old fashioned way. He then swung around to bring the interceptor down in the courtyard where the other arvus lighters were. The engines gave a high pitched whine as the sped down. It was music to Roderick's ears as he popped the canopy and vaulted to the ground, powersword and bolt pistol in hand. He raced through the main entrance to catch up with the rest of the group, and found them gathered up, ready to burst into the main chamber. Sorry I'm late folks, he said casually.

The group swept into the throne room, led by Brenonya, and were immediately met by the Chaos Lord and his bodyguard. As the Sister of Battle met them head on, Roderick moved to the side to fire into the flanks of one of the knights. His bolt pistol barked once, and flew high. He had become used to Claymore's targeting systems and the kick of the weapon sent the bolt high overhead

Alexium was determined to do something more proactive in this battle than the last. The sorcerer before had been a real cheeky cunt. Damn him and his fucking robe to the Warp for eternity.

"Know us NO MORE," the child blurted once again as a tempest of energy built up inside of them and slammed out toward the knight. The knight staggered, trying to make sense of the sudden lack of sensation.

Battle Turn 2:

Torian drops the boltgun to his feet and pulls his archeopistol from the loose sling around his chest. A flickering red dot hovers between the combatants embroiled in melee, before a surprisingly quiet shot lances into one of the supporting squires. Torian looked down at his pistol with renewed respect; this was truly an weapon of excellent make. It fired like an extension of his arm.

Brenonya grunted as the sheer weight and power of the great axe slammed into her, with enough force to press her back a staggering step and leave a dent in the shoulder of her power armor.
Pressing the button of her chainsword, she listened to the blade spin into action as the giant recovered from his swing, and she grinned with the thrill of battle. “My furn,” she quipped, bringing the ancient chainsword up to grip it with both hands, and bring it slamming down into his barrel chest, the chainblade squealing and sparking as it ate into his armor plates, a sound accompanied by her guttural scream of rage.

Ignatio analyzed the blow that the giant blackguard had delivered, and swiftly downgraded his threat level. His primitive weapons and armor did not possess the capability to overcome the powerful machine spirits of Brenonya's ancient armor and chainsword.
Instead he turned his attention back to the other knights, swapping out his meltagun for the hellgun once again as he sidestepped to the right and prepared to lay down fire on the other approaching warriors.

Brenonya was now being attacked by 3 iron clad knights. Lethia would be foolish to think her small frame would do anything but hinder the sister ecclesiarch. She takes aim down the sight of her hellpistol, calms her breathing and fires off a shot towards the knight on her left.

The two shot squires fell to the ground, their corpses making passage difficult. The Knight started wandering almost randomly, trying to understand what was happening. His body seemed to gush blood, far more than a human body should contain; the gash Brenonya inflected being particularly gruesome. The other squires rushed ahead of him, trying to protect their clearly stricken leader.

Alexium maintained their hold on the jabroni. This was Bren's show now and they would make sure she shined as bright as a beacon. Almost without thought, the Astropath pulled the exquisite las pistol from its holster.

Roderick's nostrils flared angrily as he watched the last bolt jump high over the swirling knights. With exaggerated movements he lifted his spare hand to the bolt pistol and supported it in two hands. He grit his teeth and closed one eye to aim down the barrel this time. Trying to move calmly and aim down the sights properly did nothing for his aim as, again, the pistol barked and the bolt went even higher above the target. The little one is going to feed this to me for the next month if I don't tag the bastard with the next one...Roderick said to no one.

Map:

Turn 3


Torian's aim attempts to follow the larger knight as his squires surround him. Even with the superb balance and dexterity of the archeopistol, his quickly squeezed-off trick shot between the elbow and torso of a squire makes it through the line of bodies, but doesn't actually hit the larger knight behind them. Nonetheless, a disdainful, jubilant smirk set on Torian's face. These backworld peasants were no match for them. Seeing Brenonya wade into battle was glorious to behold, and Torian had seen enough death to know that much blood gushing out of the big knight was a sign this battle was all but over. His grip momentarily loosened somewhat as he focused on watching Brenonya, excited to see her next moves.

The knights had backed of of Brenonya a bit, but it wasnt enough, not for Lethia. She proffered to be aboard the ship watching bombardment cannons reduce entire bastions as this to pulp.
Beggars were not choosers, however, and her only option now was to fight with her own power.
She sights down the iron knight in front of her and aim's again with her hellpistol. They were backing away, and her aim was more difficult now, but anything was better than nothing.
She catches the armored soldier in her sights and fires the Hellpistol. If she hit, the beam should have little trouble penetrating such simple plate armor meant to deflect primitive blows of the natives.


Brenonya staggered back as she was pushed away by the blind blackguard, regaining her footing as the two squires moved up into her way.
With a twich of speed, her grox whip was in her left hand, snapping out at the guard on the right to wrap around his torso and pull him in... at least, that was the plan. Unfortunately the armored figure was fast enough to put an arm in the way, making the whip lash uselessly against his armor rather than having enough length to wrap around and pull.
Grunting in frustration, the power armored lady advanced, revving her chainsword as she got properly stuck in the front lines again.


Ignatio watched the battle unfolding in front of him, tactical cogitation painting likely paths that each enemy combatant would move along. A noospheric cone appeared in front of him, angled to include as many of the enemy units as possible without including Brenonya. With robotic precision, he raised his hellgun and swung it in a wide arc as he fired repeatedly into the enemy's formation.

The suppressing fire was very effective on the squires, who fled to cover when faced with a light-spitting weapon. One fell to lethia's shot, and the rest hid behind brasiers and statues. The Chaos Knight, still blind, deaf & dumb, staggered around unable to find his bearings.

Again, Roderic's bolt had sailed past without tasting heretic flesh. Perhaps if his angle of shot was better...he moved to the left, to draw up next to Lethia. Perhaps her sight would strengthen his own. He snapped off another shot without aiming somehow thinking it would help. It didn't. I think this thing would do more damage if I threw it at him. What do you think Lethia? He yelled.

Lethia looks back at the man with something of a sideways grin.
"Its not as loud as your voidcraft, Im afraid. I really do wish you were not limited by the constraints of walls and stone."
Her voice was drowned out by the cacophony of battle and Roderick's barking bolt pistol.

Map:

The smirk broadening across his face, Torian tightened his grip on the pistol, aimed unobstructed at the towering, stumbling knight. This was as easy shot, now. He tensed his arms, bracing the grip, and fired. A piercing light flickered through the room, casting crazed, instantly gone shadows as it traversed the short distance before slamming through the knight's armor. The light seemed to burn through his flesh as if it where nothing, somehow banishing the cloying shadows of madness that surrounded the knight, and for a second, he finally seemed to weaken, stumbling in his blind walk.

Brenonya turned to the tech priest spitting hot death from his hellgun. "Hold your fire on the Blackguard, he's mine!"

Ignatio nodded in acknowledgement, shifting his firing position to better provide cover for his Lady, firing shot after shot around the cover that the squires huddled behind.

As the bolts of light cleared the air, Brenonya raised her chainsword and revved it in the air.

"In the God-Emperor's name!" she shouted as she bolted forward, swinging her sword like a scrumball champion to slam into the armored figure's side, carving through steel, muscle, and bone as the chainblade caught and pulled itself through his body, while his life's blood sprayed from the roaring blade.

Raising a leg, she pressed one armored boot against the dark night's back and shoved as she pulled her blade free once more.

Seeing their leader fall filled the squires with dread, and they all attempted to flee. Several tried to take the left door, but as they opened it a large circle of iron flew out and beheaded one, and seconds later Commander Okwaho charged forth, bisecting another. Those who went right found the doors blocked by more troops, and those the group didnt gun down tried to jump from windows in a vain attempt at escape.

Okwaho approached the group, calling to his knights to bring the blessed oil.

We will burn his corpse to be rid of this corruption. He does not appear to have caused much trouble.

Map:

With their leader down, Alexium allowed the power that had robbed him of his senses to fade back. The child smiled largely, seeing the room in all of its detail and glory, but staring at Roderick.

"It has been a long time since I have seen the ol' 'fire over their heads so that they are disoriented and duck down' technique, but that was an absolutely brilliant display. I doubt they ever saw it coming!"

The last double-entendre caused the Astropath to start laughing a bit. Clearly, they cracked themselves up. Feeling that Roderick would be frowning down at them in annoyance, Alexium continued.

"Come now. We have a castle to loot and heretics to burn. Besides, if you were half as good with that cannon as you are in an aircraft, the universe would be unbalanced. Let's get a drink while we loot. On me."

Lethia agrees wholeheartedly with the child.
"Agreed. Some fine amasec would be a fitting end to such a filth-ridden day. I do believe I saw some bottles of millennia 37 porte de Terra on the Pedro. Add to that a fine cut of aquarenae shank in butter crème sauce and that would make a perfect evening indeed."

Alexium looked over and up at Lethia, a smile widening across their cherubic face.

"I know that I am blind, but do my ears deceive me? Has the conquering of worthy foes taken the rod out of Lethia's butt?" Their immaculate silk blindfold was focused squarely on Lethia, but the features were clearly very light hearted. Alexium was not trying to hurt any feelings.

"That sounds marvelous, Mistress Navigator Tzemopoulos! Granted, that will be our dinner if I have anything to say about it, but for now..."

Alexium took off their backpack and started rooting around inside. They sighed, only coming up with a pack of Lho sticks. They offered to any who would partake and lit up one for themselves and Roderick, knowing Rod wouldn't need to be asked.

"Does anyone have anything to drink?!"

Okwaho, while supervising a couple of knights pouring something that smelled of promethium onto the enemy corpse, commented:

I believe I saw a couple of barrels of an ale brewed from the resin of a local spruce tree. We'll need to verify them for poison of course, but should they be safe it is quite potent.

Okwaho took of of the lho-sticks, took a drag, and said:

Weaker than our own Ume'Ma'. I guess we will need to loot this fortress for more than expected.

As the knights left the side of the promethium soaked corpse, Okwaho flicked his lho-stick onto it. It lit into an intense fire, slowly turning the corpse to ash.


I recommend we leave this room. Corpse-smoke rots the lungs.

He walked out of the room, crying out to his men to round up all the "Ume'Ma' " and spruce ale they could find in the castle to bring with them.

Brenonya greeted the steelclad soldiers eagerly, as they shared the exhileration of an overwhelming, righteous victory. "I had little doubt when we were first introduced, Okwaho, but now I have none. While this is the first heretic we burn in His name, I swear that it shall not be the last."

She turned her attentions almost entirely to further acquainting herself with the knights.

---

Ignatio declined the Lho stick with a raised hand. "I do not see the value of such primitive methods of pharmacological application." he said simply, then stepped back for a while as Alexium became the center of attention, as seemed to be rather common.

The Magos fell back on his time-tested skill of emulating an inanimate object until the right moment came to begin a conversation. Because it was more than the mission that had kept Ignatio awake for over 72 hours. There was a question that burned in his mind, which he had dedicated every spare mental cycle to working out a logical answer to without obviously false premises. At this stage, the likelihood of success from further analysis appeared to be marginal, and so he required further input.

And this primitive place of stone walls and winding corridors was the ideal place for a sensitive conversation.

At the moment when everyone's attention had moved on, and the group was preparing to move on, Alexium stepped forward like an object suddenly animate and approached until he had acquired Alexium's attention.

"Astropath Transcendant, there is a matter I must discuss with you. I believe that the others will be preparing their celebratory gathering for at least several minutes, and that may be adequate time to cure my ignorance regarding an important subject. Are you willing to step aside with me for a short time?" he asked, looking toward a now-empty corridor away from where everyone else was heading.

Alexium offered their small hand to Okwaho in the time honored tradition of the "fist bump," with a simple "righteous" to describe their pleasure at the just-finished fighting and upcoming ale.

When Ignatio approached the Astropath nearly looked surprised, but kept it together. "My, my, this may be even more interesting than the ale, but surely it cannot be more interesting than the loot. Alas, my ears are yours. If I can help you without sharing any information that would then force me to kill you, it is my pleasure!"

Alexium eagerly headed to the corridor with their Tech Priest.

Torian took a proffered lho stick, and tucked another behind his ear. He bent slightly and whispered "have me come find you sometime if you're ever looking for... stronger narcotics". He pulled out a flask of amasec in response, and passed it around. Victory tasted like fine spirits and smoke.

"Indeed it will be our dinner, Mistress Navigator. I will send word to have a private victory feast prepared for us tonight - and double rations of grog for the crew."

He noted the efficacy and charisma of the new sergeant. This would be someone to keep an eye on; he ordered to have the officer's pay raised forthwith.

After waving over an attendant, Torian passed on the relevant orders, informed the king-regent of their victory, and voxed his military command to wrap things up quickly. He told the king that unless there were pressing matters requiring their attendance, it was time to return to finish the political conquest of Glacea.

After relaying those orders, he allowed himself a moment of respite and relaxation. Such times were essential to maintaining true efficiency, and he recognized the need to ingratiate himself to his team.

"It is also my hope that this conversation does not cause conflict between us," Ignatio said as he led the astropath out into the stone corridors, taking one turn and then another until they were well out of sight and earshot. As he walked, different options for how to approach this conversation flashed and scrolled before his eyes, editing their wording and being discarded as he worked out how to phrase this.

Finally turning to Alexium, he looked down to the childlike astropath. It occured to the tech-priest that he had once looked fairly similar, when he'd first begun his initiation into the machine cult.

A silence ensued, just long enough to be awkard, as Ignatio worked out the last details of what he wanted to say.

"This question regards statements you made several days ago," he began. "When you were informing the command crew of your experience with the Jolanese Empire."

Accessing the vocal statements he'd pulled from his recording of the conversation, statements he had listened to and considered dozens of times since, Ignatio played them through his vox. Alexium heard a recording of his own voice.

"The sanctioning process, while necessary given our limited understanding of the Warp, is barbaric in the extreme" Then another voice clip. "sanctioning is a single suture on a severed stump. If there is a better way, I aim to find it"

The tech priest allowed those statements to hang in the air for a moment, then proceeded. "Of everyone I have ever known, you possess far more firsthand experience of the God Emperor of Mankind, who we refer to as the Omnissiah. You have been in His presence, infused with his essence."

A hint of emotion was actually detectible in the way that Ignatio's posture changed, as he seemed to sink a little as he spoke these ideas out loud.

"The Omnissiah is the manifestation of the Machine God in our universe. It is from the machine god that perfect technique and perfect method flows, and it flows most directly from the Omnissiah himself. To my understanding the sanctioning process involves direct contact with the Omnissiah."

"How can the direct work of the Omnissiah be 'barbaric'? You describe it as if it is primitive and inaccurate, but the work of the Omnissiah cannot be this. How can a better method exist than that employed by the Omnissiah himself?"

"Am I in error regarding the meaning of your statements? Please explain."

Ignatio finished, waiting still and silent for the astropath's response.

Alexium smirked at Torian when he mentioned harder narcotics. "You probably can't tell, but I am subtley winking in your direction. I cannot wait for dinner tonight. I'll catch up with you later; Ignatio has mentioned something about wanting to go kiss in a corridor."

+++

Alexium listened to themselves played back, nodding in agreement with what they had said. This sounded familiar, though Alexium expected a statement more from the Ministorum Priest than the Ad-Mech Priest. Alas, a priest was a priest, and dogma and orthodoxy between the two factions were apparently two sides of the same coin.

They took the Lho they had between their lips, took a deep drag, and flicked it away finished.

"Have you ever experienced anything - anything - in your life that was 'perfect'? I'm not talking about some 'almost perfect,' 'peak of performance' toaster. I am talking about something that need never be improved, for it is perfection, and to look upon it would make you weep oil in your pantaloons. Think long and hard... LONG... and HARD... before you respond, chief."

They leaned back against the wall, blindfolded eyes staring into Ignatio's face. The child's face the epitome of calm.

Ignatio listened to the Astropath's instructions. Almost a minute of silence followed, and a faint humming could be heard from somewhere around Ignatio's skull.

Finally, after rechecking his TheoLogic, the tech priest spoke again. "Of course not. Perfection exists in the realm of the Machine God, where the ideal design of each machine and the ideal method of each process, reside in his infinite mind. We have access only to clumsy facsimiles of such, the best that we limited beings can produce through inspiration from the Machine God and our attempts to understand and commune with him."

"The Omnissiah is different. He brought rain to Mars. He spoke broken machines into repair. He made use of our limited resources and materials to build toward perfection, making leaps of technique that would be impossible for any mortal mind. While the Omnissiah may not..." Ignatio paused again for a moment to consider his wording carefully.

"The Omnissiah's works would not be... as perfect as the original forms in the mind of the machine god, but as the Omnissiah has direct access to that mind, as he is in perfect communion at all times, I do not see how any limited mortal could possibly create a better method than his direct work. Even in his current, damaged state, I cannot see how a mortal techique of warp protection could be more advanced than what I understand to be the Omnissiah reaching directly into the soul of a psyker and upgrading it."

Alexium listened to the response and knew his point had been made.

"Exactly. All toasters can be improved upon. As you said yourself, the Omnissiah, as you call ol' Emps, used limited resources to build machines toward perfection. He did not perfect them. Why not? Because perfection is an ideal and not a reality. As someone who's been to Terra, I hate to be the one to break it to you, chief, but that realm is far from perfect."

The child held back a shudder and took out another Lho. This time, they offered one to Ignatio yet again, but wouldn't take no for an answer. "Amuse me, would you? Just pretend to smoke it. This is the realest conversation we have had, and it happens to be potentially reality breaking for you. That's a special thing."

They took a deep inhale, and there may or may not have been a soft glow emanating from behind their blindfold.

"Adjectives are a matter of perspective, no? Barbaric, perfect, sexy, stupid. Your plasma weapon for example - a tool of precision, harnesses the power of a sun I am told. Sublime, powerful. Now turn it on a box of puppies or group of old women fleeing from your wrath and it is barbaric. Sanctioning is the same thing. Necessary, yes, but the process is far from sweet and lovey dovey. You think I decided one day, 'fuck it, I don't want eyes' and took them out? And I was one of the lucky ones."

Alexium took a long drag and stared at Ignatio until he at least pretended to do the same. If the Tech Priest refuses, Alexium doesn't go on.

[Assuming he plays along in the name of humanity...]

"The Sanctioning process is inefficient. Hundreds of thousands of psykers are put into a meat grinder to feed the Emperor's Soul, and some of them come out as a useful tool. See me for an example. Of course, you can see that and say 'oh, but that is simply a part of an unknowable process in the infinite perfection of the Omnissiah's plan.' But the fact is that the Jolanese have figured out a way to do it differently - a way that doesn't require the untold suffering and sacrifice that our current way demands. And the least I can do is delve into what that is."

Alexium then stood off the wall, smoke coming out of their nostrils. "And before you look at me like I am some fuckin' heretic for not seeing the Emperor's way as the only way or the perfect way or whatever, keep in mind that I believe the current process is necessary. Those who don't make it... live with the Emperor forever. And he lives because of it. It needs to happen because without it, all of this is for nothing. But that doesn't make it any less barbaric."

Ignatio comprehended that using the lho stick was now a necessary social ritual. He took it between his fingers, and reached up with the other hand to open a port in the side of the respirator unit that protruded from his mask. Then he carefully set the end of the Lho-stick into the port, and Alexium could see it glow red as the tech priest inhaled.

Another long moment passed as Ignatio considered his words, going over them repeatedly and examining different possibilities of meaning.

"To feed the Emperor's soul? I do not understand... The Omnissiah depends on an influx of psykers to maintain His existence?" The ember glowed brightly as the Magos took a deep breath, smoke emitting from the opposite side.

"Perhaps... the damage done by the last act of the Arch-Traitor was more extensive than I had realized." His turned in a sharp little motion to focus more directly on Alexium. "You were in contact with the Omnissiah. Was he... conscious? Is sanctioning just... what He does unconsciously? Like a Tech-adept so practiced that he repairs a machine in his sleep?"

Alexium smiled as the Lho glowed red.

Then, rather unexpectedly: "This is nice, you know? Just talking. Smoking a Lho and letting some of the post-heretic murder adrenaline wear off."

They considered the question carefully, coming to the conclusion that they had no idea the answer.

"I don't know if it really sustained the Emperor. There were no instructions. No guides. I was led into a room - one of thousands - it was pitch black. Then the throne simply appeared. He appeared. I couldn't see what happened to the others. But I could feel certain souls simply burning bright and twinkling out, and with each light gone, the Emperor's grew. Then there were those like me - they glowed and remained glowing. It was terrifying... when his eyes found mine... well," Alexium gestured to their face.

"The impossibility of His power caused them to literally burn out. But I remained. And I am thankful. My soul is now that much harder for the Ruinous Powers to corrupt. I am getting off topic -
I have no idea if what I experienced was his active conscious or subconscious or just a fun joke the Inquisition likes to play on the people they take on their black ships. But here I am. Just a poor child, nobody loves me. Just a poor child from a poor family. He spares me this life through his monstrosity."

The ember glowed again with a long intake of air, and smoke billowed out the other side like exhaust.

"I have clearly made the right decision to ensure the privacy of this conversation," he mused aloud as he considered what he had been told. He silently spoke his questions about what this new information meant, and watched as his prayers were considered and answered, with old conclusions updated by the weight of this new result.

"It is obvious for any who study the truth of our galaxy that our Imperium is not what the Omnissiah intended when he constructed it," he said, speaking aloud the conclusion that had been more firmly proven. "It was incomplete when he was... damaged, and has been further damaged by the unforeseen circumstances of ten thousand years of history since the end of the Great Crusade. We cannot access the perfect Imperium that exists in the mind of the Machine God, but we are made in his image and endowed with the ability to evaluate perfection."

"The Imperium may require continued public ignorance on this subject in order to function, to resist from fragmenting entirely, but there is little benefit from the two of us pretending otherwise."

Another long moment, as the lho stick burned down to a smoldering nub, and the air around the tech priest grew hazy.

"It is difficult to have faith in the future, when the course of the past shows a long and clear history of decline. The quest for knowledge is a constant struggle to regain what has been lost, and this is a battle we have been losing for ten thousand years. Long wisdom teaches not to trust outside techniques, that these are likely to be corrupted without the Omnissiah's influence. However... the current course is, I agree, untenable in the long term."

Lethia left the philosophical debate to Alexium and Ignacio, and the premature celebrations to the rest.

Though the battle was won, and discussing the future meal gave her something she very much looked forward too, this was not the time or place for celebrations.

She moved towards the throne, letting her unnatural warp sense guiding her. It was still her duty to find any sports the chaos worshippers had infected with corruptive warp-stuff.

First was the throne, then next she would search the area for any blasphemous ritual sites.

After all, this was chaos, and Lethia could not see them sitting around and having a tea party all day.....

Alexium nodded, considering Ignatio's words as they finished their Lho. The Tech Priest was spitting truth.

They had reached an understanding, which would no doubt strengthen their camaraderie in the future.

"You are dropping some hard facts, Ignatio. I am glad we got to talk this over; I had never really considered what it might mean to other iterations of the Imperial faith - and definitely never what it might mean to one of the Machine Cult."

Alexium considered the final words carefully, as they were a direct reference to their preferred course of action.

"The Jolanese have found a way. These paladins here are proof of that. I have yet to detect taint during my contacts with their ambassadors and emissaries, obviously, as I would never consider this were the opposite true. If their way is sustainable, it is our duty to understand it before the damnable Inquisiton can shit all over it, at least."

Once the conversation had reached its end, Alexium gestured that the two should join the others.

+++

"Any big finds in my absence," they asked to Torian or Roderick - whomever was closer.

As the Aquila Shuttle lifted off with you all in it, the soldier loaded some casks of stolen spirits and small barrels of the still undefined "Ume'Ma' ". Once everybody was on board, the ship started heading back towards Glacea. Once you reached the moon, you reached the end of your second week in the expanse.


You received transmissions from the surface, giving you coordinates for landing to the summit.

Alexium, after a much needed shower and sustenance break, met with the Astropathic Choir. News from the Prioress or the Jolanese would be very welcome, but there was always a chance the other psykers with whom they had conferred would have messages as well.

Or perhaps something else entirely. There was rarely a method to the madness, but Alexium was always eager to do their job to the best of their abilities... regardless of the fuckery with which they often conducted themselves.

Lethia was on the bridge deck when the vox station started receiving the transmission.

The adept brought the roll of ticker tape and began to read off the coordinates for the summit.

She looks at Torian with quizzical trepidation. She had spent many hours in the bathing chambers, trying to clean of the filth of the planet. All the scented skin supplements and perfumes could not rid her nose of the dirty smell of the planet. She preferred the stale sterility of the ship.

"Thats it? Just coordinates? Any reason for the request? It would do little well to dress for a formal situation to only find they need more las-support."

Ignatio had arrived at the bridge shortly after the ship made orbit around Glacea. He was eager to resume the task of bringing light and warmth to millions of human lives.

His servo-skull familiar hovered behind the adept as he read aloud, scanning the coordinates on the tape.

"Coordinates for landing at the summit, Navigator. It is my understanding that summits are generally formal occasions, though I have not studied Glacean culture adequately to confirm that in this case."

He didn't turn to her as his voice emerged from his vox, instead staring ahead at the world visible through the viewscreen. So much unlocked potential, just waiting to be activated, machines whose spirits slumbered for thousands of years, waiting for a servant of the Omnissiah to awaken them.

Checking the data packet, there was a bit more information encoded. There was also a time-15 hours in the future. It also included a few rules-weapons where allowed, but they must be clearly visible & peace-bonded.

There was also an agenda, including a number of side-summits which would occur around the same time to deal with issues of inter-group import. The important element for you all would be the Prime Summit-concerning the future of the world Glacea.

Torian spent most of the trip back to Glacea dealing with the logistics of the new soldiers and getting the new embassy staff settled in their luxury quarters. He consulted with the quartermasters and had a list drafted of all supplies needed to refill the Anatem up to full capacity before leaving this system eventually, and assigned a crew to locate and purchase those supplies once they arrived.

Torian was seated in his command throne, dressed in his standard non-combat formal business suit, upon arrival in orbit. "Formal should do nicely, Lethia. I believe we've made our military position quite clear, although should the negotiations require more... tactics than strategy, I'm quite confident in the threat of orbital bombardment to keep us safe until reinforcements can be brought in or we can be evacuated. Besides, Brenonya could wade through these ice people bare-handed. Just to be safe, let's bring an elite battalion down with us an honor guard for these negotiations. I do hope they will prove at least marginally less stubbornly independent as the northerners."

"Speaking of which, Alexium, has your heart found forgiveness for that grox-brained glacean guard who so foolishly threatened you? Please consider whether you would like for him to end up in an unpleasant accident at some point."

The shuttle flew out from the bay with your group and a small honor guard. It swept down into the atmosphere, into a clear and icy day as you flew towards the designated landing zone. A series of flares traced out a landing pad, surrounded by infantrymen. The ship settled delicately on the pad, and the hatch opened up, showing a shivering manutarch in blue waiting.

Surrounding the landing pad, the infantry seemed to be arranged in groups of 5-one of them you could recognize as infantry from the Norald Bloc. Three others where in similar but slightly different uniforms, likely one from each of the other blocs. Each member of each group eyed the others suspiciously, unsure what to make of them. The fifth in the group was...odd. Unlike the others, they whore no uniform, and appeared to sport crude, but cleanly implanted cybernetics-something you hadnt seen, even in the manutarchs. Their eyes where somewhat glazed-maybe some form of servitor? It really stood out.

The cyberneticized attendees instantly gained the Magos' attention, and his servo-skull darted out and circled them from about ten feet away, taking in their various implants.

He quickly approached the Norald Bloc leader, turning to look toward the upgraded humans. "Manutarch, would you be willing to cure my ignorance regarding the faction that group represents?"

Torian breathed the fresh icy air, it was refreshing after the controlled atmosphere of the ship. His thick overcoat provided all the warmth he needed, and the wind cut through just enough to keep him sharp. This was a good day for negotiating. The chill would be a helpful reminder to move things along.

He descended from the ramp with the others, and waited patiently. It was always best to let the other parties talk first, and open the negotiations. Others might be persuaded into accepting the opening bids as the standard around which the rest would be based, that there might be some advantage in going first. Torian was not so easily persuaded. The situation is the situation; opinions and bids change nothing. What was important was to understand your opponents perspective of that situation. Then, one could begin playing on their perspective, offering what they cared about and taking what they didn't. This was how he preferred to negotiate; absorbing their desires, hatreds, perspectives, while offering them nothing of his own. It put him in control, and that was where he liked to be. Of course, there were two ways to these negotiations. The blocs know their independence is threatened and likely cannot be maintained any longer; but they also know how messy and drawn-out they could make conquering this world. Better to settle this here, at the summit, than on the battlefield.

His ears caught he hissing and hum of Bren's power armor. Truly a comforting sound. He knew she could punch straight through any of the soldiers around him. It was those sort of aces he liked having up his sleeves. The Anatem, waiting in orbit with incinerative death ready on his command, was another.

Pyritefoolsgold wrote:

He quickly approached the Norald Bloc leader, turning to look toward the upgraded humans. "Manutarch, would you be willing to cure my ignorance regarding the faction that group represents?"

They are...creations of the local leadership. As none of the blocs trust each other, we have come to the only spire that they all hate equally. The Mistress of Metal and other degenerates rule here, animating corpses with steel. Its revolting. But they have no other soldiers, so there they are. Let us get you to the Manutarch Prime as quickly as possible.

Clearly this manutarch was very disgusted by the creatures. He pointed you towards a door in the spire.

(I think it's fair to say we all follow him in)

Torian made a small gesture to the party and began walking towards the door.

Since the fight for the fortress, Roderick had been sifting along following events in the background, watching the party grow and evolve without becoming too involved. Brenonya had shown admirable prowess in dispatching the Overlord, and the new battalion they acquired had fit the bill nicely as the new House Guard unit. Normally he would have taken part in the revelry after the battle, but had felt an odd need for quiet. Instead, he locked himself and Haast in their quarters and celebrated in private. Whatever the reason, when they reached Glacea for the summit, he and his guardian were ready for some haggling.

++++++++++++++

Roderick and Haast stood with the group as they milled about, sizing each of the other parties up. Haast floated above the group circling on the winds that snapped and pulled cloaks and unsecured clothing. Every now and then he was swoop down low over the group either testing the mettle of those around, daring them not to duck, or coming in to ward off those that moved to close to the party of the Antanem. Only Roderick could know the answer, and he grinned slyly at the inside joke.

He approached Torian's side and pulled out a silver flask as they both looked silently at the envoys. He unscrewed the lid nimbly, despite the cold and not looking, and took a casual pull before offering the flask to his Captain. I never congratulated you on the last engagement. Well done on securing the King's loyalty. Hopefully this coll nut cracks just the same.

When the party is gestured to move on, Roderick replaces his flask and glances up at Haast. The bird catches his eye and remains high above, shadowing them to the entrance. After you M' Lord, he says with a grin as they move off

Lethia follows. She wore a fur stole, but it did little to keep out the chill.Outside her heavy fur lned coat was clearly visible her hellpistol. In her gloved hand was her staff of office, more a symbol than a weapon

Her third eye was hidden, first by the silken scarf and secondly by a fur lined hat. He face was calm, but observant.

She wondered how these negotiations would fare, and how much longer they would have to mess with this planet before dustoff this time.

The group was quickly brought into the spire through a large door into some for of vehicle bay. Unlike the spires of the Norald block, there where half-dissasembled machines everywhere-vehicles an various states of reconstruction. Strangely-dressed people could be seen in the shadows of the ill-lit space. As you passed through, you reached an oddly lit corridor-quite bright, but lit with an irregular array of light sources. You where eventually brought into a medium-sized chamber where Manutarch-Prime Primavera was sat with several aides.

Glad you are here. We where strategizing how to approach the situation. We should be able to deal with the southern bloc by presenting them with the trade opportunities, the chance for greater wealth. The elder bloc responds well to flattery and calls to tradition. Its the Blago bloc thats the greater risk. They hate the Norald bloc, and they likely will dislike you by association. Their militarism also doesnt help. Anyways, sit, please. The summit will start in about an hour, we can strategize.

Lethia takes her seat, noting that it was as cold as everything else here.

"I take it the Norald Bloc does not recognize the authority of the King? Are they a more....tribal association?"

Although nothing showed in his body language, internally Torian sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes, with a chuckle. "My companion is confused. Her gifts are mighty, but come with a price; sometimes it can be difficult to separate reality from her visions. Pay it no heed, she will regain focus shortly"

He straightened his overcoat, swept the tails up, and sat calmly facing the manutarch. "Do you have suggestions for how best to deal with the Blago? I see several ways we could play it; forceful and overwhelming; straightforward and honest; accept a loss of face at the summit and then meet afterwards in private; hold them after the summit and strike their military bases from orbit."

Ignatio reviewed the information they'd gathered so far about the political situation on Glacea, his eyes scanning over words and images invisible to everyone else.

"Given the dominant weather conditions of the planet and the preponderance of hives, I expect that there is little separation between civilian and military infrastructure. I expect that avoiding significant collateral damage to civilians and infrastructure would be impossible in a strategy of orbital bombardment."

The tech priest then turned to the Manutarch Prime.

"The power generated by the ignition of the fusion cores of Norald Bloc hives will bring a dramatic strategic advantage in the long term. The first of the fusion cores should begin ignition within the next week, which combined with the technological miracles of the Adeptus Mechanicus should multiply the Norald Bloc's industrial and food production within a year."

"It seems that the position of your rivals would quickly become untenable given these circumstances."