Warhammer 40,000 NES: The Khwaraz Campaign
- Thread starter Fulton
- Start date
Double movement is a bit much. Perhaps increasing the movement by 1 and/or decreasing the penalty for crossing difficult terrain.
Unfortunately any changes proposed may not be the best. The only way we can see which will work better is by trying them out.
Unfortunately any changes proposed may not be the best. The only way we can see which will work better is by trying them out.
das
Regeneration In Process
The penalties work well, IMHO, but faster (doubled?) movement in friendly territory and slightly faster movement in general seems like a reasonable compromise to me.
I'm hearing a lot of support for a small increase (say, +1 for all units), and for doubled movement in friendly territory. I think these ideas are sensible so far.
I'd also put a cap on regions moved per turn for a unit. That way units like deathworld infantry and Raven Guard couldn't move 8 regions in friendly territory.
Is this an acceptable solution for everyone?
I'd also put a cap on regions moved per turn for a unit. That way units like deathworld infantry and Raven Guard couldn't move 8 regions in friendly territory.
Is this an acceptable solution for everyone?
I don't think units should get a flat out +1 movement in enemy territory. I like the idea of friendly movement bonuses, but I'm wondering if we should restrict it when you get to the front lines? It's essentially the concept of moving freely across terrain that you are sure is secure (which makes you vulnerable but faster) but slowing down when you're within striking distance. Maybe you only get double move in non border territory, and if you take the movement increase and get ambushed, you take a defensive hit?
Milarqui
Deity
In my opinion, the idea of doubling movement in friendly terrain is not only good, but sensible: after all, when you have to go through a territory that is the enemy's, you have to go at a slower pace so that you aren't detected, but if you are going through your own territory or an ally's you can go at top speed if you wish to.
das
Regeneration In Process
Will the double movement apply to moving from the last non-border province to a frontline province? Otherwise, I agree that this should open some interesting opportunities.
das
Regeneration In Process
Maybe also have a lesser, optional movement bonus (0.5) for threatened/hostile territories, with a corresponding defense penalty? That will allow players to differentiate between reckless rapid advance and a more cautious movement.
The two militiamen gave a startled glance into the fog.
“Auh... could’ve swahn ah’d seen sum’n.”
“Yeh ain’ seen nut’n. S’aulways fogged in ‘round now each yeah- wait.”
“Yeh see ‘t?”
“Yeah! Sum’n movin’ out-”
A huge metal blade burst from the fog, smashing through the man’s head before he could complete the sentence, showering his comrade with gore. With a swift flick, the wickedly keen edge slid cleanly through the second man’s cranium.
All noise was disguised by the restless murmuring of an unnatural wind. The outpost remained oblivious.
At the edge of the wall, a blackened claw seized a crenellation and pulled. With a silent flap of wings, a terrifying figure rose into sight. Blazing orange, the creature had ever-shifting features, the mark of Tzeentch. If one were to look for some time, without being driven mad by terror or killed, they might notice some consistent features- talonlike hands and feet, a toothed beak, and two magnificent feathered wings. The only truly unchanging aspect of the figure was a collection of bloodied rags- the remnants of what had once been human clothing, a mixture of battle-armour and regal robes. For this monster was the one known as the Brave Little Princess- the last hope of Lydia, now... something far more.
Elsewhere on the fortification, further Tzeentchian demons floated, flapped, slithered, oozed, articulated, and phased into position, all calmly awaiting the actions of their leader.
With sudden, mind-wrenching screech the Brave Little Princess swooped down into the base. Her Sword, a great twisting blade of tremendous size, swung with precision and grace, ripping all of her enemies asunder. The sounds of battle were lost in a sea of demonic screeches and cries as the force overwhelmed the human defenders. Within a few seconds, the outpost was annihilated, the supplies it had once guarded despoiled. The Brave Little Princess gave another scream, for victory and for her god. Her Sword writhed, shrinking back down into a much smaller staff. She surveyed the area as the fog began to dissipate. There was some blood splattered around the area- not as much as one may have seen had the assault been performed by the minions of some other god, but the children of Tzeentch did not waste their blows on the dead when other enemies continued to exist.
Indeed, it seemed that not all of the enemy force was dead. In a corner of the compound lay a wounded man, clutching at his side as blood slowly oozed out of a wide wound. The Brave Little Princess’ eyes flashed, and she took two great strides towards the man, gazing down at him for a split second before she would crush the life out of him.
But the man’s- his hair was wavy and black, his face tanned, his features bold and pronounced- this was no Lodosian or Dion conscript- this man was a Lydian.
And that was, in that instant, all that mattered. Within the demon’s mind, a great battle had been ongoing for some time. At first shattered into infinitesimal fragments from her submission to Tzeentch, the mental remains of the Brave Little Princess had slowly been reconstituting themselves, haphazardly patching themselves back together whenever possible, seeking to overthrow the demonic slave which had been given possession of her body. This moment’s hesitation was the trigger that shocked her, slipping just enough of her mind back together to reach a critical mass. With all of the ferocity of her ancestral people, and all of the fire that had driven her throughout her life to fight, the Brave Little Princess rose within her mind. She knew no fear even as she glared into the eyes of the god. With a cry, she lashed out with a blindingly fast series of attacks, pushing back her mind’s oppressor. The demon retaliated, and battle raged within her.
The Lydian man stared up with horror as the battle physically manifested- the smoothly-flowing changes had been superceded by madness, as a whole array of features morphed throughout the body. The internal battle raged for hours as the human girl was continually and brutally beaten back, only to doggedly rise again. Brutalized and bleeding, she would not steer away from her cause- the demon was weakening, and she would never let it recover!
Outside, the transformation would last only a few seconds. Out of the dizzying blur, more and more human features would begin to assert themselves. The wings writhed and shrank away, black hair grew from a softening face, and feathery scales retreated against an onslaught of tanned human skin. The demon thrashed, as if it was trying to grab at lost mass as it shrank back to its original size. From this flurry of activity emerged a human being, clad in the same torn rags which had once adorned the demon.
The Lydian man looked up, trembling with terror at the sight of the change. As the girl emerged, he looked away- partly out of horror, partly out of his culture’s deep taboo towards nudity, something which the shredded robes did not entirely disguise. Noticing this, she willed the cloth to change, and it mended, regenerating to its original state.
The Brave Little Princess breathed through her own lungs for the first time since her acceptance of Tzeentch’s gift. She looked down on the cowering Lydian, and was overcome with compassion for her comrade. She reached down towards him, to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, to heal, to comfort...
The man squirmed as she pulled his hands away from his side, placing her own in his place. A cool flow emenated from them, and flesh mended itself until the wound flowed no longer.
“What... what has...”
“Speak.”
“You have consorted with the Chaos Gods, and corrupted your army! What are you doing, who do you serve, why have you not killed me?”
“I was enslaved, I am freed, and I have never done anything other than for my own people.”
The man lay on the ground, still weak from lost blood.
“I no longer know what to believe. I fought alongside our occupiers to prevent the ultimate devastation, but now they have fallen and you still speak as you did in times past... I do not know what to do...”
“Believe that I am myself, and believe that we fight for the same cause. Rest.”
The man lay on the ground, breathing heavily and deeply, as demons of Tzeentch disappeared back over the walls.
Back within her head, the feisty warrior stood victorious. The slain demon at her feet, many times her own size, dissolved and evaporated into the aether. As the beast’s flesh gave away, a deafening sound began- clapping, the applause of a single, unimaginably grand being.
“You have done well, Defender of Lydia.”
“Who are you?”
“I am he who would lead you to victory.”
“You are Tzeentch, and you do not bring victory- you bring shame and destruction to those who would serve you!”
“Ah, you are perceptive, youngling- but do I truly have different goals than you? Have I destroyed your people?”
“Yes! You have sculpted them into these... monstrosities, and left the weak to be slaughtered by the Imperium!”
“This is nothing that would not have happened had I never intervened- were the Lydians not slaughtered by Dio and Lodos long before your time? And you have shown that it is possible to return to your own form- you are very much yourself right now, and others of strong mind may do the same. I have merely given you the power to resist, the power to fight, the power to turn back this advance!”
“I...” the Brave Little Princess hesitated, “But I fight only to save my people! Not to serve the whims of some god, not to become a meaningless pawn in his cosmic game.”
“And save your people you will, and you must. I will see that your fight succeeds.”
“But you have...” the girl’s fury was weakening, as the voice allayed every one of her furious allegations. “You have...”
“Given a new chance for victory to Lydia’s last hope. This I can provide- but it remains to you to truly accept my gift.”
“I did once accept you- and you killed me!”
“That you recovered only shows your strength of will- but you have not yet shown the strength of spirit needed to do to save Lydia.”
“Which is?”
“Look upon that which you have cast from your mind- he remains there as much as you once did after your shattering. He is a power that has and can lead you to great victories, but naught but useless muscle without an independent mind and fiery spirit. You must make peace with him, make him your ally! Only through this sacrifice will Lydia be able to look upon another millennium.”
“At the cost of damnation?”
The voice took on a harsher tone. “There is no such thing. There is servitude, alliance, mastery and death. You know which path you must take.
The young Lydian stood still for a long moment. She did know what path awaited her, and there was no other way. With stoic resignation, she reached through the dissolved fragments littering her mental interior, fishing together the power she needed. She proceeded alone as the reconstitution went on- the voice was no longer to be heard or sensed.
Outside her mind, the eyes of the Brave Little Princess flashed fiery orange. She kneeled over the exhausted body of the Lydian man, healing him of injuries. She bit her lip as she considered what acts awaited her.
“I do this for Lydia.”
“Auh... could’ve swahn ah’d seen sum’n.”
“Yeh ain’ seen nut’n. S’aulways fogged in ‘round now each yeah- wait.”
“Yeh see ‘t?”
“Yeah! Sum’n movin’ out-”
A huge metal blade burst from the fog, smashing through the man’s head before he could complete the sentence, showering his comrade with gore. With a swift flick, the wickedly keen edge slid cleanly through the second man’s cranium.
All noise was disguised by the restless murmuring of an unnatural wind. The outpost remained oblivious.
At the edge of the wall, a blackened claw seized a crenellation and pulled. With a silent flap of wings, a terrifying figure rose into sight. Blazing orange, the creature had ever-shifting features, the mark of Tzeentch. If one were to look for some time, without being driven mad by terror or killed, they might notice some consistent features- talonlike hands and feet, a toothed beak, and two magnificent feathered wings. The only truly unchanging aspect of the figure was a collection of bloodied rags- the remnants of what had once been human clothing, a mixture of battle-armour and regal robes. For this monster was the one known as the Brave Little Princess- the last hope of Lydia, now... something far more.
Elsewhere on the fortification, further Tzeentchian demons floated, flapped, slithered, oozed, articulated, and phased into position, all calmly awaiting the actions of their leader.
With sudden, mind-wrenching screech the Brave Little Princess swooped down into the base. Her Sword, a great twisting blade of tremendous size, swung with precision and grace, ripping all of her enemies asunder. The sounds of battle were lost in a sea of demonic screeches and cries as the force overwhelmed the human defenders. Within a few seconds, the outpost was annihilated, the supplies it had once guarded despoiled. The Brave Little Princess gave another scream, for victory and for her god. Her Sword writhed, shrinking back down into a much smaller staff. She surveyed the area as the fog began to dissipate. There was some blood splattered around the area- not as much as one may have seen had the assault been performed by the minions of some other god, but the children of Tzeentch did not waste their blows on the dead when other enemies continued to exist.
Indeed, it seemed that not all of the enemy force was dead. In a corner of the compound lay a wounded man, clutching at his side as blood slowly oozed out of a wide wound. The Brave Little Princess’ eyes flashed, and she took two great strides towards the man, gazing down at him for a split second before she would crush the life out of him.
But the man’s- his hair was wavy and black, his face tanned, his features bold and pronounced- this was no Lodosian or Dion conscript- this man was a Lydian.
And that was, in that instant, all that mattered. Within the demon’s mind, a great battle had been ongoing for some time. At first shattered into infinitesimal fragments from her submission to Tzeentch, the mental remains of the Brave Little Princess had slowly been reconstituting themselves, haphazardly patching themselves back together whenever possible, seeking to overthrow the demonic slave which had been given possession of her body. This moment’s hesitation was the trigger that shocked her, slipping just enough of her mind back together to reach a critical mass. With all of the ferocity of her ancestral people, and all of the fire that had driven her throughout her life to fight, the Brave Little Princess rose within her mind. She knew no fear even as she glared into the eyes of the god. With a cry, she lashed out with a blindingly fast series of attacks, pushing back her mind’s oppressor. The demon retaliated, and battle raged within her.
The Lydian man stared up with horror as the battle physically manifested- the smoothly-flowing changes had been superceded by madness, as a whole array of features morphed throughout the body. The internal battle raged for hours as the human girl was continually and brutally beaten back, only to doggedly rise again. Brutalized and bleeding, she would not steer away from her cause- the demon was weakening, and she would never let it recover!
Outside, the transformation would last only a few seconds. Out of the dizzying blur, more and more human features would begin to assert themselves. The wings writhed and shrank away, black hair grew from a softening face, and feathery scales retreated against an onslaught of tanned human skin. The demon thrashed, as if it was trying to grab at lost mass as it shrank back to its original size. From this flurry of activity emerged a human being, clad in the same torn rags which had once adorned the demon.
The Lydian man looked up, trembling with terror at the sight of the change. As the girl emerged, he looked away- partly out of horror, partly out of his culture’s deep taboo towards nudity, something which the shredded robes did not entirely disguise. Noticing this, she willed the cloth to change, and it mended, regenerating to its original state.
The Brave Little Princess breathed through her own lungs for the first time since her acceptance of Tzeentch’s gift. She looked down on the cowering Lydian, and was overcome with compassion for her comrade. She reached down towards him, to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, to heal, to comfort...
The man squirmed as she pulled his hands away from his side, placing her own in his place. A cool flow emenated from them, and flesh mended itself until the wound flowed no longer.
“What... what has...”
“Speak.”
“You have consorted with the Chaos Gods, and corrupted your army! What are you doing, who do you serve, why have you not killed me?”
“I was enslaved, I am freed, and I have never done anything other than for my own people.”
The man lay on the ground, still weak from lost blood.
“I no longer know what to believe. I fought alongside our occupiers to prevent the ultimate devastation, but now they have fallen and you still speak as you did in times past... I do not know what to do...”
“Believe that I am myself, and believe that we fight for the same cause. Rest.”
The man lay on the ground, breathing heavily and deeply, as demons of Tzeentch disappeared back over the walls.
Back within her head, the feisty warrior stood victorious. The slain demon at her feet, many times her own size, dissolved and evaporated into the aether. As the beast’s flesh gave away, a deafening sound began- clapping, the applause of a single, unimaginably grand being.
“You have done well, Defender of Lydia.”
“Who are you?”
“I am he who would lead you to victory.”
“You are Tzeentch, and you do not bring victory- you bring shame and destruction to those who would serve you!”
“Ah, you are perceptive, youngling- but do I truly have different goals than you? Have I destroyed your people?”
“Yes! You have sculpted them into these... monstrosities, and left the weak to be slaughtered by the Imperium!”
“This is nothing that would not have happened had I never intervened- were the Lydians not slaughtered by Dio and Lodos long before your time? And you have shown that it is possible to return to your own form- you are very much yourself right now, and others of strong mind may do the same. I have merely given you the power to resist, the power to fight, the power to turn back this advance!”
“I...” the Brave Little Princess hesitated, “But I fight only to save my people! Not to serve the whims of some god, not to become a meaningless pawn in his cosmic game.”
“And save your people you will, and you must. I will see that your fight succeeds.”
“But you have...” the girl’s fury was weakening, as the voice allayed every one of her furious allegations. “You have...”
“Given a new chance for victory to Lydia’s last hope. This I can provide- but it remains to you to truly accept my gift.”
“I did once accept you- and you killed me!”
“That you recovered only shows your strength of will- but you have not yet shown the strength of spirit needed to do to save Lydia.”
“Which is?”
“Look upon that which you have cast from your mind- he remains there as much as you once did after your shattering. He is a power that has and can lead you to great victories, but naught but useless muscle without an independent mind and fiery spirit. You must make peace with him, make him your ally! Only through this sacrifice will Lydia be able to look upon another millennium.”
“At the cost of damnation?”
The voice took on a harsher tone. “There is no such thing. There is servitude, alliance, mastery and death. You know which path you must take.
The young Lydian stood still for a long moment. She did know what path awaited her, and there was no other way. With stoic resignation, she reached through the dissolved fragments littering her mental interior, fishing together the power she needed. She proceeded alone as the reconstitution went on- the voice was no longer to be heard or sensed.
Outside her mind, the eyes of the Brave Little Princess flashed fiery orange. She kneeled over the exhausted body of the Lydian man, healing him of injuries. She bit her lip as she considered what acts awaited her.
“I do this for Lydia.”
(ooc) Alright, what I'm about to bring up is going to look bad, given the subject material, but since we're on the topic of rules debates, I wanted to bring up a subject that's been kind of bugging me. Namely, chaos gates.
Now fluff wise, I understand and appreciate them for what they are. I think their appropriate, and give chaos a significant difference in tactics when compared to the Imperials. Systematically however, I feel they are unbalanced. I should have noticed it before, and brought it up before, and for that failure on my part I do apologize. I'll explain:
Chaos gates (and demon gates) are able to be placed on occupied territory for a cost of 1 (3) sp, and are available for use the very next turn for transporting units. They can be closed by the owning player for a cost of zero sp. On the face of it, that seems alright, but for the following. The benefits of opening a gate in freshly conquered territory so that the very next turn reinforcements can be deployed potentially deep in enemy lines, for a total cost of 1 SP without a significant chance of the gate being closed before something (anything) can get out, seem to be greater then the total cost to the player opening the gate. In short, for 1 SP, opening a gate is a steal for what it does.
Now, since I brought up countering gates, I should, in all fairness, describe how the empire can close it. Through the use of a conduit unit (correct me if I'm wrong here Fulton) the imperial players may close a gate by expending 1 Sp. If the territory is not at least contested by the end of the turn, the imperial player will loose the unit doing the gate closing. So, for the cost of the same amount of Sp, and the very real risk of loosing a unit, the imperials can deny the forces of chaos the use of that gate. In the case of Demon gates, this is fine, as they cost 3 SP. The benefits gained by the chaos player by opening gates all over the place is greater then the benefits the imperial player gets by sending forces to each gate and closing them (potentially loosing the units)
Now, assuming for a moment that this is seen by enough people as being a problem, I do have a number of suggestions that would at least make it still characterful and useful to chaos players to open gates, but prevent them from turning the planet into quantum swiss cheese:
1) We simply increase the cost of the strategy. To what, that would be up for discussion
2) We make it impossible to open a gate in contested territory, and/or make it impossible to set a gate up in a territory unless said territory has been held uncontested by chaos for one full update
3) We limit the total number of gates available to chaos players across the map, making the choices of where to put the gates that much more difficult (and actually gives them a reason to close the dang things)
4) The gate must be operational for a full update before any troops may deploy through it.
These are just suggestions, and I'm sure there are other "fixes" should anyone else wish to voice them
Again, this may be a problem only seen by me, and if so I apologize for any strife this topic may cause on this forum. I would however like to hear all of your thoughts on the matter.
Now fluff wise, I understand and appreciate them for what they are. I think their appropriate, and give chaos a significant difference in tactics when compared to the Imperials. Systematically however, I feel they are unbalanced. I should have noticed it before, and brought it up before, and for that failure on my part I do apologize. I'll explain:
Chaos gates (and demon gates) are able to be placed on occupied territory for a cost of 1 (3) sp, and are available for use the very next turn for transporting units. They can be closed by the owning player for a cost of zero sp. On the face of it, that seems alright, but for the following. The benefits of opening a gate in freshly conquered territory so that the very next turn reinforcements can be deployed potentially deep in enemy lines, for a total cost of 1 SP without a significant chance of the gate being closed before something (anything) can get out, seem to be greater then the total cost to the player opening the gate. In short, for 1 SP, opening a gate is a steal for what it does.
Now, since I brought up countering gates, I should, in all fairness, describe how the empire can close it. Through the use of a conduit unit (correct me if I'm wrong here Fulton) the imperial players may close a gate by expending 1 Sp. If the territory is not at least contested by the end of the turn, the imperial player will loose the unit doing the gate closing. So, for the cost of the same amount of Sp, and the very real risk of loosing a unit, the imperials can deny the forces of chaos the use of that gate. In the case of Demon gates, this is fine, as they cost 3 SP. The benefits gained by the chaos player by opening gates all over the place is greater then the benefits the imperial player gets by sending forces to each gate and closing them (potentially loosing the units)
Now, assuming for a moment that this is seen by enough people as being a problem, I do have a number of suggestions that would at least make it still characterful and useful to chaos players to open gates, but prevent them from turning the planet into quantum swiss cheese:
1) We simply increase the cost of the strategy. To what, that would be up for discussion
2) We make it impossible to open a gate in contested territory, and/or make it impossible to set a gate up in a territory unless said territory has been held uncontested by chaos for one full update
3) We limit the total number of gates available to chaos players across the map, making the choices of where to put the gates that much more difficult (and actually gives them a reason to close the dang things)
4) The gate must be operational for a full update before any troops may deploy through it.
These are just suggestions, and I'm sure there are other "fixes" should anyone else wish to voice them
Again, this may be a problem only seen by me, and if so I apologize for any strife this topic may cause on this forum. I would however like to hear all of your thoughts on the matter.
The planet is corrupt nearly without exception. Why again must we stay our hands?
You know full well the answer. Loosing here would cut the supplies to three other warzones, not to mention disrupting the food shipments to two hive worlds and a forge world.
Four capitals in half a year, all but one falling in a matter of days to cultists. Even now our colleague is up to his neck in the blood of traitors. By any civilized measure this planet should be burnt to a cinder. And yet we do not give the order. And lets not speak of the foul gates that have opened in your back yard.
Minor setbacks. Distractions. Opportunities.
Have you lost your Mi..
Gentlemen. Now is not the time for bickering. We know what we each must do.
+++++++
The mountains often looked red in the evening light, even before civil war had visited the little moon. It was considered a feature of living high in the spires of Luoyang that the nobility were treated to such a view. Now however, for the tribes who called the mountains their home, the color took on a different meaning. Long before, they were nominally related to the country of Wei, providing exotic plants and spices in return for goods and supplies from the hives.
The Ming-tua flower was especially sought after for its narcotic properties by those nobles willing to pay the price to have it smuggled in without the knowledge of the arbites. Ming-tua was also known to have bizarre effects on those with the taint on their minds, seemingly heightening their powers briefly before massive seizures set in, ultimately resulting in death, hence it's sanction. But money always managed to talk, and with its words the flower with its pale red blossom found its way frequently to Luoyang's summit.
The war changed that. At first, the tribes rejoiced at the prospect of unfettered trade with their patrons throughout the rest of the nation. With the Arbites gone, the sanction against the drug would doubtlessly be lifted, and they would surely reap the reward. However, although demand for the drug did indeed spike as they had hoped, they found themselves with their lands seized, along with their crops. The drug would be used to help fuel rituals throughout the world, and maintaining a local economy was not on the agenda.
And so the tribes found themselves cut loose, without a means to make a living. And they did what has been done for time immemorial, when one finds one's plate devoid of food. They found faith.
It was a simple matter for the mask's agents to find shelter in the mountain towns of Wei. Sympathetic ears heard the woes of a now destitute throng. A few words of wisdom, a few more shipments of food snuck across the border, and a healing hand or two to tend to the ill and the infirm was all it took for the tribes to find hope for their future.
And along with the food came the weapons, the rhetoric and the training. Caches, safe-houses, hideouts, and food stores came next. But when the prince's mountain brigades came to town, matters came to ahead. Bribes that once turned heads were useless now, as the prince's men simply took what they wanted without thought to tradition and ceremony. The dull red flower was needed once again, and they would not brook resistance. Instead of the prince's men passing through unmolested and none the wiser, the tribes took up arms and fought back. The prince's men were accustomed to ambushes, trained in guerilla warfare. The mountains were theirs as much as they were the tribes. They were better equipped, better fed, and well motivated. And so the initial battles were one sided. But the tribes would not be quieted so easily. Their noses bloodied, but their pride unbowed, they would continue to push back until the red mountains were painted in heretic blood.
+++++
Meanwhile in the jungles, the marines waited. Their power armor covered with camo cloaks, ready to be cast aside only when it was time to strike. As was their tradition, and in keeping with the teachings of their predecessors, they would strike always from the shadows, never from the front. The 10th company preparations were well under way. Already the jungle was a mass of mines, jammers, and booby traps, but that was only the beginning. The traitors had already sent scouts through the jungles, no doubt on their way to the capital at Niaomalan.
Although the scouts were certain they had caught them all, Captain Flavian was unconvinced, and so was the inquisitor who had helped cull them from his jungle. The cult had very nearly stumbled in on his preparations. The enemy had to know the jungle was a death maze by now, the Catachans saw to that. They had however, very little inkling for just how bad it was about to become.
You know full well the answer. Loosing here would cut the supplies to three other warzones, not to mention disrupting the food shipments to two hive worlds and a forge world.
Four capitals in half a year, all but one falling in a matter of days to cultists. Even now our colleague is up to his neck in the blood of traitors. By any civilized measure this planet should be burnt to a cinder. And yet we do not give the order. And lets not speak of the foul gates that have opened in your back yard.
Minor setbacks. Distractions. Opportunities.
Have you lost your Mi..
Gentlemen. Now is not the time for bickering. We know what we each must do.
+++++++
The mountains often looked red in the evening light, even before civil war had visited the little moon. It was considered a feature of living high in the spires of Luoyang that the nobility were treated to such a view. Now however, for the tribes who called the mountains their home, the color took on a different meaning. Long before, they were nominally related to the country of Wei, providing exotic plants and spices in return for goods and supplies from the hives.
The Ming-tua flower was especially sought after for its narcotic properties by those nobles willing to pay the price to have it smuggled in without the knowledge of the arbites. Ming-tua was also known to have bizarre effects on those with the taint on their minds, seemingly heightening their powers briefly before massive seizures set in, ultimately resulting in death, hence it's sanction. But money always managed to talk, and with its words the flower with its pale red blossom found its way frequently to Luoyang's summit.
The war changed that. At first, the tribes rejoiced at the prospect of unfettered trade with their patrons throughout the rest of the nation. With the Arbites gone, the sanction against the drug would doubtlessly be lifted, and they would surely reap the reward. However, although demand for the drug did indeed spike as they had hoped, they found themselves with their lands seized, along with their crops. The drug would be used to help fuel rituals throughout the world, and maintaining a local economy was not on the agenda.
And so the tribes found themselves cut loose, without a means to make a living. And they did what has been done for time immemorial, when one finds one's plate devoid of food. They found faith.
It was a simple matter for the mask's agents to find shelter in the mountain towns of Wei. Sympathetic ears heard the woes of a now destitute throng. A few words of wisdom, a few more shipments of food snuck across the border, and a healing hand or two to tend to the ill and the infirm was all it took for the tribes to find hope for their future.
And along with the food came the weapons, the rhetoric and the training. Caches, safe-houses, hideouts, and food stores came next. But when the prince's mountain brigades came to town, matters came to ahead. Bribes that once turned heads were useless now, as the prince's men simply took what they wanted without thought to tradition and ceremony. The dull red flower was needed once again, and they would not brook resistance. Instead of the prince's men passing through unmolested and none the wiser, the tribes took up arms and fought back. The prince's men were accustomed to ambushes, trained in guerilla warfare. The mountains were theirs as much as they were the tribes. They were better equipped, better fed, and well motivated. And so the initial battles were one sided. But the tribes would not be quieted so easily. Their noses bloodied, but their pride unbowed, they would continue to push back until the red mountains were painted in heretic blood.
+++++
Meanwhile in the jungles, the marines waited. Their power armor covered with camo cloaks, ready to be cast aside only when it was time to strike. As was their tradition, and in keeping with the teachings of their predecessors, they would strike always from the shadows, never from the front. The 10th company preparations were well under way. Already the jungle was a mass of mines, jammers, and booby traps, but that was only the beginning. The traitors had already sent scouts through the jungles, no doubt on their way to the capital at Niaomalan.
Although the scouts were certain they had caught them all, Captain Flavian was unconvinced, and so was the inquisitor who had helped cull them from his jungle. The cult had very nearly stumbled in on his preparations. The enemy had to know the jungle was a death maze by now, the Catachans saw to that. They had however, very little inkling for just how bad it was about to become.
Thank you all for your feedback. I will make a ruling on movement in 24 hours.
Labrat has also raised the question of chaos gates. I consider the game's rules a work in progress. This is an entirely new system developed from scratch with no testing and no predecessor. I consider it a work in progress. If you wish to discuss this, or raise any other question, please do so. Now is the perfect opportunity.
I want this game to be fun and fair for everyone.
Labrat has also raised the question of chaos gates. I consider the game's rules a work in progress. This is an entirely new system developed from scratch with no testing and no predecessor. I consider it a work in progress. If you wish to discuss this, or raise any other question, please do so. Now is the perfect opportunity.
I want this game to be fun and fair for everyone.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
"Do you know," the inquisitor asked. "Where we are?"
"I don't know." John replied. "The town hall, I guess.
Inquisitor smiled. "Do you know why we take people here?"
"To make people confess and to punish them."
"That is a silly mistake most inexperienced inquisitor makes." Peles chuckled. "No, we take you here to cure you of your disease."
"I don't have..."
"Yes, you do. Your insane. We make you sane. First thing you must understand is that there have been no martyrdoms in this place." Peles chuckled again. "Inexperienced inquisitors fail at this, they set out to eradicate heresy by killing everything and end it by perpetuating it. They killed cultists when they were still unrepentant. In fact, they killed them for that reason. The cultists died because they wouldn't betray their beliefs. Naturally, it only worked to derive more hatred against the Imperium. Some inquisitors use brutal torture techniques. They wear down their victims until they are whimpering wretches. Confessing whatever the Inqusitor told them to. That does not work as well, do you know why? Because the confessions are obviously false. No, I do not make mistakes of that kind. All things you confess will be true. I make them true. Above all, I do not tolerate dead to rise up against us. You can't hope that the public will think of you as a hero. The public will never hear of you. They have never heard of you. All trace of you shall be wiped out from the records. All pictures of you destroyed or forged. You shall never have existed."
"Then Why torture me?!" John shouted.
The inquisitor smiled. "When I capture a cultist, I don't kill him if he resist. No, we capture his mind. We burn all the evil out of him. We bring his soul back to our side. Even your uncle, whose innocense which you believed in. I interrogated him myself. I wore him down until he was an empty shell of a man, with nothing left but sorrow for what he had done and the love of the Emperor. He begged to be burnt quickly so that he would die while his minds was still clear."
Inquisitor chuckled again and signaled to the acolyte standing in the booth. "2500. Do not worry John, this time, it won't hurt at all..."
"I don't know." John replied. "The town hall, I guess.
Inquisitor smiled. "Do you know why we take people here?"
"To make people confess and to punish them."
"That is a silly mistake most inexperienced inquisitor makes." Peles chuckled. "No, we take you here to cure you of your disease."
"I don't have..."
"Yes, you do. Your insane. We make you sane. First thing you must understand is that there have been no martyrdoms in this place." Peles chuckled again. "Inexperienced inquisitors fail at this, they set out to eradicate heresy by killing everything and end it by perpetuating it. They killed cultists when they were still unrepentant. In fact, they killed them for that reason. The cultists died because they wouldn't betray their beliefs. Naturally, it only worked to derive more hatred against the Imperium. Some inquisitors use brutal torture techniques. They wear down their victims until they are whimpering wretches. Confessing whatever the Inqusitor told them to. That does not work as well, do you know why? Because the confessions are obviously false. No, I do not make mistakes of that kind. All things you confess will be true. I make them true. Above all, I do not tolerate dead to rise up against us. You can't hope that the public will think of you as a hero. The public will never hear of you. They have never heard of you. All trace of you shall be wiped out from the records. All pictures of you destroyed or forged. You shall never have existed."
"Then Why torture me?!" John shouted.
The inquisitor smiled. "When I capture a cultist, I don't kill him if he resist. No, we capture his mind. We burn all the evil out of him. We bring his soul back to our side. Even your uncle, whose innocense which you believed in. I interrogated him myself. I wore him down until he was an empty shell of a man, with nothing left but sorrow for what he had done and the love of the Emperor. He begged to be burnt quickly so that he would die while his minds was still clear."
Inquisitor chuckled again and signaled to the acolyte standing in the booth. "2500. Do not worry John, this time, it won't hurt at all..."
Milarqui
Deity
Am I the only one that thinks this sounds too much like 1984?
Milarqui
Deity
Damn, double post. Will try to put up a good story later.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
2+2=5 
.
Yeah, I just finished 1984 and noticed O'Brien's persona was around what I imagined Peles as.
. I wasn't actually holding the book when I wrote this though.
.Yeah, I just finished 1984 and noticed O'Brien's persona was around what I imagined Peles as.
. I wasn't actually holding the book when I wrote this though.
