Leave him down there.
+ 1
Enjoy living in Xeno filth!
Anyway.
+1 to having this dude be our emissary/representative. The information they can provide will be much more useful given a month or so to be developed, and having a representative there involved with the process should be useful to make sure it happens in a sensible manner.
As far as the current decision goes leave him there
Leaving that guy down there sounds like a good idea.
Poor bastard
You come to the conclusion that, while the Xenos are hideous abominations, there is no recourse but to leave the Prognosticator among them. The powers of the Warp cannot be used lightly and as he's the only human that has any understanding of their language, there is no other choice but to leave him there. You will be sure to honour him in time but for now, you expect results, and if that means he must endure the presence of the alien, so be it. For his part he is stoic and accepts the duty on his shoulders, with a resolve that you'd hope any battle brother would. Time crawls by as the fleet hangs visible in their orbit and you further your knowledge of the sacred machine. It's a shame the Xenos have little technology of worth to examine, but their rifle was curious. Ignoring the novelty of the levers and stirrups for hooks to manipulate it, the caliber was as thick as your finger without its gauntlet, steel-tipped, and of a frankly obscene grain. If an Astartes weren't wearing his helmet and was shot at a middling distance, this could very likely bore a hole through his gene-reinforced skull. These Xenos traded over half a dozen shots of the same between themselves. Sitting at your workshop, you hold the bullet between your knuckles and think of how much you'd like to test their shells against a bolter round. On a purely physical level, the resilience of these shells may be on par with carapace armour, to say nothing of their viscous inhabitant's ability to handle shock and pressure.
By the Terran Calendar: 36,133.3k
A Terran month passes and the title of Chapter Master is still attached to your name. The responsibility is overwhelming but you endure it with the same outwardly dispassionate disposition that you did during your time in the Forges of Mars. Somewhere in the void of the Nebula, your brothers are adrift, intent to complete the tasks you've given. In the absence of an astropath, you have no way to confirm their well-being and the faint, creeping dread in you is far too petty a thing to ask one of the Prognosticators to reach into the Empyrean annals of space and time for. For now, you endure and turn your attentions to what you can handle: the affairs of system #10.
On behalf of the currently unnamed 3rd Company's Captain, I would humbly request a transfer of approximately 20 of our unbloodied Brothers to 7th Company in exchange for 20 of their experienced Veterans. Why let them die these cherished veterans perish on the Death World while our newbies remain painfully untested?
First comes a peculiar request from the 3rd company chaplain, ostensibly on behalf of the 3rd company captain. Euchre, a jovial, if on occassion unzealous chaplain known to prefer cards to regicide. More than peculiar, it is a
bold request, to transfer twenty of 3rd company's newer marines to 7th company, and twenty of the veterans of 7th to the 3rd. Supposedly for the need to prevent their death in one of the ruins, but this would impugn on the authority of the 7th company's captain, and assuming they didn't see fit to volunteer, would require you to pull rank and force the issue. You aren't personally convinced of the need but the notion may yet have merit.
How should you handle this request?
Accept It: Perhaps the chaplain is right. Veterancy in combat helps little more in the nightmarish ruins than it would on the frontlines, and Antwir might yet test your newbloods.Reject It: Without a request from the 7th company captain himself, you can't allow the 3rd company chaplain to talk you into transferring twenty of 7th company's finest into the fleet.Launch an Inquiry: ...come to think of it, it is rather strange that the 3rd company chaplain would send you this message, rather than his captain. There must be some reason for this development.Terran Calendar36,133.3k
Memorandum: 133.3 AAddressed: Our most glorious Chapter Master TalinorSent by: 1st Company Senior Techmarine ArcheausMost Esteemed and Illustrious Chapter Master I do so solemnly apologize for directing this missive to your person as opposed to translating this plan to you via our esteemed Master of the Forge. However due to the unorthodox nature of the plans I am to present to you I imagine you shall be more openminded too my new designs then my somewhat hide bound superior. With our recent acquisitions of this world and in truth this whole region of space it has become apparent to even one as humble as myself that we must establish a means of monitoring, defending and communicating throughout our most blessed realm. To this purpose I have set about the design of a simple solution, I call them sentinel stations and while being a new design and thus outside of the traditional STC constructs we have been chained to it should serve your purposes admirably.
>Insert Schematic of Sentinel Station<
As you can see this small station mounts a primary defensive light lance battery that ought to see off most small scale incursions along with its point defense armaments'. However these armaments' cannot be the true purpose of this station as there are better STC designs for defensive stations no the true brilliance of my design lies in the advanced communication and observation suite. Alongside the facilities for the housing of a small Astropathic choir these stations should be able to keep eyes on every corner of your realm most esteemed Chapter Master. While requiring a fairly small resource investment both in material and manpower being able to be manned to full capacity by no more then a platoon of our Auxiliaries and a single battle brother to serve as its commander as we certainly cant trust mere mortals to the task.
If you find this design to your satisfaction my Liege I shall happily commence construction of the first of these stations in orbit over this world. Not only to secure your new possession Enlightened One but to also show your new subjects the immediate benefits of there service.
In Faithful Service
Senior Techmarine Archeaus
When you've finished resolving what to do about the 3rd company chaplain's request, you turn your attentions to a letter. At first glance you're annoyed, expecting some drivel out of a mortal auxiliary without the stones to meet you in person, but you recognize the name- Archaeus, and curiosity takes hold. If you were the Chapter's secondmost Techmarine, he would be a migthy contender for third and was a peer you most enjoyed spending your time with. Always a touch formal, he burgeoned with an intellect that could've gotten him far in the Adeptus Mechanicus as a mortal, and a curiosity that would've gotten him burnt at the stake if he didn't have the tact to hide it. If he's sending you a missive it must be for a mutual interest. You open it eagerly, begin reading, and find that your assumption was most correct. It is a schematic of what amounts to a large satellite, intended to orbit a star or planet, and from there serve as a sensor-hub to perpetually monitor its system and planets for potential deviancies. Further, its theoretical inclusion of an astropathic choir would act as a rapid means of information transit while a lance battery ensures no lack of teeth.
Although the design would be sparsely armoured, by necessity, what intrigues you most is that this is a product of
true innovation. By directly disregarding the STCs of the ancients to produce his own schematic without going through the proper channels, Archaeus has effectively blasphemed everything that the dictates of Mars stands for. In each measurement, from the smallest piece to the grandest whole, he has desecrated the doctrine of technological preservation and if you were to follow through, would erect a void-shrine of ingenuity, in shining defiance to the Techpriests and their orthodoxy! You approve... The design itself is interesting and versatile, though you suspect it would require some time and effort to make it a reality without preexisting infrastructure, (50 Resources and 5 months) even before the inclusion of a lance battery, (50 more Resources and 5 more months) but if you're willing to abide its stationary nature, it is a bargain above and beyond going to the length of building your own voidships. The only significant barrier you can determine would be the inclusion of an astropath, given that your only trained one is on Civilized World #5/5, and you could make do with a Prognosticator in a pinch, such a standing could lie beneath them. You suppose you could undertake the effort to find worthy psykers and train them into your own, petty Adeptus Astra Telepathica but the starting costs and investment would be substantial... as would the rewards.
You begin to quill a response immediately, making your thoughts known to Archeaus.
What are they?After this is over, little happens until the planetbound Prognosticator, your "emissary" to the Xenos, transmits an encrypted vox-call to
The Warmonger and is soon after freed from the Xenos pit to meet you in-person, in your quarters. He removes his helmet and his wisened eyes are weary. You start to soothe his doubtless warranted sense of frustration,
"You have my deepest apologies and sincerest thanks, brother, for there was no other way to know the Xenos and thus bend them to our will." He shakes his head.
"Brother Talnior, you were chosen for a reason and have nothing more to say to me. Your commands are mine to bear, and in the time I've spent in that sweltering hole I have learned much." You lean in closer as he goes into a detailed explanation of everything he's discovered of the Xenos.
In their tongue, they call themselves the Zoguwn, a cumbersome pronunciation that you consider replacing with something easier on the human tongue or perhaps more humorous, but you do not interrupt. He explains that the Zoguwn are, before all else, shackled by their nature as much as they are defined by it. The direst of these was unapparent from orbital sensors though it is of, if anything, equal or greater importance to their shells. Presumably due to their inferior, alien genetic structure, they have a
Fleeting natural lifespan. For a member of their species to survive two decades is a tremendous feat, fifteen Terran years a rare event, and a single decade the average before infirmity of the hooks and wilting of the spinneret claims them. Many only live to five, and they are considered fully grown and capable by three-to-four months after spawning. All other aspects of their existence are informed by this fundamental truth.
In the span of their scant lifespans, the Zoguwn strive to maximize themselves. For some, this entails achievement, and in the absence of any ancestors or descendants that can be traced, most place their legacy in the state. To cope, their philosophy teaches that any two Zoguwn are interchangeable and what matters is the sum of their shared accomplishments. This, and their robust instinct to group together (theorized by the Prognosticator as linked to an evolutionary past as prey animals) has led to a strict society, where each Zoguwn has its place assigned the moment their abilities are determined, and each is to prepare their successors before their own demise, so that they can prepare theirs in turn, and so continue an unbroken line of Zoguwn whose lives were meaningful. In theory, this is an elegant solution to an existential problem but in practice, this consists of increasingly deteriorating Xenos scrambling to cram younger versions of themselves full of as much knowledge as possible in as little time as possible, so that they can repeat the process when they expire. You imagine this would make almost all knowledge institutional and the fundamental lessons of any given craft secondhand, as with minimal chance for any individual to reach professional expertise, they must settle for the bare minimum of competence. You're befuddled that they seem to have reached atomics without an external benefactor but the Prognosticator explains that it's worse than that.
Over the course of his studies, extrapolated to the exposure to the alien mind, he has discovered that they have an enormous degree of brain matter relative to their size and that the
overwhelming majority of it is specialized to managing the sensory input of over a dozen eyes, each staring at different shifting angles with their own visual feedback, and to the management of six hook-limbs in relation to their field-of-vision, each other, and the balancing of their shell without constant adjustment. The trajectory of their spinneret-launches, too, requires an enormous degree of almost instantaneous calculation and he suspects that requires no less in the way of neuron-analogues. The fact that these creatures are able to move and function continually is impressive, even moreso is their nigh-infallible sense of balance, but in terms of general processing power they are pitiful.
Dimwitted is putting it gently. He estimates that one-in-four examples of their species are as intelligent as the average human, those that could be considered above-average startlingly rare, and those that could be called a genius by your norms only one in several thousand.
You realize the implications immediately, if their lives are already less than a human fifth, they therefore must rely on the brightest examples of their kind to lead them through the darkness of ignorance and if these are so infrequent, their entire species must be fumbling in the shadows. For them to have reached this point must have been nothing less than a struggle. Most of their species have a substandard intellect and though some can get by on a dim, if usable mind, some few are genuinely unable to learn more than a handful of words. Through no fault of their own, their minds are as soft as their shells are hard. In the absence of an Apothecarion that can do a deep-dive of their genome and prove it, the Prognosticator still feels confident in concluding that the Zoguwn's self-aware sapience is a cruel, recessive accident of evolution.
They may still yet make for a significant asset on their own. As you saw during the duel between both champions, they are remarkably resilient, and the Prognosticator has come to the same conclusions you have. Due to their decentralized nervous system, flexible, spongy bodies, and dulled sense of pain, they’re capable of enduring trauma that would leave a human insensate with agony and likely surviving the aftermath. More than that, their shells are categorically superior to flak and if his hypothesis is correct, they may be able to take a direct impact from a bolter pistol and retain their structure. Any amount of sustained fire would put it down shortly but in contrast, a direct impact from a bolter pistol would carry through a human target and five or six more behind them. Any amount of sustained fire wouldn’t leave the corpse recognizable. The Zoguwn are
Durable to a degree that’s closer to a mobile slab of rockcrete than most organic life. Neither of you need to discuss the advantages this brings in combat, although their lifespans and average intellect leaves the prospect of building up a long-term, veteran fighting force difficult at best.
Outside of their shells, they seem to have a potent physiology, with a suite of menacing
Natural Weapons that, begrudgingly, he must admit, surpass what a naked human being is capable of. The ooze from their distended trunks sprays with anywhere from drizzling to pummeling pressure at their will, and on its own, is able to visibly corrode iron in minutes, to say nothing of flesh and bone. Far inferior to the acidic spit of your Astartes but potentially useful. Their hooks, while unable to get much leverage to apply their musculature, are able to support the weight of their shells and clasp onto vertical stone surfaces with immense grip strength. In combat, they “scoop” each other out of them and it’s doubtful most humans could handle that many limbs in single combat. Likewise, the ooze of their spinnerets is incredibly adhesive without whatever loosening function the Zoguwn use to retract it back into themselves, and can be detached once shot for a hellish blinding mechanism. This can’t be used very often without leaving them immobile but it’s a nasty surprise. Removed from every other part, they’re even capable of using themselves as heavy, improvised projectiles, albeit with some risk. An unarmed Astartes would eviscerate one of their number in minutes but there’s some concern that humans would require anti-tank munitions to subdue a force of Zoguwn without significant losses.
Finally, their bodies seem to be remarkably tolerant of divergent conditions from the salty marshes they’ve evolved to endure. The amount of humidity in the air makes little difference to them if they have regular access to water and their tolerable range of temperatures is at the edge of human survivability. There were plans to colonize their northern and southern poles in the works. The Prognosticator didn’t have any way to test this but he hypothesizes that with their shell and means of movement, they should fare well in low-to-zero gravity conditions, and by the same token, they exert sufficient force that they should at least be capable of functioning in high gravity environments. The history of disease on their planet is minimal and it’s unlikely they would even be compatible with most conventional sicknesses. Overall, the Zoguwn are
Adaptable enough that using them to colonize worlds unsuitable for mankind isn’t out of the question.
Outside of their appearances and the fact that they are Xenos and therefore opposed to humanity, he found little else that was outright loathsome about them. No abhorrent biological processes or atrocious cultural norms, but they are, in every aspect,
Bizarre to a degree that strains comprehension. Their locomotion you’re well-aware of, but they’re invertebrates whose brains consist of numerous, detached lumps and nodules without any apparent pattern, something unseen in the known life-forms of ancient Terra. Rather than an ear, they have countless small fibers capable of picking up on ambient vibrations, effectively hearing from their entire body, and these can be consciously detached and regrown over time. Due to this, permanent hearing loss is a foreign concept to them and their culture is extremely fond of loud noises. They have no sense of smell, substituting a taste that only extends to texture, making for a dull culinary palate. Notably, they’re somewhat incapable of telling each other apart from a distance and rely on a given accent and predetermined code-words to get by. They’ve developed visual recording technology but have found minimal use for it, in contrast to radio, which is omnipresent among them and transmits constant remainders of the state’s importance and of basic information, but occasionally pure static, which most seem to enjoy. The Prognosticator was unable to find anything in the vein of a proper choir but they have semi-sophisticated flutes and a tradition of making banging noises on their shells and nearby surfaces with a sort of long mallet. He’s no less disgusted by the Zoguwn now than when he first saw them, and uncovering their means of reproduction did nothing to sway this.
They are amphibious and every community has a large pool of warm, stagnant water. A few times per Terran cycle, parts of the Zoguwn will swell, and they’ll go to the pool, where they’ll submerse themselves and vomit a cluster of several dozen eggs, deflating, and go back to their regular business. These eggs hatch into extremely small, unshelled creatures that require an immense amount of calories and invariably, instinctively seek out their siblings to devour them. Because each community shares a pool, there are often hundreds or thousands of competitors. This continues for weeks as they grow larger and larger, until only a handful are left and they start to grow their shells in the same manner as a gastropod. The Zoguwn tasked to oversee their hatcheries watch carefully and periodically fish them out with a net to investigate their progress. Those that haven’t grown their shells quickly enough, or which exhibit deformities, are devoured and those whose shells are grown, are tested by several strikes of a mallet. Any sign of a crack leads to them being devoured. By this point their young are self-aware. Those whose shells are sufficiently durable are left to live, although it isn’t at all uncommon or discouraged for consumption to happen even at this stage, and by two Terran months they’re able to crawl out of the pool on their own and join Zoguwn society. It’s rare for any more than one or two to survive out of a single spawning. When the Prognosticator asked if they’d attempted to improve on the hatcheries’ efficiency, they weren’t able to comprehend what he was asking them and grew uncooperative until he changed the subject.
The Prognosticator moves onto the process of breaking down their governments and explains that before the Chapter arrived, their greatest atomic powers were in the midst of a cold war. Their motivations largely extended to territory and a prevailing sociological theory that their world could be thought of as the “spawning pool of states,” where the weak or slow were to be devoured and lead the way for a single, superior state of Zoguwn to reach into the stars. The individual histories of their separate polities is of little interest but as he understands it, there are, or were, three major powers divided by fundamental differences of thought. Rather than struggle over economics they did so over a simple, centuries-long argument. The first believed that the shell was the most important part of the Zoguwn, the second that the honour belonged to their hooks and spinneret, and the third that this extended to the works of the Zoguwn, rather than the Zoguwn themselves. They were unwilling to reconcile and are likely to have nuked themselves sometime in the next century. Your arrival has settled matters because the third concluded their defeat was inevitable and after a bitter internal struggle, folded into the second, and the struggle of the remaining two saw the pro-shell Zoguwn victorious, disproving them both. It is now considered indisputable amongst them that the shell is, in fact, the most important part of the Zoguwn.
According to the Prognosticator, their assimilation is happening at a glacial pace as they’re struggling to fully incorporate their separate bureaucracies into a single administrative mass. Likewise on their technology, they’ve learned little from the autogun and its design is ineffective against their shells, giving them little incentive to pursue it further. From a personal perspective, he concludes the only reason he found them remotely tolerable is that their mindset has much in common with the Chapter’s own. A firm
Authoritarian streak is evident in every part of their culture, as is a broad,
Militaristic disregard for peaceful alternatives when there’s a possibility of violence. Most of this, he estimates, is a direct result of their brief existences and the consequent lack of value of Zoguwn lives, both of their own and those of their opponents. He also confesses that they seemed to be as repulsed by him as he was by them, but they were likewise willing to cooperate for mutual gain. This may be indicative of a latent
Xenophobic tendency toward conventional life.
He also attests that, taking into account their abysmal lifespan, if their means of reproduction could be controlled, these societal trends could be excised or encouraged with considerable ease. This could be advantageous. You confirm how you want to handle their assimilation. For his part, the Prognosticator humbly requests a month to meditate and cleanse his soul of the Xenos taint.
Let Them Handle It: It’s likely to take them a Zoguwn lifespan to unite but that’s of little concern for you, as long as it’s done in the future.Involve Yourselves: If the Prognosticator were to teach some of the Astartes the Zoguwn language, a few 1st company veterans and techmarines could get them up to muster much faster.Attempt Full Integration: Getting a large, permanent human population on the planet would be time-consuming but it would also get the Zoguwn used to working alongside them.
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Topic: Renegade Space Marine Simulator (40k) (Read 26069 times)