Doesn't matter general cant read
When she saw Aleksandr finally take attention to the woman, her demeanor became softer as she had felt safe from this maniac of a woman who would only try to ruin them into oblivion. She would not yield to a heretic such as her. Her belief in the Emperor of Mankind, the Allfather, would protect her from such creatures as this one. This degenerate humanoid would be beneath her boot as she would point her plasma pistol down at her as she would make her plea for her very life. Indeed she wouldn't let the woman take a foothold over her or her comrades.
She watched him stand up with pride as her face made a grin. Fun was going to happen soon, and she would be here to witness it. She would even enjoy it extremely. His speech had empowered. It even sent chills up and down her spine. She felt for once she mattered to someone, and it was Aleksandr, Ubba, and Donatos. Her mind was racing as she stood there silently letting her Lord General speak for them. She would wait for the right moment to speak out those words. After she finally heard the final line, she shot her hand up as to salute him. "AD VICTORIAM! FOR VICTORY FOR US AND THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND!" she shouted with pride for them all, her purple eyes stared directly at the icy woman. "You might be death, but we DO NOT FEAR DEATH!" she exclaimed as she stared at her Lord General.
"What we do, Lord General, is for our Allfather! We will not back down. We will conquer these heathens!" she said in stride as she kept her hand up in salute before going into a military style in front of him. She had pride in the Imperium. Her new rank would show soon enough as she was ready to take the fight to any degenerate humanoid or ork that would dare try and defile their comrades.
She watched him stand up with pride as her face made a grin. Fun was going to happen soon, and she would be here to witness it. She would even enjoy it extremely. His speech had empowered. It even sent chills up and down her spine. She felt for once she mattered to someone, and it was Aleksandr, Ubba, and Donatos. Her mind was racing as she stood there silently letting her Lord General speak for them. She would wait for the right moment to speak out those words. After she finally heard the final line, she shot her hand up as to salute him. "AD VICTORIAM! FOR VICTORY FOR US AND THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND!" she shouted with pride for them all, her purple eyes stared directly at the icy woman. "You might be death, but we DO NOT FEAR DEATH!" she exclaimed as she stared at her Lord General.
"What we do, Lord General, is for our Allfather! We will not back down. We will conquer these heathens!" she said in stride as she kept her hand up in salute before going into a military style in front of him. She had pride in the Imperium. Her new rank would show soon enough as she was ready to take the fight to any degenerate humanoid or ork that would dare try and defile their comrades.
Hopefully this enlightens you ooc. If you need more I have 400 pages written on the matter excluding a 300 o
Page character Bible. But let's be real, few will ever read that. I am not flexing. Just highlighting a lot fo time and work went into meriting this IC. To be precise, two decades of rp with hundreds of writers.
Back to work. Feel free to dm me if you have questions or whatever.
Page character Bible. But let's be real, few will ever read that. I am not flexing. Just highlighting a lot fo time and work went into meriting this IC. To be precise, two decades of rp with hundreds of writers.
Back to work. Feel free to dm me if you have questions or whatever.
((Of course. I thought you honestly responded. I got into the post. Trust me. I will also read it. I have had the privilege to role play with the best at the time. So I get into it when it is needed. Enjoy the read.))
The_Diva wrote:
Ixqueya rose with an unhurried exactitude, as though elevation itself were a prerogative that required no justification. Her eyes did not flare. They clarified. Hoarfrost blue, pitilessly lucid. She regarded the assemblage of postures and borrowed sanctities before her with the affect of a magistrate reviewing a sentence already rendered.
“You call me heretic,” she said, each consonant honed to a cold, immaculate edge. “You do so because it is the only syllable your conditioning permits when comprehension fails.”
Her gaze settled on the devotional implements, the sanctimonious epithets, the hand that mimed protection. Her mouth resolved into a thin configuration of disdain, precise and joyless.
“You speak of the Emperor as though he were metaphysical statute. I have heard this liturgy in its earlier iterations. I have heard it at the moment of its collapse.” She let the ledger cant, candlelight skidding along its edge like a blade tested for balance. “I know your watchwords. I know your apothegms. Cadia stands. It stood until it did not. Only in death does duty end. A narcotic aphorism for those who require endless obligation to launder atrocity. The Emperor protects. A nursery charm for soldiers frightened by the silence between orders.”
Her cadence remained clinical. The cruelty lay in its restraint.
“I know Istvaan’s treachery. I know Prospero’s cinders. I know the Siege, the walls, the rationing of souls beneath the Throne’s pall. I know the Heresy not as parable but as recurrence. I know the Administratum’s calculus of expendables. I know the Ecclesiarchy’s commerce in suffering. I know the Inquisition’s habit of sanctifying paranoia. I know the Astra Militarum’s talent for becoming meat with a banner. I know the Astartes’ conversion of massacre into euphemism and its christening as compliance.”
She raised her eyes again, and the contempt sharpened into something corrosive.
“You wonder how I speak these names without having genuflected in your chapels or bled in your trenches.” A pause, exact as a scalpel’s hesitation. “Because your dead are not as obedient as you insist.”
Ixqueya tapped the ledger once. The sound was slight. It carried the finality of a nail seated.
“Your fallen do not come to me as plunder. They arrive by choice.” Her gaze hardened. “When the shouting ends and the bolter hymns fall silent, the lies evacuate first. What remains understands itself. They leave your slogans behind. They come to me to serve, not your throne, but the truth of what they have become.” A fractional incline of her head. “They are not servants. They are attestations. They are weight. They are knowledge. They are the chapters of your history you failed to redact.”
Her presence cooled further, the frigid femininity of it turning predatory rather than alluring. Appraising. Exacting.
“Do not mistake me for your pageant of death,” she continued. “I am not your counterfeit reaper, not a costume donned to frighten children into obedience. I am the remainder. I am what waits when theater collapses.” Her eyes did not waver. “Reality does not announce itself with hymns.”
She dismissed the words they had flung like talismans.
“And your so-called gods of Chaos.” The faintest curl of her lip. “Delusional excrescences. Hunger given personality. Parasites that feed on emotion and call it dominion. I have watched powers like them dwindle, fracture, and file themselves into my ledgers alongside legions that once believed eternity was a guarantee. Everything that requires worship is already provisional.”
She leaned in by a measure, eyes never leaving theirs.
“For sixty-one cycles I have conducted this accounting. I have seen emperors grander than your carrion idol discover the limits of noise. Repetition teaches efficiency. My people learned it well.” She straightened, immaculate in her disdain. “Your Emperor’s light is a mote among motes. In true winter, motes do not legislate. They are smothered.”
Her voice lowered, razor-clean.
“If you seek conflict, initiate it. I will not petition your restraint. I will not bargain with delusion.” A final pause. “I will simply record the result, as I have always done, and continue the work that awaits you all.”
The silence that followed was not absence. It was an inspection. Ixqueya’s gaze remained fixed, as though the room itself were being measured for burial allotment. Then her mouth moved again, sparing them the indulgence of surprise.
“And since you seem to require further blasphemy before you can understand that I am not guessing,” she said, “I will give you more.”
She let the ledger cant, not theatrically, but with the minute ritual of a priest turning a page.
“I know the Age of Strife, when mankind learned the taste of its own abandonment. I know the Dark Age of Technology, your lost Eden built on sins you prefer to romanticize. I know the Men of Iron, the old betrayal that taught humanity to fear its own genius more than any alien claw.”
Her eyes narrowed, winter-clear.
“I know the Treaty of Mars, the necessary sacrilege that yoked Terra’s hunger to the Mechanicum’s machine-prayers. I know the Unification Wars, the ash of Terra before your Imperium learned to call conquest ‘order.’ I know the Thunder Warriors, discarded when their usefulness expired, like broken tools thrown into snowdrifts.”
The ledger’s edge caught candlelight again, sharp as a confession.
“I know Ullanor. I know the Rangdan Xenocides, that redacted abyss you are trained not to name aloud. I know the Primarch Project and the scattering, as if fate reached into a cradle and scattered heirs like dice.”
Her voice remained calm. Her contempt did not.
“I know the Webway Project, the Emperor’s private artery meant to starve older hungers by denying them purchase on mankind’s soul. I know the Council of Nikaea, dread masquerading as jurisprudence. I know the Sisters of Silence, that pariah-cold you call auxiliary because the truth unsettles you.”
A fractional pause, dense as compacted snow.
“I know the Black Ships, the harvest of psykers reduced to inventory. I know the Astronomican, a lighthouse sustained because lives are fed into it until they become fuel. I know the Grey Knights, sealed as a reliquary against what your sermons cannot master.”
Her stare returned to them with a pitiless serenity.
“Some of these you learn as campfire catechism. Others are hoarded behind seals, spoken only in rooms that smell of incense and fear.” She tapped the ledger once. “It does not matter. They arrive to me the same way. In the mouths of the dead who finally stop lying.”
Her tone sharpened into something quietly annihilative.
“You want to believe your Emperor is the terminus of all things. He is not. He is an anxious ember enthroned in machinery, praised as a sun. He is sustained by perpetual immolation and called benevolent for it.” Her eyes held theirs. “Your so-called gods of Chaos are no better. Delirious excrescences. Hunger given faces. Dependent, loud, and mortal in the only way that matters.”
Ixqueya’s mouth curved, faint and predatory.
“In time, the things you fear will also be filed. Their legions will also learn the quiet. Powers like them have done so before.” Her voice lowered again, razor-clean. “Everything that demands worship is already provisional. It is merely awaiting the moment winter arrives and stops pretending to care what you called it.”
(((Made in a rush.)))
“You call me heretic,” she said, each consonant honed to a cold, immaculate edge. “You do so because it is the only syllable your conditioning permits when comprehension fails.”
Her gaze settled on the devotional implements, the sanctimonious epithets, the hand that mimed protection. Her mouth resolved into a thin configuration of disdain, precise and joyless.
“You speak of the Emperor as though he were metaphysical statute. I have heard this liturgy in its earlier iterations. I have heard it at the moment of its collapse.” She let the ledger cant, candlelight skidding along its edge like a blade tested for balance. “I know your watchwords. I know your apothegms. Cadia stands. It stood until it did not. Only in death does duty end. A narcotic aphorism for those who require endless obligation to launder atrocity. The Emperor protects. A nursery charm for soldiers frightened by the silence between orders.”
Her cadence remained clinical. The cruelty lay in its restraint.
“I know Istvaan’s treachery. I know Prospero’s cinders. I know the Siege, the walls, the rationing of souls beneath the Throne’s pall. I know the Heresy not as parable but as recurrence. I know the Administratum’s calculus of expendables. I know the Ecclesiarchy’s commerce in suffering. I know the Inquisition’s habit of sanctifying paranoia. I know the Astra Militarum’s talent for becoming meat with a banner. I know the Astartes’ conversion of massacre into euphemism and its christening as compliance.”
She raised her eyes again, and the contempt sharpened into something corrosive.
“You wonder how I speak these names without having genuflected in your chapels or bled in your trenches.” A pause, exact as a scalpel’s hesitation. “Because your dead are not as obedient as you insist.”
Ixqueya tapped the ledger once. The sound was slight. It carried the finality of a nail seated.
“Your fallen do not come to me as plunder. They arrive by choice.” Her gaze hardened. “When the shouting ends and the bolter hymns fall silent, the lies evacuate first. What remains understands itself. They leave your slogans behind. They come to me to serve, not your throne, but the truth of what they have become.” A fractional incline of her head. “They are not servants. They are attestations. They are weight. They are knowledge. They are the chapters of your history you failed to redact.”
Her presence cooled further, the frigid femininity of it turning predatory rather than alluring. Appraising. Exacting.
“Do not mistake me for your pageant of death,” she continued. “I am not your counterfeit reaper, not a costume donned to frighten children into obedience. I am the remainder. I am what waits when theater collapses.” Her eyes did not waver. “Reality does not announce itself with hymns.”
She dismissed the words they had flung like talismans.
“And your so-called gods of Chaos.” The faintest curl of her lip. “Delusional excrescences. Hunger given personality. Parasites that feed on emotion and call it dominion. I have watched powers like them dwindle, fracture, and file themselves into my ledgers alongside legions that once believed eternity was a guarantee. Everything that requires worship is already provisional.”
She leaned in by a measure, eyes never leaving theirs.
“For sixty-one cycles I have conducted this accounting. I have seen emperors grander than your carrion idol discover the limits of noise. Repetition teaches efficiency. My people learned it well.” She straightened, immaculate in her disdain. “Your Emperor’s light is a mote among motes. In true winter, motes do not legislate. They are smothered.”
Her voice lowered, razor-clean.
“If you seek conflict, initiate it. I will not petition your restraint. I will not bargain with delusion.” A final pause. “I will simply record the result, as I have always done, and continue the work that awaits you all.”
The silence that followed was not absence. It was an inspection. Ixqueya’s gaze remained fixed, as though the room itself were being measured for burial allotment. Then her mouth moved again, sparing them the indulgence of surprise.
“And since you seem to require further blasphemy before you can understand that I am not guessing,” she said, “I will give you more.”
She let the ledger cant, not theatrically, but with the minute ritual of a priest turning a page.
“I know the Age of Strife, when mankind learned the taste of its own abandonment. I know the Dark Age of Technology, your lost Eden built on sins you prefer to romanticize. I know the Men of Iron, the old betrayal that taught humanity to fear its own genius more than any alien claw.”
Her eyes narrowed, winter-clear.
“I know the Treaty of Mars, the necessary sacrilege that yoked Terra’s hunger to the Mechanicum’s machine-prayers. I know the Unification Wars, the ash of Terra before your Imperium learned to call conquest ‘order.’ I know the Thunder Warriors, discarded when their usefulness expired, like broken tools thrown into snowdrifts.”
The ledger’s edge caught candlelight again, sharp as a confession.
“I know Ullanor. I know the Rangdan Xenocides, that redacted abyss you are trained not to name aloud. I know the Primarch Project and the scattering, as if fate reached into a cradle and scattered heirs like dice.”
Her voice remained calm. Her contempt did not.
“I know the Webway Project, the Emperor’s private artery meant to starve older hungers by denying them purchase on mankind’s soul. I know the Council of Nikaea, dread masquerading as jurisprudence. I know the Sisters of Silence, that pariah-cold you call auxiliary because the truth unsettles you.”
A fractional pause, dense as compacted snow.
“I know the Black Ships, the harvest of psykers reduced to inventory. I know the Astronomican, a lighthouse sustained because lives are fed into it until they become fuel. I know the Grey Knights, sealed as a reliquary against what your sermons cannot master.”
Her stare returned to them with a pitiless serenity.
“Some of these you learn as campfire catechism. Others are hoarded behind seals, spoken only in rooms that smell of incense and fear.” She tapped the ledger once. “It does not matter. They arrive to me the same way. In the mouths of the dead who finally stop lying.”
Her tone sharpened into something quietly annihilative.
“You want to believe your Emperor is the terminus of all things. He is not. He is an anxious ember enthroned in machinery, praised as a sun. He is sustained by perpetual immolation and called benevolent for it.” Her eyes held theirs. “Your so-called gods of Chaos are no better. Delirious excrescences. Hunger given faces. Dependent, loud, and mortal in the only way that matters.”
Ixqueya’s mouth curved, faint and predatory.
“In time, the things you fear will also be filed. Their legions will also learn the quiet. Powers like them have done so before.” Her voice lowered again, razor-clean. “Everything that demands worship is already provisional. It is merely awaiting the moment winter arrives and stops pretending to care what you called it.”
(((Made in a rush.)))
" And yet in all your grandeur and your expulsion of our fragmented histories, what is available for the record and known to the lexographers and the scholars of whom possess this knowledge... did you aim to impress upon us with this cacophony of common knowledge, only one thing is made evident in such and such excalamations "
Aleksandr took pause, nodding to a guardsman
" That you have heard of us. We however, have not heard of you and refuse to acknowledge such carefully coated attempts at false hegemonies, do you think sorcerors have not made such utterances before nor chaos has spoken to us in such witty tongues... no... we know you as well, not in the form you present with, not in your syllables and origins... but what you are beyond the carapace of a giantess... a falsehood, a factor of ruin, another wisp of the immaterium given presumption of dominion upon false masteries and fledgling powers beyond the veil. We not only know you... We refuse your terms unless you yield to ours.
The guardsman returned handing Aleksandr a round device, with words engraved into it, he held it up for the Wych to behold, for it was a collar that held her very name.
" BY THE EMPEROR, KNEEL OR BE KNELT "
I presume as a result of my actions, we are going to be the literature equivalent of steamrolled by Ix,
but somehow it is vaguely interesting how this proceeds, 10/10 if this somehow results in Big Wosp joining the Imperial side, tentatively ofcourse... and subject to how this evolves.
but somehow it is vaguely interesting how this proceeds, 10/10 if this somehow results in Big Wosp joining the Imperial side, tentatively ofcourse... and subject to how this evolves.
Tyranoth wrote:
I presume as a result of my actions, we are going to be the literature equivalent of steamrolled by Ix,
but somehow it is vaguely interesting how this proceeds, 10/10 if this somehow results in Big Wosp joining the Imperial side, tentatively ofcourse... and subject to how this evolves.
but somehow it is vaguely interesting how this proceeds, 10/10 if this somehow results in Big Wosp joining the Imperial side, tentatively ofcourse... and subject to how this evolves.
If I could play it out. It would end in the harvesting of the imperial. Again, for the third time since I have been rping. There is nothing the imperial could do to thwart or significantly delay the inevitable. Every dead marine in every iteration of that universe is in the winterwake horde. Their knowledge and tech are accessible. Along with every other multiverse in theory. They woukd be fighting many times their own universe m, their own dead since the dawn of time, and the dead of all other worlds.
But I have no interests in that rp. Wouldnt be fun. And I have done that story three times. Twice with groups that had 100 players. Times have changed, most wont accept a justified defeat. Additionally I woukd find it boring as its treading old ground.
She would never join the imperial as they are apes. In fact, your responses only prove her point thus far. If your ic was intelligent he would realize ahe isnt from your world and knows things she shouldn't. Additionally, she knows things mentioned he wouldnt know in warhammer universe. Grant it, he wouldnt know if what she is saying is true as its well above his paygrade.
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
I haven't read your post. But judging by the image I cant play my character as fighting here is against the rules of the bar. So she will be godmodded not because of you. But because the character would destroy you and your friends. And she woildnt be allowed to be played a she should be given her sheet and how I have written here throughout.
Don't worry, it wouldnt be death. They would remain trapped in the hive being harvested for meat honey [vulture bees]. They would be liqueified, be paralyzed but feel everything. Their mouths wouldn't hell them scream. They would be reset when done, their nerves reborn to begin this process for eternity as the larva enjoy digging through their bodies. It would repeat for all of time. Its ii my lore under winterwake, second punishment.
Don't worry, it wouldnt be death. They would remain trapped in the hive being harvested for meat honey [vulture bees]. They would be liqueified, be paralyzed but feel everything. Their mouths wouldn't hell them scream. They would be reset when done, their nerves reborn to begin this process for eternity as the larva enjoy digging through their bodies. It would repeat for all of time. Its ii my lore under winterwake, second punishment.
Aleksandr Von Drakenfell wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Ixqueya rose with an unhurried exactitude, as though elevation itself were a prerogative that required no justification. Her eyes did not flare. They clarified. Hoarfrost blue, pitilessly lucid. She regarded the assemblage of postures and borrowed sanctities before her with the affect of a magistrate reviewing a sentence already rendered.
“You call me heretic,” she said, each consonant honed to a cold, immaculate edge. “You do so because it is the only syllable your conditioning permits when comprehension fails.”
Her gaze settled on the devotional implements, the sanctimonious epithets, the hand that mimed protection. Her mouth resolved into a thin configuration of disdain, precise and joyless.
“You speak of the Emperor as though he were metaphysical statute. I have heard this liturgy in its earlier iterations. I have heard it at the moment of its collapse.” She let the ledger cant, candlelight skidding along its edge like a blade tested for balance. “I know your watchwords. I know your apothegms. Cadia stands. It stood until it did not. Only in death does duty end. A narcotic aphorism for those who require endless obligation to launder atrocity. The Emperor protects. A nursery charm for soldiers frightened by the silence between orders.”
Her cadence remained clinical. The cruelty lay in its restraint.
“I know Istvaan’s treachery. I know Prospero’s cinders. I know the Siege, the walls, the rationing of souls beneath the Throne’s pall. I know the Heresy not as parable but as recurrence. I know the Administratum’s calculus of expendables. I know the Ecclesiarchy’s commerce in suffering. I know the Inquisition’s habit of sanctifying paranoia. I know the Astra Militarum’s talent for becoming meat with a banner. I know the Astartes’ conversion of massacre into euphemism and its christening as compliance.”
She raised her eyes again, and the contempt sharpened into something corrosive.
“You wonder how I speak these names without having genuflected in your chapels or bled in your trenches.” A pause, exact as a scalpel’s hesitation. “Because your dead are not as obedient as you insist.”
Ixqueya tapped the ledger once. The sound was slight. It carried the finality of a nail seated.
“Your fallen do not come to me as plunder. They arrive by choice.” Her gaze hardened. “When the shouting ends and the bolter hymns fall silent, the lies evacuate first. What remains understands itself. They leave your slogans behind. They come to me to serve, not your throne, but the truth of what they have become.” A fractional incline of her head. “They are not servants. They are attestations. They are weight. They are knowledge. They are the chapters of your history you failed to redact.”
Her presence cooled further, the frigid femininity of it turning predatory rather than alluring. Appraising. Exacting.
“Do not mistake me for your pageant of death,” she continued. “I am not your counterfeit reaper, not a costume donned to frighten children into obedience. I am the remainder. I am what waits when theater collapses.” Her eyes did not waver. “Reality does not announce itself with hymns.”
She dismissed the words they had flung like talismans.
“And your so-called gods of Chaos.” The faintest curl of her lip. “Delusional excrescences. Hunger given personality. Parasites that feed on emotion and call it dominion. I have watched powers like them dwindle, fracture, and file themselves into my ledgers alongside legions that once believed eternity was a guarantee. Everything that requires worship is already provisional.”
She leaned in by a measure, eyes never leaving theirs.
“For sixty-one cycles I have conducted this accounting. I have seen emperors grander than your carrion idol discover the limits of noise. Repetition teaches efficiency. My people learned it well.” She straightened, immaculate in her disdain. “Your Emperor’s light is a mote among motes. In true winter, motes do not legislate. They are smothered.”
Her voice lowered, razor-clean.
“If you seek conflict, initiate it. I will not petition your restraint. I will not bargain with delusion.” A final pause. “I will simply record the result, as I have always done, and continue the work that awaits you all.”
The silence that followed was not absence. It was an inspection. Ixqueya’s gaze remained fixed, as though the room itself were being measured for burial allotment. Then her mouth moved again, sparing them the indulgence of surprise.
“And since you seem to require further blasphemy before you can understand that I am not guessing,” she said, “I will give you more.”
She let the ledger cant, not theatrically, but with the minute ritual of a priest turning a page.
“I know the Age of Strife, when mankind learned the taste of its own abandonment. I know the Dark Age of Technology, your lost Eden built on sins you prefer to romanticize. I know the Men of Iron, the old betrayal that taught humanity to fear its own genius more than any alien claw.”
Her eyes narrowed, winter-clear.
“I know the Treaty of Mars, the necessary sacrilege that yoked Terra’s hunger to the Mechanicum’s machine-prayers. I know the Unification Wars, the ash of Terra before your Imperium learned to call conquest ‘order.’ I know the Thunder Warriors, discarded when their usefulness expired, like broken tools thrown into snowdrifts.”
The ledger’s edge caught candlelight again, sharp as a confession.
“I know Ullanor. I know the Rangdan Xenocides, that redacted abyss you are trained not to name aloud. I know the Primarch Project and the scattering, as if fate reached into a cradle and scattered heirs like dice.”
Her voice remained calm. Her contempt did not.
“I know the Webway Project, the Emperor’s private artery meant to starve older hungers by denying them purchase on mankind’s soul. I know the Council of Nikaea, dread masquerading as jurisprudence. I know the Sisters of Silence, that pariah-cold you call auxiliary because the truth unsettles you.”
A fractional pause, dense as compacted snow.
“I know the Black Ships, the harvest of psykers reduced to inventory. I know the Astronomican, a lighthouse sustained because lives are fed into it until they become fuel. I know the Grey Knights, sealed as a reliquary against what your sermons cannot master.”
Her stare returned to them with a pitiless serenity.
“Some of these you learn as campfire catechism. Others are hoarded behind seals, spoken only in rooms that smell of incense and fear.” She tapped the ledger once. “It does not matter. They arrive to me the same way. In the mouths of the dead who finally stop lying.”
Her tone sharpened into something quietly annihilative.
“You want to believe your Emperor is the terminus of all things. He is not. He is an anxious ember enthroned in machinery, praised as a sun. He is sustained by perpetual immolation and called benevolent for it.” Her eyes held theirs. “Your so-called gods of Chaos are no better. Delirious excrescences. Hunger given faces. Dependent, loud, and mortal in the only way that matters.”
Ixqueya’s mouth curved, faint and predatory.
“In time, the things you fear will also be filed. Their legions will also learn the quiet. Powers like them have done so before.” Her voice lowered again, razor-clean. “Everything that demands worship is already provisional. It is merely awaiting the moment winter arrives and stops pretending to care what you called it.”
(((Made in a rush.)))
“You call me heretic,” she said, each consonant honed to a cold, immaculate edge. “You do so because it is the only syllable your conditioning permits when comprehension fails.”
Her gaze settled on the devotional implements, the sanctimonious epithets, the hand that mimed protection. Her mouth resolved into a thin configuration of disdain, precise and joyless.
“You speak of the Emperor as though he were metaphysical statute. I have heard this liturgy in its earlier iterations. I have heard it at the moment of its collapse.” She let the ledger cant, candlelight skidding along its edge like a blade tested for balance. “I know your watchwords. I know your apothegms. Cadia stands. It stood until it did not. Only in death does duty end. A narcotic aphorism for those who require endless obligation to launder atrocity. The Emperor protects. A nursery charm for soldiers frightened by the silence between orders.”
Her cadence remained clinical. The cruelty lay in its restraint.
“I know Istvaan’s treachery. I know Prospero’s cinders. I know the Siege, the walls, the rationing of souls beneath the Throne’s pall. I know the Heresy not as parable but as recurrence. I know the Administratum’s calculus of expendables. I know the Ecclesiarchy’s commerce in suffering. I know the Inquisition’s habit of sanctifying paranoia. I know the Astra Militarum’s talent for becoming meat with a banner. I know the Astartes’ conversion of massacre into euphemism and its christening as compliance.”
She raised her eyes again, and the contempt sharpened into something corrosive.
“You wonder how I speak these names without having genuflected in your chapels or bled in your trenches.” A pause, exact as a scalpel’s hesitation. “Because your dead are not as obedient as you insist.”
Ixqueya tapped the ledger once. The sound was slight. It carried the finality of a nail seated.
“Your fallen do not come to me as plunder. They arrive by choice.” Her gaze hardened. “When the shouting ends and the bolter hymns fall silent, the lies evacuate first. What remains understands itself. They leave your slogans behind. They come to me to serve, not your throne, but the truth of what they have become.” A fractional incline of her head. “They are not servants. They are attestations. They are weight. They are knowledge. They are the chapters of your history you failed to redact.”
Her presence cooled further, the frigid femininity of it turning predatory rather than alluring. Appraising. Exacting.
“Do not mistake me for your pageant of death,” she continued. “I am not your counterfeit reaper, not a costume donned to frighten children into obedience. I am the remainder. I am what waits when theater collapses.” Her eyes did not waver. “Reality does not announce itself with hymns.”
She dismissed the words they had flung like talismans.
“And your so-called gods of Chaos.” The faintest curl of her lip. “Delusional excrescences. Hunger given personality. Parasites that feed on emotion and call it dominion. I have watched powers like them dwindle, fracture, and file themselves into my ledgers alongside legions that once believed eternity was a guarantee. Everything that requires worship is already provisional.”
She leaned in by a measure, eyes never leaving theirs.
“For sixty-one cycles I have conducted this accounting. I have seen emperors grander than your carrion idol discover the limits of noise. Repetition teaches efficiency. My people learned it well.” She straightened, immaculate in her disdain. “Your Emperor’s light is a mote among motes. In true winter, motes do not legislate. They are smothered.”
Her voice lowered, razor-clean.
“If you seek conflict, initiate it. I will not petition your restraint. I will not bargain with delusion.” A final pause. “I will simply record the result, as I have always done, and continue the work that awaits you all.”
The silence that followed was not absence. It was an inspection. Ixqueya’s gaze remained fixed, as though the room itself were being measured for burial allotment. Then her mouth moved again, sparing them the indulgence of surprise.
“And since you seem to require further blasphemy before you can understand that I am not guessing,” she said, “I will give you more.”
She let the ledger cant, not theatrically, but with the minute ritual of a priest turning a page.
“I know the Age of Strife, when mankind learned the taste of its own abandonment. I know the Dark Age of Technology, your lost Eden built on sins you prefer to romanticize. I know the Men of Iron, the old betrayal that taught humanity to fear its own genius more than any alien claw.”
Her eyes narrowed, winter-clear.
“I know the Treaty of Mars, the necessary sacrilege that yoked Terra’s hunger to the Mechanicum’s machine-prayers. I know the Unification Wars, the ash of Terra before your Imperium learned to call conquest ‘order.’ I know the Thunder Warriors, discarded when their usefulness expired, like broken tools thrown into snowdrifts.”
The ledger’s edge caught candlelight again, sharp as a confession.
“I know Ullanor. I know the Rangdan Xenocides, that redacted abyss you are trained not to name aloud. I know the Primarch Project and the scattering, as if fate reached into a cradle and scattered heirs like dice.”
Her voice remained calm. Her contempt did not.
“I know the Webway Project, the Emperor’s private artery meant to starve older hungers by denying them purchase on mankind’s soul. I know the Council of Nikaea, dread masquerading as jurisprudence. I know the Sisters of Silence, that pariah-cold you call auxiliary because the truth unsettles you.”
A fractional pause, dense as compacted snow.
“I know the Black Ships, the harvest of psykers reduced to inventory. I know the Astronomican, a lighthouse sustained because lives are fed into it until they become fuel. I know the Grey Knights, sealed as a reliquary against what your sermons cannot master.”
Her stare returned to them with a pitiless serenity.
“Some of these you learn as campfire catechism. Others are hoarded behind seals, spoken only in rooms that smell of incense and fear.” She tapped the ledger once. “It does not matter. They arrive to me the same way. In the mouths of the dead who finally stop lying.”
Her tone sharpened into something quietly annihilative.
“You want to believe your Emperor is the terminus of all things. He is not. He is an anxious ember enthroned in machinery, praised as a sun. He is sustained by perpetual immolation and called benevolent for it.” Her eyes held theirs. “Your so-called gods of Chaos are no better. Delirious excrescences. Hunger given faces. Dependent, loud, and mortal in the only way that matters.”
Ixqueya’s mouth curved, faint and predatory.
“In time, the things you fear will also be filed. Their legions will also learn the quiet. Powers like them have done so before.” Her voice lowered again, razor-clean. “Everything that demands worship is already provisional. It is merely awaiting the moment winter arrives and stops pretending to care what you called it.”
(((Made in a rush.)))
" And yet in all your grandeur and your expulsion of our fragmented histories, what is available for the record and known to the lexographers and the scholars of whom possess this knowledge... did you aim to impress upon us with this cacophony of common knowledge, only one thing is made evident in such and such excalamations "
Aleksandr took pause, nodding to a guardsman
" That you have heard of us. We however, have not heard of you and refuse to acknowledge such carefully coated attempts at false hegemonies, do you think sorcerors have not made such utterances before nor chaos has spoken to us in such witty tongues... no... we know you as well, not in the form you present with, not in your syllables and origins... but what you are beyond the carapace of a giantess... a falsehood, a factor of ruin, another wisp of the immaterium given presumption of dominion upon false masteries and fledgling powers beyond the veil. We not only know you... We refuse your terms unless you yield to ours.
The guardsman returned handing Aleksandr a round device, with words engraved into it, he held it up for the Wych to behold, for it was a collar that held her very name.
" BY THE EMPEROR, KNEEL OR BE KNELT "
"I do not fear death. Death will fear me," she said coldly as her purple eyes kept on the woman.
In that exact moment, she saw Aleksandr be handed a collar with Ixqueya's name on it. What was it for? She was surely confused, but she felt like it was to make her bow before their Imperium might. She stood there quiet hearing him bolstering them into excitement. Especially her. She would die for the Emperor of Mankind. Her only existence now was to serve him.
She looked at Aleksandr and asked, "What should we do? She is threatening us?" She knew he had a plan and she wanted to hear it directly from him. She waited for Donatos and Ubba to add their own two cents into the conversation. This woman was truly getting on her nerves about them being killed and whatnot. She still didn't fear death.
((God, you guys are too fast for me to respond...x.x))
((Again yo. Too fast. x.x I got to say this is getting interesting?))
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
Your Post as follows:
"If I could play it out. It would end in the harvesting of the imperial. Again, for the third time since I have been rping. There is nothing the imperial could do to thwart or significantly delay the inevitable. Every dead marine in every iteration of that universe is in the winterwake horde. Their knowledge and tech are accessible. Along with every other multiverse in theory. They woukd be fighting many times their own universe m, their own dead since the dawn of time, and the dead of all other worlds.
But I have no interests in that rp. Wouldnt be fun. And I have done that story three times. Twice with groups that had 100 players. Times have changed, most wont accept a justified defeat. Additionally I woukd find it boring as its treading old ground.
She would never join the imperial as they are apes. In fact, your responses only prove her point thus far. If your ic was intelligent he would realize ahe isnt from your world and knows things she shouldn't. Additionally, she knows things mentioned he wouldnt know in warhammer universe. Grant it, he wouldnt know if what she is saying is true as its well above his paygrade."
I sort of rest my case, nothing further from my end.
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
Ami is straight up not from the Warhammer reality. But it was fun adding her to the universe. And yes, I am still learning the lore. Very rich like World of Warcraft. That's a story for another day...
Tyranoth wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
Your Post as follows:
"If I could play it out. It would end in the harvesting of the imperial. Again, for the third time since I have been rping. There is nothing the imperial could do to thwart or significantly delay the inevitable. Every dead marine in every iteration of that universe is in the winterwake horde. Their knowledge and tech are accessible. Along with every other multiverse in theory. They woukd be fighting many times their own universe m, their own dead since the dawn of time, and the dead of all other worlds.
But I have no interests in that rp. Wouldnt be fun. And I have done that story three times. Twice with groups that had 100 players. Times have changed, most wont accept a justified defeat. Additionally I woukd find it boring as its treading old ground.
She would never join the imperial as they are apes. In fact, your responses only prove her point thus far. If your ic was intelligent he would realize ahe isnt from your world and knows things she shouldn't. Additionally, she knows things mentioned he wouldnt know in warhammer universe. Grant it, he wouldnt know if what she is saying is true as its well above his paygrade."
I sort of rest my case, nothing further from my end.
You should read my work. And it is based on prior tps with the universe or variants of it. So yeah... sorry you aren't rhe first warhamner 40k to bring their army for crp?
So all those points I need only provide proof and you sre incorrect. My sheet and website dismantle 90% of this.
Now his paygrade is valid if we are operating under the fandom you are using and it's lore. Could be an au or whatever. But, that isnt my fault for assuming the warhamner 40k was warhammer 40k?
I will make this easy. Since you are intending to force me down this path even putting her name on a leash like she is a dog or slave in the art
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
Your Post as follows:
"If I could play it out. It would end in the harvesting of the imperial. Again, for the third time since I have been rping. There is nothing the imperial could do to thwart or significantly delay the inevitable. Every dead marine in every iteration of that universe is in the winterwake horde. Their knowledge and tech are accessible. Along with every other multiverse in theory. They woukd be fighting many times their own universe m, their own dead since the dawn of time, and the dead of all other worlds.
But I have no interests in that rp. Wouldnt be fun. And I have done that story three times. Twice with groups that had 100 players. Times have changed, most wont accept a justified defeat. Additionally I woukd find it boring as its treading old ground.
She would never join the imperial as they are apes. In fact, your responses only prove her point thus far. If your ic was intelligent he would realize ahe isnt from your world and knows things she shouldn't. Additionally, she knows things mentioned he wouldnt know in warhammer universe. Grant it, he wouldnt know if what she is saying is true as its well above his paygrade."
I sort of rest my case, nothing further from my end.
You should read my work. And it is based on prior tps with the universe or variants of it. So yeah... sorry you aren't rhe first warhamner 40k to bring their army for crp?
So all those points I need only provide proof and you sre incorrect. My sheet and website dismantle 90% of this.
Now his paygrade is valid if we are operating under the fandom you are using and it's lore. Could be an au or whatever. But, that isnt my fault for assuming the warhamner 40k was warhammer 40k?
But I was told to back off from it. For certain reasons. Lucky lucky. I can't have Ami perish quite yet. Not like this. She needs to fight the greatest fight there is. That's my final words. Gir out.
Girfactor wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
Ami is straight up not from the Warhammer reality. But it was fun adding her to the universe. And yes, I am still learning the lore. Very rich like World of Warcraft. That's a story for another day...
His next post makes it clear. I just blocked him as he doesn't see my ocd autonomy or reasons and is intent to peddle that insulting narrative. I dont have time for it. Anyways. Nothing against the rest of you. And I never said it was godmodding. We agreed it isnt. We'll, all but him and his accusations without substance.
Girfactor wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
Your Post as follows:
"If I could play it out. It would end in the harvesting of the imperial. Again, for the third time since I have been rping. There is nothing the imperial could do to thwart or significantly delay the inevitable. Every dead marine in every iteration of that universe is in the winterwake horde. Their knowledge and tech are accessible. Along with every other multiverse in theory. They woukd be fighting many times their own universe m, their own dead since the dawn of time, and the dead of all other worlds.
But I have no interests in that rp. Wouldnt be fun. And I have done that story three times. Twice with groups that had 100 players. Times have changed, most wont accept a justified defeat. Additionally I woukd find it boring as its treading old ground.
She would never join the imperial as they are apes. In fact, your responses only prove her point thus far. If your ic was intelligent he would realize ahe isnt from your world and knows things she shouldn't. Additionally, she knows things mentioned he wouldnt know in warhammer universe. Grant it, he wouldnt know if what she is saying is true as its well above his paygrade."
I sort of rest my case, nothing further from my end.
You should read my work. And it is based on prior tps with the universe or variants of it. So yeah... sorry you aren't rhe first warhamner 40k to bring their army for crp?
So all those points I need only provide proof and you sre incorrect. My sheet and website dismantle 90% of this.
Now his paygrade is valid if we are operating under the fandom you are using and it's lore. Could be an au or whatever. But, that isnt my fault for assuming the warhamner 40k was warhammer 40k?
But I was told to back off from it. For certain reasons. Lucky lucky. I can't have Ami perish quite yet. Not like this. She needs to fight the greatest fight there is. That's my final words. Gir out.Same. I made my point. Nothing else to say. Have fun!
The_Diva wrote:
Girfactor wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
The_Diva wrote:
Tyranoth wrote:
I should probably say i don't really play Aleksandr in any serious capacity here, I realize you're a little emotionally overinvested in your character but that isn't a pass to soft godmode the 40k folks either.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
Sorry you feel that way, perhaps refrain from interaction in the future if its a trigger.
It isnt a godmod. You are engaging. I am writing my character as she would behave. I have countless work and rps to prove it. I dont know how you think calling people heretics, less than human while threatening or suggesting decapitating a child wouldnt result in disdain.
Consequence of your actions isnt a godmod. Its called narrative. It would be godmodding for you to control my oc or the other way around. I am only responding as she would given her history and the effort put into her. I wont destroy that for you.
Your Post as follows:
"If I could play it out. It would end in the harvesting of the imperial. Again, for the third time since I have been rping. There is nothing the imperial could do to thwart or significantly delay the inevitable. Every dead marine in every iteration of that universe is in the winterwake horde. Their knowledge and tech are accessible. Along with every other multiverse in theory. They woukd be fighting many times their own universe m, their own dead since the dawn of time, and the dead of all other worlds.
But I have no interests in that rp. Wouldnt be fun. And I have done that story three times. Twice with groups that had 100 players. Times have changed, most wont accept a justified defeat. Additionally I woukd find it boring as its treading old ground.
She would never join the imperial as they are apes. In fact, your responses only prove her point thus far. If your ic was intelligent he would realize ahe isnt from your world and knows things she shouldn't. Additionally, she knows things mentioned he wouldnt know in warhammer universe. Grant it, he wouldnt know if what she is saying is true as its well above his paygrade."
I sort of rest my case, nothing further from my end.
You should read my work. And it is based on prior tps with the universe or variants of it. So yeah... sorry you aren't rhe first warhamner 40k to bring their army for crp?
So all those points I need only provide proof and you sre incorrect. My sheet and website dismantle 90% of this.
Now his paygrade is valid if we are operating under the fandom you are using and it's lore. Could be an au or whatever. But, that isnt my fault for assuming the warhamner 40k was warhammer 40k?
But I was told to back off from it. For certain reasons. Lucky lucky. I can't have Ami perish quite yet. Not like this. She needs to fight the greatest fight there is. That's my final words. Gir out.Same. I made my point. Nothing else to say. Have fun!
I can say it would be slightly fun. Sorry was all in character. She was a orphan and she had nothing to live for until she met him. At first he felt the same about her. But she has proven herself to him on multiple occasions. But have fun! Maybe another time? I have other characters.
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