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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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It started with a message that spread across every electronic device on the planet. Glowing words that declared that humanity needed to prepare for a coming change. Three days later, the skies lit up with auroras of seemingly impossible colors. And echoing across the globe was a voice that no man could make. It declared that all those who had visited the website known as 4chan in the past three months were to be vacated from the planet as punishment for a crime that humanity had committed. The poor fools were given the option of carrying two hundred pounds of gear or, as an act of mercy, were allowed to take one person(and only one) and one hundred pounds of supplies for the both of them.

Those dogged survivors were given ten minutes as a wave roared across the world, swallowing them up in a curtain of light, never to be seen again...Only to seemingly in the next instant wake up upon another world.

Now exiled to a world so far from home that nothing remains the same, they are forced to scrape out a living upon a wild, untamed planet under an alien star.
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Lenore is an ancient collective writing thread. It isn't a Quest thread; it predates them. You join with the premise that you've been dumped on an alien world given only ten minutes to prepare beforehand. Though we're all kidnapped at the same time we do not arrive at the same time. Seven previous waves have appeared before you, lived, died, and built civilizations. You arrive fresh and new to this place.

Attached is the Newbie Guide PDF. There's also a LOT of additional information, collected in this file:

Consider those a reference, not required reading. Skim the newbie guide first, but after that just have fun!

We do have an IRC for you to ask questions or discuss events where writers cross over.

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This is the /tg/ region of this new world. Feel free to start your own city in it. Although it may look like there are a lot of cities our area is the size of Brazil; there's plenty of jungle for you to get lost in.

/tg/ is divided into two major civilizations. The Confederacy, a powerful unified group of city-states that respect human rights, and the Fedorans, a small empire that definitely do not.

You needn't join either should you decide to write a settlement (keep in mind the Fedorans WILL lose, so it's best not to join them), and you can write for other regions. Just remember, what alien artifacts exist are alien high tech; there is no magic. Try to keep things grounded in gritty (though not grim) realism.


For existing writers: Some new guidelines have been implemented.

1: One major Ethereal artifact per writer. I.E. builder lances, alchemists, the Postmod's Hammer, etc. A city might have a mechsuit or two (with their usual limitations) and of course some dwarves and/or gnomes. No human artifacts, new major artifacts should be discussed in the IRC prior to implementing them to be sure they work in and do not break the setting.

2: Please discuss fights with other writers in the IRC, decide on the outcome you want between the two of you and then write up a one or two post summary. Some of the fights have been dragging on entirely too long.
Can't read "Lenore" without shouts of "Nevermore" ringing in my head.
we're almost certain that's the point.
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board location map for those who care
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> World of Lenore

Sorry, it can't work if it doesn't include the only troo Lenore.
builders now have antlers and wear suits
>see Lenore threads returning some months ago
>see new threads all the time
>too busy with college to check them out.

Well, now I'm free and the OP pic with the proper flora coloration caught my attention. So, how has the setting expanded after so many threads?


>confederacy and Fedorans

W-What happened with the Republic of Kog?


I'm kinda worried guys...
The Republic of Kog still exists there's been several city states that have risen up as well as what amounts to a pocket Empire called the Fedorans in the South, there's been a second war with /b/ and we've found tribes of builders.
it is now a member of the Confederacy of /tg/, forming its largest city and population base

Wait, you mean Builders as in the guys who made the cities and weapons? I thought the whole point of them was to be an extinct race that left ruins to help the players establish themselves without going through the mudhut phase. Seeing them alive kind of makes it less exciting than ghost planet it used to be.

They don't speak English, do they?
there's like less than five hundred builders in the known world, and no, they need one of the funally infected 'elves' to translate for them. the builders are still very much a small and alien part of things. The first encounter with them left a handful of their people dead by their hand as a way to repay for raids that had been committed without their permission. they also have been learning how to play 40K and are slowly starting to make themselves felt in the world through the use of hammers with built in Shotguns.

it wasnt really a planned development, it kind of just happened as it was written, they dont speak english
i dont even think they can, and our only way of translating is through people who have learned their language

there also arent many of them and they are restricted to the nightmare woods to which they have adapted, they do not still form empires or nations and we believe they are extinct everywhere else on the planet
There's also the "cutebolds", yet another race the dickass aliens dumped on Lenore in the past that didn't do so well. They're also the cause of the horrible fungal diseases plaguing the nightmare woods which are remnants of their biotech.
they also are the reason for all the fucking tunnels, at least partly. It seems the builders enslaved them and used them for a number of things including building all the damn cities most likely.
the point of them currently being written in the story though is to serve as a glimpse into the past, realistically they know just as little as us about the actual fall of the builder empire and the dickaliens

they also provide a sort of alien perspective to our actions that is interesting to read
that being said its preferred that people dont write from their perspective or directly about them, when they do pop up they are being written by one of the long term veterans of Lenore writefags and he does an excellent job of keeping them alien
They were about to happily go extinct until the Fedorans discovered the remaining handful of them and made them breed at gunpoint.

I see, personally I think it's a shame since seeing the in the flesh makes them lose most of the mysticism built around them, specially since it seemed like one of the pillars of the setting, but

>they have been learning how to play 40k

Made me smile.

What year is it, by the way? Has there been development on the other boards as well?
its about half way into the fifth year now, the 8th wave is upon us
it does lose a little bit of the mysticism, but then they cant replicate their greatest feats(such as the cities) they just dont have the knowledge any more and they are just as in awe of the ruined cities

>Has there been development on the other boards as well?

oh yes, do you want a little break down?
8th wave is approaching. It would be year 4 now, going into 5.

Also the tribe of remaining builders have no idea what happened to the others. They thought they were still out there in the forever war and had assumed humanity had come down from on high and just killed everyone until they learned that we had no idea either.

And yes, there's been a lot about other boards. For example, /trv/ and /k/ formed the basis of a Roman like Empire. /sci/ has turned into nomadic science teams after a civil war that are just starting to emigrate into the more stable /tg/ area. /d/ has been scattered to the winds and /y/ has become viking asspirates.
writer of the builder's here, don't worry anon there are in good noodly hands.

Wait, waves are still coming in? How big are they? I expected they would stop around the fifth at most since by that point you don't have the same mortality rate to cull the numbers.


Please, all I have are the information from the planet 4chan wiki and the diary of 008.

Forgive my many questions, but as far as I knew the setting would be developing to the year three setting that had a unified Kog republic, so I'm pretty lost here.
then there is also the southern /a/mpire which is a weeaboos take on ancient Japan, which is slowly assimilating neighbouring boards either through intimidation or conquest

/cgl/ has been formed into the Kingdom of Cigil, a nation of several cities ruled by medieval styled lords in burgh style settlements, remarkably level headed people

/b/ has attacked for a second time, got rebuffed, broke down, returned to warring with each other and now a section is forming into a respectable nation in the form of Bubonicus whihc has a weird mix of /b/ and /tg/

/v/ and its affiliates are basically the Dothraki without horses and with a higher mortality rate

/x/ is a weird collective of survivors slowly being driven mad by their surroundings

/int/ has formed into a place called New Babel, a city spread out amongst the archipeligo

/g/ is a series of independent fortified free cities full of venician italy politics

/lit/ and /adv/ have joined to create a peaceful society of monk like scholars who have made it their mission to document the history of Lenore(theyve sent out wandering historians/bards to basically document the rest of the world)
Kog became a founding member nation of what's called the confederacy, its not that they're not the Republic but rather they are part of a greater group of City States that has risen up from the wilds that Kog hadn't reached yet.
Waves are a bit of an issue we're working through. Back in the original thread, 4chan was much smaller and we had calculated 14-15 waves over 7 years with decent size populations. Now, 4chan is significantly larger and using the old math would overwhelm any society with people each wave. Hell, /b/ would be getting 2 million people in a 50 square mile area each wave. So we're stretching it out a bit to make the numbers make more sense.

>/x/ is a weird collective of survivors slowly being driven mad by their surroundings

They're still living in those haunted cliffs?

>/int/ has formed into a place called New Babel, a city spread out amongst the archipeligo

Now this is some nice shit, and fitting to the board. Props to the guy with the idea.


So if Koganusan is its own thing, are they the only ones with Rangers? The unit was formed in Koganusan after all.
it also adds in an interesting dynamic where you might meet people you knew from earth at exactly the same age as when you left after living on the planet for 10
River City has its own unit of Rangers built on the same model, but Kogs is still considered the best of the lot and is its own distinct entity

Butterroot has its Boyz and Outriders
Cadia has its regiments
Hadesopolis has its Hoplites
and the Tower has its Hunters

What's with the cluster of dead boards to the top left? It's not like they even have population.
the old map didnt have them but it also didnt have any of the new boards either

we've also figured the dickaliens transported people from current and dead boards
Not large one's certainly, but you will always have those people that looked once, and then fucked off....and then you have all them Furs...
Yep, there's a fun little short story in one of the past threads of a guy in /x/ actually that is deliciously creepy and shows off how weird things are there.
Oh my god if /b/ unifies then they will be Russia. That is horrifying. We're gonna need some bigger forts.

So there's people who haven't even browsed 4chan for years or even people who bnrowsed once? Wouldn't that make the numbers ridiculously huge? And there's also the thing with certain boards, like /q/. I don't think there's anyone that can be considered a /q/ native because there you went to talk about the boards you actually browsed.
After research, we've figured we're dealing with around 100 million people total, to be divided up amongst boards and waves.
Right now they are very much pulling a Balkans, there's a least two empires up there. And no one holds the Actual Capital city that is in the heart of /b/land. Thats just home to roving gangs of savages.

That said, /tg/ has Cadia, it sits right at the start of that mountain/coast pass and is the builders answer to armies that marched through there. It's held against Sieges twice now
Well, Earth is gonna panic like a motherfucker. Least it'll make looking for work easier I guess.
Well the Dick Aliens have plans for Earth too,
...well fuck us. They really are Dicks aren't they?
They're looking for a race to uplift for "reasons". The builders were a previous attempt and that didn't go all that well. Now its our turn.
they're gonna do what they did to the Builders to Earth aren't they?

I suddenly feel like we're lucking out. Also what Reason?
We probably will never know, there was talk of it being they need a soldier species to fight a war or something though. In which case they may have just done themselves in.
I'm not entirely sure, but I believe Lenore was the testing ground to see if humanity could do what they needed. The builders failed due to stagnation. Even when "cutebolds" were thrown in tot he mix to see how they would react, they continued to stagnate.
ah well that's worrisome.
I've dispatched my wing to the nest once more. In the meanwhile time. I move towards where the Fathers and mothers of the Others, these..men are holding a Council. Here I shall play my role as First Father and coordinate the Efforts of the People. I will also forewarn them of the Dangers of the weapons if they are unaware. The Relics of the Sky god are stirring. I find my dreams troubled now...

I have heard word also they have recovered the Armors, the wardrum races staccato and quick at this. They are weapons of the Gods, should the Men of the South have found them this war shall be bitter indeed and perhaps, the People will need to truly learn to Live again. We cannot Repeat My Father's and Mother's errors however and though I hold to the Old Ways as much as I must I know that In the Future when Swords are crossed once more we must stand together as a Single People, Others not as Slaves but as Members of the Same Wing.

It will be my Childrens battle to ensure this and I pray to the Falling Father that when it rises, it shines His light upon single People, of Us and the Men.
We had been assaulting a settlement recently, one of the farms that the Fedorans grow all their sugar cane on when we made contact. I'll spare the gory details of the insertion manuvers but, we were moving on what we had thought was just the holdout in a barn where they processed the cane into sugar.

we were dead wrong. What happened next was a blur, The doors burst open and a fucking gigant, one we've never seen before attacked us. We thought it was a Blue on Blue sort of thing until we realized just how fucked the situation was. Our Warsinger, Blade of the Fallen was manning his Puckle Gun and started sending Shot down range, barely dented the fucking thing but slowed it down long enough to make a break.

I lost two men to the fucking thing, one got crushed under its foot and the other it threw against a building. I heard the bones in the poor guy's body snap like twigs. We made it back to the Tunnel, the warsinger making a fighting retreat for us and ensuring we at least weren't going to get over run. Poor bastard almost didn't make it and ended up having to turn his gun into a makeshift bomb. Clogged the mechanisms with mud and shot and loaded it down with powder before lighting a fuse and tossing it. He's still bleeding from the shrapnel.
Can someone explain what the deal with elves is to me? I can't find reference to it in the OP's archive file.
Elves are humans infected by one of the Fungi that lives in the Nightmare forest. Effectively it's fucked their minds and bodies up but allows them to use Bio-luminescent lighting in their skin to commiunicate. The going theory is that it does so by infecting the language centers of the brain, it also has caused issues with their ability to speak and leaves them looking sickly. Depending on the 'tribe' they might look different the Northern elves for example look like multicolored gollums while the 'River city elves' look a bit like the predator as the Fungi has made fleshy 'hair' on their scalps.
That or may not have clarified things, I apologize anon.
We clarified the new math in the last thread.

The First Wave was 5% of a boards population, and after that 25% of that 5% every wave. I believe that came out to about 30 years of waves.

So /tg/ gets around 25k every wave and has gotten around 150k people so far, but 60k of those people are dead.

Most of the rest are in the Confederacy or Fedoran Empire, with a few in the Nightmare Forest and a few in Bugger territory. A small minority are just lost in the several thousand mile jungle expanses of /tg/.
Mulling over what Omegon had said for a few moments I nodded.

“I accept your terms with the condition that the observer is someone who holds ButterRoot as their home. We do not have strong relations with any other nation state and I don’t trust any of said observers reports to be interpreted properly by anyone by anyone except yourself.”

“As for the your request of collaborative work I am surprised that you consider our collaboratively established college in ButterRoot insufficient with regards to being inclusive, as well as to mention the significant expenditure in resources by both of our cities for our collaborative XCOM project within the copper mines.” I express with a pained look on my face before walking down from the observation platform as the fire team continues to cleanse the room.

Continuing to converse as I lead you out of the facility and through the exits, stopping at reception to sign us out, “As you are aware the eighth wave of immigration is nearly upon us. I have no doubt that a recruiting expedition to /sci/ will sufficiently increase our capabilities to provide adequate expansion in various fields. I’m not dismissing the idea of including the other nation states in our research, more eyes on an idea further it’s understanding. However, as we both know in the coming months we will have our own hands full attempting to provide for our own as will our sister nations. Providing support will be difficult enough of a challenge to tackle.”

Leading my guests to the elevator once more checking to ensure it’s integrity before boarding .

“Non the less I will have our Supply director develop a program as he sees fit and have it implemented as soon as we stabilize after the Wave event.” I conclude before tapping the button beginning our descent to B1.
Journal Log 89

We've been tirelessly tracking this Fedoran radio signal for days now with this signal tracker. It pops up on the airwaves for an hour and then vanishes again. Barely enough time to triangulate it with this thing, but it moves too. It's been leading us on a damn wild dragon rat chase. We caught up with it last night and followed it a mile out through the jungle as the radio team moved. As far as I can tell, they're a relay station between KittyCity and a city further East and they broadcast in code aside from the occasional taunt at the Confed. We waited and observed. Every day, just around noon, the radio man makes his broadcast after doing some strange ritual. Then they pack up and move until nightfall. He's got a team of 5 Fedoran marines with him. We strike at midnight when most of them are asleep. Being this close, I'm going to have my radio transmitter overwhelm his to prevent an emergency broadcast. I'm going to hit them with some U2 at maximum power. I'm thinking “In the name of love.”
"Butterroot observation is fine." I said, simply. That was the original idea by integrating our populations - but clearly we'd been shunted out, or this would likely not have happened - at least without me knowing about it. They're independent and can have their own projects - but this one skirted so dangerously close to the level of violating the human rights charter. I wouldn't care if they'd built an airship without informing me, or a machine to harvest mossbread or other crap like that. I'm their sponsor; I have to defend them in council. What they did reflected on me, and now this project would become a part of my legacy.

The smart thing to do if they wanted to do something like this would be to set up a base in /sci/ territory staffed by non-immigrant /sci/ members where the charter didn't apply and they'd have plausible deniability. But I wasn't going to tell them that; I didn't want to encourage it.

As for the terms of inclusiveness - yes, we'd cooperated on other things. But I didn't appreciate being blindsided by this, which would not have happened if someone from the Keep had been on the team.

Amanda and I said nothing else and followed.

By my stars and heavens above a builder just walked right in to the council hall today! The elf delegates were called over to see what he wants and they spent a good time flashing colors at each other. The damn alien wants to join us as representative for his "wing" in the coming events. So, we held an emergency meeting and decided to give it a room. What does it even eat? Oh this is giving me a headache.

Who cares what it eats, it's representing an alien peoples, the descendents who built the cities we live in! Well, I guess technically we're the aliens here but either way! They're warriors, they'll be a great edition to our forces and legitimacy of a power in the region!

I suppose so but as you said they are a warrior peoples that warred amongst each other for generations! How long until they turn on us, I ask you?
Well of course! We should welcome him, naturalize him and give him a green card.
Welcome the builders into the Confederacy and bring the elves with them!
Don't care! Don't care, don't care, don't care, don't care, don't care, don't care, don't care!
Just leave and jump in the damn Exaltation, you're making this place smell like a trash heap!
Journal Log 90

Most of them died without realizing it, wondering why the radio was suddenly blasting Bono. The sleepers never had time to fully awaken and the few that were awake were too confused to respond and were put down quickly and efficiently. When did we become such talented killers? To think I started out as a cartographer and navigator for a team of game hunters trying to feed the few people in Kog. Fucking Lenore. Even Potato knew what was up and stayed absolutely quiet until we came back for him.

Anyways, the enemy was stripped of gear, a few blades and two shotguns, some other personal possessions and we've captured their radio. The Medic figured out why the radio man was doing that little ritual before use. It's rigged to blow. Much like our radio. A few knobs and hidden switches need to be triggered to disarm it. The bomb has been removed after some case modifications and a few close calls and added to our arsenal. Some of the Sixth Column guys traveling with us are taking the broadcasting unit and leaving, to put it to use for their cause.

Now, to find another Fedoran relay to take down.

Sensing a feeling of animosity from the Mayor and the Cannoness I explain our next destination carefully. “The level of secrecy surrounding the good news is a step above our previous visit to medical. If you feel that you would be better off not knowing I understand, but I assure you it is good news.”

Turning to look at them both as the lift arrives “If you feel like the board has been keeping secrets with malicious intent then I ask that you excuse yourselves now. The reasons we delayed in enlightening you are varied. Suffice to summarize that we wanted reproducible results before displaying the product.”

Turning back to the Entrance of B1 I raise my hands above my head again. “Okay you two, hands in the air.” I say as the elevator comes to a stop.

A repeat exchange of what happened on Floor 2 ocurs again and we pass into a large room devoid of any objects save an installation in the center, ringed by several computer stations manned by a handful of people, recording equipment, and a small grouping of shelves with various items on it.

A scientist breaks away from the group and walks up to us “We’re ready to begin the demonstration, please follow me to the observation area.”

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“6th Column wasn’t a Choice. If I hadn’t done what I did, they would have burned this city down already. By design or through shear incompetence!” Anger briefly showing in his voice, probably the first real show of emotion since the meeting began.

It took him a moment to collect himself before continuing.

“When Rizzd went Full Arch-Traitor and took two thirds of the Militia with him, those that still considered themselves ‘loyalists’ didn’t stand a chance. He knew names and faces, and spent every resource at his disposal hunting us down. I went to ground, taking those that Loyalist I could trust with me.” He looked back at Fortune, “I never left K.C. I would never leave this City if I had a choice in the matter. But, while I was running and hiding from Rizzd and his traitors, I got paranoid. I didn’t know how many had gone traitor and supported the Fedorans. How many contacts or informants might have gone over. So I cut myself off from the Network , and spent the next 4 months running blind.”

“In that time I any attempt I made to reestablish contact with you was met with failure. With nothing but rumors to run with, I assumed the worst, and started a new network, a resistance network. Nothing as large or as grand as yours, but effective nonetheless. This network was built around one idea; Revenge. There was no grand goal of freeing K.C. just making Rizzd and his Fedorans bleed. We got the Network operational, Cells created, our plans made ready…then 6th Column wanted a piece of the action.” His voice betrayed is irritation, and a deep-seated dislike for the organization overall.
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“The 6th. They’re methods of expansion involve assimilating already existing resistance groups, tearing them apart and reorganizing in their own image. Doesn’t matter whether or not they are already doing a fine job, all that matters is that they follow Vergil’s Orders to the letter. I wasn’t keen on taking the orders of a megalomaniac, so I declined. At First. But Vergil is persistent.” He paused, coming to a stop at another scene of battle. A wall blown out, shell casings littering the floor. Manx stopped here eyeing the floor as if looking for something. “He had to resort to threatening me, my men, and this city before I finally gave in. Then I had to watch as he tore it all apart, rebuilt it as a poor clone of its original self, and installed his own commanders, reassigning me and my men to secondary and tertiary positions in our own organization.”

“So I found myself playing babysitter for Vergil’s Senior Commander, making sure he didn’t get himself killed, till he eventually ran afoul of you. It was about that time I heard about You.” He finally stopped looking, crouched down and picked something up. It was a chain, a tarnished silver chain with a small bent cross on it. “I took every bit of will power not to walk down to the Red Light District, find the Kats Paw, and put a bullet between your eyes. But I didn’t because at one point.” He looked at her still holding the cross in one hand, “I considered you a Friend. A Friend that tried to kill me at one point and threatened me with death on numerous occasions, but a friend none the less.”
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“So, with the Senior Commander death, I was left to put a now disorganized 6th back together, and the rest is pretty easy to figure out.” He took the chain, and carefully put it into his jacket. “So now to answer your question ‘Why risk myself your retribution’. Simple; if I had sent anyone else up here to talk, you would have played your game, pretended to listen to them, say what they wanted to here, and then either send them on their way with a tail, or kill them out right. And I know that the likelihood of me walking away from this is slim, but at least you would listen and maybe even think about what I have to say, before you pull the trigger.” With the Manx turned around, cane coming down on the clack, as if to signal a finality in his words. “If you intend to kill me, for whatever wrongs you feel I have committed, do it. Put a bullet between my eyes now.”

“ But, if you care about those girls, if you care about the people you work with, your Inquisition, you’ll listen to me a bit longer before you make up your mind and either kill me, or tell me to fuck off.”
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I should end him.

He's crossed me again, most people don't cross me once these days but Redding crossed me twice now.

I should pull the knife concealed strapped to the small of my back, just under my cloak and slip it into his ribcage and twist a few times for good measure.

He's the very reason the 6th have been such a major problem, without him theyd of been ground into dust a long time ago.

I should leave him here cold and dead, for good this time.

>“...but a friend none the less.”

God damnit, he had to go there. I dont have friends, not really, none except Minny. Sure I cared for them, in my own way, and they knew that I'd look afgter them but everyone else was a subordinate, an employee or a associate, nobody really considered me a friend.
Not even Irwin, my right hand man. I was just his boss in the end.
Yet here was Redding, a man I'd nearly killed before and threatened again, standing infront of me calling me a friend.


And damnit he was right. He'd been one of the few she could openly discuss issues with, make plans and , once he'd broken out of his spineless phase, talk like equals. He'd been a friend and she'd lost him. Part of it probablly is what drove her to such extremes, she was going to be damned if anyone would take another.

"I'm not going to kill you asshole and somehow I think you already knew that."
I hold my hands up, free of my cloak, to show they are empty and meet his eyes again, this time minus the glare.

"So...whats is it thats so important? I assume its to do with the Citys recent fall from grace in the eye of King Fedoran? If so I'm well aware of the peril we are in, but even with my plans, I dont doubt he will throw his men against the City again. And this time he will likely succeed in breaking it entirely."

I shrug my shoulders a look of anger and disgust on my face, directed at the situation and not at 'Manx' .
"Out with it Redding, tell me what you came to say."
Allowing us to be lead to an area a bit off to the side and handed sunglasses I motion for the two to don them, placing my own on and exchanging a nod with the lead tech they begin the procedure.

“Visual log 0093 start of cloning procedure”

The lead scientist places a terran cellphone in the center of the raised platform and stepped away quickly, another crew member began tapping builder runes and stepping back. A loud klaxon begins sounding seemingly throughout the tower as the lights begin to dim.

“Don’t look directly at the machine, use your peripheral vision.” I advise as one of the satellite pads on the machine began to glow. The room filled with an extreme bright light and as it receded the lead scientist started commenting.
“Test successful, monitoring systems indicating a 78% drop in power. Confirm with Power Management team now,” And pointed at worker delegating the task. “Visually examining replicated output.” After a few minutes of taking pictures of the seemingly cloned phone and seemingly satisfied picked it up and passed it to a junior researcher. Walking over to our group he made his report to me.
“Test appears successful. Replication successful pending device review.”

The junior researcher walked up to the lead scientist and handed off the clone phone. “Looks like everything checks out, we’ll reset the system and get the next test ready for tomorrow. For the moment feel free to examine the product.” At my direction he handed it off to the Mayor and let him examine it.

“Feel free to keep that” I say ushering the two out of the way out of the way of the working scientists back towards the entrance of the room. “I’ll answer your questions once we’re out of the way.” I lead them back to the elevator and key in the floor for my office. Ushering them into my office and letting them relax on a couch. Walking behind my desk and sitting down. “Okay the room’s secure so feel free to ask any questions you have.”
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Another smile hidden by bandage lit across the man’s face. To be honest he had thought she would stab him, even if it was just to shut him up.

He had to capitalize on this, so he got to the point.

“What I propose is simple. An Alliance,” He raised a hand to stop her from protesting,” Not between 6th or the Inquisition, there is too much bad blood between the two, and more importantly any merge would take far too long. No, this alliance would be between you and me.” He started walking again, taking larger strides as he made his way again through broken halls and ruined rooms. “Your People would follow your orders, my people would follow my orders. You don’t tell me how to run MY operation, I don’t tell you how to run yours. BUT, our goals must be aligned. Our constant fighting will insure that no one wins. For either the Fedorans will come here and wipe us out, or the Confederacy will come here, see us as a problem, and also wipe us out.” He continued, with no real destination in mind, his cane beating a fierce tattoo into the stone floor.

“If we intend to survive, we must cooperate. If we intend to stay free once we kick the Fedorans out, we must be united. A failure to do either will spell the death of not just for you, or me, but KityCity as a whole.”
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Now completely lost, Manx took the first left and ended facing a caved-in hallway. Not to be deterred, he found the largest piece of rubble, and took a seat. Reaching back into his coat, he pulled out a folded set of papers, and handed it to Fortune.

“On those sheets are the detailed plans of Vergil’s Endgame; Operation Slash and Burn. It will be the single largest military action since the 6th started their Offensive. It will use every resource the 6th has, and will be centered on the three cities, K.C., MGP, and Catan, and will be targeting the Fedoran Military Complex. It will also be targeting civilian targets, in attempt to knock the Fedorans on their asses just before the 8th Wave hits.” He pointed at the sheets emphasizing what he said next. “We CAN use this to our advantage. I have no intention of following those orders, but the Senior Commanders of MGP and Catan have already given their support, so its only a matter of time before Vergil gives the order to execute. When he does, we need to either make sure the Fedorans are out of the City, or push them out, to buy us time to prepare.” He stopped, waiting a moment before proceeding

“So, what do you think? Too Crazy? Or just complete shit?”
I've been collecting other /tg/ citizens who also study or reenact blackpowder together. We've set up a training manual for our current weapon systems, and now I'm trying to find some decent drill sargents and set up a training ground for a military unit. It's important that we train from the ground up in order to eleminate any bleedover of obsolete thinking. We can't have someone react on instinct in a fight and go back to fighting like it's Cadia all over again. I've put a proposal to the Council for this unit to be run under the banner of the Confederacy rather than it's component states.
The Canine Reconstruction Project is going along nicely. Already, I've got several trained vetrenarians and we're importing any breeding stock we can get our hands on. Most of what survived up to this point are dogs that can somewhat fend for themselves. 7th wave gave us a number of toy breeds, but we won't be working on breeding them. Some of the more common dog breeds we'll be trying to preserve wholesale, but the rest will have to be interbred according to their group after the traits of the breed are recorded for posterity and for possible reconstruction at a later date. We're very lucky, as we can keep excellent breed books. This will make tracing and eliminating genetic diseases very easy. Hopefully /an/ has breeding populations of whatever they brought. I have no idea if the Builders will want to see this facility either, but I'm not letting them. They can see the neutered pets the public possess. I'm not letting some freaky disease kill mankinds best friend.
They offer me a feast, a menagerie of food that is tasteful though some has been prepared in a plant my people find rather repulsive. Perhaps the best they did was the fish however, the ones my people first farmed upon the Lakes of the land, a harvest of these was once the choice of the most powerful wings. In a very true meal for a First Father. I had the Low Speaker recount my tales to them over food as I enjoyed the meal, drinking the honey wine and savoring the sweetness of the meal.

This of course was a passing thing. I sat down once more at the speaking machine and listened to my Sons at war, and heard something that I would weep over for several nights in silence. He had been captured by the enemy, attacked in the night and cowardly as they are had captured him. His Brother, who had given chase when the machine went silent for him has relayed this to me.
builders can cry?
Apparently they do.
Where to begin with this city? If the rumors are true, it's nothing but a dirty network of spies and assassins working for the Inquisition and the Sixth Column. Perhaps it's time to shake it up a little, pull the plunger and flush out the mess and start anew. I see now why the High Wizzard was assassinated. He was always a little too playful for his own good. It's time to be serious. It's time to clamp down and push and squeeze this town until it gets in line. First thing is first.

I will send a team of Marines to find and escort little Miss Fortune, the so called leader of this mess and she will have answers to questions. Perhaps then I will wrap her up and ship her to the King as a gift. I know she is in his thoughts. He gets a little excited whenever her name was mentioned. A new prize for his collection. I have no doubts she will know immediately once we begin looking for her.

If she does not turn up within an hour, I will order the Marines to begin stage 2. To start burning down her precious brothels using my methane sprayers. All the whores will be escorted back to the pits where they belong! They are ordered to put down anyone they feel is a threat to them in this dangerous place, their and my safety come first.

We have Confederates leaving droppings all over our backyard; it's time to wipe up this Sixth Column and any who stand against the will of the King and the Empire!
For some reason this thought terrifies me.
Journal Log 91

It started out as a nice day. The sun was out, no clouds in the sky for a change and there was a nice breeze. We were on our way to one of the tunnel entrances in the area, following a radio signal when suddenly ambush. They came at us with explosives, gunfire, knives and no warning. Things got messy.

They put up a good fight but something was wrong. They weren't Fedorans. By the time we realized this, it was too late and we were well beyond the point of stopping the fight, animosity had set in. I lost three people and we had a lot of injuries. We had to put them all down. None of my original team is dead luckily. I got a nice knife gash down my leg from a badly deflected blow. It could have been worse. Even Potato got hit with some shrapnel. He's been miserable, but will live. The builder is happy as he can fucking be with his new scar. I don't think he realizes what happened.

We gave the bodies proper funerary rights and cremated them and buried the remains. We're going to find a good place to recover. I'm not going to broadcast this. The Confed doesn't need to know, it might ruin relations in the future.

I think they were looking for Fedoran forces using similar radio tracking devices and mistook us for them. This shit shouldn't be happening. Fucking Sixth Column, you bumbling fucking fucks.
A 3d printer type artifact made by the builders. More advanced than anything we had on earth, apparently. We could print a car but not a cell phone.

This sent the gears in my head spinning.

"Limits. What can it do and what can't it do? How does it work? And what do we need to run it? Is it safe? How big of an item can it replicate? How long does it take? Can it replicate biological matter or builder artifacts? Can we replicate large machines? Are there major flaws or defects with the replicas?"

I considered asking other questions, but was quiet for a moment.

This changed the whole game. Something like this could replicate our dwindling supply of computers. It could help us to make copies of power generators. Or our blacksmiths could actually afford to spend a few months working on a complex machine by hand and then we make copies of it.

If this were true, I'd have a reason to talk to the Chairman about a second proposal. Something this might make possible.

The Formation of a /sci/entific Republic. Rebuilding /sci/ into a nation, and giving the Confederacy its first solid ally.

But first, details. Plans couldn't be made until I knew how much this changed the game.
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I take the proffered papers and sit down on a piece of rubble, quickly reading through its contents as he continued to speak, my face contorting into a mask of rage.

"This man is a psychopath! Who does he think he's helping with this? It wont just mean the end of the Fedorans, it will mean the end of anyone who lives in the area! Without the cities set up, as vile as it may seem, the newcomers will flood the land and we will overwhelm us, we simply wont be able to support that many people!"

I was breathing heavily now, my finger crumpling the paper in my hand although not destroying it, and I could swear I was almost gnashing my teeth. I needed o find this Vergil and have a close and personal 'talk' with him. My eyes dart back and forth ideas running through my head before they latch on to one and my eyes jump to meet his.

"You...you want to work together again? No sixth column, just you and the men loyal to you?"

I deliberate on telling him the next bit, if this didnt work out and he managed to escape, he might try and ruin it. But I tossed that out of my head. This had to work, what other choice did we have.

"I have a plan. I know we have to fight the Fedorans but even if we united we wouldnt have the man power to do so. What we need is the Citys cooperation and support, for it to stand with us. Alot of things will change but one more than anything. But right now you are a no one and Im either considered nothing more than a successful madame or monster depending on if m wearing the mask. So I need to do something big to win them to our side."

I stared into his one good eye and let the smirk play on my lips.

"I plan to free the slaves."
I had anticipated most of his questions and had given some thought to the answers. Replying to each one in turn in an even voice I recited out loud what I had been going over in my head for the past few weeks prior to this visit.

“We have been steadily working on the Replicator since we discovered it’s anomalous properties, testing various materials and we have a good approximation on what its current capabilities are. We have kept the existence of the Replicator as our upmost secret. The reason I’ve decided to inform you of its existence is because I firmly believe that you can handle keeping it a secret from the rest of the confederacy until we have enough time to complete its evaluation.”

Waiting for Omegon and Amanda to digest this I continued.
“The replicator’s current understood limitations to creating an object are power and materials. You need a significant amount of both to produce an end product. There are input hoppers for raw materials that we have discovered and been supplying, it seems to require materials that are close to similar to the input item, with exponentially scaling costs if exact materials are not available.”

“The little demonstration that you saw today took 1 ton of rock, 4 bars of copper, and about 80% of our power reserves. The power will slowly replenish over the next week but we should be able to make other simpler items in that time. With the right materials we can accomplish the cloning of one highly complex item a day.”

“That’s the major limit to it. Other limits are it seems that purely organic items are beyond our grasp for the moment. Things made of organic items seem to be able to be replicated, like the mylar that comprises the gas bags for the blimps. We did try cloning a guinea pig from the aguracultural division, that did not end well. Was a large lump of flesh that seemed like most of the components of a guinea pig. Thankfully it was verified dead. So cloning people is out for the moment.” I chuckled at that remark.

“Quality has been consistant with every replication, safety has never been a question beyond potentially causing a power outage in the facility. We’ve prepared for that as best we can. As for size of the object replicated we currently have limits to re-producing something so long as it fits in the center pad area so a 10m by 10m square at the moment. However with larger items the more power it takes. We have a good safety threshold set at a 3 meter cube to prevent adverse power loss to the facility.”

“Finally your question of how does it work. Short answer is we don’t know. This is miles and miles beyond where terran science was before our departure, we are actively studying it and attempting to learn how it works but if you’re looking for one to install at ButterRoot I’m afraid we’re fresh out.”

“As for securing it’s use I’m fine with including items that you would want reproduced into the testing schedule, but in return I need additional materials. The construction of our larger airship the Harbinger Comerica is a means to transport those materials quickly however we would need you to setup the political deals to have those resources provided to us.”

“And yes before you ask it does replicate weaponry with accurate precision. We have resupplied our terran guns and ammo for the next few months. The guns are taxing on resources to create but ammo replication is relatively simple for the machine to produce. I will make it explicitly clear that we will not be including any oldworld weaponry into the production cue for the next few months. Most of the output from the machine is dedicated to bringing the Harbringer Comercia online before the eighth wave arrives.”

I sat back and waited to see if they had more questions.
My guests seemed content for the moment with my answers I provided them with a laptop to review the data I had given them on and returned them to the Spa via airship. It had been an enlightening day for both parties I thought to myself as I tended to the airship helping the crew return it to its mast for the night and heading to the barracks to rest. Before turning in I drafted a note to the air-crew asking them to be ready to return our guests to ButterRoot in two days from tomorrow then turned in for the night after sending it.
Gathered the chamberpots again. Managed to pass the latest test the local Bugger chief thought up. Crawling through a pit of manure blindfolded. Sometimes I think they're just making this shit up. I got this name because they made me think bleating like a goat was a real test. Assholes.

So the coffee plants need manure, and people are just about the only source around here. And who gets that job? Goaty, of course.

So I spent several hours slopping shit on the plants, trying not to breathe the death mist, jerks bleeting at me over the wall and cursing every time it got on my shoes. By the end some giant fog-monster chases me back to the keep. Never even seen this kind before. I swear these fucking things just make themselves up sometimes.

Each day I deal with coffee and shit and the assholes that make it. Such is life as a bugger.
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Fucking hell how are we supposed to live like this? The latest shipment from the city is three weeks late.

This wouldnt be a problem if our fields weren't 80% coffee plants to support the nutjobs who can't live without the same intake of caffeine as back on earth!
Only 20% of our farming capability is actual food and although thats supposed to go into the granary to stockpile for situations like this the fact that every damn shipment of supplies is late, means its gone before the supplies arrive. How the fuck did we become Jamestown?!

Some have taken to drinking the coffee to keep their apetites down but thats only a short term answer and people are starting to look visibly emaciated. I just hope it gets here soon, the last time the supplies were this late Johnson disappeared and no one can prove it but Bill and Ted were looking much less hungry that week.

Actually...they still look pretty well fed...almost fattened up even.
I wonder if I should invite them over.....for 'dinner'.
Oh yeah, thanks for inviting me over, Sergio. Have a cup of coffee and a leg of Johnson Goaty. I've got some boiled shank.

But no. No invites to dinner for poor Goaty. At least no one wants to eat a man that smells like he works with chamberpots all day. Because I work with chamberpots all day.

But the last thing I wanna do is drink coffee after spending all day throwing shit on the coffee. I just want to sit down, eat a nice guy, and relax. Is that so much to ask? But nah, fuck you Goaty, you smell like shit Goaty. You don't bathe, Goaty. Bleat for us, Goaty.

Well fucking fine, Sergio. I'll just go out and catch my OWN refu-ohfuckit'sanothermonster!

Jesus, it's another new one where the hell did it come from it's gonna eat me it's gonna eat me fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck! Ruuuuun!
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We've barricaded the doors and the windows with every piece of furniture and rubble we could get our hands on. But they are still hammering at the doors, constantly hammering.
They won't break in of course, though not for lack of trying. They are all starving you see and weak from exhaustion. So me and my men are stuck inside listening to these poor people pathetically hammer their limp fists against the walls and slowly just collapse.

I want to feed these people, to open my stores to them and let them eat.
But we have barely anything left right now, the stores have been rationed and measured but after that infestation we are dangerously low and the new shipment hasn't come.
So we ration even tighter and drop baskets out side to people when they form a line.
My men are good men, they care about these people like I do, so we have even smaller rations than the people outsie. The sad thing is, as weak as the people outside are, we inside here with all the food will likely be the first to go.
We already lost Sam when he took his own life. I doubt he will be the last.

And you know what the worst thing is?
I've always preferred tea.
I had to run damn it.

The constant toil, the fear of being eaten, and those THINGS in the Mist, I had too.

I started off as a /v/ermin, thought the Buggers had it better, so I joined up. Their initiation was brutal, almost as bad as the trip into their territory. But i though it was worth it, that Bugger Territory would be the Promised Land.

Dead. Fucking. Wrong.

The instant i got here, all i saw was in-fighting, Monsters outta a Lovecraft Story, and Coffee, Fucking Coffee Everywhere. I stayed a while, thought it might get better, bet then my friend Ted got ‘disappeared’ and Max ended up committed suicide, or at least that’s what the Foreman said after the took the body away for ‘Disposal’. So I’m leaving.

I’ve gotta a gun, and a machete, and I gotta enough food for a week. I Don’t care if its not enough to get through the mountains, I’m not staying here in these Motherfucking Monsters in these Motherfucking Mountains.

I've been lucky so far, most of these crazed men can't tell I've disguised myself. Avoiding them is my first priority. The short hair and lowering my voice works wonders. I've made a habit of taking the worse jobs around here to avoid being discovered. Mostly it's tending the coffee crops that no one else wants to do unless forced. Even then it's solitary work.

It's hot unforgiving, most of the day is spent moving fertilizer to ensure that the beans can even grow. Not to mention the backbreaking picking of the beans when the time comes later in the season.

Some times I'm out here till dark, and if you can ignore the strange beast sounds it's almost nice to just be alone to look at the stars.

I've taken to fantasizing about being rescued from this hellish life focused on coffee beans. Some times its by a wandering stranger, sometimes my rescue comes in the form of escaping while our village is assaulted. Wistfully once I thought of escaping and finding a group of the fabled coastal pirates to join up with and sail the seas. Then maybe i could get a decent meal that wasn't mostly composed of coffee derivatives.

I turned back to spreading the shit on the coffee bean crop and continued to let my mind wander dreaming of a better life.
Finally got away from that monster. Chamberpot in the eye convinced it I'm not worth eating. That and the smell of me, I guess.

But I'm still hungry. I can hear those assholes already. Well Goaty, whattreya gonna do Goaty? I'll tell ya what I'll do. I discovered the commander's little secret, locked away where he thought we'd never find it.

He's got a little artifact locked away in the armory. A big, black, buildery style artifact. Now I know it doesn't do much but I know that he goes to worship it every night. And get this - it produces pearly white, thick cream. No wonder he looks so well fed.

Well I'm alright with having cream in my coffee so I sneaks in an' I give it a good, long, hard worship session. Just like a right and proper Bugger cultist.

And I'll be damned if that thing didn't cover me in a foot of fucking cream. Goaty is in the riches now!

Crap tastes like sour pennies though. Guess I gotta live with it.
"Father, I had bad dream"

You take sip of coffee and roll over. You are stare at clocktower on crashed helicopter square. Is 3:23. "Go back to sleep, is much work tomorrow." "No, Father." Familiar warm buzz of coffee starts to sink in. Can barely make out sons pale form in the darkness. "Why is that, my son?" "Because in dream, when I was about to go back to sleep, thing wearing Mother's skin sat up." You pause, face your son and look at him intensely. Figure behind you begin to stir.

"Don't talk that way about your brother, is not his fault we have no money for coats. Such is life in The Glorious People's Best Buggerland."


Parents use caretaker to protect weak children. Caretaker calls parents later on Bugger telephone, asking permission to cover frightening statue of clown. Parents say "Foolish caretaker, we have no statue."

Children and caretaker found dead. Parents rejoice. Frightened children and weak caretaker not true Buggers, corpses thrown out for failing Bugger tests.


One night man tries escape from Buggerland.

Makes his way to cabin in middle of mountains. Inside is plain, but many family pictures on walls. He falls asleep. In middle of night he is put in sack and dragged out. The next morning he is shot like dog.

Pictures are windows. Bugger Faceless always watching.
h and cm have basically combined into a slightly more peaceful group of mongols, they're both horselords that do a lot of trading and stuff with neighboring groups
i am so confused
collaborative writing proto-quest, just jump in and start narrating from the perspective of someone in lenore
Has anything been written about /u/?
Not directly. They're allied/semi-protected by the /y/kings and sometimes raided by the Fedorans, which are evil /tg/.

But otherwise they're a blank slate.
Bugger land is best korea
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His eye narrowed for a moment, as if trying to see some sort of ruse. Manx had fully expected to fight tooth over nail to get her to free the slaves and here she was smirking about it.

“A fine goal, but how, and maybe more importantly, who do you intend to do it as. Lord Inquisitor or Ms. Fortune will cause…interesting results to say the least.” He remained silent for a bit, thinking it over. A part of him felt uneasy having Fortune being the ‘Savior’ of the K.C. Slaves. on the other hand, she did have a point. “I might, MIGHT have a means of swaying more over to our side. The Fat Kat is still alive.”

The exact story of how the Fat Kat had survived the assault, specifically when Manx had had every intention of string the fat fuck up and hanging him from the highest tower. Instead, a surprise gunshot wound, and the recently promoted Rhombus had decided to take the bastard alive. This would prove to their benefit, as the Fat Kat broke within a day, and the 6th had pumped for information ever since.

He seriously doubted she would really want him back, but the Traitor Fedoran was no more use to his 6th now. “If you want him, you can have him. I can think of a few ways he could be useful. Oh and another thing, we might have raided the Wizzard’s Compound after his lieutenant bought it. It’s not all gone, but those Repeater Crossbows have found a few new homes. I’m guessing what he has here could be used to arm the freed slaves, so we don’t have to start from scratch.”

He wasn’t sure how this would turn out, but interesting was the first thing that came to mind.
Jesus fucking christ, we found him floating on the river. We had taken our 'pt canoe' up a little ways to what we had last known to be a holding point for Friendly forces. And promptly got shot at for the trouble. So, we booked it back. Of course, not before lobbing a few butter-nades over there way. Heh, enjoy the yowlers assholes.

This leads me to the next part of the fun, we found someone. Guy was six seven and missing a hand, barely breathing and we're fairly sure he's got at least a dozen broken bones. He was alive though, I think the fedorans tried to intterogate him. When he got concious again all he mumbled was Bjorn...

It doesn't help he's got a goddamned Aquila carved into his chest. Poor Bastard, I think it might be Thomas, last I'd heard he'd been back in Kog getting help though.
>thomas the terminator is alive

Oh holy fuck, we might win this war after all. ITS BJORN TIME MOTHERFUCKERS
Journal Log 92

We found a nice place near a brook to settle down and rest for a few days. The medic changed our bandages and applied what she called antiseptic glue over the stitches. Something she made out of the local plantlife and some ichor. Clever, talented and great in a fight too. She reminds me of an old flame. An old flame that didn't survive the first war. It's best not to think about such things.

So, I have a bunch of injured on my hands. I should probably head back to RiverCity, though the Apiary is closer. I don't want anyone following us back to the seat of government. It's a little too close to the enemy for my tastes. On the other hand, the injuries aren't too bad for most of us and there's still a lot of work to do out here.

Either way, we're taking a few days off and staying here. Potato definitely could use the rest. We're in a defensible position and have traps set around the camp, we have food and water. Everything we need.

Everything except something to shut the builder up, won't stop singing about his glorious victories and trophy wound.
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It was my turn to be suprised as I tried to digest that the Fat Kat was still alive and...well perhaps not 'well', but alive. It took me a few seconds but when I had wrapped my mind around it my mouth began to twitch and my hand came to cover my face.

It was absurd, the death that had sparked this all, the death that had brought the Kings attention back on the city and made him up the pressure on the Inquisition to do their jobs better. The death that had led up to the Whizzards assignment and now the threat of a second invasion. And he was still fucking alive, he had been this whole time and here was the commander of the 6th offering him back on a platter.

I shook my head a couple times, a chuckle escaping my lips and then before I even know it im laughing right out loud at the ridiculouness of it all.

"Haha, you are telling me, heh, that the big asshole himself, the fucking Fat Kat is ALIVE?! That you'll just hand him over to me like that? Hehehe, and what would I do with him? I cant put him back in place, hes compromised and its just as likely Fedoran will think, hehe, that I was the one who kidnapped him."

I took a couple deep breaths, tried to regain my calm, I makee rash decisions when I got emotional and now was not a time for anything rash, I needed to think.

"Those weapons will come in handy, we'll want more but it will be a good start. Still we'll need to train those slaves somehow, make them a force to withstand the Fedorans. My Inquisitors, as good as they are, arent suited to that job."

I remove the mask from my face and run a hand through my hair, keeping my eyes on Manx.

"I guess you should also know that by now my Inquisitors will be setting things up for the official 'secession'. The Barracks and tower are under watch, the shifts being memorized and faces being marked down. It'll be the night of long knives for the new Fedoran bastard. I know your people cant help directly but Id suggest you atleast keep them out of the way."
let the Coup begin!
i've got my black bag and my garrote ready to go, lets make some people disappear!
Perhaps one of the few examples we've seen of extreme adaptation on this planet so far. The Mist leviathan makes its home in the Fog filled Valleys that form along the Easter coastal past. Here in the low lying semi-geologically active regions, rife with springs that create warm air pockets and are mixed with the cooler coastal air there are regions that are almost perpetually shrouded in fog.

The Leviathan makes its home within these, utterly harmless to Humans these massive animals seem to have originated with the Thunder Beasts and Tortolos that we all know and love. Six legged the animals have a squamous gate, moving much like we expect beetles too on earth. The mists and Fogs of the region are filled with a high number of micro-plants and bacteria, this in humans generated a severe allergic reaction if over exposed and even in more resistant members creates a Hay-fever like state. Of course to put it in mild terms our Six legged friend gives no fucks. Measuring well over thirty feet in length the animal is likely the largest in habitant in the fogs. Its wide mouth and almost gill like throat allow it to Filter feed on the Flowing air and eat the numerous micro-ogranisms. Highly lethargic some people have mistaken the beasts for small hillocks until they begin to move.

Leviathans are harmless however, and actually in a way quite beneficial to humans as they filter out many dangerous lifeforms that make their home in the mists. Their bodies, are however often parasite ridden as they grow older and death is more often from an infectious disease, or parasitic overload on the immune system. They make little to no noise audible to the Human ear, but it is believed that they do communicate through ultrasound, using the low frequencies to 'sing' much like whales do on earth.

Mating is an awkward affait as one would imagine and will be left for another time. However again, much like ceteceans of Earth Females only bear a single calf a year which will often live on the mother filtering the air with her until it is old enough to move on. Leviathans are solitary animals rarely banding together lest they deplete their 'hunting grounds'. As such seeing more than one is something of a special occasion. Majestic and rare these animals are perhaps one of Lenores 'natural treasures'.
As always, your thoughts and opinions good anons.
i see them mating back to back rather than the traditional male on top, theyd be to heavy otherwise
most likely, which gives a whole new meaning to 'bumping uglies'
Journal Log 93

So rather then scout out the area and tear open my leg stitches, I'm here sharpening my sword while someone else does it. This blade has seen a lot of action. A first generation reforged, two handed. While it isn't as fancy as the later generations nor does it shine, it is perfectly weighted. It's rough around the edges but it has served me well. It's tasted the blood of animal and human alike in the service of Kog. A personal weapon for personal combat. It's not like a bow or gun. With this, your right there, inches away and watching the life drain out of the eyes of your prey. We've been through a lot, this blade and I, for good and bad. Enough that I'm waxing poetic about a sword. Anyways, by my calculations, the next wave is coming soon. Eight wave. I've been in communication with some of the allied units in the field and we're going to try and redirect groups of new arrivals towards Confed territory. The plan is to starve the Fedorans of new recruits and slaves. I expect this to be a sloppy mess, probably as bad as fourth wave, but they turned out alright I guess. Better then Sixth anyways.
I think the Red comet got to him a little more than we thought
It certainly didn't help.
I have ordered that nearly all free manpower and then some to be diverted to take care of our roadways. It is about time we get them working properly we shall repair the roads, clear the tunnels, and set up lights( a clever device involving a bulb of glass protecting a glowing fungi so death fog wont kill it). We have done some work but its time we really get shit down. Transport is vital after all. During this time meanwhile I have ordered our guys to also clear up and repair the waterway network as well. Even better during this time we will have time to test out our new roads making by building roads to places where we have set up where there wasn't builder ruins(usually new mines).

This was when a engineer came to me showing me plans to create lifts kinda like what Butter Keep has to speed up transport near the water ways by allowing them to possibly by pass many problem.This would work due to our limited ship size makes it doable. I ordered him to work on it...as well as create an elevator set up for the roads after all why just the water ways? He promised to look into the designs seemed to indicate the need of gears, machinery, cranes, and pulleys. It will be interesting too see what happens. Meanwhile our crews on the water ways will repair the tunnels/canals thank god we have roman concrete. Until that is a working pattern is available of course during their work I ordered them to fine prime locations for these additional shortcuts

We have these set up and will be workable once we can get them powered. At the moment on a few are working and its straining them(generators are biting us on the ass). We do now have radio though and even wifi network somewhat is set up. Now if only those Confederate assholes will stop bombarding the air waves with their shit and we also need to decrease their power on some of them were picking up stuff from even the Fedorans. Thanks to location and most likely due to us making them a little too strong...
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>canals in the mountains
Wifi is good and strong in our cities but our towers wifi still leaves much to be desired. Luckily our radio waves is encrypted and we have dispatched radioheads to all our settlements who can connect to the waves and using our hellish encryptions we can chat without overhearing(still can't afford civilian access just yet). As much as I hate to admit we a good point using paranoids and crazies to develop our encryption while those bastards are using those aliens we got military grade and our own special flavor.

Meanwhile our metallurgists finally had a major breakthrough we figured out brass meaning a secret operation of mine can finally commence. Even better we found a fucking builder TIN mine AHAHH we got BRONZE now. Ah if only it wasn't limited to just one damned mine...

Meanwhile our guys have used zip lines to create shortcuts to allow the quick movement of packages or even manpower if you don't mind having a giant bull's eye on your back. This came about with our patrols and forces wanted a way to speed things up hopping between mountains without using bridges or other less fun means. Crazy bastards who thought of it but I can't deny it being genius.
Canals filled with rivers of blood btw. It's not like there is too much water up there.
cats blood?
How the fuck do buggers know the Confed is using Aliens? That's damn near a state secret.
Blood of the weak. Such is life in the glorious underground bugger proletariat.
The thing is with our reforms now underway I wanted some work being done. At the moment we NOW reproduce old world rounds and even many weapons without problem...but why rely on old world? We are in a new world we need NEW types of rounds to best take advantage! After all these old world weapons were built with the old world in mind i want new weapons ones with Lenore in mind.

In this regard I ordered for new rounds to be designed. Had to make sure it didn't break down into a debate of whats the best type of round i made it clear that rounds should have goals...it will take time and we should have a working prototype in a year(thank god for all those notes).

This distraction is good especially with our industry being diverted for the reforms.

They figured it out due to the radio waves(we were investigating) and some edge elves asked why there were builders talking on it. It happened by accident. Literally.

After that we looked into the Fedorans and realized they did the same with a different alien though.

builders were hardcore motherfuckers and it was mostly meant to speed things up getting sent out of them.

Waterways are not prevalent higher up.
Answe me child what does the Glorious People's Best Buggerland run on?


Good child, you soon be good strong bugger and die in coffee fields like your mother.
I shall try papa!
I was debating on what we need to do with all these gems that keep stockpiling(especially diamonds) and improving our industry. When an interesting fellow came to me a gem cutter of all people. Little did i know he would show me how to fix both problems.

For you see gems as it turns out are AMAZING for improving industry! They are damned useful for cutting and grinding. Saw tools and drill bits among others the man very excited and once I realized this would greatly boost our industry I had him taken to Vulcan industries. It seems like we finally have something to do with all these damned gems and diamonds.

One thing that was nagging at me however was what he said about only 1/5 of diamonds be suitable for jewels the rest for industry. I found myself thinking about currency...we will need one a eventually. We do have some number of rare metals and if we use gems...combined with our current requisitions forms. I think I may finally be on something for a currency. We will need one eventually after all.

Still though funny little man I asked what he wanted for this HUGE breakthrough and all he wanted was to make jewelry again...I happily granted to him. Now he has a workshop where he sifts through the gems and creates jewels. Of course he wants to be trained in gold/silver working and I will see what I can do in that regard.
How are they cutting diamonds?
why, with the bones of the weak of course.
Pappa my fingers hurt!
The bones of the weak are weak. They cut diamonds with their own teeth or they are killed for being too weak for the buggerland.
Praise be the buggy one.
Another of the 'mist dwelling' species of life that is found in the Valleys that run along the Coast. haunters in the dark(hereafter referred to as Haunters) are related to Builders, Trolls and Imps most likely. These animals, are roughly the size of a child and make their nests within the tree lined edges of the Mist filled valleys much like imps do. However, unlike their jungle dwelling cousins they are nocturnal and perhaps more agressive than normally wold be welcomed.

Haunters move amongst the darkness of the valleys hunting small game. Their Large membranous wings that stretch between the fore and mid limbs allow them to glide in the night where they make use of the steady air currents that flow through the upper reaches of the valley in search of small game. Strictly meat eaters the animals make use of high frequency sonar 'clicks' to seek out prey. A startlingly dark blue-black color the animals feather tails are semi prehensile and can be 'wagged' to spread pheremones to attract mates. Males will often be larger and more aggressive than females and apt to claim whole sections of a valley where they will have a 'harem' wondering freely within.

Haunters have been found to seek out Kwama and bee nests in a search for easy prey, as such those living on the edges of settlements have often taken to hunting the animals if just to protect their 'herds'
as always gracious anons, your thoughts?
I give the Buggers until the 8th Wave before they collapse horribly. God, It's gonna be like the Holodomor all over again.
well we're on the eighth wave actually.
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Locations by Corresponding 80's Fantasy Movie:

/b/ubonicus Empire: Krull

Butterroot Keep: Willow

Kog: The Neverending Story

Cadia: Highlander


Cigil: Excalibur

Hadesopolis: Dragon Slayer

The Tower: The Dark Crystal

Catan: The Black Cauldron

/a/mpire: Big Trouble in Little China

Buggerland: Zardoz

/trv/ Empire: The Princess Bride

/sci/: Flash Gordon

/an/: The Beastmaster

/mlp/: The Little Mermaid

Monstergirlopolis: Gremlins

Cypress Grove: Barbarian Queen

Kitycity: Heavy Metal

/y/: Labyrinth

Builders: Conan the Barbarian

Feel free to argue and add.
> /sci/ flash gordon

alright I lost it
We're going to make a push. This is being transmitted via warsinger to all forces. We have the go ahead from the First Fathers. Begin the assault on Fort Dunmer, retake the fortress and crush any Fedorans you find. You will be aided by the Gigant armors Red Comet, The Nameless One and The Fell Handed. I repeat three Gigants will be dispatched. Be ready for the push.

Sixth colum forces we expect your aid in this. We are out there hunting hats gentlemen and ladies, and I will repeat the First Father has given all builders the go ahead to begin waging Long War. To our Human forces take them hard and fast. They took the fort from us, now we'll take it back.
dis gonna be crazy
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"Sure. I can keep my people out of the way. Hell i can do better." Hadn’t changed much. A new scar here and there, but not much change. Lucky.

“You’re gonna focus on the Barrack and the Tower. Then that will leave my people room to operate with impunity. Let’s say, hypothetically, you miss anyone, we will make sure they don’t leave the city alive. Will also have patrols running the Catacombs. We’ll keep them nice and tidy.” Got to his feet, stretching a bit before offering Fortune a hand.
“Oh and a word of warning. IF they do get past you, we won’t be quite. It’s not really my people’s style.”
As for training both slaves and the new arrivals of the 8th, he had a few ideas. His men weren’t the best, but he had done what he could to spread his veterans, and those with obvious skill, to those units lacking either. However, his veterans could only do so much. So, he would have to call on a group he fortunate already had ties with; The Catachan. Lt. Churclan was the resident Catachan Commander in K.C., and the two had formed a working relationship, and now, he was about to call in a huge favor.

“So, I guess we got some work to do?”
Sorry to be the world's biggest newfag with this question? But do we just jump on into the writefaggotry if we want?
Basically yeah.

You can be a survivor, or be some hidden village, or just write for some place nobody else is.

Just jump in and have fun!
Feel free to join the IRC if you have questions


Mibbit.net is a popular client
Thanks, guys, was a bit intimidated by the sheer amount of stuff in lenore
Just be aware that when it's fully running it can have 20+ writers in there, but at this time of night it's pretty slow.

We occasionally have people pop in to a mostly empty room, assume it's dead, and then an hour later there's fifteen people actively talking.

The longer you stick around the better.
You wanna write for /new/?

I would advice against it, cause of the /y/kings and rape stuff.
nah they were just being humble.

It's a LOT to take in at first but the other writers in the irc will greatly enhance your understanding of the setting and from personal experience it speeds things up a lot.
Newfag is a term. It doesn't mean writing for /new/.
I be joking surely. I wouldn't want to co-sign anyone to such a fate.
>/mlp/: The Little Mermaid
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I regard his for a second considering his words, could I really trust him like this? If it was damn near anyone else I probablly wouldnt even ask that question and he'd be a dead man walking. But something about Redding, or Manx, or whatever he wanted to be called, told me he was just as committed to this city as I was. So I nodded and took his proferred hand and shook it firmly.

"Yes, yes we do."

I stepped back to go but stopped, for a few seconds I said nothing but then I looked back at Manx. And sudden spark in my eye and my white teeth showing.

"Actually now that I think of it, organise a hand over of the Fat Kat. I just thought of the perfect use for him."

I slipped my mask back on and nodded to Manx finally, and began my walk to return to meet my men. We'd almost reached the time limit shed set anyways, it was time to go.
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We made the move at dawn, moving careful on the water to avoid grounding our ships. This was risky, we had gotten info from the scouts and rangers in the field, they had no artillery but they were still a danger to us if just for the fact you never fucking knew what they would bring to the fight. So we glided on dark water, the hulls of the barges shadows against the night of Lenore. And the gigants, black and terrible in their hell bent fury upon them. The pilot of the Nameless was scared, always was he hated that thing to no end. Of course, we were getting a chance to use the modified Puckle guns. The trigger arrangement had been modified to allow it to be fired almost like a regular style gun by the big bastards.

Meanwhile along the shore line our 'escort' moved with us. Elves and their Builder team leaders glowing like wraithes as they worked along the shoreline signalling to our Warsinger team on board when things were clear it was slow going until about the last klick. At that point one by one they snuffed themselves out and the real fun began. The Fedorans had torched watch posts manned all around the area. Our teams on the scorpions set to work arming the ballistae and I waited for the moment to strike. As a cloud moved overhead, the sound of thunder in the distance did I make the call. And with a Snap the start of the Second Battle of Fort Dunmer had begun.
From the Diary of James Glasgow:

I figured, I should start writing this down. Been a while but it all seems so vivid, I still don't know if I'm alive or dead and this is some fucked up version of hell.

I remember the day I landed vividly. Browsing 4chan, looking over all the tinfoil hats panicking and laughing their arses off. That was when I got the message, 1 hour. I guess I was one of the first to go, one of the first to be transported into this messed up fuckhole I now call home. Probably came with being Australian, shit the only reason I knew was because a kiwi friend of mine who got the message stopped talking to me about an hour before I got mine, exactly an hour after he did. I'd stocked up, my bag, kitchen knives, whatever the fuck I could find from the advice threads on the different boards. Most of them were spammed out when I was panicking. If I thought I was shitting myself then I was definitely shitting myself when I found myself in a world of red and orange. With nothing but my shitty backpack full of barely anything useful. And I laughed, I laughed hard.

The first person I came across was a terrified teenager, kid couldn't have been older than 16, armed with nothing but what looked like a broken coke bottle. Deciding that we were better off together we set up a makeshift camp, and got some sort of fire going. When night fell on that first night, we heard a stumbling out of the woods. An overweight, bearded man with what looked like a replica battle-axe approached. The man simply sat at our fire and stared at us, mumbling about giant snakes. We didn't bother disturbing him, he didn't seem hostile, and it all seemed to much like a dream.

That night we were plagued by lizards with wings, I didn't sleep.
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Do you still have fond memories of christmas back on earth?
Building a Snowman as a kid, snowball fights with snow fort, jumping in the snow bank and making angel silhouttes? Cutting down a tree and hanging stupid little baubles from it and exchanging presents? Running back home to a hot mug of cocco with those little marshmellows?Yeah?
Well winter in Bubonicus ain't anything like that.
You see, without electricity and central heating winter is a fucking nightmare. I'm sure cities like the Cathedral or the large red brick forts are doing allright, they'll be chilly but their buildings are well made and reliable.

Fort Boil and the village around it? Not so much. It was constructed early on, when it was becoming clear we would need a larger farming base, using logs, badly sawn planks, straw and mud. This all before we figured out the process of making nice solid red clay bricks for our forts and adobe for the serfs homes, and although reconstruction has been started Fort Boil stands as it has since its construction.

And its fucking cold, really fucking cold. We dont even have the reprieve of the odd wind bringing up warm air from the south, they still have frost and snow but it melts quick. We, on the other hand, are situated right on the northern half of Bubonicus. I dread to think what the Borderlands are like in this weather, probablly worse off than us.

Atleast we've stockpiled food and can use the ice to help keep it longer and we have enough fire wood to burn. To reduce the amount we spend most of our time in the communal longhouse, in leather lined with thick down and drinking heated rum from a small fire. I dont doubt the serfs are spending most of their time gathered together either, probablly in the town hall and the local chapel. Im making sure those places are getting firewood and that the people arent starving but the winter will be even harder on them than us.
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But maybe I exaggeratted just how bad it was. One of the men took it upon himself to chop down a tree, one of the weird thorny ones that kind of resembles a pine tree if you squint, and set it up in the hall. He then proceded to decorate it with wooden carvings and stick a wicker star on the top. Most people just stared, I think one of the servants even started crying. He then talked the whole fort into exchanging gifts in the morning as a sort of secret santa, nothing huge since it hadnt been planned but something special.

A lot of people called him a fag and worse at first but he kept insisting with a big ass grin on his face. In the end though the lack of anything better to do and the lure of a fun tradition from back on earth broke them down and most agreed to take part. Myself included. I suppose it helped that not everyone was a hardcore /b/tard, it was getting obvious that 'anyone' whod been on /b/ could end up getting dropped here.

So I've dug out a bag of skittles Id been holding onto, cant stand them myself but, I think that they should make someone happy. I am a little peaved though. I caught sight of the guy who convinced us all to take part in this sneaking out of the fort with a burlap sack slung over his shoulder and a bunch of chubb fluff wrapped around his chin and a red rayon cloak. I stopped him and asked him what he had in the sack, he kind of blushed and smiled before showing me. It was a bag full of carved wooden figurines and, of all things, small cans of cola.

A little in awe I shrugged and let him pass and watched from the Forts tower as he went from house to house, handing things out. The next morning I even woke to find a can of coke and a little nicely carved wooden figurine of a Doge sitting outside my door. Bastard was going to show us all up.

It gives us some hope though, I know it will be a hard and cold winter but we will live. Bless you Nick, you great fat bastard.
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Now I want my own artifact!
Now we need the pointer finger edited to a closed position.
The next day was better, the kid had fallen asleep against the tree and the crazed man had dozed off as well. They both woke with first light, or what little there was of it with the trees so high. We introduced ourselves that morning, all of us frequently browsed 4chan, mainly /tg/. Well then, that couldn't be a coincidence. The kid, Rick, came up with an idea to look for others. Didn't seem too bad an idea, the crazed man didn't object, shit he didn't say much. All we knew about him was his name, Gerry. Three blokes in a hell hole.

The sounds of the wildlife terrified as we walked. Armed with our poor display of weaponry we stalked through the woods, what sounded like a pack of... something... followed us. At what I assume was noon, we met our next group of survivors. A man and a woman asleep in a bush. Only noticed 'em, because Rick almost stepped on the lady's face. I was the one who had to wake them, they seemed calm and unaware of where they were until they saw Gerry with his dead eyes and his axe. Then they screamed.

At least the noise scared away the animals following us. After calming them down we ate lunch together, the sparse rations of chocolate and biscuits we had. Shared stories and such. They were both from /tg/ as well, my suspicions were confirmed. That night we didn't move, we set up another fire in their camp site. But Gerry's matches wouldn't last forever, the grim realisation set on me as I handed him back his half empty box.

That night, I didn't sleep much either. That was the nights that the shits set in.
해피 데이 (haepi dei)
Life am good in Best Buggerland.

Keopi, daiamondeu, dolo or roadseu in englishie. Glorioush Buggerseu has everything!

외국인 (Waygook-in) try take food. Surpriseu! Buggerseu have no food! Buggerseu have only keopi! Keopi keep Buggerseu awake. We fight strong. Many die. Dead weak. Dead do not get keopi. Dead become keopi!
((I hate you guys for comparing it to Best Korea so much... I had to write this in the wonderful English translation that I saw countless times while in Worst Korea. Oh and coffee is pronounced Koh-pi))
well the children of Bubonicus need something to believe in and we dont have Rabbits and Avic hates the toothfairs, so whos legend to better resurrect than good ol St.Nick?
Praise the buggy one
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Just as planned, I've met Janos the traders' envoy and Thibalt the nurglite preacher in the private rooms at the Smoking Tortolo Tavern. We've reviewed the details on the voyage together. Oh my, we are in for half a thousand of miles to reach the Cathedral. We'll be travelling with a caravan of the NHG Trade Syndicate, they have a cart for the three of us. "Courtesy of the company" Janos said. Yeah, like you guys were going to refuse anyway.

Bap briefed me yesterday : the "Apiary bubble" is bursting and the honey price is dropping like there is no tomorrow, severely threatening the viability of a whole cluster of the economy. We need to find buyers for it and Bubonicus seems to be interested. While Janos is supposed to be the one discussing in the name of the caravans, my orders are different : I have to create a stable political foothold for trade in the north. The letter of marque he gave me grants me the full authority of the Honeypot for negotiations. There was also a more "personal" message in the envelope. What a flirter, I swear.

My bag was already loaded in our allocated Tortolo cart when we got out of the tavern. We've met the caravan captain, a scarred bugger named Mr. Strong (how fitting) and the captain of the mercenary guards, a scrawny man in a giant white coat who introduced himself as Wolf McWolfson. Strong told us we were late and we should hurry before it starts snowing. The sky is grey, heavy, and I fear he's right.

The first day was pretty uneventful. We arrived early at the Griffin's Peak tavern, parked the caravan there and warmed our feet inside by the fires. Everybody was tired, so we quietly ate smoked meat and honeyed mossbread and did go to sleep. Janos left early with a washerwoman, he came back in our room late and woke me up. Thibalt, on the other hand, has been even quieter than the others, he always stutters when we talk and I think he tries to avoid looking at me. I know this is Lenore, but we aren't on 4chan anymore.
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Under my direction the Quest has been heading northwards, keeping to the only river heading north. We dont follow along it directly, as to do so would put us at to much risk to attracting attention from predators, but we keep it in sight so we can restock on water as needed.
We've been lucky so far as we've only seen a solitary Bandersnatch so far and it simply patrolled at a distance before leaving, the other animals have simply avoided us.
Perks of moving in a large group I suppose.

We will be diverging from this path however having spotted what we believe to be a major settlement. We've seen signs of smaller groups but they are largely isolated and suprised to see a large group of survivors such as ourselves on the move, and fearful of how heavily armed we are. We have let them know of Cigil to the south, if they care to make the travel more people would always be welcome. A few seemed interested but some just thought of us as made cosplayers. Some things never change I suppose. But now we have seen a larger settlement, possibly even a city, we might be able to actually open communication between Cigil and this new power.

However we don't know their size or their temperment so we approach with caution, weapons within easy reach, armor donned and the non-combatants in the Wagons. The smoke stacks rising in the distance suggest at least moderate size though, I hope that means they are civilized enough to have banded together in such a size and not that they have been brought together under some mad rule like in the /a/mpire, we don't need another enemy to the north as well.
The sky is clear, but now the cold is biting like a feral Doge. I feel it even under my insulated corset. Staying idle in the cart don't help, so I've decided to walk at the caravan's pace and try to know more about our party. Janos is staying inside under a pile of blankets and Thibalt is nowhere to be found.

Our mercenaries are in fact the Space Wolves. It's a light infantry company, and they boast being the best caravan guards in the mountains. The data I have about them mention they are mostly former Cadians, veterans from the wars. Most of them are patrolling ahead of the carts, on the outlook for raiders. McWolfson is a first waver, and let me tell you he has scores of stories to tell about the mountains. Some are even true. On other news, apparently, a splinter tribe from /v/ is roaming the area, but they are probably buried in snow by now. Some of them aren't content with the nurglite priest. They won't go to /b/ with us, we will hire another troop at Brumegarde.

One of them brought me a giant feather, probably the tail of a lenoran mountain elk. He asked me if I was an archeologist, but his sergeant slapped him on the helmet. Regardless, I laughed, thanked him and pinned the feather on my hat. Supper : salt fish and mossbread.

Another uneventful day. Super : mossbread cake with various meat inside.

The next day I was reading more about the Border Tribes, when the caravan suddenly stopped. A Mist Leviathan was crossing the road, slowly. It took nearly an hour for the beast to reach the other side. We arrived in Brumegarde by night. We ate and slept in the Concorde Inn. Again, Janos came back late and drunk. Thibalt prayed for him so Nurgle could get rid of his hangover. Next day we found out that it didn't work, so he gave him a plant infusion. Breakfast : mossbread, butterroot, honey and coffee. The morning was spent crossing the vast lumber fields of the area, and by noon we were on the last solid trading post.
an exceedingly rare animal this appears to be possibly a species of mountain dwelling Scale wolf. Living in the Alpine valleys and Calderas this beast has only been documented a handful of times. The 'hounds of Tindaloo' derive their name from first and foremost their seemingly insubstantial nature, the beasts are only spotted in fleeting glimpses or even more rarely as bones from a death site.

it is as such exceedingly hard to confirm much of the animals life cycle. Judging by what remains that have been recovered the animal appears to be quite...large. Easily seven feet at the shoulder and more heavily muscled than what one would expect. The jaws, much like the Scale wolves are a modified form of the Teeth set we see in many animals creating an almost beak like shape. However the upper 'lip' osseous and curved into a cruel hook shape is obviously designed for tearing flesh and leaving prey maimed and bleeding. We believe that it is a pursuit and ambush predator. Harrying prey as it follows being in the day. You see, the feathers of the animal are almost metallic in hue, and in the proper light near blinding in their brilliance making direct observation very difficult.

Judging from the feathering we have seen possibly both genders have a movable ruff of feathers, that can be angles not unlike a parabolic mirror. The overlapping pinions with the head in the center allowing it to move and adjust the exceedingly reflective feathers to better flash at prey. We believe in this respect the animal is perhaps performing a similar method as the 'dancing weasels' using the light to stun and confuse prey as they fail to understand what is going on, until it is too late.
As always, your thoughts?
how rare we talking here?
exceedingly so, like snow lepoard rare
define snow leopard rare?
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“Right, give me a day to set it up, I’ll have my second bring the fatass over.”

And their he stood, watched her walk away. He would have said something, should have said something, but at the moment he couldn’t think of anything, and then she was gone. He stood there a while, and then made his own exit.

Back out the front door, down to the gate, with a cane clacking all the way, announcing Manx’s arrival well before his fellows saw him. To their credit, they didn’t break cover till after he passed their makeshift barricade. Then from the shadows Rhom and the Catachans emerged, wielding terran rifles and ‘liberated’ Crossbows, and they appeared to be trading things, some with grins on there faces, others with frowns or faces of irritation. When I looked at Rhom he simply said, “Bets, sir,” before turning to Churclan with an open hand. “Pay up Lt.” The older man grumbled before handing him a packet of….Wrigley Spearmint?

“I hope that was on me coming out alive Sub Commander.” Though his voice was serious, Manx was doing his best not to laugh. Rhombus just looked and said, “Oh course it was,” just before he pulled out a small pocket knife and handed to another Catachan. “But I’ve been told not to put all my eggs in the same basket.”
A short laugh, which startled nearly everyone there, escaped through the bandages. “Good man. Lets get out of here before we wear out our welcome. Signal to pull out. We have work to do gentlemen.” He looked back at the Palace one last time before turning back to his compatriots.

“Things are gonna get busy.”
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We took two of the wooden dinghies and made a landing, along with a compliment of Da Company Boyz providing escort. We had an assortment of goods tightly secured in crates along with us, from Tower Silk, to Butterroot Oil, Soap, Alcohol, Honey and even Candy. We also had some metal ingots, a share of copper and iron, back on the ship but its weight and value meant we would keep it on the ship unless someone wanted to trade.

From the look of the crowd forming on the harbor I dont doubt there will be someone willing to trade for something or other. Shouldnt be suprised at their behaviour either, its unlikely they have seen a true sail ship like the Swan and the Albatross since coming here and ships of their size, though small on earth, must be impressive compared to their tiny fishing barges.

We were greeted on the shore by a man calling himself the CPU(City Prince Unit) Dan of the City MotherBoard, which was the city we had just landed in. He asked us about who we were and where we were from and I informed him we were merchants from /tg/ and that we were seeking to trade and map the region.

Its kind of fortunate for us, the way /g/ is run, because we soon found out that the Free Cities were still technically the allies of Bubonicus, an enemy of /tg/ but CPU Dan informed us he would rather conduct business, and possibly gain an edge over the other cities, than adhere to a promise to a dead mad man. Others in /g/ might disagree but they were the Free Cities, they did what they wanted.

So we got a tour of the city, a strange mix out of ruins and shanty high rises built around them, an assortment of different forms of lights kept the city bright even at night. Cables ran tangles and chaotically along high standing poles and the sounds of computer fans could be heard clearly humming out of open windows.

It seems they had managed to hold on to the one thing /g/ seemed to value above all else. Good. That meant we could do business.
We’ve dropped our guests back at the Keep. It was nice to see the Mayor again. I remember life in ButterRoot Keep fondly but it’s good that I joined up with the EMC. When their HR division asked for anyone with sailing experience I didn’t expect that I would be sailing the skies. The selection process was interesting; it was comprised of multiple steps.

They had us take some computer exams asking about various aspects of sailing then separated us into groups. After that each group paired off with one of the guys from /k/ accompanied by some of those medical folks from Reservoir tower.

Had us do some physical tests and run an obstacle course. Most of us made it and were vetted by our handlers for the next stage in which we were lead into the tower and asked to wait. When it was my turn they had me enter this little room with a man at a table, had me sit across from him and answer a bunch of questions and look at ink blots.

Talking with the other guys in our crew they had the same experience. Seems like they were profiling us, probably to make sure we didn’t kill each other once we were airborne. They never gave us our scores but since I’m crewing the Second Wind I’m guessing I did pretty well.
Our next mission after dropping the Mayor and his family off was to fly towards the northern mountains following the roads on the ground to a city called HoneyPot.

We had loaded up with some trading goods: various electronics including radios and a laptop with medical data on it, a solar charging array, some of those gears and cogs that are coming out of the tower, and a few copper ingots. I was worried when they loaded it all up in crates that we wouldn’t be able to keep altitude but after we dropped off our passengers it seemed to even out. We were instructed to bring back honey and its byproducts along with any other unique supplies they might have.

Seems pretty standard to start trade, but I can’t figure out for the life of me as to why they want that beyond for food but that’s not my job anyway.
Snow lepoards are now one of the rarest animals on the planet and were never very common. Figure in the four years that we've been on Lenore, theres been a total of two dozen sightings and one corpse found. This animal is likely to be considered borderline mythic to many as the ages go on.
The Treeline Camp is a grim settlement. Until a few months ago, it used to be nothing more than a mess of homeless refugees living in rotten wooden huts, now the refugees are gone. An inn has opened, the Bloodletter. The patrons are mostly hunters, travelling tribesmen, and now caravanner.

The caravan didn't even stop. Mr Strong had rode his scale wolf to the camp, and when the caravan reached the hovel we said goodbye to the Space Wolves. Strong was waiting for us with two men. One was a hulking beast of a man, mounted on a massive Auroch-like creature. The cold was blistering but the man was half naked, wearing only fur pants and an impressive collection of bone collars. The other one was even larger, but he was riding a barded scale wolf. He was wearing a crude full plate armour pain in red, and his helmet had two wooden horns carved as if it were two grinning faces shouting at each other.

" - Those are our new bodyguards, Strong said. "

Without any other word, a tribe of men and women mounted on aurochs joined our caravan, flanked by the red knights in battle order. Until we reached the plains beyond, we stood silent, eyes on the bushes and trees to detect ambushes. None came, and we soon reached the Land of Bones.

The Land of Bones has a bad reputation. Cold, dry and full of dust, crossing it unprepared is impossible. Only aurochs and their riders can live here. It is a vast rocky scrubland with patches of dark red herb looking like pools of blood. It goes larger than the horizon, a monotonous treeless scenery. And yet this place is haunted by Our bodyguards took a more dispersed position, some knights went scouting ahead and left the heavier beast riders with us. The wind was awful, I put my scarf around my head like Lawrence of Araby and I buckled the leather strap of my hat under my chin. I was walking next to the cart line, contemplating the scenery, when I heard a roaring voice.

" -Want a ride, miss ? "
>this place is haunted.
I don't even know why I added a "by" here.
for the suspense
The man was holding two sets of leather straps, each one leading a hulking beast. He was in his fourties, bare chested, totally bald, sporting a massive beard, covered in thick body hair and built like a strongman. He handed me a strap, a wide friendly smile showing a set of crooked teeth.

" - I don't think I know how to ride those, sir.

- Don't worry young one, the Fat Betty is tame. Grab the collar and lift yourself up. "

I nearly fell, but I managed to get on the back of Betty, who didn't even react. My companion lifted himself on the back of his own beast.

" - Hold the strap if you think you are going to fall, I'll lead her with the second one, don't worry. "

We rode together for the rest of the day. By night, I knew everything about Bernie Rockteeth, his wife Fanny and his two kids travelling in their cart. He told me about his tribe, the Bonehoarders.

" - See, this land has seen carnage, starvation and war. There is bones everywhere, scattered in the ruins of countless attempts of a new life. When we found one, we pick it up and we bring him at the feet of the Skull Throne, where he can rest. We believe that once the plain is clean of death, maybe the life could start anew.

- The man I saw earlier...

- Is the Bone Priest. He is in charge of the bones we find until we give them back to their rightful owner. "

It was already dark when we decided to set the camp for the night. We gathered the carts in what could be seen as a ruined village, with walls to shield us from the wind. The soldiers took the night shifts and we ate a cold diner, for we couldn't light up campfires with the raging tempest. Sleep didn't came early.
huh, not what I expected of Khornates.
well look at Bubonicus they're nurgle cultists
>Tomorrow in RRT : the khornate plot thickens.
All ye who enter beware, you walk through the cursed lands of /b/
and that they likely will shout Fag at you from on high.
need varz to make new animal, fag crow. its caws sound like the word 'fag' and lives off of carrion (like a vulture)
I dig it.
that's an amazing map, please do more
Bump I want more wacky fauna damn it.
The next few days blurred together, a mix of dysentry and wandering around. Our merry little band of 5 came across another group of survivors at around the fourth or fifth night. Dressed in armor and carrying weapons, we thought them to be medieval warriors. By sheer luck alone they didn't see us, and we slunk back into the forest. After that we headed east. Our food ran out pretty fast. Tom, the guy we found on the second day, took to attempting to eat some of the vegetation. He got even sicker, and couldn't move for two days. Well we assume it was two days, as our luck would happen to run out.

On the second night of Tom's illness, we were attacked by we would later call a yowler. We simply called it a nightmare at the time. The monster went after the injured Tom and dragged him off in his weakened state after some token resistance from the rest of us. Gerry lost a finger for his trouble. We used our last match and some of Samantha's tequila to castrate the wound.

We spent most of the next few days scared shitless, running through the woods. At one point we were attacked by a pack of imps, the little fuckers didn't know what hit em. Gerry's axe was near useless and broke, but a kitchen knife in the eye managed to take out one of 'em. I lost track of how we killed the other dead pair. The rest was an exhausting fight which resulted in more wounds than we could deal with, we covered all of our open cuts and scrapes with alcohol before eating the dead animals raw. We held onto their eggs though. I guess we must have wandered into the area where their nest was, thinking back on it, at the time it just seemed like more of a nightmare.

After a week and a half of wandering in circles we finally found other humans. A group of about 10 other newcomers all holed up in what looked like an abandoned fortress sitting by a river. They had no idea what they were doing, but they had an edible moss that grew on the walls of the fort.
They took us in and fed us, looking back on it we survived through luck alone. Not starving to death, not being shot in the face, Tom getting sick and taken by the yowler instead of all of us dying. The fort folk were good people, I guess that's why we stayed. But by god were they disorganised. They're plan seemed to be drink the river water and eat the moss, they had no defense other than a couple of guns without ammo, and some knives. There was definitely going to be some issues if we were attacked. But we were happy to just rest and eat, meagerly if anything, for a couple of days. That was how it started, 14 hungry and lost people holed up in the ruins of some Builder fort.
how it always starts
I've gotta say I love that picture. I'd be happy without the metal bits, but that picture is so getting saved.
I still can't remember who's idea it was to set up sentries around the perimeter. Most of the people in the fort were overweight or twigs, there were a couple of fit guys and girls though. Literally a couple, a guy and a girl who looked like they worked out frequently. I guess I felt indebted, so the first of our fortress guards became Gerry, those two, one of the fat guys who seemed taller than most people I knew, and myself. We armed ourselves with shitty make shit spears made from kitchen knives, shoe laces, tape and sticks. We'd patrol the walls in teams of two or three.

The fortress was round, with high walls and a functional gate. But the roof had long since collapsed and half of the fort was inaccessible. For about a week that was our only defense. We fought off two yowler attacks, and we were damn proud of that, it was threw throwing rocks and more dumb luck but we were damn proud. We were still subsisting on nothing but this strange moss when a man dressed in a gillie suit wandered out of the forest. Why he was wearing that on a planet of red and orange was beyond me. The man was carrying a crossbow though and was carrying the carcass of two of those imp things.

His deal was simple, he'd teach us to hunt, but he wanted in on the safety of the fortress. We let the guy in, he was a survivalist nut. A friendly survivalist nut with an obsession for MtG and Fantasy Warhammer. We gave him a place to sleep and he taught us how to make bows and hunt imps in exchange. That wild man was our hero.

Our fortress guards and about half of the people to unfit to serve took to learning to hunt. The other half were the smart ones, they took to an exercise regime, figured out how to grow the moss themselves, and started making plans for the river I didn't even begin to understand. Those next few weeks helped us get our footing. Most of us could hunt imps now without too much exertion.
Im shocked no one here went to Jitterbugs so far. Damn this new wave is the smart wave isnt it
Well it'll be nice to finally have a wave like that after the 6th.

Wave summary:

1/2nd wave: Traumatized survivors and Builders

3rd wave: Builders and war wagers

4-5th wave: Moderates and builders

6th wave: Rebels (often morons) and luxury makers

7th wave: First refugee camp wave, trained and skilled

8th wave: Smart wave? We'll see!
I always feel the first and second wavers really got the short end of the stick.
As more and more newbies funneled in, our little hamlet got more and more developed. People would appear lost out of the woods and we'd take them in. We split into three main groups each with a sort of leader. The guards, the hunters, and the engineers. The engineers were the ones in charge of farming, learning about the environment, medical and everything not combat related. Hunters hunted and brought back newbies to the camp. Guards were in charge of guarding and distributing food. The survivalist, a Canadian by the name of Frank, took control of the hunters; one of the chubbier Vampire players, Lisa, took control of the engineers; and somehow I was in charge of the guards. We were kind of the triumvirate of leaders.

We had meetings every evening to talk about the days going-ons. It was at one of these Lisa told me of an idea of hers. Build a series of houses inside the walls. At the moment we had no real protection from the rain. Her plan was to have a series of guards and engineers cut down some trees using some stone axes built from the crumbled remains of the roof. Why the hell not, eh?

Slowly we were turning this builder fort, in a position that seemed the local wildlife wanted nothing to do with into a home.
I feel like it's more like world's luckiest wave.
We were idiots. The guards had put a lot of work into building while being overseen by engineers. The guards on the wall were tired and weren't expecting anything the night the place went to shit. Cutting down trees had lead to a few improvements. We got pretty good at making stone axes, we knew how to use said axes, we had a lot of wood so we knew how to make some charcoal, we finally had houses to keep the god damn rain off. But we'd neglected to train the guards in combat and they were getting lazy. Yowelers stayed away from the fort. The engineers, some scientist wannabe in particular, had discovered why, the soil was filled with parasites and filled with the bones of builders. The fortress wasn't much of a fortress, but more a mass grave. It did mean that the wildlife avoided it, we weren't sure why. They could probably still smell the death and the fire of our new charcoal burning heaps.

The figures that appeared from the forest at first appeared to be hunters returning from the last shift. One of the guards looked up and saw the figures and waved. He was met with a bullet to the face for his trouble. The guards weren't an impressive bunch, most were shirtless and dressed in patched up pants. Armed with stone axes, wooden shields and bows, they found themselves under fire from fire arms. They managed to shoot a couple of imp bone bolts back, but they didn't seem to be doing anything. Our attackers were dressed in full metal armor. LARPers gone crazy?

The shots did wake up the fort though. I rallied the guards not on wall duty by the light of the charcoal fires and ordered them behind the gate. We could hear them laughing, laughing about how much fun this game was. Fucking insane assholes had killed one of my guys because they thought it was a game. Best virtual reality ever they said. Fucking crazy LARPers and video gamers? This was going to be a shit night.
I needed to think of a plan fast. More shots were heard overhead, and I heard a scream and a moan as I watched one of the guards on the wall clutch his stomach. Then the shots stopped, were they baiting us? Pretending to be out of ammo, fuck it, I was going to take that risk. I ordered the gate opened and the guards set out brandishing our stone axes. We screamed, can't remember what but we were trying to scare them for sure. They turned towards us. There were about five of them, we had about ten people. Yelling like some insane group of bare chested celts we charged. It looked like the hadn't expected resistance. Stone axes met stainless steel armor. I saw Samantha fall what looked like their leader had sliced her across the chest with his replica sword. She went down, injured but fortunately her bra hadn't been sliced open. Another woman took her place bashing her axe over his helmed head.

We'd won our first ever battle. Our axes had served to injure three of the men, kill one, and cause the last to flee. But they'd killed one of our wall guards, and injured another. Three of our ground forces were on the ground. Two injured from wounds, the other dead, his throat slit. I ordered the enemy stripped and tied up with whatever we could manage. The dead would be buried, the injured... We had nearly no medical services. We'd see what the engineers did something. But I doubted we could do much.

In the morning we'd send hunters out to search for their camp, and maybe survivors with first aid. For tonight we would count our lucky stars we weren't dead.
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Forgot /co/ on previous maps. It's on this one.
looks a bit like brienne from GoT
still has the double /n/s >_>
That's sorta sad to say but likely true given the way things have gone so far.
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I mentioned this in passing a long time ago, but I want to draw your attention here:


This fellow has compiled all the episodes of Rough Science. You can figure someone in Lenore has a copy of the videos, because that someone would be me at the very least.

Rough Science is an interesting show. Take a bunch of scientists and drop them in a location with basically no real tools and tell them to make Thermite, or a refrigerator, or a furnace.

And they do it.

Several episodes are of particular interest to people wanting to build things in Lenore. There's on on making Iron and one about building furnaces that would be of particular interest to those with an interest in metallurgy. There's also episodes on how to make radios, how to make metal detectors and so on. This show - unlike American science shows - always actually explains how stuff is made and doesn't censor, say, the recipe for Thermite. One episode has the chemist making thermite from nothing more than some rust and stuff found in nature. It makes science comprehensible at the survival level.

Basically, not only is it a ton of fun to watch, but it's also EXTREMELY useful.

Also I have a huge crush on Kathy Sykes. Because damn, those giant adorable bunny teeth and all that sciency hotness and so much competence and that cute British accent and UUUNF.

But yeah - you should check these videos out to get a handle on how you can do a lot of things in Lenore.
Before the mayor goes to jerk himself off here, I will say bathtub thermite is fucking dangerous to make. You're been warned.
I will absolutely agree on this point. A lot of chemistry is extremely dangerous and you should keep that in mind. Also the show doesn't exhaustively go over the processes for things, but goes over them in accurate but broad strokes.

You should consider this a very useful writing guide, but you shouldn't try to make thermite in your house in real life.
We here on the Lenore writing team would like to remind you that while Lenore contains scenes of scientific experimentation and discovery and violent stunts that these are performed by trained fictional characters. Please do not try any of what you read here at home.
Seriously, you could get really fucked up.
god help us all if anyone reading these is that dumb, that said. I wonder how many Fedorans it took to get a stable Thermite recipe?
Also useful, a list of sites that explain how things work or are made. I pass this around in the IRC fairly often.

It took one Whizzard; he was a mechanical engineer who minored in chemistry. However, 'stable' is questionable.

Since slaves are the only ones to handle it, variations in quality don't really matter much. They're the ones that usually burn to death, and the cities of the Fedoran Empire are stone. What's it matter if one or two dozen slaves die in a fire?

Keep in mind that they combine wooden cannons and thermite packed canonballs. They really give no fucks about their slaves at all. If the cannon doesn't explode on its own sometimes the thermite goes off early and kills the cannon crew.
Ah, well now. Guess we need to institute OSHA
>he thinks there's such a thing as workplace safety in Lenore

Hey now I'm sure at least the guilds...try?
So, here's a question, what do y'all figuring you'd be doing in say the confed? For example I'd be a farm builder.
Leading a small group of semi-feral murderhobos in a quest fo loot and babes.

Fuck Ya.

[spoiler} but in all honest i would probably end up as some low laborer. Sucks being a college drop-out[/spoiler]
More or less just what the mayor character does. He's based directly off of me and I have the skills he's displayed in the story IRL. The main difference is that I can actually fight and have more variety of crop seed than he does on my shelves in the backroom (I dialed all this back to make him less mary-suish and because limited resources and strife make for better reading). Medical work, survival skills, leadership, and construction work, as well as a strong enthusiasm for craft-skill related hobbies and wartime military experience in Iraq. I've got a good bit of experience in all that.

Though unlike him, I'd probably die of a respiratory infection within the first year or two. I'm much more sickly than the character and would almost certainly die of an untreated illness rather quickly. I mention respiratory infections because I get one once a year (I'm dealing with one now, as a matter of fact) and every year if I don't go to a hospital and get a dozen meds I'll die. Among other illnesses I'm prone to get. If I went right now I'd die in a month. At the very least I'd be miserable without pain killers for my military injuries.

But provided I didn't die, I'd probably end up not too far from where he has. Though getting married is likely far too optimistic. That was for story purposes.
I'd probably either been some kind of scholar, engineer, or if all else fails, metalworker.
Hey beats being a fedora slave
I suppose. Though you must also take into consideration where i would be laboring. Like the Salt Town, or perhaps in the Mines. /y/kings and cave-ins oh joy.
Actually most of us would probably become farmers, because, you know, starvation sucks.

Though you can take some joy from the fact that the guy with the liberal arts degree will be right next to you. And so will the psychologist. And the guy with a degree in economics or business management.
like the Mayor my character was based off of me although he is a little more serious than I tend to be about things, but like I would likely do; I'd nearly die within the first week
but assuming I survive ive got a good number of useful tools, some knowledge of primitive workarounds for modern day tech and experience gardening and landscaping

so yeah I'd likely end up a farmer(Lucky began his time at Butterroot as a farm director)
Was looking for something to eat, found a table thing in the forest. On top was a cube with something etched onto it. Took it. Maybe someone will know what it is.
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I left that meeting with a smile on my face. I hated leaving myself exposed to betrayal like this, but I trust him, and its good to have an actual ally, someone she could rely on within the city again. But she always preffered to start out on a strong footing so it was time to show Manx why she was the most feared person in the city.

The order was given out over the whole city, every Inquisition asset tapped, from jackboot thug to plainscothed observers, all of them given the order to eliminate any Whizzard, Marine or Fedoran Loyalist within the city. If they were simply suspected of being a loyalist or were sufficiently unimportant then they would be cornered, a bag thrown over their head and they'd be dragged in for questioning. But for the others, for them we had multiple methods of dealing with them. Marines were followed on their patrol and ambushed, whizzards not squirreled away in their tower would be hauled into alleyways and executed and any other confirmed fedoran loyalist, be they administrator or slave handler, was confronted and arrested by my men.

While this happened I found the marines who had been ordered to find me. This was the reason for the time limit on the meeting, I needed to meet this new Lord of the whizzards tower, he seemed far to enthusiastic about his new position and I didnt want to test his limits. But while I did this my second in command would be pulling off the most important part of the operation, he'd be rescuing me. While I distracted Lord Diaper, my god really?, and kept his attention on me, he would be leading a large Inquisition to take the tower, entering through the recently discovered tunnels under the city, they would make their way up and clear it room by room as silently as possibly until they reached me.
The Inquisition wasn't an effective stand up fighting force, but they were good at their jobs and ambush tactics came almost naturally to them.
Because in the end: No One Expects the Lenoran Inquistion!
Mostly because we don't believe in them?

We found the city; it is a bustling hive of activity (no pun intended). We did a fly-over and sized it up. It’s a medium sized town and the Intel that we were presented with was mostly accurate, seems outdated though.

Lots of the buildings looked well repaired with different materials, and several of them had multiple stories. They were mostly clustered around the central road running through the place and a shored up builder tower a ways away. As we flew lower we noticed the smell of smoke and honey, as well as a loud buzzing sound emanating from the border of the forest.

After circling the town and finding a decent landing site near the builder tower we were greeted by a fellow named Bap who seemed to be in charge. The Capitan presented us as traders from the Exetek Multinational Corporation part of the Confederacy from within the greater /tg/ region.

Bap promptly laughed and asked what we wanted. Dropping the formalities we continued to explain that we were sent to find HoneyPot based off of rumors we heard from the other city states and that we were interested in setting up trade between Reservoir Town and HoneyPot. The Capitan had us bring out the medical data laptop with its charging setup and offer it as a gift, explaining that we were primarily interested in any honey-based products and reassuring Bap that we had more to trade with as well.
Our trip to the Apiary was relatively uneventful. We took the above ground route to allow our wolves some breathing room. They tend to get ornery when confined underground and I was familiar enough with the terrain from Cadia to Kog now that navigation was easy. We did encounter fresh remains of a Terran. Shredded Terran fibers, relatively unblemished bits of technology, canned goods and a few remaining PowerBars. The poor bastard was lying beside a long burnt out firepit with a bucket of crispy Lenoran Minnows inside. From the remains it’s safe to assume he tried to extend his rations by testing the local fauna. Unfortunately he made one of his first attempts on the single worst thing to eat on this planet. His body had burst open and the fresh “minnows” had eaten away most of his guts before scattering into the ground. It appears that the eighth wave is starting.

Our arrival at the Apiary marked Morvayn’s first time in another /tg/ city. She couldn’t stop comparing the Tower to everything. Things we had that they didn’t, and more often things they had that we hadn’t bothered producing. Their use of honey for mead and the Kog Green were among the few things she kept ranting about us not producing. When Jill finally found time for us among all the meetings that the Council demands of her Morvayn was two-fisting a bottle of mead and Green in each hand. Needless to say Jill was livid that I had been missing while the Confederacy had come under attack. She chewed me out for half an hour before I could even tell her of the truce and potential trade agreement I had begun to broker with Bubonicus and the remaining /b/ feudal states. She nearly turned as purple as I am and demanded we relocate the meeting to her personal chambers so she could yell at us further in private.
The nerve of that bastard! Riding confidently back into the Apiary the conquering hero. Securing a cease-fire with a northern enemy allowing the council to swing their attention further south and inward rather than standing always on guard to the north. Honestly he did everything I was hoping to do myself. Now, the Tower could claim a hand in securing the cease-fire, we could pursue trade ventures up north and expand our clothing empire, further uplift our seat among the larger cities of the Confederacy, and work to redirect the Councilors as I saw fit with the new confidence that our northern boarders were going to be secured. The /y/iking threat is a long term goal, and it is possible that the /b/astards may very well renege on their agreements, but for the time I could divert attention towards the Fedorans and allow the Tower to grow while the other cities all sent larger military forces to take the territories.

When we got back into my private chambers I made sure that the door was sealed before dropping the charade. I flashed the Expat a wicked grin before grabbing Morvayn’s hand and pulling her into my pile of stuffed animals and pillows. The girl was completely hammered at this point and several of the pillows were drenched in Green as she sloshed it around. I picked up one of my larger new Yowler plushies that had been stuffed with unprocessed silk for extra fluffiness before motioning for the Expat to take a seat so we could discuss how we planned to further expand the Tower’s sphere of influence among the Confederacy.
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The next day, Bernie taught me how to lead the auroch myself. All in all, it was another day in the dust and wind. In the late afternoon one of our red-armoured knights told us a group of a hundred people were heading toward us. We crossed them at dusk, they were refugees heading to the treeline camp. They looked exhausted, but determined. I also found a bone. Bernie told me to give it to the Bone Priest, as we were likely to stop by its final destination in a few days. I didn't asked where it was. Supper : butterroot soup.

I had an interesting chat with one of our steel-clad bodyguards. Next time Bap is organizing a voyage for me, I would rather be informed that I'll be travelling with the most famous and ruthless free company in the known world. Trough I had doubt about them already. It turns out they are the Khornate Knights brotherhood, so-called chosen of the blood God, twice veterans of the Cadian wars - albeit not on the same side the second time, and most renowned regiment of renown. Supper : honeyed meat.

We've been attacked today. I was riding Betty with Thibalt walking besides me - I don't know why he refused to ride with me - and all of a sudden I saw the knight in front of me taking a bullet in the left shoulder pauldron. He fell on the ground while the drilling horn sounded.

The raiders attacked from behind a rocky mount. They were wearing rag-tag armours and were wielding an assortment of rusty blades and pistols. They charged us shouting "FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG" at the top of their lungs. I jumped on the ground and took cover behind a cart and drew my pistol. It was useless, as our cavalry came from everywhere at once, aurochs riders with their rifles taking potshots while charging, knights with their lances and their shotguns sweeping trough their lines like scythe in a wheat field.

I went out of my cover only when the noise died down. A dozen of them were lying on the ground, dead. They sere wearing meme masks.
fucking figures.
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Thibalt was helping the wounded knight. His pauldron had been breached by the bullet, but it didn't penetrate far in the shoulder. Another knight took a stab in the leg, but nothing out of reach of our nurglite priest. I dusted the dirt off my jacket and I went to the Bonehoarders, who were already busy tending to the enemy corpses, putting their meagre possessions aside and dumping the corpses in one of their carts.

" - We will be at the shrine tomorrow. Needless to bury them, they'll be perfect under the watch of Khorne, said Bernie."

The raiders were poor, and their spoils were swiftly distributed amongst the fighters. Thibalt ended up with a crude handgun as a reward for his help, a lenoran-built one probably. Supper : potato mash.

The next day, the wind was calm and the landscape gradually changed : we were going out of the land of the Bones. Now we were walking on a dirt path in the middle of a vast red prairie. Towards the end of the day, we spotted the first settlement since the Treeline Camp.

The Warrior's Rest. I don't know who came with this one but that's a fitting name for lewd jokes. It's a very odd settlement, a mix of mongolian tents and rock solid buildings. Bernie says it's a very popular camp for the various nomadic tribes out there. We stopped there for the night.

After the supper, a red knight came to me and asked me to follow him. We walked for a bit. On top of a hill, someone had built a 5-metre statue of a warrior sitting on a throne, a giant axe resting on his knees. The blocks around him looked like an aborted attempt of a temple. The Bonehoarders were already here, along with a handful of red knights, gathered in an half-circle around the Bone Priest.

" - O Khorne, we are before you humble and servants. Lead us into battle as we roam the earth in your name. Give us strength as we bring back to you what has been taken from you. Guide our hand as we bring back the skulls to the skull throne."
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The crowd began to sing in a humming tone. I was standing far, with the red knight at my arm. I didn't get the lyrics at first, especially when the pan flute started to play one of the most sad music I've heard. The chorus was increasing the tone, but not by much. And then, as the Bone priest decapitated one of the corpse we brought from the ambush, I did get what they were singing :

" - Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne."

They were singing it over and over, a melancholic litany as their cleric was placing the new skulls at the base of the throne, and scattered the bones everywhere else around. After every bone had been returned under the watchful eye of the God, the crowd began to scatter. My red knight turned to me as we walked back to the camp.

" - So miss, what do you think of our God ?

- Different than what I imagined. But, what do YOU think about him ? You aren't even taking part in the cult.

- Khorne doesn't care whose blood flows as long as it does, milady. Besides you're right, I don't believe in Khorne.

- Isn't that surprising that a captain of an order named the Khornate Knight doesn't actually believes in Khorne ? Especially when said captain is nicknamed Khârn.

- Tell me, what do you know about our history ?

- You were part of the leegiun of /b/ during the first war on Cadia, then you became a mercenary troop and ultimately fought for the confederacy during the second, then you set off selling your lances to the biggest bid.

- It's rather accurate. But the Khornate Knights haven't been founded in /b/. Originally, we came from /tg/. Our Spiritual Liege led us here to forge ourselves a name, pretty much like how it happened for Bubonicus. He was really ambitious, and he wanted to carve a realm for himself, using our skills and the Khorne imagery to conquer lands and hearths. When he disappeared during the battle for Cadia, we choose Angron as a leader. I assumed command after the battle of the Hundred tribes."
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" - What do you feel when people like the Bonehoarders, or your own men are really believing in Him, then ?

- I can't blame them. Most of them even know it's a fake God from a stupid tabletop. But they don't care, they prefer forget and enjoy the comfort it bring them. Most of them need it to carry on their lives. It gives them a goal. I think we should thank the Spiritual Liege for that after all. He was right all along."
leave it to /b/ to troll even when stuck on an alien planet with no food
Dead on the first day. I have a foot injury that prevents me from running. Can't exactly limp away from a yowler.
I dunno, if I manage to survive probably a scout or something. I'm fit but get sick extremely easily.
Ah yes, the mighty Miss Fortune, here at last. Such delightful curves, so clean smelling. The king will certainly enjoy breaking this. The look in her eye, the way she holds herself. Clever. I opened my dialog by filling my diaper. The warmth is comforting and whatever thoughts of escape or violence would now be pushed aside as she tries to comprehend what has just happened. Normals are so easy to break. I had my marines posted on the either side of both exists, the external ones ordered to kill any who approach. We are not to be disturbed. The only other in the room was Herbert The Pig, and he was hiding under a blanket of filth keeping himself occupied while the people talked.

Talking will only be half of what I aim to accomplish tonight, however. I have a special crate upstairs to be shipped to Catan after this meeting is over. A crate soon to be filled. I have a special setup of leather masks and tubes to keep her fed and hydrated during the journey.

Now then..

“So, you are Miss Fortune then? Pleased to meet you, I am Lord Diaper the Brown.”
I extend my filthy hand. Will she touch it? Another thing to throw her off balance.

“No doubt you know why I'm here, I understand you have spies everywhere. Balance must be restored in this city. First you allow the leader to die, then the Whizzard and his cohorts. What shall you allow to happen with me I wonder?”

I squeeze down and increase my Aura of Power. Yes, feel it sticking to your skin, burning your eyes, saturating your tongue.

“Either way. We will clean up this city the easy way or King Fedora will march his armies here and do it the hard way. Again. You don't want to know Lord John's suggestion of how to handle the situation. So, as head of the Inquisition, what do you suggest then?”
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My eyes betrayed nothing as I gazed into this creatures eyes not sure whether to feel disgust or pity. What did he think, that this would shock her, throw her off her game? The smell was repugnant yes, but she'd been elbow deep inside a mans stomach before and pulled out his intestines bit by bit, a little shit was nothing after one her elaborate executions. So she simply extended her hand and grasped the creatures own in her black leather glove and gripped down with the sharp clawed finger tips, just enough to draw blood but not enough cause a serious wound. After a second of meeting his eyes calmly and nodding in 'respect', I withdrew my hand.

"Lord Diaper, an honour I suppose? I never expected the King to send you, I did expect Lord John to come personally, and I yes I can imagine the sort of answer he came up with. He's always been quite efficient and hes always struck me as the Kings most trusted advisor. Still your help will be appreciated in restoring order."

I shrugged as looked around the filthy room and regarded the pig, yet never leaving the creature fully out of my sight. It was detestable, I understood it was a fetish, but for fucks sake you had to live in this, did he not understand that we didn't have a medical system in the kingdom or did he not care if he died of infection?

"Still I suppose there is some irony in sending you to 'clean up' the city as it were. A little joke by the King perhaps?"

This was not how I wanted to be spending my time this evening but as we spoke the first teams should of been entering the Tower after having eliminated the guards under the cover of darkness.
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Silently they moved through the darkened hallways, some held light crossbows at the ready while others held long thin curved knives in bloody anticipation. The outside guard had been lax, they had all visibly relaxed when Ms.Fortune had entered the tower, likely thinking the only threat in the city itself was secured. Foolish of them and deserving of the wire garottes that strangled the life out of them.

The rooms were quickly cleared, none held more than a handfull of people and most held only a couple and those were dispatched either by crossbow fire or men in guard uniforms slipping knives into their backs.

We were moving steadily upwards, towards where we knew the Lord Inquisitor was being held by that monster. She could handle herself but it was offensive to all of them that she had to pretend civility with such a man when she stood so far above him. Normally he wasnt one prone to such anger, usually the one having to reel in his overenthusiastic boss, but even he had boiling point. She was their Lord Inquisitor, the purger of the traitors and impure, she protected them and persecuted those who would do harm in the name of the city. That she needed to kowtow to such a creature was just wrong.

And they would fix that by killing and burning everything that he had brought to this city. Just like this asshole, to busy pissing on some little creature to notice the knife coming across his throat. Not much longer now and hed have the Lord Diaper himself on wrong the end of his blade.

She pierced my skin. I should have seen this coming. Now I will need to disinfect it. No matter.

“A joke? No no no. You know the saying, it gets worse before it gets better? You could say I'm the worse.”

I give another push. I wonder if her eyes will water?

“In other words, a mess will be made.”

Now I pace the room a bit, leaving behind a trail, circling her, spreading my Aura of Power, a gesture here, a thrust there to accentuate my tone. A little drama never hurts.

“There will be changes to certain laws you will be expected to adapt of course, certain frivolities will be removed and new more Fedoran friendly ones added. Make use of the refugees if you must, their rights are suspended until further notice unless they have a writ of ranking or belong to a Catan house.”

Now, for something I know she cares for. Something she has always backed with passion.

“Lastly, the brothels must go. You have such a nice slave pit you could be using instead.”

A turn to face her several paces away, a benevolent smile and matching gesture.

“To facilitate this, my minions are planting my bombs as we speak to remove them. Don't worry, I'm sure the inhabitants will be warned if there's time.”

The smile turns wicked.

“Then again, I did say there was going to be a mess.”
“We can begin cleaning in the morning if you'd like."
probably a metal worker of somekind or atleast overseeing it (I'm pretty knowledgable abbout smithing and metal working in general but I lack the build) if not I would probably be a guard at cadia because even having basic military training (boot camp) gives you an edge over most people
(my eyes burn at the mistakes argh, here is a rewrite thats a little better....I need sleep)


My eyes betrayed nothing as I gazed into this creatures eyes not sure whether to feel disgust or pity. What did he think, that this would shock her, throw her off her game? The smell was repugnant yes, but she'd been elbow deep inside a mans stomach before and pulled out his intestines bit by bit, a little shit was nothing after one her elaborate executions. So I simply extended my hand and grasped the creatures own one of my black leather gloves and gripped down with the sharp clawed finger tips. Just enough to draw blood but not enough cause a serious wound. After a second of meeting his eyes calmly and nodding in 'respect', I withdrew my hand and withdrew a rag to clean it with.

"Lord Diaper, an honour I suppose? Honeslty I never expected the King to send you of all people, I can imagine what sort of answer Lord John came up with but then I did expect him to come personally. He's always been quite efficient and struck me as the Kings most trusted advisor. His absence is a little strange. Still your help will be appreciated in restoring order."

I shrugged as looked around the filthy room and regarded the pig, yet never leaving the creature fully out of my sight. It was detestable, I understood it was a fetish, but for fucks sake he had to live in this. Did he not understand that we didn't have a medical system in the kingdom or did he not care if he died of infection?

"Still I suppose there is some irony in sending you to 'clean up' the city as it were. A little joke by the King perhaps?"

This was not how I wanted to be spending my time this evening but as we spoke the first teams should of been entering the Tower after having eliminated the guards under the cover of darkness.

And that brings us to today. We've basically agreed that it's been two months since we all came here, that's what I'm using for my diary anyway so fuck it.

Day 62:
We sent Frank and three of his best out into the woods to search for the LARPer's camp. I've been put in charge of taking care of the prisoners. Well the guards were put in charge, but I lead the guards so I'm counting it, God dammit! We had them stripped of all their armor and weapons. We're not too sure what to do with them of course. We're figuring we'll try to smelt it down and turn it into axe heads. We're still not too sure how we're going to do it. All the guards are on duty. The ones not clearing out the remainder of the roof's rubble to make houses or cutting trees down to help make those houses have been put into a vigorous training regime. We can't be caught short sighted again.

Day 63:
Antonio died today, he couldn't survive the gun shot wound. We buried him next to the other guard who died. I still can't believe how quickly we're finding this normal. Hopefully my ground forces guys make it, I can't lose anymore. A few more newbies stumbled out of the woods. A hunter found them, not one of Frank's guys. We put 'em to work with the engineers and guards.

Day 64:
One of the newbies started muttering nonsense about giant birdmen today, an adverse reaction to something perhaps. The engineering medical team have him under close watch. Hopefully it isn't contagious. One of the enemy woke up today, we tried grilling him for information but all he did was splutter about leveling up. We'll try again tomorrow.
Day 65:
Today was a shitty day. Samantha's finally back up and walking but she can barely move around without risk of ripping her stitches. One of the other prisoners died today. We burnt that fucker, no funeral for him. Newbie seems to have recovered but now he's complaining about doing work. I swear to god, these newbies. No the issue is the prisoner who woke up yesterday woke up again today and attacked the guard standing watch. He killed the prisoner in self defense. Bashed his head in with his axe. That's normally good and dandy but the thing is we cant grill him for information and the fort stinks of blood and decay. To top it off one of Frank's guys came back with a couple of newbies. They act like a married couple and they're eccentric as hell, obsessed with dyes and the like. Apparently they found them tied up when they assaulted the camp of LARPers. One of the hunters had died and now Frank and the last guy were chasing down the stragglers from the camp. At least the hunter brought some more metal. Anything to stop Lisa and the newbies talking about some crazy idea of body paint. Christ, I'm going to go train the rest of the day off. Hitting stuff with my axe always makes me feel better.

Day 66:
The first house was finished today. And by house I mean box. The plan is to fill the outer rim of the fort with single room abodes, using the pre-built wall as one of the support walls. I don't know didn't ask. The houses are mainly made of stone with wooden supports and frames. I don't understand any of it but the first lot of us have a place to keep the rain off. That little box is now our new infirmary. The next lot should be finished in the next couple of weeks. Lisa reckons that we can fit maybe twenty of the things and keep the centre as a meeting area. Then expand outside the fort. I don't like the idea of expanding outside of the fort, the walls are the only thing that make me feel safe.
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My temper began to rise instantly at the sound of the brothels being under threat but I clamped down ruthlessly on the anger. I couldnt afford to lose it here and I trusted my men, any Fedoran soldier on the street was a dead man and anyone suspicious getting near the brothels was no better. And when it came down to it, what could I do from here to immediately stop them? No, I needed to be in control.

"The brothels? You are seriously planning to destroy them and possibly injur the women inside them? You do realize that they are the single largest concentration of women inside the city and that if they are killed or hurt you personally will be responsible for killing off a large percentage of Fedorans already small number of women capable of breeding, correct? I wonder what the king would think of that particular accomplishment..."

I honestly boggled at the mans plan, did he not realize how precious women were in their current state? Even if she hated the system it still needed enough women to breed a new generation of Fedoran warriors and if he was really as reckless as he suggested then he would be cutting that capability significantly down and that was not something Fedoran, John or the /d/m would take lightly to. He'd just be digging his own grave just to hurt her. As if his ridiculous displays weren't bad enough he had to be an idiot as well.

"I really do not see the objection to the brothels myself, the men are still allowed to fuck as much as they want, we simply ensure that they dont damage or kill the women, and I know the law prohibits it in the slave pits but Ive seen the reports, I know how many women just die down there. Its a waste in my eyes. Nevetheless the refugees will make a servicable work force to facilitating the change I am sure."
*Audio Begins*

-muffled scraping of what is believed to be furniture-
"So, you're The The confederates pet alien. Look at it Bertrim, such an ugly mother fucker isn't it?"
"Oh yeah, yeah it's fucking weird looking."
*incoherent clicks and whistling followed by a low tonal sound*

"Polly want a cracker? Well Gonna have to speak Enligsh then you filthy fucking Xeno."
"Yeah, speak up Polly."
*Several seconds more of clicking whistles*

-sound of someone hitting something.-

*Low gulping sound followed by a rasping hiss.*
-sound of body colliding with floor, and ropes snapping.-

"What the fu-"
*Sound like clicking and dragging of bodies along floor, followed by sobbing.*

Recording ends.
well fuck, guess we know not to try to do that ever.
Day 67:
Today was worse. Frank came back, but he was bloody and alone. Worse still that newbie's madness seems to be spreading around the camp. People go crazy for a day or so and can't work. Not to mention people are starting to complain of the flu. At least the roof's all cleared out. Now we just need to finish up with the houses. There are about 30 odd of us camping out here, with more coming every day, so I'm assuming that we're definitely going to be sharing housing. Not that it really matters, as long as I'm not on the ground in the open any more. Now the guards are just in charge of cutting down some trees and acting as the building force. Christ we're barely guards.

Day 68:
Well the triumvirate had a meeting, I swear I tried to say no to the idea, I swear. Well apparently due to the incident with us being caught off guard by the LARPers as we thought they were our's the eccentric newbies convinced Lisa who convinced Frank, the guy's fucking nuts, that we should adopt a body paint system. A body paint system and an expedition to be led by me. I tried to say no, but I couldn't, they'd put so much effort into it. If I said no they'd feel like shit. So yes, that's how I'm getting painted with black body paint, shirtless while I lead a retinue of 6 men along the river to find other survivors. The idea is simple, three coloured paints. Charcoal black for guards, leaf red for hunters, and flower violet for engineers. I think we just created a fucking caste system.

Day 69:
There were six of us. Three guards, two hunters, and an engineer. The first ever expedition away from the fort. We really needed a name for our place. Have I mentioned I hate this body paint, one of my guards was laughing about it. A black guy wearing black body paint, the shit's barely noticeable on me. At least the others didn't make the girls take off their bras for it. We look like barbarians, I should've stood up for none of this. We're just going to scare newbies. Fuck it, Westward ho!

Oh, such control, I am sad I won't be there to see her break. I let my smile grow as I lean forward a bit.

“Very true, all of it. But do you know what? We're on the cusp of a new wave. Any losses will be replenished with fresh flesh ready to be broken in. I've seen the sagging, haggard skin of the brothels.”

I circle around her again, staying out of arms reach but allowing her to bask in my Aura of Power.

“Anyways, men make Fedora strong, not the bleeding clowncar of a woman. Room must be made for our new friends, resources must be stockpiled, we need less faces to feed until then.”

Herbert is starting to make noise, he's enjoying this as much as I am.

“I believe the people of this city know all about that do they not?”

I allow myself to smile again. A benevolent, innocent smile with a fleck of filth.

“It doesn't matter anyways, what happens next is not something you have to worry your pretty little head about.”

I step move away towards Herbert The Pig, turning my back but for a moment, a slippery trail of filth in my wake.

“You've been promoted you see.”

I turn back to her expressing a humble look, as if I am honored to deliver this news.

“Oh yes. You're to be Queen of Catan! Congratulations!”

I then glance to the Marines in the room.

“Box her.”

I reach down and stroke Herberts hair. Such a loyal friend.

The Marines draw their weapons and advance.

we /d/ now
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He really was an idiot, no matter I knew it would come to this eventually. I wouldnt of let my Inqusitors loose otherwise. Knowing the charade was at an end I let my eyes finally betray me. The rage smouldered in my eyes even as my mouth quirked up into an angry smile and my voice slipped out with the sacharine sweet tone, the one I saved for when I was about to truely hurt someone, thick on my tongue.

"Oh my, a Queen? Me, really? Oh I feel so honoured. I don't know what to say."

I let the burning emotion fuel my movements as I spun on the spot, pulling the small russian pistol from its holster under my bra. They stared in shock in the firearm pointed at them and that was enough of a delay for me to put the first down with two bullets, the second charged me from the other side but was met with a bullet of his own to the gut. I rushed forward madly to ensure that the large door was locked and secured, even as I heard the hammering from the other side. A heavy iron bolt and a thick wooden bar slid in place and I knew Id have the time I needed for this. I let out an overly sweet giggle as I stood there hunched over the wooden bar.

"Hehehe.....oopsie! I seem to have locked us here inside."

I rose fromt he door and turned to face the creature. A cruel smile beneath my mask as I stalk forward, my eyes boring holes into the creatures head

"Well then 'Lord' Diaper, it seems we have some time alone together. You seem fond of repulsive and disgusting displays, so why don't I show you something really disgusting? Have you ever heard of the execution the ykings use for their worst criminals? The 'blood eagle'?"

A hand slipped from cloak, a curved blade twirling idly in my fingers as I stepped closer.

"I think I'll give you a private demonstration. Come here......It'll be fun."
The silent figures stalked through the halls leaving only dead men and trails of blood in their wake, they had almost reached the top now and it was simply a matter of time before the only ones left alive in the whole structure was them.

They halted for a second whent he sound of gunfire sounded down through the empty corridors and then followed by shouting and the sounds of flesh hammering on wood. A commotion soon followed, doors opened and people rushed out into the halls only to face a hail of crossbow bolts and dark cloaked individuals with flashing knives.

Some managed to fight back, if only for a couple seconds, before they were cut down and some even managed to strike one of the shadows down with his own sword but was soon overwhelmed by three others. And then, suddenly all was quiet again but for the shouting from above, and then the shadows were moving again, this time much faster and with a singular purpose, their leader was waiting.
Just like that my Marines were dead. What good were they then? I held my place. No need for fear now. There were other ways.

“Well, you had your chance for a cushy life. I fear I will have to explain this failure to the King. I will build that bridge later. As for now..”

I had my emergency gun in my hand. It would fire one round, the tip coated in my love. It was an experimental weapon. If it didn't kill, the infection would. I didn't fire yet.

“Herbert, deal with her.”

Herbert had a set of knives. He removed his bondage hooves and drew them. They didn't shine after what they've bathed in. I needed the moment distraction Herbert would cause. I didn't expect him to last long, devoted yes, trained killer no. Perhaps he could get lucky. I loosened my diaper. The backup to my backup. My Aura of Power grew.
So I'm working in the office and the manager comes in with a list. She's all excited. A new Mazda part came in. We have a whole room for this thing now. As near as I figure, we have 90% of a car. It's missing some of the smaller things like switches and inner panels and so on, but we got enough to make it work. Hell, the Science guild has the engine up in their main hall like a trophy. I took a look at this list she has. It has names. She's been logging who brought in what pieces. Normally we don't do that, everything goes on the slab. Most of the names are Rangers or Scouts. There's still several civilians. People who turned them in when they arrived. I recognized some of the names, most of them hang out at the Lusty Argonian Tavern. I asked the manager about these people. They were never questioned. I think it's damn suspicious. I think they know something about this damn Mazda mystery. We've been taking parts without a care in the world. Maybe it's time we do a little pressing for answers and put an end to this mystery.
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I'll be honest, I didn't expect the slave to do what he was told, Id expected him to be to broken to care or to hate his master. Instead he rushed me with knives, bad mistake, if you didn't know how to use them they weren't a particularly effective weapons, so after backing away from the mans crude swipes I hammered the but of my knife into his nose and the drove the blade into his right shoulder, making that arm practically useless and forcing him to drop that knife.

He came at me again, the blade cut across my front and nearly sliced my stomach open this time. I moved quicjly though and caught the arm before it could come back and twisted it so his arm was pinned and the knife was digging into his back. I peaked over his shoulder towards the creature and rose the gun in my free hand at him.

"Drop the weapon and I can atleast make your death quick and painless, but if you dont surrender now and you make this difficult then I'll make sure you dont stop screaming before your final breath. Hell even if you kill me my men will catch you and they will do worse, you've never seen the red stone in use before, it gives us such freedom for interrogation techniques, stop them from expiring for weeks. Hell if you call off your minions with their bombs I'll even let you leave the city alive."

I was careful to keep the Pig infront of me, the arm pinned against back and a leg ready take his out from under him if I needed, my own head peaked out from the side as my I kep the gun trained on the creature. Leave it to this asshole to make this difficult.
“It's too late to stop the bombs. They're already going off as we speak.”

I shifted to the left, I didn't want to shoot through poor Herbert. He's suffered enough today.

“We're not likely to hear them from this room. A shame.”

Perhaps I can make her slip on the mess I've left all over the floor. I move around to try and maneuver her into a trail.

“You wouldn't let me leave here alive anyways, I would only return with an army.”

I adjust the diaper again. I pray I don't have to use it.

“Then again, if I die, the army comes anyways. You resisted being boxed.”

I see it in her eyes. Death. I hope she sees the same in mine.

“The city will burn. Everyone..will burn. Burn with bombs of my making.”

I hear weapons fire outside the door.
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"Heh, saw through my ruse did you? Not as big of an idiot as I'd thought."

Which was true, I nearly lost my footing stepping through one of his, ick, 'trails' but caught myself, using the Pig to prop myself up. It meant the knife dug a little deeper, eliciting a squeal, but he was mostly fine.

"Youre wrong shithead, this city may be scorched but we will put those fires out and when that big self-righteous fat fucking faggot back in Catan tries to march his men through those gates they will find a whole city full of people they pissed off and they will die for nothing. But you wont see that shithead, you'll be long dead by then."

I watch his eyes and see the darkness in them and then flick towards the door as weapons fire barks from the other side. I take the opportunity to take proper aim and open fire, two shots resounding in the room. But the Pig bucks in my hold and one shot goes wild, the other still hitting its mark, taking the bastard in the knee. I force the knife in the Pigs hands deep, sticking him like his namesake and holding him in place. My gun trains on the shithead again and I breathe as I prepare to open fire again.

A distraction, damn it all! A gunshot. I didn't even feel the bullet, I just know my leg stopped working. I fell and landed on my ass. I felt glass break. I felt the shards stick into my ass. I wasn't ready. There was still a chance and now its gone. I looked up to her, partial surprise, partial revenge. I don't think she even realizes but she will. I say the last thing I will ever say.


Then the fire of my Methane bomb filled the room.
The group ended up in a shoot out with the last couple marines in the Tower theyd been hammering at the door but caught sight of theyre approach, opening fire immediately.
The Inquisitors fired back with crossbows, but the marines terran weapons gave them the edge, ending two of the Inquisitors as they reloaded.

Then the room behind them roared with an explosion and tongues of flame licked out from under the door as it was smashed against its hingers. This was enough of a distraction fro the Inquisitors to return fire properlly and kill the marines barring theyre way. The door was next to fall, though thick and made of hard wood, it had already been bashed in heavily by the marines and the explosion had only weakened it. Once it was out of the way the Inquisitors entered to find a room scorched black and covered in....shit and the remains of lord diaper.

A second body lay on the far side of the room, clade in melted leather and heavy burn marks it was obvious corpse. Underneath however was a second body, still alive. The Lord Inquisitor still lived, her cloak was mostly burnt away and her mask was broken in several parts and she seemed badly burnt in some places but she was still breathing, if weakly. So they rushed her from the tower back towards the HQ, the red stone might be primarilly used in torture, but it could also save their Lords life if they were quick.

As they hurried through the streets their injured charged moaned in protest, in the distance a pair of explosions roared out over the city, not all of the bombs had been stopped.
Day 70:
We followed the river; far better than walking through the woods, this way we knew the way back. This trip is definitely going to be interesting, hopefully we can find some newbies to recruit. Maybe some people who know more than us and have food and first aid. On the other hand I couldn't help but shake off the feeling that Lisa had some form of ulterior motive for sending us on this expedition. She was a power gamer, obsessed with RTSs and 40k. But I was sure she had the fort's best interests at heart so I was more than happy for her to take over. As long as I had people to fight and protect, I was doing my job. Today was uneventful as hell though just traveled along the river bank. Gonna finish up before turning in, Rick's got first watch. The kid's ended up being a pretty damn good guardsman.

Day 71:
Fuck me, I went to bed and was woken up by a yowler attack. We're not the same group of weaklings we were a month ago but we're definitely not battle hardened warriors of death. We actually killed it, up until this point we thought they were unkillable. Of course it hurt us, it scratched the ever loving shit out of one of the hunter's hands. We wrapped it up best we could and used the last of our vodka to sterilise the wound. We considered sending him back but he refused. Crazy arse hunters. The yowler also scratched the shit into my legs. None of us got out unscathed, most of it was just little scratches. The kind we were becoming all too used to. I really wish we still had that vodka. On the bright side we ran into a couple of newbies by the river. Although they looked more like hardass survivalists than the typical kind of newbies who run into camp. The shorter one still jumped when he saw our party in war paint though. Maybe it's not too bad after all. They don't know any more than us though, agreed to join our little settlement and will travel with us during the expedition. Seeing as they both have hunting rifles, that's not such a bad idea.
Journal Log 94

We had heard the call. It was time to retake Fort Dunmer. Most of us had recovered enough to move, but a battle was out of the question. I had the builder radio in that we had surrounded the area in traps. Something to keep an eye out for. We're going to pack up and head back to Fort Dunmer , but we were going to miss the battle. We were going to resupply and dump off some of the more serious wounded and debrief in person on whats been going on.

If there wasn't anyone of sufficient rank present, I may take control of the fort and begin a more organized operation out here with the larger force. We'll see.

The builder is miffed that we'll be missing the battle but he's still excited at the prospect of bragging about his trophy scars to his wing brothers that will be there. Fucking bird.

In the meantime, listening to the occasional uncoded Fedoran radio broadcasts, it sounds like there's trouble brewing in KittyCity. Perhaps enough that they can kick the Fedorans out. There's the chance that if left on its own, this city may develop into another cult or raider nation that we'd have to deal with eventually. It's best if we have someone present to keep them friendly. After the Dunmer incident, we'll see if we can't get someone to make more direct contact with whoever is running the place and throw out some feelers.
Day 72:
Another day of pretty much nothing, thought we saw some people across the river but they sprinted at first site of us. The wildlife seems less tame the further we move away from the fort. The engineer and a couple of the guards don't seem to be handling it the best. Had a chat with one of the survivalists while we walked, apparently they've been living off some edible plants. Knowing which plants we can eat would definitely be a bonus, maybe the start of an agricultural revolution.

Day 73:
We were attacked at dawn. A bunch of crazies, they ran at us naked with sticks and stones. Most of them were hambeasts who looked like they hadn't eaten anything and weren't doing enough exercise. Their skin hung off them in a disgusting way. The new guys wanted to run but I reassured them. The hunters picked off a couple with their bows before the guards charged. They outnumbered us but we were better armed. Axe met flesh as we charged them, the hunters joined the fray later knives flashing. The ones we didn't kill ran. Rick has taken to filling them in on the details about how we work in combat. Both hunters and guards have bows but guards rarely use them. Guards have axes, hunters have knives. It's surprising that we've already kind of gotten two different corps.

Day 74:
Found corpses today. Not sure what to call them as there not really newbies. Engineer thinks they've been dead a long time. I'm not exactly sure what to think at this point. We moved their bodies away from the river and stripped them of anything useful; I didn't feel anything. What have I become?
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Another Explosion rocked the city, sending a plume of fire and debris up into the air. The explosion could be seen from the barricades around the Eastern Gate, and if from there from everywhere else in the city.


The Fedorans, they couldn’t have. The Red Light District was home to the largest population of women in the entire city. Even they saw women as indispensible resources. For them todo as such, he must have missed something, he had to have missed something. They didn’t do this, they just di-


Finally awoken from his shock, the Commander looked to his Second, as if for the first time in years.
“Sir, Magnus, Huron, and The Martyred Ladies are asking for orders, the Hospitallers are asking for permission to enter the District, and the Tunnel Rats are asking about the racket? They need you sir.” Rhombus was putting on a good face, but the fear and shock was starting to show in his voice. For a moment, it was as if Rhombus was speaking another language, words just flowing but not making sense. The screams could be heard from here. How could he of let this happen. How could he-

A small pain in his right hand brought him back again, and upon inspection, the source of the pain revealed itself. A small silver cross on a tarnished chain. The same one he had found from the Palace, he must have pulled it out before…this.
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For what felt like a lifetime, he looked at this small token, and felt something else. Another feeling rising to the surface, one far too familiar. Rage.

“Rhom, tell those at the Walls to maintain their position. If the Fedorans try to flee, they will be met by our fire and steel. None of these Dogs leave this city alive.” The shock was gone, replaced by a righteous fury. “Tell the Tunnel Rats not to worry about us up here, keep those tunnels clean. As for the Hospitallers, tell them to get ready to move in 10. And get Churclan’s Catachan ready in 5.” Wrapping the silver chain around his left hand leaving the cross to hang, his hand went to his holstered .45 pulling it out will a experienced hand.

“Sir, you’re not serious about going in there, are you?” Even as the words came out of his mouth, Rhombus knew the answer. He could see it in his boss’s eye. He had seen that same fire when he had led the assault on the Governer’s Palace.

“I have no wish to stand here, listening to the cries of the wounded and dying. I will take the Hospitallers and the Catachans, and I will do my best to ease their suffering. He will mete out vengeance, for it is he that shall pay it out. However, if any Fedoran thinks himself foolish as to bring himself to our sight, he shall find that His wrath has been given mortal form.” Those words bore a finality that brokered no quarter.

“Right, then I guess I’ll get ready to move. Like hell I’m letting you go up there by yourself” at this Rhombus started talking to the Radioman, getting things set up. The Night was gonna be a long one.
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The first newbies have started popping up again and ofcourse the very first one pops in right over the pumpkin patch and falls back right back into one of the new crop.
This better not become a thing, its hard enough dealing with a traumatised newbie, we dont need to be fishing them out of a pumpkin the size of a washing machine. Some of the farmers are even laying bets how long it will be until the next unlucky sod falls smashes a pumpkin.

This is the perfect chance to get the newest Outriders some experience though and they are moving out in teams of three, two rookies paired with a veteran Outrider whose job is to teach them on the job. Most have been armed either with bows or the first of the new Mars Pattern carbines, mostly to deal with aggressive wild life but also eliminate the odd crazy or aggressive opportunist, history had shown that there were violent assholes in every wave.
So now we are sweeping the area around the Keep and Resevoir, taking a leaf from the Tower we have also been leaving markers and stashes at the base of larger trees, containing maps towards the Keep and Resevoir, lists of edible and dangerous flora and fauna and even stashes of corn and carrots in sealed jars.

A few have already been rounded up, looking dazed and confused as per the norm and many just grateful to have something to eat that wont make them regurgitate. The Scale Wolves are really earning their keep, able to sniff out the trail of newbies, we think because they dont yet smell like the rest of the jungle. Some people react badly though, I think its something to do with them being oversized reptilian death beasts, eh, bunch of pussies.
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The city was hurt, she had been struck deep in her brightest and most vibrant quarter. The ones in red had stopped most of the ill intentioned men, caught before their vile packages could be delivered.

But some hade made it to their destination, slipping past all the watchful eyes and rocked the city with explosions. Some of their victims had been warned and the dark rooms with their soft lights cleared. But some were not so lucky and throughout the city the screams of janes and johns could be heard amongst the fire and smoke.

The red robed ones stared in horror before dropping their knives and clubs and diving into the wreckages, the passersby, both free and slave, hesitated and stared as well but soon joined in amongst them and began to clear the rubble and searching for survivors with a dreadful fervor. Even when the men and women came in their strange uniforms no-one looked up from their work, where they may have fought on any other day, here they stood side by side, dark with soot and knee deep in rubble, and they dug, rushing to find anyone lucky enough to still be alive. When they were found they were rushed to the closest healer, be they red robed and masked or the women in the black cloaks with white crosses. Chains of men and women carried water from the wells and aqueducts to help put out the fire while others piled sand onto the blaze.

The city had been hurt and she bled and she burnt, but she would not die, because now to spite the blow that had been struck, she stood whole for the first time since it had been betrayed. The City would live.
man those feels
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Kitycity is gone, and I lost it.

Oh, King Fedoran did something stupid to cause it. But I'm the one that propped him up as a puppet. That in and of itself wasn't a bad thing. I could have killed the kid at any time. I like him, but he's a tool. He's there so just in case there's a revolution he's the first against the wall and not me. Then I could quietly replace him with someone else.

Except part of the damn treaty we signed puts the /d/m as second in command of the damn Empire if the King dies. I was ALWAYS against that. He's too smart. He can't be a puppet. And he's vile. The King is an evil asshole (isn't everybody?) but he's a simple one. As long as he can show everyone he's got the biggest dick around he's actually halfway competent at ruling and easy to lead around.

But the /d/m isn't like that. He's scary competent. Sure, he's a clever asshole, and if you know how to hit him, he'll crumble. But now he's way more protected than he used to be. His freaky cult uses his brainwashed bitches to lead men by the dick, and that is all too easy in the Fedoran Empire. Once he's in power, you'll never get him out. Not even if you kill him. He'll live on in that freaky cult.

The shame of it all is that Ms Fortune was a great agent. Excellent asset. In this world of halfwits and halfassed efforts she was something special. She could have become something big in the old world. She had the balls to do the hard thing without hesitation. If I could, I'd put her on the throne instead.

Except I can't. She knows I left her out in the cold. She's also too smart to leave someone like me alive. She's too smart to actually lead. I'd never control her.

But damn if this ship isn't sinking fast. The Gigants alone won't cut it. I'm gonna torture a few more cutebolds. See if I can find an edge. Any edge. Just something to keep us afloat a little longer.
oh no, those poor whores! what kind of monster would do this!?
...fuck. They have gigants is there anything else they might in theory find? Other Gigant types like down in /m/?
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It began with a splash, always does. The assault on the Hats was beginning. I watched as the Arvus dropped anchor along the near bank and the first of the troops began the volleys. The rear arvus armed with a specialized Launcher(really a scorpion with a sling instead of notches) Began sending motes down range. That was when the fireworks began. You see, its a well kept secret by Guilds of Kog that in fact Motes, like so many fucking OOPARTs are weapons. We figured it out by accident and weaponized them in emergencies. In this case sending little green rocks of death sailing through the air. I watched as one hit a Watch stander on the remains of a wall in the chest. A second later it went off, the thunderous roar of all that pent up energy venting out in what we guess is some sort of stable plasma cloud, it crackled and singed and by the time we could look there there was a smoking grease stain of a fedoran and the wall was so hot that in the rain it steamed.

This was the start of the Second Battle of Dunmer as the rains swept through the forests and the thunder roared from our weapons we dismounted, landing in waist deep water and began the real battle. Armed with sword and some with pistol we began our grim work. Sword in hand, I was wearing Builder refit armor, and from the forests the lights danced. The Elves pressed from the land and we from the water. I could hear Warsingers in the distance calling to each other, and watched as one flashed by me, a long axe of their work in hand as it made its way for the docks.
they never tell you what its like waging war on this fucking planet. They never tell you how in the distance Yowlers are calling you home, and you're screaming blood fucking murder as you charge some asshole wearing a hat as punch him in the face with a gauntlet made by alien murder birds.

A part of me cries as I watch a fellow Ranger, Clyde was his name. Good man, he bit it hard, impaled on one of those fucking rocket spears...there wasn't much left. He died with a smile on his face as he body tackled the asshole who did it though.

It just gets me angry, I watch as red cloaks fall and hats fly as we assault Dunmer, the Mote Bombardment dropping off as we begin to work our way into the fort like a Yowler working up your arm when you're dancing with it it. Eating through the armor and not giving a damn. The Cadians Joined the fight, they didn't want the Vangaurd on this mess, I can't blame them. We're Fighting alongside the Second Atlas company, heavy infantry and damn fine men and women. Skull faced helms they managed to get to the gates first and set the motes to blow. The Fedorans inside are getting their nerved jangled hard now, I can feel it.
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when did we become the fucking gungans?
We of course, did not expect the fucking giant robot on the other side of the gate. The motes went off like a charm burning the wood to what was effectively ash as we waited back safely. And then we heard the laughter. it echoed and from the clearing smoke and steam we saw it.

A fucking golden Gigant, black markings painted on as it walked out of the fort like it owned the place. Which, really given what we had, it sorta did. I shouted the order to fall back to the forest as it began the attack, One moment it was prancing around shouting and calling us cowards the next I watched as three of the Atlas guys were sent against the wall of Dunmer, their bodies smashed like a child's toys and the sound of their armor hitting stone filled the air along with Fedoran Cheers.

And all the while over the fucking Radio speakers that lined the forts walls we heard:
since we decided we could do them better than Lucas could?
we had our own giant robot. Problem was getting one of them to move. I had some of the Scouts, and elves back track to the boats. The warsingers were making a lot of noise as their men tried to get the attention of the Golden asshole. Puckle guns roared as we bought ourselves time. And then we heard it, the dull thunder as something came crashing through the treeline and water the smashing of stones as it moved with alien Grace. The Red comet was walking. With a sound like a car crash it came out of nowhere almost too fast to get what was going on, and kicked the Golden Gigant square in the chest the sound of the armor plate colliding with a giant mechanical foot echoing through the air as it did so.

We cheered at sound and redoubled the attack the two giants going at it as we made the push, our marksmen and builders laying down covering fire as we moved through the gate cutting down slavers and slaves alike. I watched the red comet get thrown through a wall, smashing people and stone alike in the process as the Golden bastard followed behind it try to do something like a suplex off the top of the wall only to be reversed on it.
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er pic related
"By the sacred laws set down by the Great Asgardians, whose knowledge of the mythic tales proved their right to rule above the casuals and fakers, we find you, Ben Doharty, guilty on the charge of the willfull destruction of an intact "Amzing Fantasy" comic featuring Spiderman and will be punished to the full extent of the sacred laws!"

"NO! You're wrong, that also is lying! It was just an Amazing Adventures comic! He just wants me dead so he can get at my Green Lantern collection!"

"SILENCE! You have been found guilty and shall be punished! To pay back for the loss of that you inflicted on your neibour half of your possesions shall be gifted to him while the other half is confiscated by the Aesir in tribute. And for the loss you have inflicted to us all through the destruction of a priceless artifact, you shall be given the 'silencing'!

"Lord Odin, I live to serve!"

"Rise Vidar, as god of vengeance and justice it is your duty to inflict the silencing on this worm, two holes with the use of the trepaning drill to the frontal lobe as is custom. If he dies it shall be proof of his sins and if he lives he will do so in a way befitting a criminal of his calibre. Such is the law of the Asgardians and the law of /co/!"

I could feel it all around me, It was like every fiber of my body was on fire. I needed to go FAST. the Red Comet, I was its new pilot, and fucking hell is it hard to ride this beast. I was at Kog when The scout, the one who mapped the fucking region almost single handedly hopped in. I saw what it did there. I had an idea of just what sort of machine spirit was inside.

I was so far off the mark, I could feel its rage. Anger coursing through me as I moved through the trees, the mote stone glowing bright and clear, I watched as the systems inside of it guided my movements correcting my footing and reading my intent. I was a princeps now, I knew how to control it. Oh who the fuck was I kidding? COME HERE YOU MOTHERFUCKER.

I danced now, I let the beast carry my motion along a wall that shattered beneath my feet and right into the chest of that golden bastard. Sent it flying ten feet skidding along the ground as I spotted the blades, a dual saber style, apparently Builder designed. They'd dragged the damn thing out for me, I could hear the warsongs now and I was mad. Mad at this machine, mad at the Fedorans for hurting my people and Mad at the WHOLE DAMN WORLD. FUCK YOU LENORE.
huh well guess to never go to /co/
you can hear it, even all the way inside the walls. Those two motherfuckers are going at it all out. I've seen at least two multi-hundreds of pounds pieces of masonry get hurled at either side at this point by those fucking things. I don't know why they were made, all I can hope is we manage to win.

We're making a push for the Heart of the fortress now, there's still bodies left out in the open from the last battle...some of them gnawed on by people. Sadly I've had to learn what human teeth marks look like. We're winning but Its not a total victory. We've secured the fortress because they're falling back...to the tunnels like we we had done in the past. Fuckers are learning our tricks...

We could hunt them down, we could chase the cowards and ride them down but we're secure here. Its a mop up and rebuilding now. The Builders are singing and from what we're hearing the Golden gigant it making a break for it. Though the Red comet managed to severely wound the pilot. From what we hear it was thrown from the wall and then had the fucking Comet drop down ontop of it with an 'elbow'
I have lost my low speaker, deep in the heart of the Enemy's lands. I, and those of the Other Allies I have liberated at moving towards the cold lands. We broke free of the prison where they held us. They broke one of my talons though they believed my second hands useless, a fatal mistake for I was able to scratch and tear at the ropes as they taunted me. I spat back curses at them and with a burst of strength broke my bonds and lashed out with my feet the spurs able to draw blood and surprise long enough for me to take advantage.

But now, we are weaponless and wandering. Now we must rejoin with the Others before it is too late. Many of the Allies are wounded, their songs weakening as we make our way. I cannot slow down though, this is too great a danger. In their handling of us they took us, the low roads and amongst the broken Nests of The People I saw signs of Daemons, the Last Sons children hide amongst the old place, Red stones blood and bone cast their foul light within those hellish depths. I must warn the others before it is too late, that we fight not mere Others but those that consort with dark magic and vile demons.
I sent the order to retreat. I knew that it didn't matter. That battle was lost before it had begun. With the fall of Kitycity the already weak morale of our army would be at a critical low. We could only lose men there. So they fell back. I'm dealing with something far more important.

It took taking a knife to three cutebolds before they told me about the secret. The one thing their ancestors locked away long ago, so long ago that it was just after their arrival on this world. Something so unspeakable that even those manipulative little rats wouldn't touch it.

I would.

The hazard suits we wore wouldn't last down here. The caverns were enormous, covered in glowing fungus. Nothing came back from here alive. No human or cutebold had returned from this place. Already the spores would have worked through my respirator. I was already dead, the suit just delayed it. There was no turning back. But when I came back I would no longer be human, and it would no longer matter.

I found the doors big enough to fit a battleship through. Fungus their ancestors had grown to reinforce their tunnels wove into the rock, sealing it more tightly than a layer of cement. I planted the bombs and the doors came down with a thunderous crash. The inner chamber was blacker than pitch.

My eyes adjusted after the explosion, and I entered. I could see them there, in row after row. Long steel claws, frames horribly twisted. As I came in they came to life.

A fusion of robot and fungus they glowed with the red lights of hell - and when I looked into their eyes I realized that they knew. They knew the truth - that life is a cancer, and all you can do is cause as much pain as you can until you go down swinging. Machines, yes. But I could feel it. We were kindred.
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Perhaps that was why they didn't attack as I walked among them. They knew they had finally found a master worthy of them. I walked into the vast chamber, like a bunker cum cathedral, and stepped up to the fungus infested Gigant. A glow from fungus-lights on the ceiling pulsed, and I could sense their meaning. Stay away. Danger. Its own red motestone burned crimson.

I opened it. The ancient skeleton of a cutebold fell out, bones overgrown with fungus that even now twisted through them. From now on, there would be only agony. But it didn't matter. Mankind is a disease - and I am the cure.

I stepped inside and felt it seal around me. I took a deep breath as the fungus drilled through my useless hazard suit like paper, lanced through my arms, ripped into my bones. I felt it put out my eyes, and I screamed.

It couldn't have gone on for longer than a few minutes, but it felt like eternity. And it never stopped hurting - my body would never stop rotting and never die. But that was fine. I didn't need eyes any longer, and I'm tougher than one of those tiny lizards.

I could see through the eyes of a hundred and fourty four Fomori - burning with the cold mechanical desire to kill. Yes. They were my kind.

The American army, Taliban, even the Fedorans didn't get it. But the fomori do. We sing with one soul.

Things will change. The world will drown in a sea of blood. Mine is the hand that will bring it.

Lord John is dead. Captain Morrisson is dead. Captain Maj'nuun is dead.

All that remains is the Decaying King.
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"The battle is lost. Kitycity has fallen, and John disappeared days ago. I don't know where he went. I don't have my precious pony waifus. "

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"I - wait. What's that commotion outside? Guards? There's screams - good god, what is that? It sounds like someone gutted a tractor! Bar the doors! It's got to be some Confederate attack!"


"Holy hell! Those claws are ripping right through the door! What the hell - oh no! No! It's coming down! Guards, guns! Guns! "

*Sounds of gunfire, screaming*

"What the fuck are you? Fuck! Fuck fuck! Agh! Agh my arm! My arm! You ripped off my arm! Oh god, oh Jesus, don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

*Loud Footsteps*

"Hey kid."

"J-john? How did you get that gigant? Oh fuck, help me! They're going to kill me! They took my arm off! It hurts! Oh god it hurts!"

"Funny kid. I didn't think you'd be the type to call out the name of god when you died."

"D-died? J-j-john, help me! You're one of the good guys! You're my friend!"

"Ha. No kid. Not good. Never good. After all, I'm only human."

*Screams, sounds of blades cutting through flesh*

"The Fedoran Empire is dead. Long live the Decaying Empire."

*Transmission cuts off*
Let the rot flow forth on silver claws clad in blood.
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This...the last transmission we intercepted from Fedora's capital indicates a coup. Normally this would be something to applaud however we've had our best radiomen running the audio over and over again comparing it to known instances of Ethereal tech.

This is the bad news ladies and gentlemen. We have heard the noises in the bakcground. The Karskin Expedition through the Tunnels north of Bastion...The formori, they generate a similar 'electronic scream' on recording devices as was heard on the radio. This is that...Red Tech. An unknown number, enough to capsize Catan's command structure is now on the loose down south. We're no longer fighting a war against other Humans.

This...Any newbies we find South are to be Evacuated immediately. Fort Dunmer is receiving full Build team support to be refitted and augmented to serve as the Forward Ops for a full military expedition. I ask each of you provide troops for what is to come. For whatever is down there...it has to be stopped. This Empire of Rot must be put to rest, to this end I ask we send an Envoy to the Nurglites for men as well as one to the /y/ikings to at least ask for a truce. This is not a trifling matter we now deal with, Those who have had severe dreams are reporting nightmarish 'builder dreams' and even the Honorable Negotiator is saying he's become troubled in his sleep.

We are also asking for the XCOM intiative to release all files they have on the Formori for potential weakensses and will be offering upon capture an enemy gigant for study. This also brings up another point we have found a wrecked gigant in one of the mountain fortresses, it is inoperable, and has been Codenamed Archetype and has been forwarded to them.
Cube is unhappy. She sees something terrible coming. Left my shelter and kept walking until Cube felt better.
Haven't seen roads for days. Cube tells me this is a good thing. Hopefully whatever is happening will end soon.
We awoke from a dream one night recently. Walking the halls of the dead, a buried place of the Last War between the Gods that we now seek to appease.

And now this, I have turned from the Long War as the snows fall upon us. My people are willing to bide their time and trade has begun with the western and Nurgling hordes. A people starved cannot fight, and a people that fight must not starve. We struggle with this....new form. Alien and Human conciousness working in unison while moving the puppet that is the old body. But the nightmares, they force me to begin moving towards the next phase soon. The World Sword must be called upon. The Word of the Giant send across the land. For now my 'mages' train in secret honing their bodies before the Stones of Red to master the energies and guide them. How much easier this would be with Lances but they must have an Iron Will for now to master the powers.
I pause in my duties as the judge of men. For years now I've played moderator to a chaotic land. The voice that has followed me all this time has fallen quiet. I should be relieved, no longer having to fight it. But I'm not.

I can sense why it doesn't speak.

It's fear.
Alright, so two of the dudes who are basically infected with Alien godtech are scared. AM I THE ONLY ONE WORRIED NOW?
well, the New sun may or may not have mind raped its way into being alien godtech...
The fucking bird left us. We went to sleep one night, and it wouldn't shut up and kept flashing fucking red for whatever reason. And now, its fucking gone left in the night on its own and took one of the swords and some rations with it.

What the fuck. I thought they were on our side and it went off on its own? We've barely got a trail from it and its been heading Steadily north now for the past week. I'm not even sure where the fuck its going to be honest.

Fucking Birdmen knew we shouldn't have sided with the xenos.
Not exactly HFY material, but here goes.


A soft click pierces the silence as one of the two Arbiters places a translator onto the "table" inside of private room designed for questioning.

"Begin test for auditory translation hardware. Can you both understand me?"

Two other voices begin speaking, though unintelligible at first. They begin to coallesce into a steady stream of bad grammar to perfect speech as the two continue talking until one of the Arbiters commands them to cease.

"Seeing as the translator is working, let me begin. As per our legislative laws, before we consider your application to living quarters on this station you must first identify yourselves, your species, and the planet that was the original home of your species" spoke an Arbiter with a bored and hurried voice.

The human leans forward in his seat and speaks authoritatively. "My name is Alex Johan, I am a human, I hail from the planet Earth in the Sol system."

"And you are?" asked the other Arbiter as it pointed to the tripedal chitinous creature.

"Th'lakis, I am a Sharn, I come from..." it trailed off as it confided with Alex. "What do you guys call our star system again?"

"Alpha Centauri...jesus, are you fucking dense?" Alex said in a low whisper.

With more confidence than before, Th'lakis corrected her statement, "I come from what my people call Sharnari in the Alpha Centauri system." Contradictory to her commanding squeaks and clicks, her "bean-stalk", as Alex called it, reverberated an embarassed slightly black color. The Arbiters didn't seem to pick up on such a clue, but Alex knew her far too well. She was hiding the fact that she forgot.

The two Arbiters sat back in highly strange seats. Alex and Th'lakis considered that by some measurement, the seats they themselves sat in were constructed just for both of their species, as if they were tailored simply for them before they even entered the room. Alex thought of this as a reassuring gesture, though Th'lakis was annoyed by this as no immediate measurements of her carapace or Alexs' were made even though she knew her species was on file.

Still relaxed, or what seemed to be by their body structure, the rightmost Arbiter began. "Alright, now that we've gotten the basic information we require from you, we must ask the circumstances of your arrival and the nature of your request. Under law, we also must advise you that you have the right to separate interrogation chambers should you so desire."

Th'lakis, without hesitation or consideration for Alexs' opinion strongfully clicked "No. We're fine right here." Alex seemed humored by the gesture.

The leftmost Arbiter gave what the two could only guess as a sigh before muttering "That'll make this long ordeal." Ignoring his counterpart, the other Arbiter continued; "So how did you two come to this station, for our record-keeping?"

"Some dude rescued us from a planet that they called Rax. I can't tell ya how far away it is, or what star system it's in." Replied Alex.

"I wouldn't really call it 'rescuing' to be fair. They just picked us up after we finished our distress beacon." Squeaked Th'lakis.

"It's called a 'distress beacon' for gods sake! Neither of us wanted to be stuck there for the rest of our lives, we were fuckin' *rescued*."

Clearly annoyed, judging by the greenish hue her stalk had changed to, Th'lakis clicked "Here we go, another argument about semantics from the oh-so-wise idiot who-"

"Please desist from further banter and tell us how you came to be 'trapped' on Rax." said the right Arbiter, clearly calm and disinterested.


Alex and Th'lakis glanced at each other before the human stated "Well, we kind of 'escaped' from our detention cells on a Dothen ship, found an escape pod, and jettisoned ourselves before the ship we were on was cut in half..."

"I still can't believe we survived all of that shit." remarked Th'lakis. "Some Dothen assholes capture me and him, both on different planets, and try to sell us into slavery above Rax, and then we were attacked by...whoever the fuck they were. The power cut out, the magnetic seals on our cages broke, and we escaped."

Alex gave a short laugh, "Yeah, after we ejected, apparently the captain of the Dothen ship pilotted the ship halfway through the atmosphere before the aggressing ship cut the damn thing in half with some kind of beam cannon."

"Luckily for us, one half survived the plummet to the ground."

Seemingly more involved with the discussion, the left Arbiter asked "And you have no knowledge of who attacked the Dothen ship?"

"Nope." both replied instantly and plaintively.

"So how long were you two on Rax, and how did you survive?"

"Seven years." replied Alex.

Th'lakis' stalk again turned a slight irritated green and corrected Alex. "They don't use Earth years." She raised up one of her scythe-like claws and continued, "We were on Rax for about one tenth of a standard year."


"Like I fuckin' know what a standard year is...in any case, after we landed, we damn near killed each other. I mean look at her, she's friggin 8 feet tall, stands on three legs, and she's got claws that could slice clean through a steak, no offence Lacky."

Alex had taken to calling Th'lakis "Lacky" as shorthand. She seemed fairly at ease with such a butchering of her name, given that her race detested such mannerisms. The Arbiters, being privy to this particular social faux pas, expected an execution. What they got was a deep purple from Th'lakis, indicating contentment and trust. "I had heard rumors about humans; incredible strength, superior reflexes, being a barbarian species, and the inability to sense pain, so of course I feared him as much as he did me. But against the odds of certain death, we kind of "mimed" our way through most of the early days until we got to the wreckage of the ship."

"I'm sorry, 'mimed'?"

"A human expression." replied Alex out of turn. "It basically means making motions and gestures with your appendages and body to kind of communicate."

"If you can call it communicating." said Th'lakis, now emanating a bright orange which denoted amusement. Nothing was amusing to the both of them during those days, but looking back on them was simply funny. "It was more like incredibly primative motions to objects and things we needed or wanted-"

"-or hunted"

"Yeah, that too. But as we made our way to the wreckage of the ship, we started to learn basic commands verbally and could *actually* communicate."


Both Arbiters, sitting more upright, were visually intrigued by the story that they were hearing. The Sharn were a uniquely xenophobic race and detested other species, and they knew absolutely nothing about the humans, or Earth. It was a rare thing for a Sharn to communicate to the communal races of the galaxy, but for an unknown race such as humans? Both Arbiters thought of it as blasphemy. "So...you two simply learned each others languages as you went along. Is that correct?"

"Pretty much." exclaimed both Alex and Th'lakis, again in unison.

"It's pretty hard to distinguish the different types of clicks and squeaks that Lacky makes.

"Just as hard is it for me to decipher the retarded vowels and consonants all strung together...and don't even get me started on human grammar."

"Yeah, took her ages to figure out why 'their, they're and there' meant completely different things and stuff like that."

Again, in complete unison, as if bound by telepathy, both stated "It fucking sucked."

A short silence fell between the four. As the Arbiters simply looked bemused and confounded, Alex gave them an opportunity for reprieve.

"Hey, don't mean to be an ass to ya'll, but do you guys got bathrooms? I gotta go somethin' fierce."

Before the rightmost Arbiter could even open his mouth to ask 'What is a bathroom?' Th'lakis clarified for them. "He means a bio-waste disposal area. To be fair, you guys kept us waiting for quite a while."

"Ahh, yes. If you exit the door behind you, go right all the way down the hall and it will be the last door on your left."

Without a word, Alex jumped up from his seat, turned around and opened the door, eager to alleviate his hurting bladder. Unaware of this fact, Th'lakis inquired "Is it a number one or two?"

Without answering, he headed out the door towards the 'bio-waste disposal area' as she clicked incredibly loudly so as he could hear her "DON'T STICK 'IT' INSIDE IF YOU GOTTA PISS!"


Anticipating the Arbiters' questions of the meaning of 'piss' and 'number one or number two', she explained human excrement and the mechanics of such things.

"With your bathrooms, it won't take him long to figure things out."

Fifteen minutes pass, and she had successfully elaborated on the human male genetalia and waste orafices and the practices thereto in "grooming" as Th'lakis called it. Just as that conversation has concluded, she began to wonder 'What the hell is he doing?'

Another brief moment passes, and Alex opens the door, eyes abeam with a smile that went from ear to ear. Startled by this, Th'lakis asks "And just what were you doing in there? Giving birth?"

"No. No, no, no. I was just..." he paused as his smile paradoxically grew wider. "I was simply exploring the...intricacies of your restrooms. Quite gracious and fulfilling they are."

Simply by the tone of Alexs' voice, she knew exactly what had happened. "Please tell me you didn't." she pleaded.

"Awwww yeah I did. And screw you for telling me not to!" Alex boasted with great gusto.

Completely confused, both Arbiters tried to make sense of the situation. "What did you do? Did you destroy our waste facilities?!"

With a great bellowing laughter that took everyone by surprise, Alex replied "No, absolutely not, I just found them enjoyable!"

"You stuck it in and fucked the anal evacuation tube didn't you?"

"Oh you know me all too well." said he. "Hey boss, those things are sterilized after every use right?"

Even more confounded by the outbursts from both parties, the leftmost Arbiter stated quite shakenly "Erm, yes, after every use, why do you ask?"

Especially proud of himself, to no great surprise or relief to Th'lakis, Alex replies, "Excellent."

This is just a draft. I'm wondering if I should continue with this or if I should go on. Any advice would be great.
I am very lost. is this in space?
Yes, in a space station far from Sol.

Like I said, a rough draft. I may or may not continue, seeing as I've written this in a drunken stupor. But shall I, or shant I?


Th'lakis' stalk, sparking a deep, burning red, she curtly cuts the conversation short. "If you don't mind, we've answered all your questions, and we're a bit tired. I believe we've done our best to enlighten you to our situation."

Composing themselves, both Arbiters can sense the frustration of the Sharn. "Well, yes, I think we have everything we need." The right Arbiter said hurriedly. You'll be stationed in quarters H82J6. Enjoy your stay."

>Fuck! I completely forgot to post the last of it...
Yes, though I'm most perplexed we're trying to figure out how this connects to the rest of the stories going on.
I don't know what to say. I thought this was a humanity fuck yeah kind of thread, but my retarded ass just posted it regardless.

I'll quietly delete these posts in 5 minutes when I've wiped the shame off of me.
you're welcome to keep them, and in a sense it is and isn't we're all just very confused, nothing shameful.
True, but I think it'll destroy the theme of the thread. I'll just delete them and simply work on them some more. Hell, it'll give me time to get some better things introduced unless it's wanted here.
The writing is good. Made me laugh at several points. Are they joining people on the planet Lenore at some point?

Don't have to go that far! it's good stuff! maybe come chat with us in the IRC?
we can bring you up to speed on what's happening.

mibbit.com is a good webclient

Er...sure I guess. I don't use IRC all that much at all to be honest, but I'll join in if you don't mind a drunken retard.
Thread's 404'ing so no worries. But please come on in and chat with us.
one of the main content generators for this...thing is more often than not drunk,
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Are orders are in, and the stage is set. My men are ready and the bait is made.

We have been waiting for this for a long time, and thanks to our ‘Friends’ the Confederacy have the means of going forward with this plan.

We thank them for the oil, that which repels and attracts the creatures of this world. Such an odd thing, you would think the /d/m would have discovered this already. Hilarious really, considering the Sisters of the Old Flame where able to find the source of this ‘oil’ almost on his doorstep. Simply Fantastic. The actually refinement had taken much trail and error, and we lost a few unfortunate souls before we realized the effects.

But when we did, oh boy did we think, and think, and think some more! And with are allies the Paladins of St. Cuthbert are mission is set.

Oh, do you hear that? Those howls? My men have been busy, and soon the beasts will be coming, and we priest will be their Pipers.

I don’t expect to live after this. None of us Priest do. To ensure that our charges do what needs doing.

And are mission isn’t to succeed, its to buy time, for the Righteous Warriors of the Saint. And we wil give them time indeed.

Will you notice us now /d/m? Will you finally see us, and give us the attentions we so richly deserve? For I don’t hate you /d/m, know what I do now is my greatest show of love. My means of showing how much a respect you for changing the Priest into what they are now. Thank You /d/m.

Now the Dance begins in earnest.
Judas Priest?

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