The Ringing of a Forge of Stars [Warhammer 40k/ Celestial forge V3||OC...ish]

Slider Zero · Apr 14, 2021

This is Sterlyn's fault.

Lets just go ahead and make that clear right now. He was the primary driver behind the idea that eventually wormed its way into my head, and is even now acting as a damned cheerleader to "encourage" me to continue writing this madness train that I have embarked upon. So if you have issue with the general Idea, blame Sterlyn.

The same can be said for general errors, as Sterlyn ALSO beat-read this for me.

In all seriousness, though, the idea bit me and wouldn't leave, so here it is. It's a labor of love and frustration on my part, but I think it's viewable by the general public now.

Special thanks to Spiritual_Liege and AMoment4Cthulhu over on the Celestial Forge Discord for the extra fiddly lore details that I likely would not have ever figured out on my own.

This story is also crossposted on FFN. a link will be provided once those idiots catch up.

Comments fuel me, please tell me how i'm doing so that I may improve as an author...or at least so I can avoid the most obvious pitfalls...

With all that said, Please enjoy the show!

===
There is a universe, vastly different from our own, for all that it is shockingly similar. Within said universe, there are galaxies torn apart by strife, teetering on the brink of collapse into outright anarchy.

These galaxies are the lucky ones, for they have yet to meet the true horrors of this universe.

And yet, as it always does, Life Finds A Way. Creatures both vast and tiny have managed to eke out an existence amongst these lonely—perhaps even cursed—stars.

For some, it is a simple life, to live, feed, breed, and ultimately die, only to repeat the cycle again. For others, those who would be called "higher" lifeforms by those who would judge such things, there may be variations, little detours along the same path that is the cycle of life.

And then there's this shit over here…

This particular galaxy has...Issues. Some would go so far as to say it actually has Subscriptions, but those beings are (supposedly) above such petty and banal dialogue masking itself as humor.

This place, devoid of all but the very concept of hope, is effectively doomed, largely by the actions of its own inhabitants over the millennia, but mostly by the idiots that would see themselves as almighty, rulers over all...until they got ganked by their own creations and used as fuel for the ambitions of even smaller and pettier beings. That this would continue unabated until all was dust was blatantly apparent to even a casual observer with access to the full picture.

So imagine, then, the surprise of those same observers when a monkey wrench suddenly appeared in the gears of that elaborate construct of pain and despair with absolutely no reasoning, fanfare, or even notice.

And imagine further still the reaction to what happened afterwards…

I awoke to the sight of a darkened sky, filled with an endless expanse of stars the likes of which I had never before seen in my life. Sounds of industry and commerce rang out all around me as individuals moved about on their daily routines and tasks, seemingly completely oblivious to my presence.
Considering that I was currently prone in the middle of what looked to be a major thoroughfare, that was rather concerning…

Taking a moment to gather myself, I quickly stood from the hard surface of the…wait a minute…
How the hell did I end up outside? Fully dressed no less?
And what the hell is that SMELL?

Fortunately, my stomach is made of sterner stuff, and the downright rank odors coming from somewhere only irritated me as opposed to outright incapacitating me. That breeze blowing in kinda helped too, but it also added another odor to the mix while it was at it. Ugh.

Stop focusing on the smell. Figure out where you are.

Moving quickly out of the intersection of...foot paths? and into a small alcove, I took a moment to observe my surroundings. I was apparently in some kind of plaza or large alleyway, that from the looks of it was used as a type of bazaar, judging by the fact that there were no actual streets, only foot paths and shadowy alleyways that hinted at danger. Stalls of wares and other curios surrounded me, although it seemed that for whatever kind of market setup this was, it was a slow day, as upon further review there was not much in the way of foot traffic. The people around me were moving with a particular type of shuffle that immediately raised warning flags in my head from my time on the streets. Their clothing was mostly drab, utilitarian-type gear that looked to be chosen more for durability than comfort, if there was even anything resembling choice at all; there was more than one person walking around in what looked to be no better than rags. Soft lighting abounded in the area, casting flickering shadows as things passed by.

Looked like some kind of oddball fluorescent setup...but I've never seen a light like that before-

I jumped slightly as something brushed against my leg.
Glancing down, I beheld what looked like some kind of...cat? Certainly not a type I've ever seen in my life before. And didn't look like it had any kind of collar on it either.
Pushing the cat out of mind, I continued focusing on the area around me, further catching glimpses of a pair of what looked like some kind of maybe-maybe not police force loitering at the corners of the plaza proper, seemingly casual and relaxed, but with an alertness that I knew and understood all too well. Uniforms didn't seem like too much, mostly monotone utilities and what looked like a sidearm on belt holsters. It also looked like they might have had some kind of bludgeoning implement available as well, but I was making a point of not looking too closely at them lest I attract attention to myself.

Further glances about me to the surrounding architecture showed that the area was…old. Not just old as in "it's been there maybe fifty, sixty years, but nearly ancient, as in this place, whatever it was, had been here for millennia and would stay here for millennia more.

You do not GET that kind of old in the 'States. EVER.

Which meant that I was either somehow overseas without any prior knowledge, in a span of time that would frighten even the calmest of minds with the sheer implication…

Or, to put a fine point on it, I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or possibly even Earth, for that matter.

Crap.

And now that the implications of THAT particular nugget of information had suitably woken my ass up, I REALLY started paying attention, knowing full well that my very life could depend upon it. I started glancing around for anything, anything at ALL that might give me a clue as to what might have happened, while also doing a quick and (hopefully) unnoticed check of my own person for anything usable.

Which is when I noticed some rather important details that I really should have seen earlier, but I'm an idiot and was half asleep, so yah.

Detail the first: I was decked out in a pair of actually really good, if plain, utility pants of a clearly military bent, complete with the multitude of pockets that soldiers the world over have come to rely on. More to the point, the pocket config was that of a pair of Airman Battle Uniform pants, as I saw the lower thigh pockets down below as well. Color wasn't anything to write home about, but not many people will complain about dark green, as opposed to army olive drab…
Upper body was in a similar shape, with a kind of long-sleeved shirt, black in color, that felt both durable and flexible where needed, with some small bits of reinforcing around the elbows. Ending my impromptu getup was a vest of some type, in the same color as the pants, complete with the requisite multitude of pockets on the front...(okay, there were only two plus the standard waist pockets,, but STILL) and what felt like a LOT more hidden inside.

The second detail was what caught my attention, as I pulled out what looked like pieces of plastic adorned with a symbol that I recognized all too well.

A golden, double-headed eagle.

Better known in certain circles as the Imperial Aquila.

Please, please God no. Come on, let this just be like some kind of alternate Rome or something. Please, for the love of God, do NOT be what I think this is...

A small snatch of conversation caught my attention as what looked like a couple walked nearby.

"--but they managed to get in and gut the bastards, they did. No losses, either, so big party for me an' the boys tonight. Sure enough that was a right bitch, clearin' out them damned culties. Bless the Emperor for heavy melta, amirite?"

And there they were. The dreaded words, which combined with now obvious portions of the architecture, confirmed the worst nightmare of anyone who had ever had the misfortune to end up on an Isekai.

I was in Warhammer 40,000.

FUCK.

Alright, now is not the time to panic. (I can do that later.) Right now I need to get my head in the game and figure out a plan of action. Anything else WILL get my black ass killed in short order.

So, think!! THINK DAMMIT!!

What do I know?

I'm in the original grim dark hellhole, one that Worm desperately WISHES that it was. There are multiple bad ends waiting around potentially every corner of the galaxy, and there are also four beings of incredible power going all out to kick the ass of the fifth, which is the last real hope for mankind…
In theory, anyway. If I was in the "early" timeline.
If I ended up at or near the End Times, then that was about to go kaput and have shit hitting the fan EVERYWHERE. Meaning I need a time hack. Hell, a DATE hack...and to know what freaking planet I was on, no less. Best chance is to ask a question, but will it cause people to become suspicious? Warp-fuckery is a known factor here….

...Hold on a second.

I woke up to seeing stars everywhere.
How did that happen when I'm in an enclosed space?

Because yes, I somehow managed to miss even THAT detail too. Real good observation skills there, Green. What next, you gonna forget about basic communication skills too?

…

I just taunted Murphy, didn't I?
Well, screw it. OWN the madness that is coming.
In any case, I need to calm the fuck down and get my bearings set before that karmic retribution I'm due comes forth. Because I know for a fact that it will.

So, enclosed space that looks like it's an impromptu habitation setup. There could be a great deal of these in any of a number of locations throughout the Imperium...but my inner nerd tells me that the most likely location for me to have ended up is a hive city. Now just to figure out which one…

I locate the closest individual who doesn't look like they're trying to scare off everyone around them by sheer force of will, and casually and non-threateningly walk towards them, giving a slight nod when the person, an older balding man with a slight limp, acknowledges my presence.

"You mind answering me a few quick questions? Trying to get my bearings here."

The man gives me a very odd look, and responds in some kind of gibberish that might have been english at one point or another. I caught maybe half a word, at best.

Oh CRAP.

The Imperium's official language is High Gothic, which I'd surmised to have been based off of latin. The actually used language by the people, though, was Low Gothic, which if I remember it right was a hodgepodge mix of various local dialects and cants mixed and blended together until nothing looked the same ever again.
Both of which are A.) very much not english and B.) NOT a language that I know. At all. And this of course most certainly did NOT just paint me as an outsider, someone to not be trusted, and potentially get the "official" authorities involved in.
Not. At. All. No Siree.

Oddly enough, the old guy somehow figured out what the holdup was, and managed to get my attention. He started speaking while making certain gestures, attempting to convey simple meaning to me. I quickly took the idea as my own and attempted the same.

Somehow, this worked.

Apparently there was a setup of sorts for those like me who were...er, displaced without their prior knowledge, and scrambled brain wasn't uncommon, or at least that's what I think that weird gesture meant. That or he thought I had a screw loose, and that is possibly as good as it is bad, depending on who you ask.

In any case, he seemed amicable enough to act as a guide to a place where I could find more information. Feeling somewhat hopeful with this turn of events, I decided to do the polite thing and ask him his name, forgetting for a moment that we lacked a common language.

"Harrisyn Cain, So then, you ready to move?"

Wait. I Understood him.
I UNDERSTOOD HIM.
Now that I think about it, I understood the two from earlier as well…
Just what is going on here?

"Yeah, just gimme a second. And the name's Green."

Another one of those looks followed by gibberish.
Maybe it's a differing language?
"...seem...getting your head back on straight. What,…caught in….cultists?"

Okay, Huh?
Seems like whatever is allowing me to understand the language here is transitory...and one-way.
Instead of confusing Harrisyn even more, I give him a curt nod, and we begin our trek towards knowledge, and hopefully, some answers for me.
And seriously, I needed them. That was the second time that Cultists had been brought up since I awakened here, and it hasn't even been ten minutes.
Here's hoping that doesn't find a way to rub off on me…

In any case, this communication issue needs to be resolved ASAP. I can't have my one actual contact here not being able to understand what the hell I need to make it...and I'll need to be able to figure out who the players in this place are so I can pick a side.
Because like it or not, I was going to be forced to pick, eventually. These kinds of places tended to disfavor those who attempted to remain unaffiliated, with varying levels of severity based on exactly where you were. Nothing different from the streets, but far more dangerous all the same.

Harrisyn and I eventually arrived at the location, a run down, if serviceable, dwelling next to what looked like a series of distribution pipes. There wasn't anything looking like actual security nearby, but I remained on guard all the same. You never knew what someone who was determined and crafty enough could come up with in a pinch, and this place had far too much that could be used as an impromptu IED or other such magnet of "fun".

Harrisyn waved me inside as after he opened the unsurprisingly sturdy door. Moving in, I noted that there were some small lights placed around what looked like the main room of the abode, with an alcove for what appeared to be a basic kitchenette and two doors leading further in along a back wall. I assumed that at least one of these was a toilet of some form or fashion.

He chose that moment to try to communicate again. "This….where….until we...you..straight."

Seemed like more was getting through that time, but it also came with an increasingly severe headache. I winced as a lance of pain shot through my skull, a hand going to my forehead automatically in a vain effort to reduce the effect somehow.
Harrisyn said something again, but all I got was completely unintelligible gibberish as another spike was jammed into my skull. It was getting difficult to even think, let alone pay attention, and I couldn't allow even a moment of inattention to be had, lest--

A third, and fourth spike of pain completely floored me, and I lost all situational awareness as my whole conscious mind was wracked by PAIN.
I don't know if Harrisyn tried to help me. I don't know if he pulled out a gun of some kind, a knife, or even if he just ran away. All I knew was pain the likes of which I had never felt before as seemingly massive spikes were driven into my brain, without any form of remorse or mercy, as I gripped my head in agony.
I don't even know if I had screamed out from the sheer intensity. All there was, was PAIN.
And the pain was spreading. Moving rapidly down my spine and throughout my body with the speed of crackling electricity, until every nerve was flaring up in suffering. I couldn't think, couldn't even BREATHE, as it kept spreading, through my bones, to the muscles, skin, to my heart, and seemingly even into my very soul.
Fortunately my mind had the decency to finally shut down from overload at this point as I blacked out.

I awoke again in a place that could not have been any more different from toe sprawling enclosed mega-city that was wherever I had ended up in. Instead I beheld the same endless field of stars that I first remembered, only this time with even MORE.
It seemed entire galaxies were here, presented in their full glory, all for my sole viewing pleasure. Nebulae laced through multiple galaxies, the sheer majesty of a supermassive Black hole, even the rare and, If I remembered correctly, only theorized to exist White holes spread out in seemingly equal numbers. Comets danced to the strings of cosmic forces both simple and somehow vast beyond the comprehension of all but a pale few. What looked like glittering stardust twinkled in seeming delight as I beheld the impossible, an entire universe.--no, multiple universes, sprawled before me both in miniature and exacting, 1:1 detail...and somehow I could see it all.
Or was it?
Was I seeing entire universes given shape and form, or was it nothing more than the dance of a cluster of cells? Atoms, perhaps? Or even that strangest form of matter, the Quarks and all of the quantum underpinnings of the universe? It seemed to shift from one form to another, even as I looked at it and SAW.
And before the sheer enormity of that fact, of the fact that I somehow was included in the ranks of those who not only knew and understood but were meant to SHAPE those vast and yet paradoxically tiny cosmic forces, I heard a sound, echoing throughout the entirety of this strange place as it was a small shack.

**clang**
**clang**
**clang**

It sounded like...a hammer?
Curious, I moved towards this sound, completely unthinking of exactly how I actually performed such an action.

**clang**
**clang**

Closer still, and all I heard was an increase in volume...and what my limited knowledge told me was something non-metallic, but ringing out as such anyway. Odd.

**clang**
**clang**

I soon came to the source of the unusual racket, and what I saw there would have taken my breath away, if I had not somehow subconsciously expected it (and there is ANOTHER question for the day…)

A figure stood there, veiled by the expanse of starstuff that swirled around him as if an elaborate cloak, twisting and pulsing with the energies of the very cosmos. In his hands, was what looked to be a smith's hammer, seemingly made of the very stars themselves. And what lay before him, the project that seemed to consume all of his attention, was…was…

Oh my god.

I would have accepted a galaxy. Hell, a galaxy cluster. This place seems to be very accommodating of things like that. Even an entire universe, while stretching things, would have been believable, to a degree. Hell, given the way this space works, I would have accepted literally ANYTHING else.

Oh no.

What Stretched before me in all of it's transcendent glory was nothing less than the sum totality of an entire multiverse, still in embryo, awaiting the moment that the fires of creation were instilled within and the various big bangs, temporal paradoxes, and other such higher-dimensional phenomena required for something to truly come to life were initiated. It sat there, the very seed of creation itself, waiting for the final breath of life to be infused within.

It was only now that I realized that the clanging, what I now knew to be the literal forging of stars, had ceased.
I looked up from this strange majesty, this utter masterpiece awaiting its finishing touch, and into the face of its creator--

I know you.
I KNOW YOU.

Somehow, I knew who this was, and had known them for literally my entire life. Which was absolutely impossible, as I had never seen them before. Ever. And then more discrepancies came to my mind.

How did I know he was male? That veil covers everything.
How did I know what everything back there was? Those endless expanses of stars, spread out, I knew them like I had made them myself.
How do I know that he Knows that I know him, and that this was totally expected?
How the hell am I suddenly filled with the sense that this was supposed to happen, all of it? That we were meant to meet?
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!?!

A simple gesture from the figure and suddenly I was calm, and everything made sense.
Yes, I was supposed to be here, and all is as was intended...although there was a hiccup in the process that complicated things, which will be explained presently.
Yes, you do know me, as thoroughly and intimately as I know you, as we have always known each other, form that first day that we knew of the struggle that was life. Though the reason why will surprise you.
Yes, this place was incredible, and yes, those countless stars and planets and galaxies should be familiar to you...although for now I cannot tell you why.

That being said, there is one more task that I have need of you for.

The figure lifted up his hammer of stars, a massive thing that seemed to dwarf even him, and that was paradoxically as tiny as a toothpick (Concepts, they were concepts of building, of Creation)...and turned the hammer, handle first, towards me, offering it.

I stood there, dumbfounded. He wanted me, ME, to finish that masterpiece of a multiverse? To wield the vast powers of creation and somehow, breathe life into countless worlds?
To, in all seriousness, effectively become a GOD?

The sense I got then was oddly complex, but completely valid nonetheless: the process could not be completed without me. For whatever reason, and he wasn't spilling the beans (Not yet.), I had to be the one to deliver the final blow, and complete the work. It didn't make sense to me, but he insisted that it HAD to be me, and no other.

And besides, this was one of your greatest fantasies anyway. To be able to create something so grand, so vast? Would you ever even entertain the thought of NOT being a part of this?

And he was right.
This WAS one of my greatest fantasies, to be able to create the infinite, to create anything that I fancied just because I COULD. To have no real restriction but my heart and my imagination as I created something new and interesting just to see if I could. It's why I loved Legos as a kid.

So there wasn't really a choice here, was there?

I reached out and grabbed the hammer...and was surprised that it fit my hand like it was meant to be there. Like it wanted to be there. Like a piece of myself had finally come home.

And I understood. About this place, about why I was "chosen", everything.
And there was no more time for words.

I lifted the hammer, as sure of its operation as I was of my own body, and sighted where and what I wanted to do. With a grunt of effort, I imbued this tool, MY tool, with the essence of life itself.

And I swung--

I awoke on a small, ratty couch with a clear head, feeling somehow refreshed. The previous pain that I had experienced was nowhere to be found. In its place, however, was a piece of knowledge, a surety that my life would never be the same.

But then again, I knew that already, considering where I was.

Getting up was easy, and I finally noticed my footwear, that I had forgotten about in the dustup of before. A simple pair of good-quality combat boots, with (from the feel) a reinforced heel plate and a type of steel—or maybe composite, they're somewhat interchangeable—toe. Looking around revealed that the lights were dimmed, the cracked walls showing their age, and the minimal carpeting (which I was shocked existed at all) clearly on its last legs.

Of Harrisyn there was no sign.

Ah well, that gives me time to test this out.

I moved towards the doors in the back, examining each as I approached. They were simple affairs, a handle on each, with an equally simple locking mechanism installed above the furthest one. I assumed that was a bedroom of sorts, or maybe a closet, so I checked the other door first, confirming that the room beyond was a wash chamber and toilet setup, and very compact from the looks of things.

Now for that other door. I headed there next, and beyond it turned out to be a small sleeping area with a small integrated closet on a sliding door setup. Both were empty of anything but a simple, if comfortable looking, bedroll, and what looked like a space for personal items and effects.

Suited me just fine, really.

Now that I had confirmed my environment, I double-checked to make sure I wasn't under any overt observation ( I wasn't, there weren't any windows and the place was locked tight), I pulled out the thing that I brought back with me: a simple, old-fashioned key. With a smirk, I placed it into the key slot of the sleeping area, noting with no surprise at all that it slid home easily despite not being even remotely shaped for the door in question, and turned the knob.

What awaited me on the other side was most definitely not a small cubbyhole of a sleeping area, but a semi-largish hallway, with a set of lockers on one side and a plain-looking door on the other.

If I remembered correctly, that door should lead to...and yes, there it is.

Inside was a simple workshop, set up to be able to handle most any needs that the aspiring craftsman—or simple handyman, really—would need. The place was set up very much like the workshops and tool rooms that I'd frequented before, in my earlier years as an Air Force mechanic, and was laid out in a similar manner, complete with the shadow boards and foam cutouts for tools to ensure that not one thing was out of place. Bins with various screws, nuts, bolts, and other such detritus of the common mechanic were laid out in an easy-to-use manner, each separated by both size and apparent function, with room for more as needed. Situated towards the back wall were the setups where power tools of various makes and purposes lay, along with the necessary attachments for any job. Of note was a large multi-storage bin on that same wall with some rather high-grade electrical components, suitable for repairing most simple electronics if needed.

Huh, seems that I got that upgrade after all…

Even though I had lost the strange knowledge of...everything that I had whilst in that place, the core nugget of the truth remained.
This room, in a way, WAS that hammer. MY hammer, meant to forge wonders like the universe had never seen...and eventually entire universes itself, it seemed. This place was meant to be the core of my forge, that would one day shape the stars.

A fragment of that knowledge came to me now, remembered from a moment both infinite in scope and oddly fleeting.
This place, this power, was always meant to be yours...was always yours to begin with. This is nothing more than you awakening to your birthright.
Yeah. A birthright. Doesn't matter for now, but in the short term it may have just saved my bacon, as if the extra tools were here…
I rushed out to the lockers, opening the first one to find exactly what I was looking for. A set of well-used armor, a small arm-mounted device, and a pistol.

Specifically, A highly customized N7 Eagle Heavy Pistol, complete with an extended magazine capacity and a heavy barrel attachment for extra firepower.

I picked up my new weapon and gave it a quick once over, looking for anything amiss. Seeing nothing, I quickly stashed it inside my vest, which had an unusually convenient pocket just for it.
...Not going to argue that one, at all.
The armor was too obvious for what I was going to be doing right now, but would be nice for when shit hit the fan...and it wasn't a matter of if, but when; my own experience on the streets, the basic knowledge of this being 40k, and both sets of military experience told me as much outright.

Final checks. Everything looks good? Clothes alright, weapon stashed and ready?
Oh yeah, need to get the omnitool…

Grabbing the small bracer that was the omnitool hardware, I quickly powered it up and ran it through its diagnostic and self-test routines. So far, looking good...and my, oh my was that a jackpot.
You see, normally, with my mechanic specialization, I would have access to top-end hacking tools, some drones for ranged work and harassment, a deployable sentry turret for static defense when needed, and various methods of disabling people via incendiaries and cryo, as well as disruption tools for electronics. (The personal tweaks for draining energy from a target and a programmable holographic decoy were really just useful extras for intense situations...and the defensive field booster required the armor.)
The N7 Demolisher mods didn't change this, but instead added on to the kit with explosives. Grenades, in standard, incendiary, cryo and EMP varieties (and all of them with limited active homing capability), as well as an option to make my omnitool strikes be explosive (which was overkill, really).
The Ammo pylon, on the other hand, was less useful to anyone that wasn't me, for reasons of thermal clip, but the grenades were a plus in a pinch. That being said, if I had to get that loud things were in the shitter.
The REAL plus, though, was that the omnitool had the appropriate modifications to deploy not only an omni-blade, but an omni-shield, too. Omni-shields were normally only carried by N7 Paladins, and had some very useful properties outside of being a portable shield system. For one, they could be enhanced similarly to the grenades, adding both intense heat and extreme cold into the main body of the shield proper for devastating shield bash attacks as needed. That I could potentially modify this to add to the omni-blade was a plus, but it was also a non-standard setup for a reason. I would have to research this carefully.

Finally fully kitted out, I stepped out of my entry hall and quickly secured the door. All in all, the whole operation took less than 30 seconds.

Apparently this was just in time, as Harrisyn decided to make a reappearance.

"Ah, Finally awake, are ya? You were out for quite a bit there, son. Was getting...concerned that you might be having...issues, if you catch my drift?"

Huh. So he was being cautious about my involvement, potential or otherwise, with that small band of cultists that just got put to the flames earlier. Smart man.
Also, it seemed my translator implants were working as intended. A good thing to hear, all things considered...now lets see if I can make this--

A light bloomed in my head, and my attention was drawn away for a moment as I once again beheld that place of endless wonder and magic. The baby multiiverse that had once lain dormant upon the anvil of the forge was now shining, completed by my very hands, and had risen to the "sky" above me. Within seemed to bloom countless stars, possibly universes in miniature, that shone with a dull light, all arranged in a pattern reminiscent of a constellation of stars. There were a few of these smaller points of light, however, that shone brighter than the others...and as I watched, once more another activated itself using the essence of my very own lifeforce that I had instilled within it. The Power within flowed freely through it, and then echoed, tracing a path back through the entire arrangement as if to announce its presence, before settling in on a brightly shining central spark of unimaginable strength.
That, spark, as I had learned before, was a metaphysical representation of myself. Everything I am, was, and could be, all wrapped up in a single point of light and combined with something...more. What that something was still confused me (and my erstwhile associate; he refused to be called a patron, citing a technicality that he refused to elaborate on further. I chose to call him Watts), but was determined to be relatively benign in nature, even possibly beneficial, as supposedly there had already been more than one attempt to glean insights into my being by the "locals", as it were. Those headaches might have been a form of backlash from that, but neither I nor Watts were certain if that was true.
Oh wait, there's a note attached to this little glowball here for some reason:

Apologies. I was supposed to have had this ready for you before you "left" this place, but other matters required my attention. In any case, this should grant to you the local language, or a form thereof, as a side benefit. I am looking into the anomalies that we discussed, although you may not remember them all until the right time. I apologize for the secrecy, but all will be made apparent in time.

--"Watts"

So he knew my personal nickname for him as well, then. Alright, no big deal. He was already in a position to royally screw me over, and instead handed me phenomenal cosmic power. Even the agents of chaos, in that situation, would have just ganked my soul and been done with it, so he got that much, at least. Now then, need to get back to--
Harrisyn was staring at me slightly, having noticed me be a bit distracted after his question. I chose to head him off..verbally anyway.

"I've been better, really," I stated neutrally. "Thanks for the...accommodations. Now then, if you don't mind, I have a few questions I'd like answers to. As you can see, I'm in something of a state here…" I allowed myself to trail off, hoping to get at least a little info from the exchange.

"Now, now, none of that," Harrisyn replied, in a tone that was both knowing and lightly chiding. Seems he saw through my little verbal gambit. "I'm more than willing to answer whatever questions you may have. No fee, either. So ask away, son, and let's see where we stand, eh?"

Well shit. He was some kinda info broker? Or maybe something else… "so, where am I, exactly? I got a little...displaced from my usual haunts. Need to get my bearings back, yeah?"

"That, my friend is a simple answer. You currently stand in the area known as the drips, home of many of the feeder pipes for the upper areas of the hive. As you can probably tell from the name, there are some...issues with the containment." He gave a small chuckle as he said this. " but you are probably looking for a more broad sense, arentcha? This is Hive Primus, on the planet of Necromunda. Welcome, welcome, and please enjoy your stay." He laughed outright, this time.

I, however, was Very Impressed. And more than a little concerned, if I stood out so much as to immediately be considered an offworlder. Granted, being a six-foot plus black guy tends to be noticeable in most areas, from my personal experience, but still…I would need to be careful in my dealings going forward.
I also very carefully did not reach for my weapon, a fact that was both noticed and appreciated.

"Good, good. You know not to draw down on just anyone." Harrisyn seemed to be ever more adept at weaseling out things that he hadn't been told. Was it something on my face? "That will help you going forward. Now then, friend, since we have the time, let's talk, shall we?"

He gestured to the couch, and chairs that were sitting around the room that I hadn't really paid attention to before.
"Yes, let's talk...about our future "

It is the 41st Millennium.
For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

And yet, for one, brief moment, the laughter ceased. The Immaterium stood silent.
And instead of the laughter of thirsting gods, there was but one, single, tune.
The Ringing of a Forge of Stars.

START|-Workshop (Personal Reality Supplement v1.3) (100CP)
Each purchase of this adds to your Personal Reality, a Workshop needed to perform a specific type of craft, which is to be specified when purchase is made. It comes with a basic set of tools and supplies. Good for fixing or creating all sorts of things, although any complex parts or nonstandard supplies will have to be brought in from outside.
Additional purchases can add different types of Workshops to your Personal Reality or expand existing ones. Anything built in one of those workshops is fiat backed to be restored to its original condition within 48 hours if damaged or destroyed
* Grants fiat backing to anything constructed within

START|-Inertia of Self II (Essential Body Modification Supplement) (200CP)
You are protected against effects that would affect your mind and existence.
I: You are immune to any effect that would affect your memories. If someone turns back time, alters reality, or attempts to directly alter your memories, you retain both the 'original' and 'new' memories, instinctively knowing which set is which. Other than your two sets of memories, this perk does nothing to tell you who changed things or even what they specifically changed if it isn't otherwise obvious.
II: You are immune to any effect that would alter or outright destroy your body or existence. This protection extends to conceptual, temporal, and reality warping effects that work either directly or indirectly to destroy or alter you. This would prevent a time traveler from killing you as a baby or causing an accident that would leave present-you paralyzed. It would not protect you from a fireball created through temporal manipulation or having a time traveler frame you for a crime that lands you in prison.

START|-Not a Stupid Grunt (Mass Effect) (100CP)

That you are not. You are smart enough to be the foremost scientist in your field. This doesn't make you so, but you could get there on your own with not a terrible amount of effort. Still not as smart as a drell, but hey, who is?

---Class and Specialization

----Engineer (Focus: Tech): Engineers are pure technology specialists. Although they lack the implants that most other classes wield, they make up for it with their high-spec military grade omni-tools, capable of bypassing shields and armor or incapacitating robotic targets and some synthetics. They can deploy combat drones to harass enemies.
----Mechanic – A more purely focus Engineer. From fighters and frigates to Mass Effect fields and automated machines, you know your way around and are aside fairly versed in mechanical theory. You might not know how to build something, but you can almost certainly figure it out with time.
----N7 Demolisher (Restricted: Human) – Alliance special forces. The Demolisher uses grenades to attack at range and to terrorize the battlefield. Demolishers can also create a supply pylon that stocks allies and yourself with a seemingly unending reserve of grenades and thermal reloads. You can cause your grenades to hone and or electrify them with an EMP. Your omni-tool optionally has an explosive effect on impact.

---Sub-Dermal Translator Implants (Free: All Origins) – The ever-present and rarely spoken of most common personal technology in this world. Implanted into your head, presumably ears, and allows you to understand nearly all common and almost all rare spoken languages in the form of English. Can be updated with new software via wifi.

START|-Scavenger (Ravenwood) (100CP)
Sometimes, you do not have the luxury of top of the line equipment and need to rely on what scraps you can salvage. You, however, have an advantage, being able to cobble together scavenged bits into functional equipment that work as well as the real deal. This talent will also inherently improve the durability of such improvised equipment to function even when such materials should not feasible hold up under the strains of use.

CH.001|-Rites of Maintenance (Warhammer 40k - Adeptus Mechanicus) (100CP)
While already designed to be incredibly robust, Imperial equipment inevitably requires maintenance. You can locate and identify problems within a machine in a fraction of the time it would take other adepts. Not knowing how a machine functions does not make fixing it any more difficult so long as you have the proper parts, tools, and rituals to guide your hands.

--(Freebie) Lingua-Technis
Known only to the devotees of the Machine God despite the best efforts of outsiders over millennia,the adepts of Mars speak to each other in bursts of binaric code. This allows for a great deal of information to be communicated quickly and discreetly. Even if somehow translated, it is a complex language thick with ancient and arcane terminology that few outsiders could ever hope to make any sense of. This language and your implants allow you to communicate quickly with other adepts, transferring messages and code many times faster than ordinary speech.

---**Also comes with High and Low Gothic, Per Author**

Cheetored20 · Apr 14, 2021

That ending made me tear up. This is great, I can't wait for more!

Engineseer · Apr 14, 2021

Slider Zero said:
Spiritual_Liege

**Tips Fedora** M'lady

Slider Zero said:
CH.001|-Rites of Maintenance (Warhammer 40k - Adeptus Mechanicus) (100CP)

Hail the mechanicus , Hail the machine god
Now we just need a cute Tech-sister and we can make an Magos out of you

Cheetored20 · Apr 14, 2021

Engineseer said:
**Tips Fedora** M'lady

Hail the mechanicus , Hail the machine god
Now we just need a cute Tech-sister and we can make an Magos out of you

.... you think he IS the machine god?

Engineseer · Apr 14, 2021

Cheetored20 said:
.... you think he IS the machine god?

The Motive force works in weird ways
taking a look at the forge you can see several Tech perks that can prob save the imperium

Even an STC maker for 300 points

so that's why I said hail the machine god
he either becomes a machine saint or the supreme Heretek

Cheetored20 · Apr 14, 2021

Engineseer said:
The Motive force works in weird ways
taking a look at the forge you can see several Tech perks that can prob save the imperium

Even an STC maker for 300 points

so that's why I said hail the machine god
he either becomes a machine saint or the supreme Heretek

Was referring to the conceptual nature of the warp and how the greater deamons went back in time to cause their creation. So it can be inferred that the machine god is a warp creature.

Autocorruptor · Apr 14, 2021

Oh dear, it seems that the Celestial Forge Virus has infected the W40K fandom.

I read with great interest!

Dear Inquisitor Slider Zero,

After investigating signs of potential heresy, I have discovered the locations of daemonic typos. Please cleanse them at your convenience. The Emperor Protects.

Sincerely,
Inquisitor Autocorruptor.

Slider Zero said:
cat? Certainly not a type ive ever seen in my life before. And didn't look like it had any kind of collar on it either. \

Pushing the cat out of mind, I continued focusing on the area around me, further catching glimpses of a pair of what looked like some kind

Slider Zero said:
good-quality combat boots, with (from the feel) a reinforced heel plate and a type of steel—or maybe composite, they're somewhat interchangeable—toe. Looking around revealed that The lights were dimmed, the cracked walls showing their age, and the minimal carpeting (which I was shocked existed at all) clearly on its last legs.

the

Slider Zero · Apr 15, 2021

Autocorruptor said:
Oh dear, it seems that the Celestial Forge Virus has infected the W40K fandom.

I read with great interest!

Dear Inquisitor Slider Zero,

After investigating signs of potential heresy, I have discovered the locations of daemonic typos. Please cleanse them at your convenience. The Emperor Protects.

Sincerely,
Inquisitor Autocorruptor.

the

Your Service to the Imperium has been noted. It would serve you well to continue such actions in the future.

John117xCortana · Apr 15, 2021

What is the Celesital Forge?

Autocorruptor · Apr 15, 2021

John117xCortana said:
What is the Celesital Forge?

The Celestial Forge is a list of perks gathered from various CYOAs and Jumpchains, and they all have to do with crafting or making technology. In case you don't know. CYOAs are "Choose Your Own Adventures." Jumpchains are a writing prompt where a person "jumps" from universe to universe, generally gaining new powers as they move along.
The Celestial Forge allows authors to spend points on purchasing Perks, and they gain points with their wordcount.
Brockton Bays Celestial Forge initially popularized it.

Slider Zero · Apr 15, 2021

John117xCortana said:
What is the Celesital Forge?

Autocorruptor said:
The Celestial Forge is a list of perks gathered from various CYOAs and Jumpchains, and they all have to do with crafting or making technology. In case you don't know. CYOAs are "Choose Your Own Adventures." Jumpchains are a writing prompt where a person "jumps" from universe to universe, generally gaining new powers as they move along.
The Celestial Forge allows authors to spend points on purchasing Perks, and they gain points with their wordcount.
Brockton Bays Celestial Forge initially popularized it.

To be more specific, I'm using the recently released version 3 of the setup; it is generally a large improvement over the first iteration while being less bloated than the second version. it be something to keep in mind. Here's a Link to it if you're interested.

John117xCortana · Apr 15, 2021

Interesting. I'll take a look at the link you provided.

Thank you.

Sterlyn · Apr 15, 2021

John117xCortana said:
Interesting. I'll take a look at the link you provided.

Thank you.

Be warned that it is an incredibly large list of perks. Usually it's best for an author to only include perks from series they know about. But I will also say that there are some bullshit perks that are thankfully pretty expensive and difficult to get through random rolls. There's stuff like cultivation as well as stuff like Washu tech, which makes Necrons look like cave-men. Seriously though "Washu was the elected honorary president of the Universal Science Academy, promising to only use her powers for peace. She was kicked out a month later for developing a weapon capable of destroying the entire universe (though as Tenchi narrates, no one was surprised." It really says something that no-one is surprised that she can do this kind of thing. She's also put universes in jars for shits and giggles "She had a bottle in her room with tiny lights drifting in it. Each of those lights was a universe. Not a hologram, but real ones. She was able to generate them based on her basic studies."

Gigant · Apr 15, 2021

Slider Zero · Apr 23, 2021

Alright, so I have good news and bad news.

The good news: chapter two is complete and awaiting posting.

The bad news: it's also awaiting a beta reader.

I really would like someone to go over this before I put it up.
I CAN post it unbetaed, but for reasons I'd rather not do so right now. Any help would be appreciated.

Slider Zero · Apr 23, 2021

I'll admit that this chapter fought me for a bit. it was hard to get the pieces moving the way I wanted them to without making people seem one-dimensional or out-of-character, especially when I'm trying to establish said character in the first place. Anyways, here you go. Please Enjoy.

Special thanks to Spiritual_Liege on the CF discord for beta reading this.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
==================================
The future, huh?

Interesting words coming from a man that I barely know, who seems to be very willing to help for reasons known only to him...but it's not like this was unexpected. I knew that someone would try and take advantage of my lack of local knowledge. I'm just surprised it's happening this fast.

Or is it?

Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions here. Sure, he seems to be rather well informed about my situation all things considered, but that could just as easily be experience talking. I've known a few people in my time who could do similar things just based on knowledge of who and where they were, and this seems no different. Another point in his favor is that, at least for now, he seems to be trying to get into my good graces, or at the very least not be an enemy, which is always a plus.

So then, that's the plan. Hear him out and decide from there.

"...Alright, I'll bite. Two conditions though." Gotta start this right, can't let him keep all the momentum or he'd run all over me. "First, I wanna know how you're getting all your info on me. Security concerns, you see."

"This is acceptable to me," Harrisyn steed, a small bit of humor still in his voice.

"Second: I'm going to ask you some questions, and I expect answers. I'll keep it reasonable, but that's the only concession I'm making." If anything, this was me being too nice, but beggars can't be choosers. It's either play ball here or risk pissing someone off out there, before I know the lay of the land. Also known in various special ops circles throughout human history as assisted suicide.

"...I will give you the answers that I have, and that I am allowed to part with," Harrisyn's response was surprisingly serious, almost grim, in tone. "However, I will at least let you know if you stray too close to...privileged information. Other than that, I do intend to gain you as an associate at the minimum, and perhaps a proper business partner in the long term, so it is in my best interests to at least make sure you don't get your head blown off." The mirth was back in his tone, now. "So then, friend Green. Ask away."

Huh. he was being a lot more forthcoming than I thought he would be. Odd that I would meet the one guy who was looking to recruit and willing to be nice about it. Best not to look too closely at it for now, though.

"First off. How'd you ID me so fast? I know I'm not from around here, but I blended in better than most."

"And that right there is exactly what tipped me off, son. For all that you were a fish out of water, you moved like someone who could have belonged. That, plus the clothes, was all it took."

Wait, the CLOTHES? How the hell..? My face scrunched in confusion, a single eyebrow raised.

"Yep, the clothes," Harrisyn chuckles as he continues. "They were too good. Quality was top notch, but was blatantly built to last, and not to be flashy. Nobody makes clothes like that anymore..not here, at least. That told me you were from out of the hive...as for offworld? The language, for one. That and the way you were reacting to being out of sorts, too much like a soldier, but not anything I've seen from the local PDF. Chalked that up to being something out of a major Guard regiment, or some PDF from offworld. The rest spoke for itself."

DAMN, but he's good. Really coulda used him in a few of the more deniable units I'd been in, in either life. I told him as much, eliciting another chuckle.

"Naah, my days of fighting the good fight are behind me, my friend. Nowadays I'm just another face in the crowd."

"Calling bullshit on that one, good sir. No way in hell a simple old man lasts as long as you have down here without someone trying to fleece you. And from the looks of it, you seem to know your business...whatever it is." Which was another point of concern for me. This hole-in-the-wall we were in had all the makings of a safehouse, and one that was set up for extended use, at that. You don't need a safehouse unless there's something you need to be safe FROM.

Harrisyn's only response was a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Smug bastard is smug." I allowed myself to chuckle at his antics, clearly aimed at being disarming. No reason to be super hostile...yet. "Anyway, that's just part of what I need to know...you mentioned you were looking for a partner, or at least an associate. What's the work, and why?" How he answered would determine a lot going forward.

Harrisyn made a slight grunting noise. "Right to business, eh? Not a problem, but it requires a bit of background, first. Tell me, what do you know about how most hives run?"

"...Hive cities are usually set up with varying levels of manufacturing and other factories down near the bottom, either at or in the smog layer. Everything above the smoke is for the well-off, the nobles, people with real influence. The rest suffer down below." There was a bit more, but I wasn't sure if it applied here. Stuff about chaos and Xenos were not to be stated openly...

"An accurate assessment, overall, if lacking in details. Most of what you said is correct, and on any other world would be more or less the end of it . but this is Necromunda. We have our own...wrinkles to add to the mix."

Well shit. Those are basically some of the worst words you want to hear coming into a new area, that your intel was bad. Considering I had NO Intel prior to this, I was considering it a mixed blessing.
"Continuing on, Necromunda's unique flavor of insanity comes in the form of its houses. The big thing to note here is that everyone, and I do mean everyone, is in one way shape or form aligned with a house. Whether or not they like it."

Houses? "You mean Noble houses, right?"

"Not...exactly." Harrisyn trailed off a bit, before continuing. "There are noble houses, many of which that like to make general pains of themselves quite often, but no. The houses I speak of are the gangs."

"Your gangs...have noble houses."

"No. the gangs themselves ain't nobility. They just call themselves houses...and have the muscle to back it up."

And my day gets steadily worse.

"How many?" because this would be important, to know who to play off of. "And who are you...attached to?" and that was another point that needed clarifying, quick.

To his credit, Harrisyn did not hesitate to answer. "There are six in all, along with several minor players styling themselves as being one of the big boys...until they get noticed, and crushed underfoot. In no particular order, the houses are Goliath, specializing in the big bruisers; Delaque, who in general like to remain hidden; Cawdor, effectively the local religious nuts, and all that goes with it; Orlock, sometimes known as House Iron, which is somewhat complicated, but they're miners down below, and...Escher" Harrisyn all but spat out the name, "which is primarily female...and you do not want to be one of the males attached to them." The tone made it clear that there was some history there, but nothing that I wanted to poke at. No need making a tentative ally of convenience into an enemy of choice...

As for my...allegiance," and that seemed suspiciously forced, there... "I am currently aligned with House Van Saar, though I do have...other contracts." the way he said it warned me to not pursue the issue any further than that. "Van Saar is mostly set up in manufacturing, pushing out the more technical goods...not all of which would be approved of by the Nobles up top. Not sure where they're getting the know-how to pull the quality off, though--that kind of thing is kept real hush-hush by the big boys of the House."

As far as basic overviews went, it was just as advertised: basic. Maybe I can pull some extra info from developing my own sources later.

Wait a moment.

"...You said you were aligned with House Van Saar, not a part of it. Explain."

Harrisyn gave another one of his quickly becoming signature chuckles. "Noticed that, did ya? Yeah, I'm a really low-level stringer, and happy to be so. Keeps me out of the way of most of the politics that surround the Houses down here, which in turn keeps me alive. As for the why, well, that's the second wrinkle here. The Houses may be the kings, but that doesn't mean that they rule all that they survey directly. It's more along the lines of there being multiple smaller gangs attached to the houses themselves, which in turn feed even smaller gangs, and so on, and so forth…"

"All the way down to the bottom rung guys like you?" I finished for him. Wasn't telling him that I didn't believe that he was a bottom rung guy at all, but he could probably guess.

"Pretty much that, yeah, but the 'Rank', so to speak, of a given gang at any one time is dependent on a lot of factors, not the least of which is whether or not the heads of house have use for you. There is also the fact that, despite technically being criminal gangs, the Houses actually do a lot for the maintenance and upkeep of the hive in general. Van Saar in particular is openly tithed for the 'Guard, and has a reputation for "high-quality" goods, up to and including the conscripts sent to the Guard proper."

Alright, these Van Saar guys were sounding like the big kahuna of the major players in the area.

"...And just how closely would one have to be 'affiliated' with a given house in order to receive certain benefits of said house?"

"Depends, really. They have their hands in a lot of pies, which is part of how the house is so well-off. In fact, they tend to mark a lot of the more technical goods here with their seal. They also have the backing of some of the Noble Houses above, but I haven't been able to independently confirm that, nor which House is involved. I do know that the merchants' guilds are in bed with them, and treat it as a very profitable arrangement. I get away with being a rather loose affiliate, but I also deal in things that are not quite the house specialty."

And this keeps sounding better and better...they're the house of techies, in good with the actual head honchos and in a decent enough spot financially that unless I rock the boat massively there's not much that they might do to force allegiance.

Of course, I'm not about to ignore the fact that Harrisyn is once again dropping hints as to who his true masters might be...but the fact that he's doing so in the open, so to speak, means that he's either gullible (which I doubt hardcore; you do not live this long in the trade without being damned good) or that its a subtle warning to not spill too much info--something that I didn't plan on doing anyway.

I gave him a look, acknowledging the unspoken part of his little info dump on Van Saar.
"Seems like you have an idea of where I might be useful in the future...but that doesn't solve the here and now. So then, about that job?"

"So, you want me to act as a consultant," I said. "And what exactly will I be consulted on?"

"I was thinking Guard Training, mostly. You have the experience from being in to actually get the conscripts and recruits up to speed for what they'll really be doing, and not just as the glorified meat shields that they are now. Depending on what your specialties were, maybe more. Other than that, I was looking at setting up some Security work on the side--nothing too onerous, and preferably away from the idiots shooting at people all the time. But again, that depends on just what your skillset is." and once again, Harrisyn's odd penchant for honesty and generally being on the level shines through. Just one minor problem…

"And while I can see some benefits for myself, what's in it for you? Seems like you don't get much out of this."

"Well, I do, actually. It causes a bit of a reputation boost for me, being seen to be able to find the right man for the job. That, and having a contact I can call in when necessary is always useful for one in my line of work.

And again he openly hints at it…fine, I'll bite.

"And what is this line of work, exactly? You haven't been very forthcoming in that regard."

"Your suspicions are...mostly correct. I am, in fact, a small-time info broker, but also a sort of fix-it man, for various situations that may require...specialized assets. I tend to work as a contact for people looking for the people and tools they need to make things work. I make a point of not having it all, but being able to get you in touch with the ones who do. And around here, that's important."

"Still hasn't explained the partnership part...unless you're looking for a second?"

"...Sort of. I have a few people I work with, but most of them are favors owed, or people who might be willing to lend a hand in fair weather. No, what I'm looking for is someone who can actually stick with me, as an equal. A lot of the would-be hired hands around this level are surprisingly...incompetent, for all that they can get the job done." Harrisyn seemed to have a form of thousand-yard stare at the mention. Maybe a job gone bad?

"And what would my role be in this theoretical partnership? Seems like you have something in mind."That, and I wanted to see if he was going to spill on what he was really up to. I had a guess, but…

"...Mostly back-line stuff, with some exceptions. You could open some doors that I could not, for example, with your background. Those who would look at me with distrust would see you as someone they could talk to. Other places, other things, might be of interest too. Not to mention it's never a bad thing to have another trained shooter on your side, right?"

Well, the man did have a point.

"And what about skillsets?" I asked. "What do you have to offer that I might be able to synergize with?"

"A lot of my time has been spent in intelligence. I'm pretty good at ferreting out things that you'd think I shouldn't know, as you have seen firsthand." I nodded in agreement as Harrisyn continued. "In addition to that, I'm something of a handyman when it comes down to certain pieces of tech: weapons, vox systems, dataslates, that sort of thing. Been used as a repairman in the past for a lot of things. My network of contacts is another plus, one that I have been carefully grooming for some time now, mostly to keep aware of when shit hits the fan, other times to gauge whether or not a given action will set off an incident. It's rather extensive for the scale I work at, I'd say."

"...seems legit. I know you're leaving a bit out, but considering where we are, I'm not gonna complain too loudly. I will want to know who your other partners are at one point, though. No reason to be an unknown if we're gonna work together." Because I knew for a fact that there was no way in hell he was a solo act, based on this safehouse alone. Calling him out on it cost me nothing.

Harrisyn froze for a brief moment, before giving me a respectful nod, a small smirk clearly displayed on his face. "Indeed...indeed I will. Glad to see you're paying attention, after all."

Wait. Was that another test? Debate it later. Right now, I need to present myself.

"As for my skills, I'm rather skilled in mechanics, so I could do repair work as well, probably better than most of the people you've got lined up for the work right now. I have...a particular set of skills...when it comes to combat, and access to some nonstandard gear as well. I'm also good for a few languages if necessary, and a passable if not noteworthy slicer in a pinch. (No way in hell I'm telling him I could probably hack down all but the central AdMech datanets with relative ease. That would draw attention from his hidden bosses) Other than that, I'm a surprisingly good scrap mechanic. Give me enough of the pieces and I could get you a working piece of gear out of it, given time."

Harrisyn Looked at me askance for a moment. That moment stretched, though not excessively.

"...and what languages might those be, by any chance?" he finally asked, after the silence had gotten almost uncomfortable.

"Nothing major, just a few of the more common strains of Low Gothic, a sufficient knowledge of High Gothic, and a small bit of the weird cant that the Engineseer was throwing around back in the unit." Telling him I had the full Binaric Cant was asking for trouble, especially if the Mechanicus heard about it. They were RUTHLESS about keeping that secret from everyone that wasn't therm, if I remembered correctly.

The openly stunned face of Harrisyn was quite a surprise to me. I enjoyed it silently until finally, he spoke.

"I...I may need to talk to some people. I'm willing to put you up here for the moment, while I sort this out. That alright with you?"

Huh? What about my skillset was so odd that he had to kick it up the chain? It's not like I told him I was a special forces trooper from an alternate reality where tech was an actual thing that existed and not something that was constantly degraded outside of a freaking cargo cult.

"...it's acceptable, especially since I've got nowhere else to go at the moment. About how long is this gonna take, anyway?"

"Shouldn't be more than a standard day. In the meantime I can set you up with at least some food and some miscellaneous items as needed; call it a welcome package. I think I have a spare dataslate hanging around as well; the local net isn't great, but there's things stashed away inside of it for those willing to take a look. Just don't poke the parts that look to the "official business" side and we should be all right."

In short, don't attract attention while I get the bosses involved on something important. Normally this would be a hard pass, but being fully in Indian Country with no hope of extract means that I have to play things fast and loose until I can get some more reliable allies in my corner. Hopefully that's an event that I can arrange happening very soon.

Besides, getting him out of the way for a bit would let me play around with some of the tools and abilities that I wanna keep under wraps for the moment.

A brief nod in Harrisyn's direction got him setting off almost immediately. Seems that I'm a big deal then. I'll need to find out why eventually. But for now...time to settle in a bit.

The Forge was a unique and extremely potent tool, one that was both metaphysical as well as spiritual in nature. Some of its abilities were odd when looked at from a certain perspective, but all added to the collective whole, connected to and powered by my very being.

This was relevant because I had gotten a feeling of sorts that there was more for me to learn, ready to go at this moment, and it was simply waiting for an appropriate moment for me to allow the final connections to form. I found it rather convenient, that the power would act in such a way as to not distract me when important things were happening.

With a simple mental push, I allowed the final bonds to form within me, and ignite parts of the constellation sitting within…

The lights within my soul blazed brightly as I gazed towards my erstwhile Partner, and currently, Teacher, as he prepared to impart unto me yet more secrets of the use of the forge. Examples of items and materials flowed around me, various skills and abilities for manipulating and modifying everything from matter to energy to even concepts swirling around me in a storm of activity, all seeming to vie for my attention. "Watts", however, simply grabbed from among the lot a small number of these concepts, and began showing me the intricacies of their function and form.

Here, a weapon fit for a God...and the secrets behind it's forging, oddly tied to one's own self.

There, the knowledge of the tiniest of machines, and their potential uses.

Another, showing the possibilities and methods of how to create even the simplest of tools to last centuries, possibly even millennia.

And then there were the oddballs, like this weird template thing that seemed to be capable of...combining things? Odd, but sure, I'd take it.

Onwards the lessons continued, showing how to draw out the abilities needed to properly utilize the skills within.

And with a simple flourish, it was done, and yet more nodes on the strange galaxy that was my soul shone with the light of life.

I snapped back into my own head with a minor bit of dizziness that quickly passed. As awesome as that was, it was equally annoying...but the benefits. The BENNIES, I say!!

Most of the ancillary equipment for my newest lessons were placed inside the warehouse proper, with some of them having a customized locker for the gear (Terran Confederation Issue, I believe. I could do better at a local pawn shop...Las was kinda broken when you didn't have to fight Chaos and other threats from beyond the pale). Most of the abilities I'd learned, though-- the "perks" so to speak--were mental in nature this time. Including one that allowed me to have increased information processing ability, relative to a baseline human. Useful for a firefight, but it was intended as a research tool.

I'd deal with that mess involving the mystic aura, and any potential complications, later: right now I needed to get more information.

Firing up my Omnitool, I quickly found the local wireless access point. It was a simple thing, almost primitive by the standards of the age, even though it was plenty advanced to my shock. It was "only" rated at 100+ gigabit speeds, after all...at least, if I did my conversion math correctly.

The various transfer protocols and file formats were another matter, but it was short work to cobble together something I could use to skim around with. And oh BOY did I find the goods…

It would seem that the concept of information security has taken a rather massive backslide in the 41st millennium. (Or maybe it's just me being a freaking super hacker among script kiddies--though there were a few seemingly decent hackers floating around in the fringes, here and there, as I could see the data trails that they tried to hide,) Either way, what little defenses that there were surrounding all that juicy data fell before me like so much tissue paper, and I perused the contents at my leisure, completely unworried about electronic counterattacks or backtracking from anyone currently on the network at large...and it was a shockingly good find at that.

Apparently there was far more to the story of some of the Ganger Houses than was public knowledge. Some of the Noble Houses, too, for that matter, but a quick perusal showed nothing that was truly actionable though the intel was nice. Locations of certain Stash houses, various assorted contacts ranging from petty to potentially important, and a host of other minutiae related to the organization of several of the counterintelligence arms of the relevant party. Of note, the Archives were Primarily a Van Saar concern, with what looked like two or three other factions in on the fun: a group calling themselves the Enforcers, and what looked like House Cawdor as well. There were even areas of the network reserved for "official" Imperial traffic, namely the Nobles themselves, the publicly-facing sections of the Mechanicus, and the Arbites, along with the rest of the Administratum proper.

There was also an unusually sparse section that claimed to be a contact portal for House Delaque…which turned out, upon further inspection, to be a rather elaborate honeypot for those who thought themselves good at the game of ones and zeroes. The actual (and surprisingly well defended) section of the Delaque network was elsewhere entirely.

Didn't make it any harder for me to slice my way in and take what I wanted for my own records, but it was still a better effort than anyone else had put up to this point.

The only parts of the datanet I didn't pick clean for that sweet, sweet info was the sections related to Defense. The PDF had a decent sector all to themselves, and it was practically a digital fortress. No way in hell I wanted anything to do with pissing THEM off.

Even more shocking to me was the presence of another, even more secure section...and it was for the Imperial Fists. As in, the Motherfucking Space Marines.

There was a fucking Space Marine. Chapter. KEEP. ON THIS WORLD..

Not only no, but HELL no.

This was worth ALL of the nope. There is no way in hell I'm fucking with that. EVER. not even at gunpoint am i giving the fucking Astartes a reason to give me their personal attention.

I would not live to see the dawn, if that happened.

Fortunately, I didn't have to. My scouting on the edge of their systems didn't seem to trigger anything, and unlike some of the idiots I was smart enough to let things alone, so I took the clearly offered hint present in that gesture and beat digital feet.

The good news is that I got a decent map of the Hive complex(es) out of it.

Oh yeah. There were quite a few of these hanging around, and each had their own issues. I filed those away for future reference while I examined the real prize.

The map of Hive Primus was apparently somewhat out of date, as several of the documents from the Enforcers and even the Arbites showed areas requiring detours, potential and actual collapses of support structures, and other semi-permanent damage that might need routing around in a tense and/or crisis situation. The Delaque maps, what there were of them, anyway, showed off quite a few of the less-known paths by which one could travel without drawing too much attention, which was essential for one like me, who worked best in the shadows.

That being said, I wouldn't be surprised if that was a second honey pot setup, drawing in those who were smart enough to find the mapping data and then either punishing them for digging too deep…or recruiting them for being able to find them.

Can never put things past people who are willing to work in that many layers...and I think I now know who Harrisyn's unnamed secondary clients might be. These guys go out of their way to keep a low profile even online.maybe the paranoia is justified? I'd have to---

There was a loud knock at the door.

This immediately had me on edge, shifting myself towards anything that might be a defensive position while drawing my 'Eagle, aiming towards the door.

No one except Harrisyn knows that I'm here. And he wouldn't knock.

I hadn't been here for all of a few hours and already this shit is happening? I could feel the tension rising in my spine, demanding I act. But patience and planning was the key here. First, I need to find cover.

Another visual audit of the room followed, with even more focus on finding good cover, or at least adequate cover until I could deal with the idiots. The stuffed chairs were sitting free in the middle of the room, unlike the couch which was up against a wall, and were, while not perfect, at least adequate for my needs. I finished shifting towards my defensive zone and settled in for the coming encounter.

And not a moment too soon, as the door was kicked off of its hinges by an absolutely massive boot.

Said boot was attached to a guy that had to be nearly seven feet, and with more muscle than anything I had ever seen in my life on a person, all on display. There were marks of what looked like prior...surgeries? Injuries? All over his body (and that was DEFINITELY a He, no mistaking things there), along with what looked like a crude, if flamboyant belt of Spikes holding up a pair of simple work trousers. An absolutely lethal-looking cudgel of some sort followed, made out of what looked like old and rusted metal.

But it was those eyes, those cold and lifeless black eyes, set inside of a bald head, that told me everything I needed to know.

This guy...THESE guys (another three men jostled around outside the doorframe, as they started fanning in) were here to kill me.

"Well then, welcome to the drips, my friend. I do hope you've enjoyed your--"

My only answer was a sliver of metal between his eyes, and the loud crack of the pistol's report as I ended him.

"Hey!! He got--"

A second ganger fell, with just as much effort, to a gaping chest wound.

The third tried to rush in while he had the opportunity, and was gunned down just as swiftly.

There was no fourth man. That one had run for the hills after seeing his partners dropped that fast.

A small sigh left me as I relaxed from the tension of the brief combat.

Well, that wasn't how I wanted things to go…but as life has taught me, beggars cannot be choosers by any means. At the end of the day, the fight you can walk away from is a fight that you've won.

Now how the fuck was I going to dispose of these bodies?

Harrisyn Cain liked to believe himself a simple man.

He got up in the morning, Drank his shitty recaf just like everyone else, and then he went out to eke out a living in the harsh underbelly of HIve Primus. And he usually came back, too, always a credit when these things came up with his employers. Just a simple man doing simple things.

And then came that weird cultist attack that came out of nowhere, which wrecked a lot of people's shit in short order, finally requiring the local Stand-ins for the Houses to step up and get things done before the Arbites could get called.

And what should fall into his lap afterwards but the oddest person that he has ever met to date.

That Mr. Green was just a giant puzzle, one that had him intrigued and terrified in equal measure. He adjusted the old jacket he wore, as he meandered his way through the local slums near his old safehouse...where his current 'guest' was residing.

The man moved like a soldier, walked and talked like a spy, and acted as if any and everything could kill him at any moment. Being honest with himself, he probably would not have made a move to recruit him at all if Green hadn't literally walked up to him first. The brief episode of spoken gibberish (or possibly another language that he knew) and apparent severe headaches later, and the man was back to fighting shape, and showing that along with the various bits of training came a scarily sharp mind, one almost as good as his own.

It felt nice, to be able to treat with an intellectual equal, for once, even as an adversary.

But no. This man has to be some kind of freaking gold mine dropped into their laps like so much candy, and at a nearly perfect time, no less. The recruiters of Van Saar were practically foaming at the mouth to get their hands on a Veteran Guardsman, especially one that looked like he'd spent time as a stormtrooper...but as with all things on Necromunda, the running rule was to verify, then trust. No one wanted to be bit in the ass by a fake.

Which was why he had,on orders from the higher ups, gone and hired out a small band of two-bit thugs for a simple job, paid up front. Just head on over to the safehouse, break in the door after knocking loudly once, and look threatening for a bit, then see what happens afterward. All in all a simple job, and one that would test the mettle of this so-called Guardsman.

You could never be too sure with these things, and checking was always the first step...but deep down, he hoped beyond all hope that he was right, that Green really was the real deal, an actual former Guardsman with the raw experience and grit that Van Saar needed so badly and would pay desperately for access to.

In any case, all he had to do was wait just a bit and---

Several odd cracks filled the air, sounding somewhat similar to an old stubber. The surrounding area, long used to the depressingly regular violence that was a standard feature of living near the underhive, ignored them as anything but routine.

The thug screaming in terror and running for his life, however, was not. Not by any means. Especially not splattered with blood as he was.

Harrisyn immediately double-timed it back to his old safehouse, desperate to see if he could salvage the situation by any means at all.

Instead he found an oddly calm Mr. Green, standing over three of the thugs' bodies, and making an odd contemplative gesture as he looked down at them.

Seeming to notice his haste, He looked up.

"Harrisyn, glad you made it back," Green stated, still as calm as ever. "Got another question for you."

"Dammit man, what the hell happened?" Harrisyn exclaimed. "I thought I asked you to lay low?"

"And I did. Until these idiots showed up and decided it was a good day to play pinata with the new guy." Harrisyn didn't recognize the word, but the abandoned blunt instruments surrounding the bodies said a lot for context. "As you can see, I wasn't too enthused about the prospects, and disagreed. Loudly."

Harrisyn took a closer look at the bodies. Not one of them was with the group he'd hired to rough Green up a bit, which he found quite confusing...until his thugs rounded the corner.

"Hey there dipshit. Care...to…"

The opening banter (read: inane prattle) died off quickly as the thugs took in the scent before them. Then, almost as one, they turned around and quickly departed in the opposite direction.

Harrisyn Snorted. At least SOMEONE here had the brains that The Emperor demanded that they use for a living.

Green spoke up from his impromptu vigil once more. "So, I'm assuming that your bosses felt a test was in order…"

"And the idiots that just left were it," he'd replied immediately. No way in HELL was he claiming the dumbasses on the ground as his. "Something of a policy, I'm afraid. I had no say in the matter."

"Really now." Green's tone became very flat, almost mocking. "And next I suppose you'll tell me that these guys were unsanctioned interlopers trying to horn in because someone was being an idiot about security, right?"

Harrisyn noted the implied accusation for what it was, and ignored it. "Yes, that is more or less the case. Not that I could have done anything about it myself, but these things happen." He moved closer to the now ruined safehouse door, kicking one squarely in the side as he passed by. "In any case, this just might put some of the doubts to rest about your skills. I think I'm going to cut out the middleman and take you to the higher ups directly. They have an...interest in you."

"And here you said you were but a low-level info broker. Kinda high up the fence for someone like you, ain't it?"

"...you can say that--"

There was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled to face it, hands flying to the hidden holster underneath his jacket, seeing all too clearly his target, aiming squarely at his new charge.His now drawn autopistol quickly finding its mark, a twitch of the finger sent lead-jacketed death streaming towards the last thug, the one that had run screaming earlier, now armed with a damned HELLGUN? Where in the fuck did they even FIND one of those? Admittedly it was in bad shape, but still...

"...so that's where he ran off to." Green seemed a bit shaken, but he placed it down to the adrenaline rush of nearly getting shot at. He'd been there all too many times, himself.

"Looks like it. Now then, Let's get you to the bosses, Mr. Green."

Green made an odd chuckling noise. " Oh hell no, Harry. You saved my ass from getting fried by that asshole. You don't get to 'Mr. Green' me." He moved closer, extending his hand, a wry smirk on his face.. "Name's Satori. Satori Green; Friends call me Tory."

Harry (and its been a long, long time since he allowed anyone to call him that) looked at the offered hand for but a brief moment...and smiled.

"Nice to meetcha Tory. Name's Harry."

The two men shook hands.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
==================================

CH2|--Deity's Weapon (100CP)
Naturally, your aura is not your only tool, and neither is it just for show. By imbuing a portion of your aura into a tool, you can turn it into a weapon capable of eating through physical and magical barriers alike. Naturally, as you're infusing a portion of your mystic nature into the tool, with time it will grow to possess magical qualities as well. With a sufficient amount of time passing, you could very well find yourself bearing a mystic weapon, one that has naturally absorbed enough mystic force to rival the greatest of magical weapons. With enough time, all that energy would be enough to make it a weapon of lore. Just don't expect it to happen anytime soon.

---[Deific Qualities – 0 – Mystic Only]
Deities and mystics are quickly recognizable by the distinct aura that surrounds them, though not everybody possesses the ability to see that aura. While you can freely control who can see your aura, certainly there will be plenty of times when you would be much better off with nobody seeing it. The nature of your aura is generally up to you to control both in terms of coloration as well as size. Certain races are generally bolstered by the presence of your aura, and in the opposite fashion, some races are naturally weakened in its presence. While this is something you choose, with a single race bolstered and a single race weakened, it generally seems to do with the nature of your mystic qualities. A fox mystic would probably bolster fellow fox races while possibly weakening humans.
---[The Aspect – 0 – Mystic Only]
Mystics and deities alike have always taken on profiles, drawing upon the various elements of nature around them. Some would say that these profiles were assigned to them by their worshippers, or perhaps they were chosen by these divine individuals themselves. Regardless, as a mystic of minor presence, you too have an aspect, representing a single element of nature. Your ability to manipulate this element is probably the most fundamental skill you possess as a mystic. Everything from conversion to manifestation operates with this single element in mind. In its simplest form, you'll be able to produce small quantities of this element at no significant detriment to your spirit. Though it takes time to develop this skill, it will improve bit by bit with further usage, from mere generation to conversion of one element into your core element, and then finally manifesting your core element into the environment around you. Both the intensity and range of your powers will slowly grow. Though it should not bear repeating, as with most things related to mystics, growth is slow given how long your lifespans tend to be. There's simply no reason to move things in a hurry.

CH2|-Info Processing (Starcraft II - Nova Covert Ops) (400CP)
You are not always stuck in a lab, you are useful in more areas than just that. You can process information, sensor readouts, intercepted communications, and more importantly, you can apply such knowledge. While others would use such data for tactics, you see opportunity for scientific advancement. The more information you have access to, the better opportunities you see for salvageable materials, technologies, or data. And you can use those to relatively quickly implement a usable and useful technology.

CH2|-Robust Engineering (Dune) (300CP)
Ten thousand years of stagnation in technology is a very long time... and now you know how to apply the lessons of those millennia to the construction of anything you have. Mass production does not exist any longer and even relatively common items are made as if masterwork quality, because aside from obvious cheap items, they have been built to last longer than the person using them. Expect anything you construct by hand to be able to last centuries, as long as you take a little extra time while you make it. With the amount of time you're going to be around... you may need that sort of quality.

--Military Training [100, Free: Drop-In / Smuggler]
Military training is particularly curious here due to the invention of the shield; only an object moving slowly can penetrate one, and firing a lasgun at a shield causes a quasi-nuclear detonation that will consume both the weapon firing, the shield, and potentially everything in between with a yield that may vary from hand grenade to H-bomb. As a result, true military training provides a smattering of training over long range weaponry and the bulk of it in melee and unarmed combat.

CH2|--Nanite Sciences (100CP)
You possess in depth knowledge of nanite technologies. With sufficient equipment and resources you could
produce and control nanite machines, possibly even recreate the nanite event or maybe figure out how to reverse its effects. But that would take a long time of additional study of nanites out in the world, still you might be one of the few who could attempt this endeavor. You possess no knowledge of the meta-nanites, and understanding how they work is beyond your grasp.

CH2|-The Right Tools (Generic Cyberpunk) (100CP)
They can be hard to find, but when resources are hoarded and hard to come by you've learned to make do. You can easily improvise for tools and materials you lack by creatively using what you do have, even if that means using scrap to build the tools to build the tools you need. Even if you're lucky enough to have a fully stocked workshop or lab this will come in handy, as you'll be able to do a great deal more with what you have instead of needing to commission or build specialized equipment for every unique little thing. You'll never be empty handed and useless for long.

CH2|-Aesthetics and Flair (Bayonetta) (100CP)
A gun isn't quite a gun until it LOOKS good, you know? It's supposed to be classy, make you look amazing just for having it. Likewise, that sword could use a bit of badass styling to it. When you create your weapons, you can make them look DAMNED good even on an off day. Expect any weapon creator to envy you, and those who die by your weapons to count themselves lucky as they perish to such beautiful art.

CH2|-Excellent Craftsman (In Another World With My Smartphone) (200CP)
You are incredibly talented at making things. What kinds of things? All kinds of things. You are simply that talented after all. Anything you personally make, or direct the creation of, will automatically be top-quality, and you never need to worry about making mistakes in the creation process. To get you started you may pick any four mundane skills related to making things, which you start as a master of.

---Regular Magic Affinity - Free for Everyone
You've got regular affinities for magic. Which is to say, roll a 1d2+1 if you're any race but a fairy, which roll 1d3+2. That is how many elements you have an affinity for. The elements are Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, Light, and Darkness. Technically there is another 7th 'element' known as Null Magic but that deals with personal magic which everyone has. Everyone gets 1 Null Magic (personal magic) spell, except for fairies that get five. It is impossible to train up affinities you do not possess or gain more Null Magic spells beyond the one(s) you start with, either you have them or you don't. (see Notes for details on magic) [Roll was 3. I was not amused]

CH2|-Weapons Recombination Template (Final Fantasy XIII-2) (200CP)
The shady dealer (Actually it seems like everything he's offered so far is shady) just shrugs when you pick this up. Apparently, it binds two weapons together, and allows you to shapeshift the weapon between either form. You're not quite sure how it works, but he demonstrates it to you by showing you how a bow can shift into a sword. You can't help but notice that it also turned into a Moogle afterwards...but apparently yours won't do that. Unless you throw a Moogle into the mix. Wait...does that mean...

Engineseer · Apr 23, 2021

Great chapter, cant wait for more Underhive shenanigans (i guess middle hive now) and Var saar taking there lucky stars ..... now your mc just need to figure out what to do with the

The STC that var saar keep next to the space port

because thats will get you far

Mastersgt · Apr 23, 2021

Lotsa room for growth here... looking forward to it. Get yourself Necrodermis bones/muscles/skin. Basically be a Necron, but instead of a Skeleton, be a person. Combine it with Primarch Gene-enhancements, Bio-mechanical nanites(Organites), and generally all the improvements you can imagine. Making the MC Immortal, as invulnerable as possible, and possibly even edging towards straight-up PA-Commander levels of BS. Maybe even turning MC into a Plurality/Multiplicity, where it is one mind with many bodies, not a hivemined with many minds in one or more bodies.

Marcrawsky · Apr 23, 2021

so what null magic did we get?

stads · Apr 23, 2021

nice chapter thx for writing it
good to see the gangs atleast trying to check out the mc no idiot gangs in this hive
nice talk with his contact will be fun to see how that friendship as it is on a hiveworld/gangworld will work

mrttao · Apr 23, 2021

that seems like a bit too much growth. He is getting too many new perks per chapter, faster than he can even use them

Engineseer · Apr 23, 2021

mrttao said:
that seems like a bit too much growth.

yeah , that question was answered on the discord
He is doing a Fast-growing forge at the start so that the Mc can get a good footing and then slow down for 100cp / 2000 words ( if I remember he will change for a low for one 600cp perk on when he can get "stable" on the setting)

Slider Zero · Apr 23, 2021

mrttao said:
that seems like a bit too much growth. He is getting too many new perks per chapter, faster than he can even use them

Yeah, that was noted and I'm addressing it going forward. The main issue I thought i'd have was not getting completely wrecked trying to act on Necromunda, but then chapter 2 happened. chapter 3 calms down a bit, even though there are some...interesting....rolls that happened there, and I'm really considering pushing for 2000 or more words per 100cp just to let me play with what I have.

I'm applying this from chapter 4 onwards, as the perks for chapter 3 have already been rolled up. One in particular offers an interesting application vector for experimentation, so I really wanna take a look at it.

some one · Apr 24, 2021

Slider Zero said:
Yeah, that was noted and I'm addressing it going forward. The main issue I thought i'd have was not getting completely wrecked trying to act on Necromunda, but then chapter 2 happened. chapter 3 calms down a bit, even though there are some...interesting....rolls that happened there, and I'm really considering pushing for 2000 or more words per 100cp just to let me play with what I have.

I'm applying this from chapter 4 onwards, as the perks for chapter 3 have already been rolled up. One in particular offers an interesting application vector for experimentation, so I really wanna take a look at it.

how about a ark and goal structured story , the MC decides on a goal a reasonable and attainable goal mind you no deciding to fix the imperium while being a lowly underhiver or any such madness , then the MC works towards that goal in a series of arks(2 or 3) with each ark being 3 or 4 chapters long culminating in the goal being accomplished then the MC unlocks a bunch of new perks during an epilogue summarizing the adventure followed by the MC deciding his new next goal this one being more ambitious based on the gains from last time

to give an example

- the MC is a poor dirty underhiver , he has no right , no income , no safety , no influence or standing of any sort and lives in a literal shit hole
-MC decides that his goal will be to fix that , become rich , gain a noble's rights and privileges , hire some body guards and goons , become somewhat influential , have a stable source of high income and live in an upper hive penthouse
- arks take place each spanning 3 or 4 updates
ark 1 : MC becomes an underhive fixer/shadowrunner building up resources ,a reputation and most importantly connections (this ark is all about establishing the setting and world building)
ark 2 : MC uses the connections gained in the first ark to work as an anonymous black market tech expert/artificer making and selling extremely advanced gear for the highest bidder making vast amounts of untraceable thrones (this ark will be all about exploring the crafting system and it perks)
ark 3: MC uses connections from first ark and wealth from second ark along side his tech perks to become an industrial baron setting up his own factories and manufacturums as a source of safe stable income and from there buy a low noble title along with residence in the upper spire while dealing the politics involved (this ark would revolve around economics ,kingdom building and politics)

the epilogue : the MC looks back on events surmising his losses , gains and lessons learned while deciding his next goal (this is also when he unlocks his next set of perks )

interludes : world building and foreshadowing events of next or future arks

Engineseer · Apr 24, 2021

some one said:
how about a ark and goal structured story

The issue is that this is 40k, the escalation train never ends (Be that nids , chaos, Orks , DE, etc, etc (all who have a presence in Necromunda))
another issue is that he isn't a Poor lower hive worker, He got the training to compete with Imperial stormtroopers and tempestus Scion, That level of Skill Is HUGE for the Gang that's one claim to fame is producing guardsmen for the IG/PDF

a reasonable and attainable goal mind you no deciding to fix the imperium while being a lowly underhiver or any such madness

You might not know but Necromunda is one of the best place to start saving the Imperium , The Gang that just hired him has a fully functioning STC and the forge has an STC converter for 300cp, so no it's not a really unreasonable goal (or trade it for a write of trade/ planetary governor position

mrttao · Apr 24, 2021

Slider Zero said:
Yeah, that was noted and I'm addressing it going forward. The main issue I thought i'd have was not getting completely wrecked trying to act on Necromunda, but then chapter 2 happened. chapter 3 calms down a bit, even though there are some...interesting....rolls that happened there, and I'm really considering pushing for 2000 or more words per 100cp just to let me play with what I have.

I'm applying this from chapter 4 onwards, as the perks for chapter 3 have already been rolled up. One in particular offers an interesting application vector for experimentation, so I really wanna take a look at it.

1. I think this should be noted in story rather than just in the discord and comments
2. I feel this is a mistake. One of the most interesting times of an OP story is the early phase when you are not a god yet. fast tracking to becoming a god before slowing down growth misses that phase and it is a shame.

Cheetored20 · Apr 24, 2021

mrttao said:
1. I think this should be noted in story rather than just in the discord and comments
2. I feel this is a mistake. One of the most interesting times of an OP story is the early phase when you are not a god yet. fast tracking to becoming a god before slowing down growth misses that phase and it is a shame.

This is warhammer, if Taylor is the queen of escalation, this is the SETTING of escalation. EVERYONE is a redshirt.

Slider Zero · Apr 24, 2021

This seems to be an issue, so I'll address it here before it gets out of hand.

ON POINT VALUES:
I originally started with 500 words/100cp, with the intention of getting one good tech database or decent skillset then swapping up to 1000words/100cp. This WOULD have worked well....except I ran into Murphy, and my roll method.

As it stands, I roll the perks for the chapter I'm writing based on the word count from the previous chapter. This allows me to A) Know what i'm getting ahead of time, and B)adjust the story flow appropriately to allow for those perks to come in without breaking the narrative flow.

The problem happened because the perks for chapter 2 came with a BUNCH of freebies/mandatory use perks that bumped the overall power level a lot faster than the actual perks themselves did, plus the fact that chapter 2 was a mandatory setup chapter and left little for actual forge time.this creates the optics that the character is gaining power too fast, something that I noted myself during the process.

The second issue here? even with all that power and capability...Tory is barely an elite Red Shirt in this setting.
Anything, anything at all even remotely important to more than the local underhive (including some of the mutated beasts threin) even looks in his general direction, he's dead. period. Something that has been stressed to me repeatedly by the people helping me with the lore is that this is NOT a nice universe, and Necromunda has plenty of threat for everyone. There are no brakes on the Escalation Train here...and Tory isn't even properly on the train yet, compared to what the local Tyranid presence could do.

I know that everyone likes seeing the "before the character becomes God" parts, and I agree. The Problem is that for a good, LONG period of time into the future there are multiple FACTIONS whose base unit could slaughter the entire hive outright, let alone my poor MC. But that's my fault for not communicating this beforehand.

I'll be putting an informational post after this one for details on how i'm handling the setup. you can use that as a review.

Lastly, and i'm shocked that I have to say this, but I Cannot Please Everyone. as much as I want to write a fun and enjoyable story, sometimes the direction and choices made will clash with the views of my prospective readers. For that, all I can say is I am Sorry that I cannot give you what you want.

Thank you for reading, and please leave any comments and concerns that you have here. I appreciate the feedback.

Webzayne · Apr 24, 2021

The only criticism I can give, is to put the perk text(spoiler) in-line with rolls rather than at the end.

Slider Zero · Apr 24, 2021

POINT GENERATION IS AS FOLLOWS:
CH1-3: 100cp per 500 words.
CH4-?: 100cp per 1000 words.

I am strongly considering pushing this to around 2500 words, but I nave concerns about the size of the forge proper in doing so.
I will update this post as necessary. with other information.

The Ringing of a Forge of Stars [Warhammer 40k/ Celestial forge V3||OC...ish]

Not too sore, are you?

Versed in the lewd.

Robosexual

Versed in the lewd.

Robosexual

Versed in the lewd.

Corrupting Innocent Grammar

Not too sore, are you?

Getting some practice in, huh?

Corrupting Innocent Grammar

Not too sore, are you?

Getting some practice in, huh?

Getting some practice in, huh?

The Jackal Of Tsagualsa

Not too sore, are you?

Not too sore, are you?

Robosexual

Well worn.

Not too sore, are you?

Experienced.

Robosexual

Not too sore, are you?

I trust you know where the happy button is?

Robosexual

Versed in the lewd.

Not too sore, are you?

C̸̢̩̮̎͂̈́̃͐ò̷̞̫r̶̥̖͙̋͒̀r̴̟̱͍̭̹̈́̌u̷̲̪̠͛̃̿p̵̻͆ț̵͂

Not too sore, are you?

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