Day 27 Operation Amymone
We’ve established shop in the 9 o’clock tower. An impossible spire in state of despair, shadow side of the Daylight Chapel. It’s quite magnificent and so clever. Only one way to get here, only available to us.
The cogitators took a week to bring up here and re assemble. The grid is finally online. A ten mile radius, spherical, full sweep, eyes and ghosts roaming the night. It’s quite the gathering. They are all after it. The so called “Pilgrym” being. Inquisitors Inson and Lasarus, possibly Molnar are here. And worse. The Sigillites. We have enough explosives wired to bring the entire tower down if they find us. I know he wants the Sigillites as much as the Pilgrym.
And the Churches. All human action is folly. The Sanctified kind of the Ecclesiarchy, always more sinister and dangerous than they appear. There’s a church of blood, the Red Atheneum, we keep a close eye on them. Worshippers of Greed prowl the streets, scavenge the endless stream of Pilgrims. Predictable but ruthless and lethal. Their operation is somewhat shockingly established. As soon as the sun sets and the grid penetrates sector C4C77 we are going to take a look at the Botanicarium. The auto-seances point to one Brostten Haggwers, but that’s when we lose them. Just burn through our Astropaths, and may need to look at building a host.
He is pleased with the Mortificator. The operation is extensive as it is efficient. We have assets to impact immediate shock doctrine and paralyze the area. Every night we hit more targets and harder.
The hunt of all hunts is on.
(photo credit / Hydra art: Jaime Jones, Terrain: Shibboleth )
20 thoughts on “XX onsite – So it begins!”
A highly atmospheric peace, catching the arrogance and fear of a Chaos worshipper (I imagine this is written by the human acolyte of the fallen Space Marine), puffed up about his ‘impossible and clever’ hiding place, sneering at the ‘folly of human action’ and at the Ecclesiarchy with the pride of one who knows foul and forbidden things and believes his vile gods more powerful than the so-called Corpse Emperor.
Yet he is, I felt, though with no textual evidence, frightened of ‘him’ who wants the Sigillites (Imperial Fists?) as much as the Pilgrymme, for whom he is willing to kill himself — ‘he’ (who I interpret as the Legionnaire) is pleased with the Mortificator, which is carefully noted. His satisfaction is an important thing… that perhaps is the source for the fear.
The loss of the corrupted astropaths and the planned ‘host’ is very frightening… the Alpha Legion must have been scheming for years through concealed operatives to establish a network on Terra itself.
Patrick, everything you have been told is a lie. You should read Legion and my previous XX post and then let your imagination run riot.
Thank you very much. I have carefully read your piece and the summary of ”Legionne”… fascinating.
It reminds me more than slightly of the unorthodox idea that Judas Iscariot was commanded to betray Jesus so that the Passion and Resurrection could take place… the loyal traitor…
What are the intentions of the Ghoste Legionne, the twice-traitors and yet loyal, now? Why do they come to Terra, if they still believe, as the Cabal’s vision suggested, the universe will fall to Chaos? Why do they want to ‘free the Emperor’ from the Golden Throne? Wheels within wheels within wheels.
I had the strange idea that it is guilt… to speak once again to the Emperor, under whose name they yet fight, even if the universe will fall, to beg his forgiveness and to explain that they never wished to be aught but his Sons…
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Also Amymone = ”Blameless One” = the Ghoste Legionne are ”blameless traitors” in their eyes.
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I’ve been thinking very hard about the Ghoste Legionne and I think a methodical analysis of motives… something Alpharius would be pleased about…might help.
NB these are speculations as the book ”Legion” will take time to arrive and I go merely on summaries at present.
We first allow that the Cabal were sincere in their desire to destroy the ”Primordial Annihilator”… then Alpharius Omegon has failed. The Emperor slew Horus and the Galaxy will be consumed by Chaos. Why then are the Legionne on Terra? There is the possibility of guilt I raised before, a desire to speak one last time to the Father they betrayed, yet did so in ultimate loyalty to His will… Or perhaps a gleam of hope against hope, perhaps a living Emperor will turn the tide…
However, it will doubtless have occurred to the long, cold intelligence of the Brother-Primarchs that the Cabal might have tricked them for reasons of their own… that the Legionne fighting against Horus might have prevented the interment of the Emperor in the Golden Throne and his long, slow (inevitable — or is it???) death. If so, restoring the Emperor is their duty…
Yet again we seem to have Alpha Legion warbands fighting with Chaos troops on Vraks and working to weaken and destabilise the Imperium — keeping a third option open, if the Imperium collapses on itself perhaps sufficient numbers of men will die to cripple the Chaos Gods (assuming they remain in their strange, half-loyal position — to do the Emperor’s will as they see it, destroying the Chaos Gods, by any means)… a very risky strategy
Then again, I think it likely and possible that Alpharius maintains all of these possibilities at once — if the Cabal were telling the truth, then waking the Emperor may at least salve the conscience of his failed sons before the long night falls, if they were not, then the God-Emperor restored may destroy Chaos…
Just ‘theorising with insufficient data’ but I might strike something… Sigillites remind me of Malcador the Sigillite, perhaps the legionne are unaware that it was the Emperor’s dying will to be interred in the Throne, it is seen as an imprisonment, a betrayal.
Keep it coming, I cannot wait to see all of these tangled threads untwined a little as the hunt for the Pilgrymme begins!
I ought to add that these are written from an Alpha Legion perspective…they are excommunicate diabolis — Emperor spare me for speculatinge on their vyle thoughtes and plannes…
Patrickke Greye, Scriptor Minimus, Thirty-Second Pilgrymme Office, Holie Terra
Just for clarity, the piece above was written ”in character” and doesn’t mean I don’t want replies — as Patrick Gray I would very much like to here what people think of my speculations… perhaps a few very learned Inquisitors know all this and keep it silent for the good of the Faithful.
We are apt to forget that what we knowe and write about is known to few if at all in the Imperium… duste, dimness, indecipherable characters, the endless ramifications of an administrative leviathan spanning a galaxie, the decay of bookes and scrolls, damp, water, bookworm, plundering, the corruption of data… the ‘chinese whispers’ effect as human tradition becomes more and more bastardised… Laurence talks about the Botanicarium picture as being perhaps true to life, perhaps a mystic’s vision, perhaps a metaphor… technology is barely understood, maintenance a matter of prayers, propitiations and rituals…
Then we have the rigorous secrecy of the Inquisition – as I understand it (please correct me if I am wrong) most Imperial citizens know nothing of the Chaos gods nor of daemons… perhaps a loose idea of a lurking enemy in sermons and mystery plays, but certainly not that they can manifeste in the flesh… mind-witches are the closest they get to the dark powers who are almost certainly unnamed — ‘the Enemy’ lurking in sermons — anyone faintly suspicious must be killed and fast lest their taint should spread. Those who learn anything of them are sterilised and sentenced to hard labour or executed, hence I get irked with Gaunts’ Ghosts, excellently written as it is, like Sharpe — surely Gaunt and his entire regiment would have been executed at the conclusion of the Sabbat Worlds Crusade, or do I just have a much more gothick view of 40k. Such are the means of the Holie Inquisition.
The life of an adept or menial is one of rock-solid faith, felsenfest as the Germans say, simple piety, deep ignorance (yet a glorious ignorance, a holy ignorance, things not understood are gifts from the emperor-omnissiah and accepted by faith) suffering, endless suffering whether from squalor or cold or self-inflicted penance and eventually deathe, a revered thing, the deathe of the Emperor… The Middle Ages is our best reference, I think.
That was the purpose of the quote written as a 40K character… I read a lot of fluff and fear that it is not strange enough, so few, so very few explore the gothic, the strange, the high spyres and the toiling, pious adepts, a world of faith, an age of faith and piety and death… I suppose that’s why this blog is a delight, a strange, Gothic-Baroque world as I dimly imagine it.
I am sorry for a deviation onto ‘philosophy’ and presumption in thinking anyone wants to listen to it, but I was thinking todaye what an oddly privileged position we are in as observers of the Imperium… we have the knowledge of a High Lorde of Terra or a Lorde Inquisitor. Iron Sleete and the Pilgrymme has produced a veritable cottage industry of thought about this fascinating world and it seemed the best blog (and also the best post, dealing with a mystery that perhaps even the High Lords are ignorant of) to post this ramble.
Criminal gangs gather – Ether traffic is alive with rumours of immense power and wealth on the pilgrym roads – Herod gathers his forces and sends out treaties and observances to form alliances for the talk is of big schisms above and below – odd signs and portents flood the ritual grounds – servitors stir into life where once there was non and the holi decks read of conflict ……..
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Could I please ask — who is Herod? You mentioned a character no less than a Highe Lorde of Terra and a sceptic at that before — the name suggests the corrupt, lustful, brutal Herod Antipas… interested to see…
*grabs popcorn* This is going to be *damn* good.
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It begins! The excitement in the air is palpable!
Oh, and that Hydra piece of art is by Jaime Jones. It was commissioned for a Magic: The Gathering card called Progenitus.
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Herod is basically the operational field leader of mi faction – he’s a corrupt maderous brute – a corpulent gangster leading the guardians – buff sed ….
Herod – an ironic name for the head of the Hospitalier guardians… Herod slew the innocents in bethlehem, just as this brute slays the innocent pilgrymmes for money.
I look forward to seeing him…. it’s particularly interesting, now I understand it better, to think how the Ladie Betsheba fits into the corrupt Hospitaliers… a minor nobilita from lowe Terra, partaking in the Hospitaliers gains, clawing her way upwards by greede? Or just a title adopted by another gangster? Someone pointed out the dull orange-red suggests the drab, grim, dirty ”unfulfilling” life of lowe terra, grinding drab toil suported by devotion — for such as her devotion is meaningless. echoing a little the splendour of the clergie, these men are rich, but also rust, decay, dirt.
I was thinking about the drab gabardine macks in the fifties… your drab, dull gothick palette that catches the Imperium so well seems to be based around the same colours … dirty dulled cream, long begrimed, dirty brown (suggests a dreary street…) a little dull orange-red or begrimed sickly gold…
mr grays medieval/gothic understanding or interpretation shadows mi own – true the denizenz of terra would know nought of chaos, marines, or xenos – just grinding toil and ritual – the emperor is but a myth – and a complete burdensome deffearence – much like mi child hood in the fifties – the UK was dark, industrial and everybody doffed their caps and wore gaberdine macs – policemen clipped you round the ear and there was no cars, phones, computers, few books did not even have a home just toy soldiers – it was truly grim and featureless – it was also very violent ……
Thank you laurence, in a few words you capture everything I blunderingly try to say… no knowledge of Chaos, Marines, Xenos, anything we think of, the Emperor on Holie Terra is but a name.. though a name whispered constantly in prayer… squalor, ignorance, toil, biting cold, filth, pain… deference and humility, always deference and humility to the nobilitae, the clergy, the holie priestehoode of terra…
The 1950s, grim, cold postwar britain is an excellent example…
My chief personal disagreement with necromunda terrain aesthetic (not the house-gangs or the feudal world of necromunda) is it makes the underhive look too modern-industrial hab-blocks and so on. I imagine it as being like rottenchapell, corroding chapells, dormitories, monasteries, the very houses are rather ecclesiastical. guilds and sodalities the social organisation sanctioned… a Victorian slum had a similar decaying, high, tall, gothic look, just ramped up to eleven… hollowe-eyed statues of saints decaying by broken enclosures, ragged quasi-mediaeval/victorian figures, beggars, gang-labourers waiting for their next shift, hawkers wrapped in filthy cloaks, dirty faces, cataract-ridden eyes, arms twisted with augmentations… rather like the youtube trailer of ”Hard to be a God” — Thistle’s hyvers and pit-slaves catch it:
The hyve-labourers… fourteen-hour shifts of backbreaking toil (all skilled manufacturing is done by the Mechanicvm as I understand it) so I imagine the more basic tasks — mining, iron extraction, smelting)… work-hymns sung to the tune of picks and automatic arm-saws cutting away at the coal… ”elf and safety” obviously non-existent… working for a guild or noble house which has the planetary monopoly.
For the literate (a very small minority… I imagine only the Priesthood of Terra and the nobility are generally literate, NCO’s probably as well… an educated man might, might have got as far as Euclid) I imagine dust, grime, toil, bent over an illuminated manuscript, perhaps sustained by a food-drip and by drugs so the worke is ceaseless… while foetid unmentionable water leaks through a hole in the scriptorium roof… the suspensor fields gently crackling as they fail, much of the librarium and data-stacks abandoned. The scholars and magi, as another blog put it, know everything and they know nothing, only dimly aware of the contents of the vast librarii as more and more sinks into darknesse, every surface covered in heaps of scraps and dust and broken quills.. a space cleared to work at, a flickering light-globe or a few candles borne on a servo-skull providing a fitful light… neglect always faster than efforts to re-catalogue the records, entropy always defeating the efforts of the scribes… memento mori. Investigations into more difficult and obscure texts will require full-scale expeditions into crumbling, freezing…. haunted… mazes of parchment, rust, damp and inches-thick dust.
Or the vast labyrinth of the Administratvm, elaborate and byzantine beyond our comprehension, entire departments utterly forgotten, generations of hereditary monk-clerks living in an increasingly decayed and unwholesome monastery-office, robes patched and repatched, receiving a tithe of new adepts from time to time, toiling at some task which they do not know the purpose of, nor that it is long obsolete — the finished papers will moulder away…
An adept poring at reports ten years, twenty years, a century out of date, forwarding despatches which will only perplex another adept when they arrive. I imagine that, unimaginably vast though the network of astropathic choirs is, only important news can be passed along them and the wheels of the Administratum grind exceeding slow… only the crusades and the more important hyve-worlds may receive even tolerable shipments of technologie which is made without understanding and even then documents will often be mislaid… famine will be as much a problem as we imagine in in the Middle Ages if a shipment to a hyve-world fails…
An age of great devotion, the solemn, weighty, incense-laden beauty of the Imperial rites, of suffering, of pointless toil a nato usque ad mortem, et ultra mortem as a servo-skull…
These are purely thoughts and speculations wandering further and further from the point! Forgive me.
Describes mi life completely …..
Do you mean your life is ”thoughts and speculations wandering further and further from the point” !! Well I’m in talented company!
I hope the latest screed managed to capture a tithe of what I try to say and find myself ill suited to saying — Migs Ghoste Legionnaire and his Sentinel, Centurion Grigor, are god-warriors, Angels of Death, loyal or ‘blamelessly’, amymone-like, ”fallen”, but grimy and dusty, their armour poorly understood relics, probably, yet again, irreproducible .