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trans_92011-03-29 04:17 pm
daemonomicon.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-03-29 04:17 pm
Entry tags:
Tools of the Trade
The Imperium of Mankind is known for having rather unusual habits and superstitions.
A rather common one is that everyone, including those not of the Cult Mechanicus, believes all machines and weapons, particularly old and powerful ones, have spirits of their own, aptly named Machine Spirits. It is said that to anger a weapon's machine spirit is to invite it to turn against you in combat, but to honor it will cause it to serve you well. As such, it is common to treat particularly old and storied weapons with reverence, almost as though they were people themselves.
So what Cargn is currently doing in the Weapons and Possessions Lockers might seem a bit odd at first glance.
The robed figure was currently kneeling down on the floor, and before him lay the massive halberd he normally wielded in battle, atop a fine, crimson cloth wrapping. He appeared to be muttering some type of prayer in an odd form of Latin.
"Somni salvus, Frater," he said quietly once the prayers were complete. With due reverence he began wrapping the weapon in the cloth covering.
To say Cargn had a deep connection with the weapon was something of an understatement. The Burden of Truth had been at his side for nearly eight centuries, the very same weapon he had received upon his induction into the Grey Knights. For him, it was less a weapon and more an old friend and irreplaceable companion.
However, at the same time, Cargn was a practical man, and he knew when something was necessary and when something needed to be set aside. And now, he needed a different type of tool.
He stood up, handing the wrapped weapon to one of Stacy's waiting tendrils for storage, watching quietly as it was taken away. Several seconds later, another tendril arrives with another wrapped weapon, this one's covering far more worn and old looking.
||Here is the item you requested,|| Stacy said in her usual manner, as Cargn took the item and removed its wrappings. Beneath was a rather old, ornate staff, the cold, empty eye sockets of the crystalline skull that topped it staring directly into Cargn's own.
"May I prove worthy enough to deserve your strength," he said reverently.
A rather common one is that everyone, including those not of the Cult Mechanicus, believes all machines and weapons, particularly old and powerful ones, have spirits of their own, aptly named Machine Spirits. It is said that to anger a weapon's machine spirit is to invite it to turn against you in combat, but to honor it will cause it to serve you well. As such, it is common to treat particularly old and storied weapons with reverence, almost as though they were people themselves.
So what Cargn is currently doing in the Weapons and Possessions Lockers might seem a bit odd at first glance.
The robed figure was currently kneeling down on the floor, and before him lay the massive halberd he normally wielded in battle, atop a fine, crimson cloth wrapping. He appeared to be muttering some type of prayer in an odd form of Latin.
"Somni salvus, Frater," he said quietly once the prayers were complete. With due reverence he began wrapping the weapon in the cloth covering.
To say Cargn had a deep connection with the weapon was something of an understatement. The Burden of Truth had been at his side for nearly eight centuries, the very same weapon he had received upon his induction into the Grey Knights. For him, it was less a weapon and more an old friend and irreplaceable companion.
However, at the same time, Cargn was a practical man, and he knew when something was necessary and when something needed to be set aside. And now, he needed a different type of tool.
He stood up, handing the wrapped weapon to one of Stacy's waiting tendrils for storage, watching quietly as it was taken away. Several seconds later, another tendril arrives with another wrapped weapon, this one's covering far more worn and old looking.
||Here is the item you requested,|| Stacy said in her usual manner, as Cargn took the item and removed its wrappings. Beneath was a rather old, ornate staff, the cold, empty eye sockets of the crystalline skull that topped it staring directly into Cargn's own.
"May I prove worthy enough to deserve your strength," he said reverently.
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She blushed a little at the last statement, she hoped she had not insulted Sir Cargn, or the weapon by assuming it was for brute force. She rubbed the back of her head embarrassed as she looked away. "S-sorry, I should have guessed, staves are mainly used by spellcasters back home. A battle staff made for a warrior like me was much more rare I guess."
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"That's not to say it cannot be used for such things. Imperial design tends to go for both form and function, and even the most esoteric design can be used as a martial weapon. It is often preferred as such, really. We like our enemies within arm's reach."
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"I prefer it that way as well. I always felt the desire to be in the front line, it would allow me to protect my team and let me intercept the incoming attacks meant for those in the back. "
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It was one shared by many of the Grey Knights, save those destined for the Purgation support squads, providing fire from afar.
"It is much easier to measure the man you are fighting when you can look him in the eye."
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"It felt more personal, even if the opponent didn't share the same thought. We were both part of the same battle, both fighting for our ideals, I honored my side by always giving it my all and never underestimating my opponent, just as I hoped they didn't underestimate me."
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"Alas, I could not say as much for many of my enemies. Servants of the gods of Chaos, cursed souls, and daemons accounted for the vast majority. Not often did they make for honorable foes."
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"Gods of c-chaos?" she almost squeaked out not noticing. "W-what were the ones in your world like... There were Old Gods back home... They were beings of pure chaos and they spawned deranged creatures or pure evil and chaos..."
She could face demons, undead, dragons and a slew of other creatures head on, as fearless as any other male or female or otherwise in the army. But her encounter with the Old Gods had left her scarred for life. She was deathly afraid of them.
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"Chaos stems from the realm known as the Warp, a reality of pure energy, charged and affected by the minds and emotions of mortals. Whether the Gods of Chaos were created by the depravity of the living, or the other way around, no one knows, but it is known the two are linked."
"Khorne, Lord of Skulls, god of bloodshed. Nurgle, Lord of Flies, god of decay. Slaanesh, Prince of Desire, god of excess. Tzeench, Changer of Ways, god of blasphemy and sorcery. These Four are chief among the Enemy, but they are not alone."
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"You know a lot more about your gods of chaos than we did about ours. Did you engage them a lot? They all sound very powerful, specially if they are charged and affected by emotions... Considering how powerful some emotions can be."
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He reached for an old, worn looking tome that hung from his waist on a simple rope, holding it up.
"All of that knowledge has been set toward fighting them. Though there are some who think to use the Enemy's tools against them, but they are rare."
"It is a difficult battle. One that cannot be truly won. All that we can do is remain vigilant, save those who can be saved, and pray for those who fall."
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"Your people are courageous and stalwart, I am further honored to have gotten a chance to meet you then Sir Cargn. I'll make sure to give it my all in this war as well, defeat the Ohm and save the people they have wronged for so long."
She looked up at him admiringly. "How goes the mapping of the relic?" she asked curiously.
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At the mention of the map, he sighs loudly.
"Quite exhausting, honestly. It is accepting me slowly, though, and allowing me to discover more about it. I believe it views our sessions much like conversations."
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She however looked up at him concerned. "I really wish I could help, it doesn't seem fair that you have to shoulder the burden if it's exhausting. Are they at least pleasant conversations?" she asked curiously, taking the last statement literally.
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"Pleasant enough. Typically most sentient psychic constructs I encounter don't have my best interest in mind, but this one appears, at least, to be civil."
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"Well there's that at least. Hopefully it'll continue being in a favorable mood and you won't have to exert yourself more than you should."
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