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trans_92011-03-29 04:17 pm
daemonomicon.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-03-29 04:17 pm
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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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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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