Note: Here are several discussion relevant to these quotes.
Speed discussioChaos Gods tier discussioDaemon Primarch discussio*A Space Marine analyzing multiple advanced tactical protocols within nanoseconds. Relevant to the combat and reaction speed of characters.
"'I have little idea,' Cestus confessed, staring into the viewscreen, analysing and appraising tactical protocols in nanoseconds as he considered Kaminska's question."
- A Space Marine sees an unrecognized foe, and in under a nanosecond, plays out and analyzes the situation and its consequences before drawing his bolter. Relevant to the combat and reaction speed of characters.
"The Word Bearer is almost unrecognisable. For a nanosecond, the figure registers to Luciel as an unknown, a threat. Transhuman responses are already there, unbidden. Adrenaline spikes to heighten an already formidable reaction time. Muscle remembers. Luciel wears his boltgun, an oiled black pit bull of a weapon, in his thigh holster. He can draw, aim and fire in less than a second. The range is six metres, the target unobstructed. There is no chance of missing. Maximus plate, frontally augmented, might stop a mass-reactive shell, so Luciel will fire two and aim for the visor slits. The airgate skin-sleeve is self-repairing, and will survive las-fire damage, but a bolter shot will shred it open, so Luciel also braces for the explosive decompression of a ricochet or a miss-hit. At a simple, subconscious neural urge, boot-sole electromagnets charge to clamp onto the deck plates. He can make a clean kill headshot in less than a second and a half, two rounds for kill insurance, and probably protect the atmospheric integrity of the airgate. All this, all this decided, unbidden, instinctive, in less than a nanosecond."
- A Space Marine watches bolter fire in slow motion. Relevant to the combat and reaction speed of characters.
"Gabriel squeezed a couple of shells out of his bolter and watched the little contrails that poured out behind them, as though in slow motion. They spun through the thick, gaseous air and then slipped through a gap in the lava flow, punching into the kaleidoscope of reflections beyond."
- Kharn mutilates some of Chapter Master Azrael's best Dark Angels. Relevant to Kharn's combat and reaction speed.
"The three Dark Angels did not know what was happening until it was too late. Pinned down by Black Legionnaires in defensible positions further along the corridor, they had taken to alcoves and doorways, slowly advancing from cover point to cover point, exchanging fire as they went. The roar of a chainaxe from behind them drew their attention. Two halves of the green-armoured figure fell wetly to the ground, his bolter discharging wildly in a spasming hand. One of the stray shots struck Khârn in the hip but he did not falter, swinging Gorechild around again and liberating another Dark Angel of his head. The third Space Marine, unhelmeted and in the livery of a sergeant, pulled his chainsword free of its scabbard. Khârn reacted quickest, severing the Dark Angel's arm at the wrist, sending both fist and sword tumbling to the deck. His next swipe tore up through the stricken Space Marine's torso, opening him up to the chest before one final blow claimed his head.Khârn was already advancing along the corridor before the corpse hit the floor."
- Kharn resists the control of a Keeper of Secrets before using his axe to eat its soul. Relevant to Kharn's powers and abilities.
The Betrayer advanced upon the throne. It pulsed enticingly before him. Within its multiple facets he thought he saw the face of a beautiful woman, the most beautiful he head ever seen ― and the most evil. Her hair was long and golden, and her eyes were blue. Her lips were full and red and the small, white fangs that protruded from her mouth in no way marred her perfection. She looked at Kh├órn beseechingly, and he knew at once he was face to face with the Daemon trapped within the Heart of Desire.Welcome, Kh├órn, a seductive voice said within his head. I knew you would triumph. I knew you would be the conqueror. I knew you would be my new master.The voice was thrilling. By comparison, the cult leader's voice had been but a pale echo. But the voice was also deceptive. Proud as he was, mighty as he knew himself to be, Kh├órn knew that no man could truly be the master of a daemon, not even a fallen Space Marine like himself. He knew that his soul was once more in peril, that he should do something. But yet again, he found himself enthralled by the persuasiveness of a Slaanesh worshipper's voice. Be seated! Become the new ruler of this world, then go forth and blast those meddlesome interlopers from the face of your planet.Kh├órn fought to hold himself steady while the throne pulsed hypnotically before him, and the smell of heavy musk filled his nostrils. He knew that once he sat he would be trapped, just as the daemon was trapped. He would become a slave to the thing imprisoned within the throne. His will would be drained and he would be a decadent and effete shadow of the Kh├órn he had once been. Yet his limbs began to move almost of their own accord, his feet slowly but surely carrying him towards the throne.Once more, visions of an eternity of corrupt pleasure danced in Kh├órn's mind. Once more he saw himself indulging in every excess. The daemon promised him every ecstasy imaginable and it was well within its power to grant such pleasures. He knew it would be a simple thing for him to triumph on its behalf. All he had to do was step outside and announce that he had destroyed the Heart of Desire. He was Kh├órn. He would be believed, and after that it would be a simple matter to lure the Khorne worshipers to ecstatic service or joyful destruction. And did they not deserve it? Already he was known as the Betrayer, when all he had done was be more loyal to his god than the spineless weaklings he had slaughtered. And with that the daemon's voice fell silent and the visions stopped, as if the thing in the throne had realized its mistake, but too late.For Kh├órn was loyal to Khorne and there was only room for that one thing within his savage heart. He had betrayed and killed his comrades in the World Eaters because they had not remained true to Khorne's ideals and would have fled from the field of battle without either conquering or being destroyed. The reminder gave him strength. He turned and looked back at the room. The reek of blood and dismembered bodies filled his nostrils like perfume. He remembered the joy of the combat. The thrill of overcoming his former comrades. He looked out on a room filled with corpses and a floor carpeted with blood. He was the only living thing here and he had made it so. He realized that, compared to this pleasure, this sense of conquest and victory, what the daemon offered was only a pale shadow. Kh├órn turned and brought Gorechild smashing down upon the foul throne. His axe howled thirstily as it drank deep of the ancient and corrupt soul imprisoned within.
Will post more, soon.
