"Are you happy, o citizens? Do you look at the grey towers in which we dwell, decked with rust and crawling with vermipodes, and feel your hearts sing? Do you rise from your slumcells hungry for each wracking day of duty? Perhaps your shoulders yearn for the grasp of the ore lugger's harness on your shoulders? Or, while you labour in the dusty mine, do your work songs come truly from your heart as the autohymnal drones, as the indolent Overdeacon stares at your face, searching for the least crack of doubt and a reason to raise his prod?
"Most certainly, you revel in those riches your hard labour rewards you with! That fistful of eighths and ninths that you will mostly hand back to the Porter-Warden when you come home each day. For who does not earnestly rejoice in the chance to pay back their indenturing fee, so modestly charged by the Imperium when they brought us to this salt-scoured, forsaken desert? Who here balks when the sorry remainder of their wage is taken by the caupo for our slummish, crowded rooms or by the hospes for what he wearily reminds you is better food than we deserve?
"No, I look around this room, and see only happy faces. Only contentment and smiles! After all, who amongst you would ever dare to dream of a different life, a truly egalitarian life, a life amongst the promised stars, a life eternal with no boot across your neck, no golden two-faced eagle chained to your back, no shackles, no work, no punishment, no poverty, no tyrants but the benevolent ones we ourselves could become!
"Ah, just think of it! Food, entire planets' worth of it, yours for the taking! Power, enough to frighten even the bogeymen Astartes! Freedom, to move beyond your petty place in these mines and finally evolve to the godlike beings you know in your hearts you ought to be!
"No. No, o ye drudges of Hervex, I know none of you share this dream of mine. Not yet. But I do not despair, I shall not give up, I will not, not until every last one of us has shucked the yoke of our slavers and risen, risen, risen to that place in the heavens that we all so richly deserve!"
Excerpt from The Cantina Sermon, Hervex D, attributed to the labourer known as Narthulon
HQ
- Patriarch
- Magus
- Jackal Alphus
- Primus
- Acolyte Iconward
Troops
- 14 Neophytes (autoguns)
- 20 Neophytes (shotguns)
- 20 Neophytes (autoguns)
- 20 Neophytes (assorted)
- 11 Acolyte Hybrids (one of each special option, hand flamers otherwise)
Elites
- Kelemorph
- Clamavus
- Nexos
- Reductus Saboteur
- Sanctus
- 5 Aberrants
- 48 Purestrain Genestealers
Fast Attack
- Achilles Ridgerunner
- 5 Atalan Jackals
Heavy Support
- Goliath Rockgrinder
Pappa Grease, Patriarch
"I am twelve years old, and have had over four hundred children." |
Narthulon, Magus
"This is my message to you, Comrades: Rebellion!" |
Jed Collier, Acolyte Iconward |
"Remove Man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished forever." |
She seized the gun… and let fly a charge of number 6 shot into the darkness |
"And among us... let there be perfect unity, perfect comradeship in the struggle." |
"Do you not see what they are doing? In another moment they are going to pack blasting powder into that hole." |
Janethi Jones, Sanctus
Jones, who was marching ahead with a gun in her hands |
"Never mind the milk, comrades! That will be attended to. The harvest is more important." |
So I've always liked the little literary bits you weave through these writeups, but Animal Farm took me by surprise. Excellent choice.
ReplyDeleteCheers! It was all Stylus's doing originally, he put LotR and Shakespeare quotes on all his WFB armies.
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