Standing outside the Vehicle pit, Octavia waited, her mechanics team finishing up their mornings work. The warm sunlight beat against her hood, a complex microfilament mesh absorbing the heat, keeping its occupant cool. She checked her chronometer, the lunch break had only just started. She looked around, waiting for her Commissarial companion, when a young guardsman ran up to her. His face was haggard, his eyes red, as he leaned over, panting with exertion.
“Priestess,” He gasped out between breaths, “I have been sent to inform you that The Commissar waits for you in the Mess. He sends his sincerest apologies, but says he will explain everything.”
Octavia nodded, “Thank you, Private.”
The Guardsman smiled weakly, wincing as he left. Octavia’s Cognitor noted the his strange behaviour, but thought no more of it, her mechanics team piling out from the workshop.
Octavia smiled happily as she made her way back to the mess tent, surrounded by her chattering mechanics team. The foremost reached the double doors of the mess and swung them open, clearing a path for the petite priestess. Her augmented eyes scanned the mess, locating Rogal in a matter of seconds. Breaking off from the group, she made her way over, her cognitor noting how strangely early he was, the lunch break having only just begun. He should have been later, having come in from the construction sites, but there he sat. The white sling was stark against his obsidian uniform, Octavia’s eyes flipping through the spectrums, infographs popping up as she approached. Her Fleshbrain quickened her steps, her cognitor running as many diagnostics as it could. Vox chatter filled her ears, as she went over everything that had been said on any channel about injuries and the commissar.
Rogal sighed unhappily, slowly lowering his spoon into his soup. He hated using his non dominant hand, which twinged with pain in agreement.

Lifting his spoonful of soup to his mouth and blowing across it, he watched the tendrils of steam twisting in the air.
“Rogal?”He looked away from the misty spirals, and straight into Octavia’s concerned face.
“Are you okay? A guardsman said you would meet me here, then I saw your sling, and then I heard the vox chatter, Isawtheincidentreportandthedisicpllineryactioandareyouokaycanihelpatall?” Her mouth fired off, after which she took in a deep breath. Rogal pushed a chair out with his leg, nodding for her to take a seat beside him. She climbed onto the chair and kneeled, her mechandrites questing out to stroke at the commissars injured limb. He winced as she gently prodded, small electric shocks being sent out to assess the damage. Her fleshbrain held its hands and mechandrites to her conceptual mouth, horrified at the damage done, her cognitor just tutting, pointing out on the commissars medical records the other times he had been injured much worse. She looked at his face, how unhappy he looked, and wracked her cognitor for something to say. A few options presented themselves, her fleshbrain dismissing them as callous, or inane, before her cognitor pointed out she had only a short time to respond.
“You should heal up quite quickly,” She said, her mechandrites slipping away from around his arm, the Commissar nodded in agreement, sighing unhappily.
“It’s just so frustrating. I don’t like not helping. I don’t like being helpless. I enjoy building, I’ve been doing it since I was a boy.”
Octavia patted at an uninjured part of his arm reassuringly, “You’re not useless. You will be able to still use those skilled hands, once you recover. Think of it like,” Her cognitor paused, looking for a suitable comparison. She had never been in his situation, any damages to her limbs were quick and simple to repair. The longest she had been inactive due to damage had been three hours.

Octavia’s cognitor sniffed haughtily, pointing out the superiority of metal over flesh. Her fleshbrain pouted unhappily, before countering with the fact that even injured, his flesh was stronger than her augments. “Think of it like a three day leave.”
The commissar nodded as he reached for his spoon with his good hand, but was stopped by a mechandrite at his wrist. Octavia took the spoon and dipped it in the soup, before offering it to the burly man beside her with a smile.
“I just said, I’m not helpless, “ He complained,
Her fleshbrain paused with a squeak. Shouldn’t he like this? Isn’t this what happened in romance situations? Her cognitor just shook its head, throwing big signs that said LIFE and FICTION. Her green eyes dimmed slightly, as she began to lower the spoon. Her arm stopped, the spoon had been interrupted on its way back to the bowl. Rogal smiled tiredly back at her, the stem of the silverwear poking from his mouth. Swallowing, he released the spoon, sitting back in his chair,
“That being said, I do appreciate your kindness. It would be rude of me to rebuke it.” The commissar said, a boyish grin crossing his face. Octavia’s fleshbrain melted, but not before it delivering a series of obscene gestures to her cogntior. She bounced happily on the chair, moving closer to her husky charge, offering another spoonful of soup.
The mess was filled with sunlight, and every occupant, guardsman and mechanicus alike, felt slightly happier. A navigator in transit found his mouth agape, as a thin tendril, no thicker than a hair, spiralled off from the huge white beam that was the astronomicon, and seemed to gently poke at a planet, before whipping back. He gave praise for the miracle he had just seen, dispite his complete lack of understanding what exactly it meant.

Octavia fed the hulking commissar as they sat and talked, taking the occasional spoonful for herself during lulls in the conversation. She had just finished explaining the basics of noospheric clustering, which was the basis of the new hydra defence system. Rogal had managed to keep up, quite well for a weak fleshling, her cognitor added. He had used interesting metaphors, comparing the noosphere to a water tower, and the various connections as pipes and valves. Her cognitor pointed out the flaws in such concepts, but it worked on a simple level. The bowl of soup sat empty, Rogal taking to his feet.
“Sit down,” Octavia said, before a hand and mechandrite clamped to her mouth,
Rogal looked down, surprise replacing the slightly pained look on his face, “Beg pardon, Priestess?”
Octavia shook her head, blushing furiously,
“I’m sorry,” Rogal continued, surprise morphing to a smile, “I could have sworn I heard you try to give me an order,”
Octavia shook her head furiously, “NO. No, I never mean’t to give you and order, I just wanted you to sit and rest, I will get us more sustenance.”
Rogal sat, the smile not leaving his face, “I thank you for your hospitality Priestess.” He said, leaning back in his chair, “But we will discuss your behaviour when you return,”
The commissars teasing tones sent multiple shivers up and down Octavia’s spine. Her fleshbrain quivered with nervous delight, its metaphysical mechandrites wrapping themselves around her limbs and squeezing tight. Her cognitor shook its head setting up a a few more barriers between her fleshbrain and any control of their body.

As she crossed the mess, her fleshbrain grew more excited, the thought of what manner of chastisement she would endure at the strong hands of the rugged commissar. Conjuring a couch into the metacognital space, her fleshbrain flopping onto it languidly, her legs splayed over the back and the arm, as ideas fell on pieces of paper fluttering around her. Her cognitor directed her body to the line, ignoring the giggles from her fleshbrain. Just to be thorough, her cognitor reasoned, she had better check what was the punishment for trying to countermand a commissar. Information scrolled past her vision as she waited in line, her mechandrites collecting empty trays as she passed the stack. Insubordination, she read, was a medium level offence, punishments ranging from chastisement and extra duties assigned, to in the most extreme cases, summary execution. The most common punishments was three lashes and a few hours hard labour. Her Fleshbrain rolled off the couch, pointing out an addendum another techpriestess had added. In some cases, the pair read, there has been a noted precedent of commissar’s using low level infractions to gain an assistant. In the majority of these cases, the perpetraitor has been female, and has also been punished by taking on such roles of domestic servitude to either the commissar or other other ranking officers.
A small gasp emanated from the petite techpriestess, her cognitor struggling to keep her mobile as she shuffled forward in the line. Her fleshbrain flashed images in front of her eyes, burrowing through the pict dump associated with the page she had been reading. Here, a techpriestess in the stocks, there, one serving meals to an entire table of officers, her fleshbrain pausing as she watched a small loop of priestess getting lashed. Octavia’s cheeks burned, as she offered the trays to the cook, nodding as the trays were piled high with cold meats, leafy greens, and crunchy bread.

Eeeping in thanks, before hurrying back the table as quickly as she could, Octavia’s fleshbrain highlighted the bright pink marks on the skin of the lashed priestess, and the starkness of the black leather lash against her pale flesh. Her breath was quick as she placed the trays down on the table once more, before she climbed back to kneel on her chair. Sitting on her calves, she looked down at her hands in her lap, her hood covering her face, her emerald eyes bright.
“Your meal, Sir,” She said, gesturing with a mehcandrite, and she heard a deep chuckle from the commissar,
“I thank you, Priestess, for your kindness.” He said, as he dragged his tray towards him with his good hand. Octavia looked up from underneath her hood. Rogal sat resplendent on his chair, his injured arm merely adding to his commanding presence. The priestess eeped again, wringing her hands as her mechandrites smoothed at the robes on her legs.
“I apologise profusely for my insubordination, commissar,” she began, the words springing unbidden from her cognitor. Her fleshbrain stood strangely mute, blushing and mumbling nervously, “And will accept any punishment you see fit.”
Looking up, she locked her eyes with the massive man sitting opposite her, her augments brightening. “However,” she continued, “I would like to point out the following cases, in my defence,”
A puzzled look crossed the Commissars face, as he leaned towards his petite companion, “Go on?”
Producing a dataslate from under her robes, a mechandrite plugged into the I/O port, her cognitor shovelling the many cases of Commissarialy mandated servancy to the slate. The transfer bar scrolled across merrily, Octavia’s fleshbrain in awe of her cognitor.

The metaphysical construct that was Octavia’s her cognitor turned to its fleshbrain counterpart, explaining that while her fleshbrain was a weak, hormonally driven, bundle of illogical fallacies and strange ideas, she was her weak, hormonally driven bundle of illogical fallacies and strange ideas. Her fleshbrain squealed happily, hugging the conceptual representation of her cognitor happily. She handed the slate to the commissar, who placed it on the table to read. He smiled, as he scrolled through the various articles. Octavia sat, watching as steely grey eyes flicked back and forth, his finger gently stroking the screen as he worked his way through her evidence. With a satisfied nod, he picked up the slate and handed it back to her, “In light of the information provided,” He began, the smile never leaving his face, “I here by, under my powers as a commissar, find you guilty of insubordination, class four. Do you accept the charges?”
Octavia’s eyes went wide, before she hung her head and said quietly, “Yes, sir.”
“As you have admitted your guilt, I will be lenient. You are here by sentenced,” He paused for dramatic effect, Octavia looking back up at him, smiling nervously, “To assist me in any way, until such a time as I am fully recovered from the wound to my arm. Do you accept the sentence.”
Octavia’s cognitor clipped her fleshbrain over the back of its head, as it stood there, dumbfounded. Its eyes went wide, metaphysical mechandrites and hands climbing to its mouth, as it let out an excited squeak.

“Yes, sir!” she said happily, and Rogal laughed. Her mechandrites scooped the dataslate back under her robes and into the pouch it came from, as she propped herself up on her chair. The commissar pulled himself a little closer, grabbing his mug of recaf. He took up his fork with his good hand and speared a slice of meat, chewing it thoughtfully, before he spoke,
“So, I’m thinking,” He said, after swallowing, gesturing with his fork, “That I really could do with a nice, personally cooked meal tonight.”
Octavia’s mechandrites froze, her the fork in her hand quivering in the air above her meal,
“Do you want me to…?”
“Cook me dinner? That’s a wonderful idea.” The commissar said, a boyish grin crossing his face. Octavia felt her face go pale, “With all due respect sir,” She said, staring intently at her meal, “That is not a good idea.”
“It’s really not,”

The pair looked up, Caelistis smirking at the pair. “Really, Commissar, you do not want her to cook.”
The Commissar looked from priestess to priestess, as Octavia’s mechandrites pulled her hood further forward and she wished she had a peziochamoline layer in her cloak.
“She might be a miracle with a servowrench, but she can’t cook to save her life. However,” The slender priestess’s grin turned wolfish, “She is creative, I’m sure she can think of… something, to make it up to you.”
Octavia’s cheeks burned hotter than she had thought possible, her cognitor flailing wildly as it fought to keep control of her body. Her fleshbrain twitched, near overwhelmed by the idea. Caelistis just leaned predatorily on the table, continuing her little speech, “I mean, look at her, Commissar. Surely one of you can think of some other form of, disciplinary action,” The techpreistess purred the last words sensuously. Rogal forced himself to keep a straight face, clenching his injured hand, sending a lance of pain up his arm to keep him focused. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, before he finally spoke, “I’m going to the medical tent. Octavia, my tent, five minutes. Priestess Caelistis, I thank you for your advice.” The towering Commissar took to his feet, collecting his hat, and quickly exited the mess. Caelistis waved at his back, before glancing at her friend, “I just did you a huge favour there, I hope you realise?” she said, a mechandrite snaking out to spear a leaf from Rogal’s abandoned tray, bringing it up to its owners mouth. Octavia leaned forward, running her hands through her hair, a worried sigh escaping her lips, “What am I going to…”
She glared at her friend, who smiled back, chewing the leafy green cheerfully, “do?”
“You think, We? That? Really? But he’s?”

Caelistis finished the leaf she was eating and turned to face her friend fully, planting her hands on Octavia’s small shoulders, “Look. For once in your life, take what you want. I know you hate it, I know it’s not in your nature, but you have a chance. Don’t waste it. Such chances only exist because of chance, and you know how messy probability can be.”
Octavia looked her friend in the eye, a tiny smile spreading across her face, “Very.”
Caelistis patted the petite priestess on the head, “And promise me you’ll tell me all the juicy details,”
Octavia looked away, her cheeks burning bright again, as she let out a small squeak,
“Juicy details.” Caelistis growled, closing her face with her friends, “juuuicy details,”
“Okay, fine, just let me go, I have to run, you’re making me late. I don’t need to be in any more trouble,” Octavia cried, her mechandrites pushing away her friend as she stood, Caelistis standing to watch her petite friends departure,
“JUICY DETAILS,” she cried across the mechanicus cognivox, various mechanicus staff looking around, as Caelistis laughed, helping herself to the meals left on the table.

Rogal left the mess, jamming his hat on his head, as he turned to head for the infirmary. His body obeyed its own rules, as he quickly covered the distance. Pushing the door open, he entered the quiet white building, his eyes scanning for someone to help him. A field doctor approached, a puzzled look on his face,
“Can I help you, sir?”
Rogal paused, his brain scrambling away from the various other things flying through his head.
“Pain killers, something that will let me use my arm.”
The doctor looked at the black uniformed commissar, “Give me a moment,” He said, shaking his head, not wanting to get involved. He pulled up the Commissar’s file, consulting what the medic had done to his arm, and what manner of medicine to give the hulking man.
Scanning down the file, the doctor frowned. Rogal looked at him, coughing politely, “Is there a problem, Doc?”
The doctor shook his head, “No, Commissar. Nurse?”
A buxom young nurse appeared at the stubbled doctor’s elbow, “Sir?”
“Get the commissar a bottle of Atryme,”
The nurse looked at the doctor puzzledly, “But isn’t that?”
“Look at him,” The Doctor said, “It’s the only thing that will work.”
Shrugging, the nurse disappeared into the dispensary. The leanly handsome doctor looked at the burly commissar, “Congratulations sir,” He said, flicking some new files across on his dataslate, as Rogal smiled nervously.
“Also,” The commissar began, “I need some,”
The doctor didn’t even look up from his dataslate, his hand fishing into his white coat pocket.
“Here. No qustions.”
Rogal nodded, “I owe you.”
The doctor just nodded, as the nurse returned. Rogal hurriedly stuffed his gift in his pocket. The nurse smiled as she handed him the small white bottle. Rogal nodded in thanks, turning on his heel and jogging from the infirmary.

Tearing the lid from the little white container, popping a couple of the small white capsules and swallowing them dry. He rounded his tent, his eyes locking on the small red robed figure waiting for him. He strode up to her, grabbing her by the hand, and pulled her into the tent. Octavia’s eyes were wide as he slung her down onto the chair she had been sitting in that morning. Pulling his hat from his head, he threw it onto the table, taking his seat opposite his petite guest.
“Octavia, look,” The commissar began, “About what your friend said,”
The petite priestess blushed, a mechandrite slowly creeping forward to touch her hosts leg,
“Rogal…” she whispered, as his hand slid to meet the mechanical tendril, gently taking it between his fingers. Octavia’s mechandrites slid forward, carefully undoing the sling from around the commissars neck. Her fleshbrain quivered, as the husky man came closer to her, her mechandrites responding in turn, spiralling around his arms. Their faces came to within centimeters of each other, her cognitor logged the exact distance down to the micron, as her fleshbrain tittered nervously. She had wanted this moment, and here she was, panicking. Her whole body felt alive and overcharged, her cognitor calmly venting the excess power via her feet to the ground. Rogal felt his hairs stand on end, as slowly, he edged closer to the petite priestess infront of him. Octavia’s eyes lidded, her breath coming in slowly and deep, her augmented olifactory senses filled with the masculine smell of her host. His breath hot on her slightly parted lips, she let out a small moan, before a small spark jumped from her mouth to his. Rogal surged forwards, pulling Octavia’s slight frame onto his lap, their mouths crashing together like an earthshaker shell meeting the ground.

Octavia’s fleshbrain snapped out of its fugue state, squealing with happiness and hugging her cognitor, before losing herself in the moment. She pulled herself up the Commissars chest, her elfin hands clutching at the gold braids on his chest, kissing him hungry. His huge hands sat on her hips, holding her firmly. A mechandrite made its way up his neck, before burying itself in touseled dark locks, as the commissar pulled her closer. Gently he lifted her from his lap, sitting her on the table, as he stood over her, his broad chest framed by the glowglobe above them. Breaking the kiss, they both gasped for air, both having forgotten their repspective needs to breath in their passionate embrace. The Commissar smiled down at his guest, as she lounged back onto the table, her mechandrites freeing themselves from around his arms, and trailing sensuously over her hourglass figure. Reaching out, Rogal stroked a blushing cheek, as mechandrites roved Octavia’s body, unlocking the clasps on her outer robe and pulling the red material away from her body. The highly polished red plates of her cyber mantle gleamed in the glowglobe light, as she felt her host tense over her. His eyes roamed her body once more, the hourglass figure, ample bosom, and clinched in waist, her augmented legs clamping together, a hand to her mouth. Running a hand down her side, Rogal sighed happily, “Beauty,” He whispered, calling to mind a scrap of literature he had once read, “They say comes in many forms, each one a gift from him on earth,”
Octavia giggled, “The writings of the Philatius, I’m impressed,” she coo’d, as her mechandrites snaked around the broad shouldered commissar once more, “But I don’t deserve such kind words,”
Rogal shook his head, “Are you trying to tell me what to do again?” He asked, his breath hot on her neck as he buried his face in her nape, the sweet smell of her hair mixing with the metallic tang of her body.

Octavia moaned, bucking against her host, as her fleshbrain cried out for her to hurry up. Her cognitor nodded, any more of this and she risked blowing a fuse. Lifting the commissars head from her neck, she looked him in the eye,
“I want to say thank you for saving me,” she said, her emerald eyes shining bright, “but, actions speak louder than words,”
Her mechandrites slid down Rogal’s muscled back, as she bucked up against him again. He grinned back, burying his face in her neck once more, his hands questing down her curved sides till they reached the clasps at her hips. With a single powerful motion, he pulled, the clasps releasing, as Octavia’s red skirt was thrown over a chair. Giggling headily, she pulled closer to the man standing over her, a pair of mechandrites working their way up his chest, undoing buttons as they went. Another pair snaked around his arms once more, holding tight, as the third pair fumbled with his belt buckle. Breaths were coming quick and hard, as their mouths crashed together once more, Rogal pressing his broad chest down on top of his metal plated love, as her slim legs made their way either side of his waist. A cool metal hand traced over warm flesh, as Octavia smiled shyly, lifting her head to undo the bow behind her neck. Her mechandrite freed itself from around Rogal’s arm, meandering over its owners body, to undo another clasp behind her back, before pulling sideways. With a quiet flop, her top was cast aside, pale breasts exposed to the cool air of the tent. Rogal’s slightly stubbled chin grazed lightly over sensitive flesh, before he caught a firm pink nub between his lips, and began suckling gently. Octavia moaned, her back arching, mechandrites spasming slightly, at the stimulation.

The pair of mechanical tendrils at Rogal’s trousers had finally undone his belt and buttons, and began pushing the commissars pants down. They trailed over huge hard muscles, before lightly making their way back up, gently probing at the huge bulge in the commissars regulation black trunks. Rogal’s hand pushed behind her head, burying itself in her hair, as he slid his other down her side to her hip. Fingers danced as he searched for another clasp, before a mechandrite guided his hand to the clip. With a click, the centrally locked snaps undid, Octavia spreading her legs and lifting her hips, as Rogal’s huge hand pulled the dainty piece of material away, adding it to the pile forming beside them. He groaned lustfully as Octavia’s nimble mechandrites stroked his lascannon, focusing his attention to her chest once more. The mechandrites at his waist pushed down at his regulation trunks, pulling this way and that to free what they contained. At his chest, mechanical tendrils slid under his jacket, trailing coldly against his back, as their owner arched her back with pleasure. Her hands were buried in his hair, her glowing green eyes half hooded, her breath coming in lazy gasps. Raising his head from her chest, the commissar looked down at his petite lover, who gazed back at him with smouldering eyes. He adjusted his stance, as her mechandrites finally freed him from his undergarments, pushing them down to his knees to join his trousers. He stood tall and proud, her cognitor noted, and oh so very very very much in proportion. Her eye’s widened at the sight of his, lascannon, her fleshbrain offered, as the husky commissar paused, reaching for his pocket. He smiled at her sheepishly as he withdrew a regulation prophylactic, “The emprah always needs soliders, but, I don’t think we’re quite ready,” he said, and the pair giggled.

A moment later, and he was over her once more, his powerful arms either side of her chest,
“Please, no more waiting,” she begged, her mechandrites wrapping around his arms and chest, her eyes bright in the commissars shadow,
“As you wish, M’lady,” He said, somewhere between a whisper and a growl, gently guiding his massive self into his petite lover. Her hips bucked, as Octavia whimpered, her body crying out in a chorus of pleasure and pain. A concerned look crossed the commissars face, as he slowed his thrust, but Octavia just fanned her face with a hand, “Keep going, for the love of the machine, keep going,” She moaned. The husky commissar slowly moved his hips forward, before stopping, and slowly moving back, his petite lover gasping in pleasure. He repeated the movement, just as slowly, again, and again and again. Underneath him, Octavia writhed, her mechandrites pulling against him, her augmented limbs cold against his warm chest and hips. He began to build up speed, his thrusts becoming harder, Octavia whimpering as he drove into her. She alternated between fanning her face and covering her mouth, her eyes going wide as she gasped and moaned. A metal hand grabbed at Rogals jacket and balled, scrunching the thick wool as Octavia blushed. Her Cognitor watched in rapt fascination at her bodies reaction, her augmented heart pounding in her reinforced chest, her upraded lungs pushed to their limits as they tried to suck as much oxygen as they could from the air. Her potential coil surged, powering these extreme reactions, as her fleshbrain bucked and whooped. Rogal could feel every hair on his body stand, and watched with awe as small sparks seemed to dance around his lovers neck. Her electoo’s venting excess power as safely as the could, Octavia let out a breathy moan, her fleshbrain finally finding something to say, “Please,”
Rogal knew she had said something, but hadn’t quite heard, “Beg pardon?”

>>16612582

“Please,” Octavia whimpered again, her mechandrites tightening around the commissars body, “Just there, yes, please, oh please, oh yes,” Her cognitor’s conceptual face went pale, as it noticed a bar rising. Her fleshbrain continued to focus on one thing and one thing only, enjoying itself. Mechandrites clenched in time with the commissars thrusts, as he continued to drive into the petite priestess relentlessly. Her electoos sparked, sending small shocks into her lover, her hands buried in his hair and his jacket that hung down around her like curtains on a four post bed. The bar grew higher, nearing the end, as her cognitor hunkered down in a secure part of her mind. Her fleshbrain thrashed along with her body, throwing itself this way and that, its metaphorical mechandrites and hands running all over its body. The Commissar started thrusting faster, the bar tipped, and began flashing, her mechandrites tightening, she bit into the commissars shoulder, muffling a loud moan, as her potential coil reached full capacitance and shorted, a loud crack tearing the air. Rogal’s body seized as the shock kicked through him, leaping from his back to the glowglobe and blowing it. The glowglobe blew as his lazcannon discharged, his hips bucking with the recoil. He let out a grunt, collapsing to his elbows, his huge chest heaving as he rested atop his lover. Octavia was mute, her mechandrites spasming slightly, her chest rising and falling in deep breaths. The tent was filled with the smell of ozone, as Rogal managed to collect his thoughts enough to say something,
“Wow,” He said, his mind still fuzzy, as he shook his head,
“Wow,” he repeated, his mind still not having found anything else worth saying.
Octavia just nodded, her mechandrites now lazily dropping from around the commissar to help vent heat away from her body.

Octavia fanned herself with a hand, as Rogal gently dipped his head to her neck once more, kissing the electoo there gently, before lifting himself from atop her. Carefully, he withdrew his weapon, Octavia moaning dispite herself as he did, before gingerly removing the casing from around it. He threw it to the bin, and pulled his trousers up, before collapsing into his chair. His bare chest glistened with sweat in the diffuse light from the skylight, as he sucked in great lungfuls of air. His guest continued to stare at the blown glowglobe above her, relishing the cool air on her skin, and the immense feeling of satisfaction that pervaded her body. Propping herself up on her arms, she looked at the husky commissar, who smiled back at her tiredly.
“Wow,” he said, again, still not finding any other words, his guest just nodded.
“I haven’t done that in a while,” Octavia said, a mechandrite reaching over to the pile of her clothing and grabbing her top. Gingerly, she pushed herself up to sitting, using her other mechandrites to support her, her flesh still weak from the exertion. Her top replaced, the mechandrite quested out for her undergarments, when the huge commissar forced himself to his feet.
“Move over,” He said, his voice low and commanding. Her fleshbrain responded at once, both with an eep, and pushing her body along on the table. Turning, Rogal sat up upon the table, before lying down, extending an arm out to the side,
“Lie with me, please?” He said, his voice regaining its warmth. Octavia obeyed, snuggling close to her huge lover. Her mechandrites replaced her undergarments, as Rogal’s huge hand rested on her hip. He let out a yawn, “You will have to excuse me,” He said, clearing his throat with a small cough, “But that really takes it out of a man. Can we just lie here?”
Octavia nodded into his chest, “We can, after all, it is still lunch time,”

The pair lay there, trading small chitchat, between lying in the relative silence, languishing in the afterglow. Octavia rolled, propping herself up on her lovers chest, as she looked over him with her emerald eyes. His lopsided smile beamed back at her, as her cognitor slowly watched her dopamine levels stabilise. Absentmindedly, a mechandrite played with a shard from the broken glowglobe, as Rogal gently stroked at her back.
“You do know I was joking right?” He asked his guest, feeling very much the luckiest man in the imperium. The petite priestess giggled, covering her mouth with a hand and mechandrite, as she shook her head,
“Really? You thought I was…? Well,” He paused for thought, “I suppose I could, if you’d like?”
He lifted his head to study his lover, as she smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing with colour once more, her head bobbing as she nodded,
“I would like that,” She said, her fleshbrain nodding hungry, seconding the idea. Rogal nodded, stretching his other arm up infront of his face. Octavia felt his body tense, puzzlement flooding her features,
“Is something the matter?” She asked, looking up the commissars raised arm. Red. So much red. With a few bands of white from where her mechandrite had spiralled around his arm. The bandages were soaked in blood, and the Commissar’s face was pale.
“DRAGONONMARSISYOURARMOKAY?IMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRY,” Octavia wailed as she pulled the arm towards her with her mechandrites, cradling it gently in her arms. Rogal fumbled for his pocket with his good hand, pulling the small white jar of pills out.
“It’s okay,” He said, pulling himself up to sitting, “I took these, Doctor said it’d let me use my arm.”
Octavia snatched the bottle with a mechandrite, rotating it infront of her eyes,
“Rogal,” She began, her tone firm, “Do you know what this is?”

reading this makes me realize how alone i am...i want an Octavia for my own...

forever alone...

>>16612706
girls are bitches and whores, man

come, we can be homosexuals together

...why won't they love us? ;_;

The commissar shook his head,
“It’s Atryme.”
Rogal looked at her blankly, “So?”
Her cognitor wacked its forehead to its palm, “Atryme is an advanced opioid combined with a neural inhibitor and some other suppressants,”
The blank look stayed fixed in place on Rogal’s face.
“They use this to sedate captured bioforms.”
“It’s a horse tranquilizer?” The simple part of Rogal’s mind made the connection,
“Not a tranquilizer, but along the same lines. Your arm could have been taken off and you wouldn’t have noticed.” She said, concern flooding her voice, “We need to get you to the Infirmary, now. You could be bleeding severly.”
Rogal sighed, shrugging his shoulders. He had been surprised by the amount of blood, but he felt fine now that he had thought about it. Octavia had other ideas, leaping to her feet, before grabbing the table for support, the fleshy parts of her legs still weak, as her mechandrites gathered her skirt around her once more. Grabbing the Commissar by the hand, she pulled him towards the door.
“Can I at least,” Rogal said, standing his ground, pulling his petite lover back towards him, “fix my uniform?”
Looking away and blushing, Octavia stepped back towards the towering commissar, her mechandrites working in a matter of seconds to tuck in and rebutton Rogal’s shirt, before she was pulling at him again.
“You don’t need your jacket, your wounded, uniform codes don’t apply, even to commissars,” She said, as she pulled him out of the tent. The huge commissar sighed, a smile playing across his lips, as Octavia pulled him along. He could hear the concern in her voice, and it pulled at his massive heart strings. As a commissar, he wasn’t used to people caring about him, at least in this sort of way. Guardsmen would care because it stopped them getting shot, Civilians would care because of the same reason.

>>16612706
>wanting a girlfriend
>not going out there and getting one
>2011

>>16612729
my last girlfriend cheated on me and tried to get me and the her guy to fight over her. I said "fuck that!" and broke all contact with her. after that I just haven't wanted to bother, but this kind of stuff makes me remember the good parts of being in a relationship.

TLK, YOU DELICIOUS GENIUS!!!!!
Dear, God Emporer
more love for the love throne
...
snuggles were had too

Octavia cared, because he meant something to her. He looked up to the sky, and to his emprah, and smiled, He cared about Octavia, because she meant something to him too. Something that he knew would change things forever. Octavia’s mechandrites threw open the doors of the infirmary, as she marched the still goofily smiling Commissar up to the nearest doctor, the same lean and stubbled one that Rogal had visited before. He raised an eyebrow questioninly,
“A rough lunch sir?” He asked nonchalantly, taking in the blood soaked bandage on the Commissars arm. Rogal shook his head, “I just, bumped it.”
The doctor sighed, “You took the pills I gave you?”
Rogal nodded, and the doctor sighed again, “Right, that explains everything. Nurse?”
The buxom young nurse appeared at his shoulder again, “Prep me a room, and get me a suture kit.” He paused, looking at the commissar’s huge frame, “Actually, make that two. Commissar? If you would just wait here.”
The Doctor strode off, the nurse having already disappeared to follow her orders. Octavia looked up at her muscle bound love, and couldn’t help but smile dispite the situation. He may have been just a weak fleshy unaugmented human, but, her cognitor and fleshbrain agreed, that from here on out, he was hers. He Squeezed her tiny hand gently as he smiled down at her, relishing the adorable smile he got in return. He was a simple man, with a big heart, and the petite priestess of the machine god beside him, had found her place within it. He cleared his throat,
“I’m not much good with fancy words,” He explained, “But, I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for caring. You’re far too kind to this simple servant of the emprah.”
Octavia shook her head, before leaning against the huge commissar, “And you to this humble servant of the omnissiah. So let’s call it even?”
Rogal laughed, “Deal.”

>>16612729
>not having a waifu
>2011

>>16612770
Good man. I take off my helmet to you.

Sadly, thats all I have for the moment, Sleep and work now claim me for the next few days. I'll try and drop into this thread for as long as its alive.

Da biggest flashgit, i look forward to your satire.

Also, to whoever already updated the 1d4chan article, so many thanks :3

update to downloadable text version
https://rapidshare.com/files/2145955879/The_Littlest_Kreiger_Commisar-Techpreist_love.docx

>>16612857
> Sleep and work now claim me for the next few days
Aww, damn it. Now I have to wait.
> ten minutes later: refresh thread
God damn it, Brain, didn't you hear him? There isn't any more for awhile. Stop checking.

Looking foward to the next installement!

bump

>>16612857
I'm also looking forward to Flashgit's stories. Dem Orkas are funnee!

OH GOSH he kept his coat on

all of my ladyboners

Bump so I can read it.

>He groaned lustfully as Octavia’s nimble mechandrites stroked his lascannon,
And I immediately thought of a Techpriestess servicing a REAL Lascannon.

>>16616210
If i may, can I get a drawfag to do a Rogal and Octavia version of the Oh Mr Darcy comic?

http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/ooh-mister-x
for the basics.

Oi ya git, ya measly grot, starting a thread 'ust when I'ze be leaving fer 'ours.

Yer best still be here in 4 hours, or I'll crump ya.

>>16616932
I was thinking the same thing damn it!

>>16616932
im on it

The Doctor snapped his gloves on, sighing to himself as he called for the commissar to enter the treatment room. The Lumbering man ducked under the doorframe, his petite friend in tow.
“Right,” The Doctor began, gesturing to the seat beside the treatment table, “Take a seat, and let’s see what you’ve done to yourself.”
Hefting his arm to the table, Rogal took his seat, Octavia standing by the door, watching curiously. The doctor slid his scissors underneath the red bandages, cutting quickly upwards, before gently peeling the coverings aside. A bright red ragged gash gently weeped blood, and the doctor shook his head, “You certainly did a number on yourself, Sir.”
Rogal’s eyes widened, he knew the wound had been bad, but not this bad. Octavia marvelled at how the ragged cut looked, the strangely rubbery texture as the doctor began wiping his arm with a prep pad. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, and the doctor silently thanked the emprah that the commissars drugs were still working.
“I didn’t know it was that bad,” Rogal admitted, marvelling at the bright blood that was mingling with the amber antiseptic, as the doctor took up his suturing needle. Rogal felt the pressure of the needle entering his skin, the little tugs as the suture was pulled tight, but no pain. How fascinating her cognitor found the surgery, as it gently stroked her fleshbrain as it whimpered about her poor man being injured. Her cognitor tried in vain to point out that she had nothing to concern herself with, Rogal having enough Atryme in his system to stop him feeling any discomfort for a good few hours more. Her fleshbrain just moaned and hid her face, throwing its memory back to the activities just past. With a sigh, her cognitor let her go, focusing on how the doctor used an oddly slanted stitch, and pondering the reasoning behind it.

The doctor finished his suturing, standing to collect a fresh set of bandages. Octavia slunk over, looking at the pink, puckered wound, the black of the stiches stark against them. Her fleshbrain flashed an image of the techpriestess getting lashed, and she eeped quietly. Rogal moved a finger experimentally, watching as the muscles in his arm moved, the stitches moving with them. The Doctor returned, opening a bottle of powder and sprinkling it over the commissar’s arm. A biting tang filled the air, Rogal’s nose wrinkling, “What is that?” he asked, looking down at his arm.
“It’s a quickheal powder, sealing the wound with a form of chemical cauterisation, hence the smell, before creating a breathable barrier over the injury.”
The Commissar nodded, not really bothering to try and understand the medical terminology, Octavia’s cognitor filing the information away for future reference. The Doctors skilled hands quickly rebandaged Rogal’s arm, before he stood, taking his gloves off throwing them into the bin,
“Right, firstly, no more Atryme,” The doctor said, putting forth his hand in expectation of the bottle. Rogal patted his coat pockets, before extacting the white jar and handing it back.
“Secondly, give that arm a rest. No more of,” He paused, looking at Octavia with a grin, “Of whatever it is you were doing. If your arm does give you any trouble though, commissar, please come back and see me.”
Rising to his feet, Rogal nodded his head respectfully, “Much Obliged Doc,”
He turned, Octavia’s hand grabbing his, and the pair left the treatment room, Octavia looking over her shoulder and waving with a mechandrite, “Thank you Doctor Shepard,” She called happily.

SIX! SIX MECHADENDRITES! AH-AH-AH!

The pair walked, hand in hand, back towards the vehicle pits, the hulking commissar relishing the warm afternoon sun. Octavia giggled, tracing the edge of the bandage with the tip of her mechandrite.
“You know,” She said, her cognitor putting forth the observation, “If you had a bionic arm, you wouldn’t be in this situation,”
Rogal laughed, “I’m aware of that, but I like my arms organic. I’ve heard bad things about the augments they give guys like me,”
Octavia frowned, “Really?”
Her companion nodded, “They mass produce limbs good enough for field work, but if I’ve seen many a good man loose dexterity to a standardised augment.” He studied his hand, “And I need that, can’t make things if you’re clumsy.”
Octavia’s cognitor growled, “I’m not clumsy,”
“I never said you were,” Rogal said, squeezing her hand, “You’re highly tuned, precision engineered, a custom built marvel of mechanicum ingenuity. And you amaze me, but, barring some miracle by the grace of the throne, I would only end up with a standard commissarial issue chunk of press forged metal.”
Her cognitor reeled from the compliment, her fleshbrain sqealing with delight as she hugged her metaphysical sister. Her cognitor smiled to itself, quietly opening a new design project as the pair walked into the shade of the vehicle pit. Octavia turned to face her husky lover, looking up at him with her bright green eyes. “I need to get back to work,” She said, “Will I see you at dinner?”
The huge commissar leaned down, “Actually, I was wondering,” He said, looking around the vehicle pit, “If I might stay with you? Watch you work? I can’t really do much wherever I go, so?”
Octavia smiled, “You might find it a little boring, but you are quite welcome to stay. Please, follow me”.

yay! more please!

The massive commissar followed his petite mistress as she lead him through the vehicle pit, to the massive open workshop that she and her mechanics team worked in. The servants of the machine god looked up, the static like binary chatter dying down as Octavia approached. Her cognitor fired a concentrated data burst, explaining the entire situation across the workshops private noosphere. Various acknowledgements and witty comments came back to her, as the team began their afternoon’s work. She walked Rogal over to a workbench, clearing space for him to sit with her mechandrites. Pulling her dataslate from its pocket in her robe, Octavia handed it to her guest,
“Here, this contains a full rundown of what we are doing, you might find it interesting.” Octavia said, smiling shyly, “However, this also has access to a range of other information, including,” mechandrites tapped at the screen, “The local sector’s mechanicus sanctioned do it yourself archives.”
Data scrolled past the commissars eyes, Octavia’s mechandrites guiding the browser to the wood working section. Rogal’s face lit up, as he pulled his red robed love close and kissed her on the top of the head. The workshop went silent, and Octavia blushed, pushing away from the burly commissar.
“Not in front of the others,” she whispered, poking the commissar in the ribs with a mechandrite, before she turned to her mechanics team.
“Yes, you all saw it. He is affectionate. Now we have a job to do,” she said, “This new defence net won’t build itself.”
Those capable of smiling did, and smiling emotes flashed across the noosphere from those who lacked the ability. Quickly, the team remerged, synchronising quickly from years of practice, as the workshop was filled with noise once more. Rogal sat and watched, each priest of the machine god seemingly working on a different task, but somehow, still working together.

God, I love how the techpriests use emotes, its so unbelievably cute!

I wish it didn't bother me so much... but it does, and so with apologies:

GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOUR FUCKING "MECHANDRITES."

MECHA-D-E-N-D-R-I-T-E-S.

Ahem. Carry on.

One would pass another a servo wrench with a mechandrite, not looking up from its welding, a third flicking away an ember from the first, as it walked past with an arm full of memnorplates. In the middle of the flowing, almost fractal like workflow, sat Octavia, her mechandrites bobbing , nimble fingers darting out to grab a part from a box, before taking up a minitorque, screwing together another item which would be fitted into a housing that was placed on her workbench, before being scooped away by another techpriest. The whole workshop moved in a complex dance, a joyous expression of praise to the omnissiah, as each preist became a part of a greater machine. A static hiss slowly grew, as the Priests began to sing in binary, their praises filling the vehicle pit like heavy rain on a metal roof. Rogal watched in awe as all around him, red robed preists moved as if possessed, as even the pangs of servohammers and clicking of ratchet wrenches merged into the, music, that seemed to pervade the workshop. He found his chest tightening with excitement, as he was struck by the ethereal beauty that surrounded him, drawing parallels to the feeling of joy and purpose he felt as he worked with timber. The joy of construction, to create something new and pure for humanity, he realised, was what drove the mechanicum. He smiled, turning his attention back to the datalsate, having found an article that took his fancy. He consulted a list of the bases current stocks of timber and building supplies, as his mind clicked over into its own design mode, the simple geometries which he had been trained to use to create anything moving about inside his head.
Hidden away in a chimera parked in the middle of the fleet of transports, Tiberius gasped for air, a mechandrite tight around his throat, his wrists straining against the cable ties. A crackling buzz filled the small space, cold light flickering across a slender form with a wicked grin on her mouth.

Right, thats it for the moment. Not sure when the next update will be.

How's everyone liking the snuggles?

>>16618009
loving them!

>>16618009
You aren't free from us yet Little Krieger. Now that you have whetted out appetite, it's time to treat us to desert.

Really I'm just wondering what happens when hey move off world. What happens when they want a kid, and what happens when they're in a full on war-zone. Marriage?
Also more art, but for my own reasons.

>>16617986

I'm right there with you, man.

>>16617991
Octavia's roomie seems to be getting a little too rough

>>16618009

TLK, I have to agree with
>>16618199
on this one. I fear there may be Slannesh connections in that relationship.

Also, I'll be continuing my little side story in a little while, if anyone is even remotely interested...

Octavia need to get over her fear of orks.

>>16617991
I hope Tiberius and Caelistis have an established safety word!

>>16618596
The safe word is... Constantinople.

>>16618651

No, it's Istanbul

>>16618667
Istanbul IS Constantinople!

Standing outside the Vehicle pit, Orktavia waited, his terrified mek team finishing up their mornings work. The warm sunlight beat against his skull, grot with a small umbrella desperately attempting to keep its master cool. He checked his time grot. The lunch break had only just started. He looked around, waiting for the pointyhatgit, when a young guardsman ran up to hom. His face was haggard, his eyes red, as he leaned over, panting with exertion.
“Xeno,” He gasped out between breaths, “I have been sent to inform you that The Commissar waits for you in the Mess. He sends his sincerest apologies, but says he will explain everything.”
Orktavia burst into motion, crushing several mechanics and gretchin in his sudden rage. He flailed about with klaw and mekarms, shooting at everything at moved until nothing did. He then took out his fury on the ground and sky, before slowly calming down.
The Guardsman poked his head out from behind a piece of rubble, wincing as the mekboy left. Orktavia’s mekbrain noted that he should install a stikkbomb launcha so he could get at those hard to reach targets, but then thought no more of it, the survivors of his mechanics team slowly coming out of hiding before following the huge ork.

Orktavia snarled happily as he made his way back to the mess tent, surrounded by his terrified mechanics team. The foremost reached the double doors of the mess and swung them open, only to get trampled by the massive boots of Orktavia as he came up behind him. His piggy eyes scanned the mess, locating Rogal in a matter of minutes. Breaking off several limbs from the group, he made his way over, his mekbrain noting how irritating having to grow your own lunchsquigs was, as he had so far failed to build a squig sandwich producing machine. His squiggyporter had been close, but he has sadly closed down that avenue of research after teleporting a squiggoth directly into a command meeting. Oh yeah and da pointygit was early or sumfing but Orktavia really didn't care. The white sling was stark against his obsidian uniform, Orktavia’s eyes flipping through the spectrums on his trinoculars, hologram gretchin popping up as he approached Rogal. His braingubbins quickened his steps, his mekbrain running as many diagnostics as it could. Vox chatter filled his pointy ears, as he went over everything that had been said on any channel about injuries and the commissar.
Rogal sighed unhappily, slowly lowering his spoon into his soup. He hated using his non dominant hand, which twinged with pain in agreement.

>>16618877

>That's-the-joke.png

Lifting his spoonful of soup to his mouth and blowing across it, he watched the tendrils of steam twisting in the air.
“Git?”He looked away from the misty spirals, and straight into Orktavia’s terrifying face, mere inches way from his own. He very nearly fell out of his chair
“HAHA GIT, YA FIND A GUD FOIGHT?” His gob fired off like a cannon, spewwing inidentifiable bits of food all over Rogal's face. Rogal wiped his face clear, and then pushed a chair out with his leg, nodding for her to take a seat beside him. He climbed onto the table, before grabbing Rogal under each arm and lifting him up and turning him about like a agonized doll, looking for injury, the table groaning beneath him. His braingubbins, as he comprehended the extent of Rogal's injuries, began to fume and grunt with repressed anger at the damage done to HIS git. He looked at Rogal's pained face, how unhappy he looked, and wracked his mekbrain for something to shoot with. A few options presented themselves, his braingubbins dismissing them as too Rogal killing or insufficiently DAKKA, before his mekbrain settled the issue by firing his skull mounted ZAP gun directly at the ceiling, revealing a glimpse of a burning Valkyrie suddenly plummeting from the sky.

“Well dats nofink Oi'v 'ad wurse usin da little grot's squig,” He said, his mekarms dropping Rogal roughly back into his seat. The Commisar grunted in pain before righting himself and regaining his composure.
“It’s just so frustrating. I don’t like not helping. I don’t like being helpless. I enjoy building, I’ve been doing it since I was a boy.”
Orktavia patted at an uninjured part of his arm reassuringly, thus making said label suddenly inaccurate. “Ya'll just gotta go kill sumfink, dat'll make ya feel lots betta,” His mekbrain paused, looking for a suitable target. Ge had never been in his situation, as Orks were far too tough to suffer from a simple crippling injury. The longest he had been inactive due to damage had been three hours, before he'd managed to get his head back on.

Orktavia’s mekbrain scoffed haughtily, pointing out the superiority of orks over hummies. His braingubbins grunted unhappily, before countering with the fact that even injured, his flesh was stronger than most gits. “Get OVVA IT YA GIT!”
The commissar nodded as he reached for his spoon with his good hand, but was stopped by a mekarm at his wrist. Orktavia took the spoon and dipped it in the soup, before jamming into Rogal's mouth with a toothy smile.
“I just said, I’m not helpless, “ He complained after swallowing,
His braingubbins paused with a squeak. Shouldn’t he like this? Isn’t this what happened in hummie situations? His mekbrain just shook its head, throwing big signs that said HUMMIES and CRAZY. His beady red eyes dimmed slightly, as he began to crush the spoon unconciosuly. His arm stopped, the spoon had been interrupted on its way back to the bowl. Rogal smiled tiredly back at her, the stem of the silverwear poking from his mouth. Swallowing, he released the spoon, sitting back in his chair,

“That being said, I do appreciate your kindness. It would be rude of me to rebuke it.” The commissar said, a boyish grin crossing his face. Orktavia’s braingubbins melted loike, loike, loike one of dem hummies getting shot by one uf dem melta fings, but not before it delivering a series of obscene gestures to his mekbrain and the room at large. He bounced happily on the table, nearly buckling it beneath his weight, offering another spoonful of soup.
The mess was filled with sunlight, and every occupant, guardsman and mechanicus alike, felt slightly happier. A navigator in transit found his mouth agape, as a thin tendril, no thicker than a hair, spiralled off from the huge white beam that was the astronomicon, and seemed to gently poke at a planet, before whipping back with two huge green things hanging on, a loud shouting echoing in his ears. He gave praise for the miracle he had just seen, dispite his complete lack of understanding what exactly it meant.

>>16618994
DAMN IT! You're supposed to continue the song!

>And dats all fer now frum me, as oi've got some gits ta throw doice at tomorrow.

But Oi can say dat dey did fings dat a true ork would, wif a twinkle in 'is eye, call


>MUKKING ABOUT

>>16619168
Constantinople is Istanbul?

>>16619192
Does that mean Istanbul is the safe word?

>>16619254
I guess Tiberius is confused as well and thats why hes dying

>>16619192
>>16619168
I love this song!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqJXxHi6RwQ

>>16612487
I will read the SHIT out of this when I come back home from school!
I also would like to point out that I liked/loved the first two threads. You are ossim!

This story keeps getting cuter and cuter! I'm still hoping Rogal looses his arm and gets a beautiful custom made one from his waifu~

>>16612487

>>16620515

This story's missing something.

I'm not sure what though.

>>16620582

Didn't he die of TB? Yeah, that shit's infectious as fuck.

>>16620515
>>16620547
I love these two. Anyone got the one where her Fleshbrain and her Cogitator are arguing?

>>16622225
I has

>>16622545
The artist's name is Krowzi, she also did OP's pic and the picnic one. She also posted a couple of techpriest pictures last week. I think one was tied up and the other had lots of arms. Just FYI since I noticed the filename.

I cant shake the feeling that the little kreiger is the same person who wrote the kleightus tales

i see coming in the future Slannesh ruining everything with heresy all because of Caelistis and Tiberius

>>16623290
I'm not sure if consensual sex between two adults is really that heretical.

>>16623739
>consensual sex
>adults
>not heretical

>>16622973
Nope. I'm quite sure he isn't. Or his editor has left since he wrote about Kleightus.

Just read this part last night! Was far more graphic than i was expecting, it caught be off gaurd. Still great though!

>>16623971
Over 9000 hours in MS paint

>>16623739

you sick fuck

>>16623763

Is there anything that isn't heretical then?

>>16624638

mudkipz

>>16624653
No, that xenos filth will not be tolerated. The Emperor willed they were purged, and we guard against the return of this threat.

>>16624638
Worshipping the Emperor, performing your duties as a citizen of the Empire.
That's it.

>>16624712

>>16624785


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QinOrlu1Xpw

>>16624785
>>16624814
Goddamnit now whenever I see Fuklaw I'm going to think of this song.

>>16624875

That's not exactly a bad thing.

>>16624945

But is it heresy?

>>16625027

>>16623290

Is it possible in 40k to have a BDSM relationship without it turning all Slaaneshi?

>>16624391

Get out of here Denton!

> bumping

>>16625964

Assuming it isn't obsessive or excessive, possibly.

>this thread

>>16625964

the adepta sororitas make a whole career out of it

YES! its back! thank you kreiger!

>>16622973
Is right, I'm not the guy who wrote klightus

Also, next updated is being planned as we speak, revelations will be made, things will happen, and there will be more snuggles

>>16629589
SNUGGLES!

Woops forgot to add this earlier today!

Here you go Kreiger, can`t wait for the next part!

>>16630145

>>16630145
YOU. DRAWFRIEND. ALL OF MY RESPECT AND CHOCOLATE RATIONS.

>>16630145
We all want to be him. I know I do.

Rogal’s concentration was broken by a buzz from his personal dataslate. Placing the one Octavia had loaned him down on the workbench beside him, he fumbled in his jacket for the oblong item. Pulling it from inside his coat, he smiled triumphantly, thumbing the passcode and reading his new notifications. Two new datacasts, one high priority, he saw, as he pressed a rune of access, opening his inbox. The pair had come at almost the same time, and he felt his chest tighten as he read the author of the priority message. [REDACTED] stared at him in bright red letters, as he poked at the message, it popping open to fill his screen. The hidden sender meant one thing and one thing only, Inquisitors. His eyes scanned over the datacast, To, Commissar Hephastus, R, From: [REDACTED] Subject: Investigation pending: Possible corruption.

His face impassive, he continued to read. “Commissar Hephastus,” The Datacast began, as the majority of them did, “It has come to our attention that an pair under your jurisdiction have been found in possession of a number of heretical traits. One Lieutenant, Baracchus, Tiberius, Vox officer,” The datacast continued, listing Tiberius’s serial number, vox officer class, and clearance level. “As well as one member of the adeptus mechanicum, A Magos Radigan, Caelistis,” He paused, that was a surprise. “Have been found engaging in what we believe to be possibly heretical activities. These activities include, but are not limited to the following.” Rogal scrolled down, and down, and down, and down. The list ended, the datacast continuing, “We request immediate action on this issue. Failing this, we will have no other option but to enact our own protocols. Faithfully in his name, Inquisitor Jehoel Geergori, Ordo Hereticus.” Rogal sighed, placing the slate on his lap, as he looked up to the ceiling of the Vehicle pit, his mind racing.

He had never overtly suspected Caelistis, he thought, as he pondered his next course of action, but reasoned that there was no reason for her not to be. He pocketed his slate as he stood, before turning back to the workbench. He quickly left a note on Octavia’s slate, detailing the reasons for his departure, before he carefully made his way from the vehicle pit. He quickly crossed the compound, having escaped from the vehicle pit without interrupting a single techpriest, throwing the flap of his tent wide as he strode in. Placing his slate on the table, he went to his footlocker, throwing it open and rifling through it, pulling a second slate out, before returning to the table. He quickly began copying files from this second slate to his primary, tapping a few runes here and there, leaving the dataslates to work, as he collected a drink from his foodlocker. His primary slate pinged quiety as he returned to his seat, a bottle of some local fruit nectar in his hand. He pressed a few runes on his primary slate, taking a swig from his bottle and clearing his throat, before pressing a final rune. A small light blinked from red to green, and the Commissar began to speak.
“Sir, Inquisitor Geergori,” He began, the Dataslate acting as a transcriber, “In regards to your recent datacast concerning one Lieutenant Baracchus, Tiberius and Magos Radigan, Caelistis, I wish to thank you for bringing the matter to my attention. However,” He continued, “I would urge you to read my correspondence with Sir Inquisitor Cohnager, who I imagine you have taken over for in regards to the detection and prevention of heretical behaviour. In any case, I wish to inform you that the lieutenant and his companion are free from any heretical acts.”

>>16632278
>MOAR UPDATES
>MFFW

The commissar paused, quickly reading over what he had said, before continuing. “The lieutenant suffers from a mild case of Gathalamor syndrome, a form of neurosis wherein the subject feels unworthy of the Emperors love, and as such, seeks punishment. He was Diagnosed originally by Capitan Tennin, Theodor, Doctor of Psychoemotional Specialties, attached to the battalion,” His dataslate automatically added the needed links and battalion name, “Which was subsequently confirmed by Capitan Kynes, Arrimus, Doctor of Psychoemotional studies, attached to sector command.” The dataslate pinged again, confirming it had finished adding links, “During his assessment, the subject was also assigned a rho level, as according to The Assignment. This rho level of psychic activity has not changed in the subsequent yearly checks performed. Both doctors have given their willing consent to full astropathic investigation should the need arise. The lieutenant’s compultion drives him to be punished by an “agent of purity,” most commonly female, due to his indoctrination regarding His on Earth’s most holy sisters of battle. To this end, he has, over the time I have known him, taken on a number of mistresses, each one clear from taint, when investigated. As shown by the files attached,” Rogal said, before naming the files needed, his dataslate pinging once the links were made, “None of these mistresses have ever tested positive for any form of taint. In regards to the heretical nature of these actions, I point to the fact that at no time have they been performed to excess, and every time after they have been proformed, the mistress has always made sure to patch the lieutenant up. These are not the actions of a person dedicated to the ruinous powers, but merely a manifestation of the kindness possible by humanity.” Rogal paused, contemplating his next few statements, reading over his work again. He smiled, as the words came to him

TLK making updates, MLG SC2 tournament is going on, I have to do some homework and my DH session will start soon FFFUUUUUU-!

Whoah, this story just became alot more interesting, when something other than sexual tension was added!

“To this end, I also put myself forward for a full evaluation to ensure the purity of my own soul.” He said, smiling with satisfaction to himself, before he continued, “I shall, as it would seem to benefit both my own and the Inquisitors work, also investigate the Magos, Radigan, Caelistis, to ensure that no possibility of taint exists. If there is anything else Sir Inquisitor requires, please do not hesitate to ask. Working in the name of Him on Earth, Commissar Hephastus, Rogal, of the battalion.”
His Dataslate chimed once more, signalling its completion of its task. The Commissar reread his datacast, making a couple of changed manually, poking at the screen based keyboard with his good hand, before sending the datacast. He pushed the slate away, and sat back in his chair, taking a long draught from his juice bottle, before setting it down, and waiting. Minutes past, and the commissar sat, running over the information he had received. Caelistis and Tiberius, he mused happily, that explained everything. His friend’s strange behaviour about Octavia’s presence at the Vehicle pits, the strange presence of oil on his uniform. The other behaviour was normal, Tiberius usually was bruised from one woman or another, and his charming nature meant he was never at a loss for someone to give him a bit of a bruising, but, the commissar reasoned, Caelistis was perfect for the job. Pulling her file up, Rogal began to read as he waited for a reply from the inquisitor. As he read, his smile just got bigger, his gut instinct about the slender priestess of the mechanicum confirmed by what he read. He laughed as he read some of the lesser [REDACTED] files that his commissarial position allowed him to access, glad to know that his friend was in good hands and mechadendrites.

Right, late night story progression and thread keeping alive done. Need sleep.

>>16632570

i must say

>>16617991
>>16632278
>>16632359

had me worried, jezus christ it had me worried.

>>16632570

TAKE ALL MY MONEY!

bunpan

>>16633454
Totally this. I was shitting myself with oh nooooo

BUT THEN I GOT GLAD
I wonder what was in the confidential part of Caelistis`s file...

...Thats it, Done writifaggging.. Not competeing with this.

Nope you can freaking have my Guardsman/ Guardian story.. I am bested.

>>16630145

>>16634894
But he didn`t leave his hat on!

>>16630145
Everyone knows hats are the most important part of any commisar's apparel and equipment.

bampu

So, is Caelistis just beating up Tiberius, or are they actually boning?

Still worried that the inquisitor's reply will be "No, fuck you".

>>16636605

As far as I can tell, a bit of both, or the beating up IS the boning... I'm not certain, but it's definitely kinky.

>>16636605
BDSM with techpriestess being the dom and the guardsman the sub.
Oh /tg/, u so innocent.

>>16636650
Can't help but feel they'll want to talk to Rogal, and send a replacement Commissar to watch over everything.

Krieger can hopefully write something interesting if this is the case.

so is anyone going to draw some rule 34 of this shit? especially after the sexings are canon?

>>16636867

...

>MiteBCool.Flv

blump

bump

Shaveless hump

His primary dataslate hummed at him, a blinking rune indicating his new datacast. A few taps and the message filled the screen, Rogal leaning over to read the response.
“Commissar. In light of your prompt response to our enquiries, we have redacted our suspicions of heretical behaviour. However, we do ask that you unofficially and as clandestinely as possible interrogate the magos. We ask you to do this as we wish to avoid any potential cross juristictional friction between us and the mechanicum. We also ask, however, that both the lieutenant and yourself report to your unit’s sanctioned psyker for a delta level psychsweep. He has already been briefed, and will take the necessary actions required. We hope you understand this is merely a formality, not an accusation of heresy. May His Light be your guide, Inquisitor Geergori.”
Rogal sighed, closing the message. He hated psychsweeps, they gave him headaches and left him with a metallic taste in his mouth for hours. Tapping his earbead, he patched into the voxnet, a warm, sultry voice filling his ear, “How can I help, Commissar,” The voice purred,
“Cleo, is Tiberius there?”
“No sir,” disappointment tinging her voice, “I really can’t do anything for you?”
Rogal sighed, every voxgirl treated him like this, which is why he preferred to let Tiberius handle his commuincations. “Cleo, listen, I need to get in contact with Tiberius, can you please patch me through using the following vox id?”
“I suppose I can, Sir,” She purred happily, “Right, go ahead,”
Rogal rattled of the vox id code, and was rewarded by the quiet beeps of it being entered and connecting. The ringing tone of connection sang quietly in the commissars ear as he paced his tent, waiting for his friend to pick up.
The rousing strains of The Hero’s March, second movement, filled the inside of the chimera, its two occupants pausing, staring at the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor.

>>16640488
Moar updates!

Disentangling himself from his mistresses grip, Tiberius scrambled, fishing in his pockets for his dataslate. He tore the thin metal slab from his jacket pocket, before jamming his earbead in and pressing the connection rune. Caelistis pouted, her mechadendrites coiling back towards her, as she sat down on one of the seats inside the APC.
“Rogal?” Tiberius croaked, “This better be urgent,”
The slender techpriestess adjusted the tight leather around her chest, but paused, seeing her lover tense, the lean corded muscles in his back bulging. The biospex feed in her vision registered his elevated heartrate, the flooding of O2 in his system, heightened adrenaline, and various other anomalies, before she whispered, “Is everything okay Tiber?”
The vox officer waved at her to be quiet, as he listened to his commissarial friend. The slender techpriestess stood, moving closer to her troubled lover, her mechandrites reaching out to gently stroke his back, tracing over the welts and bruises that covered him like red and blue striped camouflage. Tiberius nodded, “I understand, I’ll see you soon. You’re one of the emprahs own, you know that right?”
Caelistis heard a muffled voice from the earbead in Tiberius’s ear, as he tapped it, turning to face her with wide, worried eyes. Concern entered her face, as she raised a hand to the vox officers bare chest, “What’s the matter, my little fleshbag?”
“The inquisiton.”
Caelistis felt her artificial blood go cold, “The inquisition?”
The Vox officer nodded, as he refastened his trousers, shrugging to reseat his suspenders over his shoulders. “You know my little, issue. Well, this happens every so often, usually when a new guy comes on the beat. Rogal says the rosette carrier wants us to just go see Hjarl and let him give us a deltasweep.”

The slim priestess cocked her hip to the side, crossing her arms, a mechandrite throwing a stray cable back over her ear, “So, because some heresyhound doesn’t like our… affectionate nature, he wants you to have your mind groped by some half crazed, all creepy aether sniffer?”
The Vox officer nodded, wincing as he sat, smiling dispite himself. “That’s it,” He said, groaning as he leaned forward to grab his boots. He felt cold tendrils coiling by the side of his face, lifting his head to look at his leather clad love. “You better come back taint free, or I’ll never talk to you again. I’d threaten to kill you or make you wish you were never born,”
“But I like that,” He said, a small chuckle spilling from his lips as he continued to tie his boots. The slender priestess of the mechanicum bent at the waist, leaning down and kissing Tiberius on the forehead.
“Just come back, okay?”
He nodded, standing and embracing the leather clad servant of the omnissiah, “I will. I’ll make it up to you, dinner at mine tonight?”
Caelistis nodded into his neck, “I’ll bring the amsec,”
He kissed her roughly before turning on his heel and slipping from the chimera’s hatch, leaving his barely dressed sweetheart alone with her thoughts. Shaking her head, Caelistis returned to her own pile of clothes, her mechadendrites releasing the black leather strap from around her chest, the cool air colder against sweaty skin. She sighed, running a hand over her cyber mantled stomach, the small scale like plates rippling under the pressure. Pulling her red with black trim dress over her head, a mechadendrite doing the zipper up behind her back, she forced her breathing under control. The inquisition wouldn’t risk confronting the mechanicum over her. The system of checks and balances maintained by the servants of the omnissiah severly reduced the capacity for conventional heretical acts.

Emprah be praised, updates!
More of the son of a woodsman and daughter of the machine.
Now with the addition of the 'unworthy' guardsman and the penitence machine.

Reading on 1d4chan:
[Rogal stopped mid chew,] at this point it needs a bit of weeding and pruning.

Rogal sat in the air conditioned lobby of the Administratum bunker, leafing through an old quatermasters ordering manual, as he waited for his friend. Hearing the double set doors hiss open, he looked up, Tiberius looking like he always did, handsomely dishevelled. The Hulking commissar stood, offering his hand to the vox officer,
“Here we go again, old friend.” He said softly, the same reassuring words he said every time the had to do this. Tiberius nodded, shaking Rogal’s huge hand, “Once more into the breach.”
The pair walked up to the secretariat at the main desk, the commissar commanding her attention with a small cough. Looking up from her dataslate, she nodded,
“You boys must be here to see Hjarl,” She said, tapping at a few keys, Rogal nodded, “Just a moment, sirs.”
The secretariat tapped her headpiece, whispering quietly, looking at her slate once more. Behind her, an elevatus chimed, and she smiled, looking back at the huge commissar and his lean friend,
“The elevates already knows where to go, just step inside. The Emperor protects.”
The pair did the sign of the eagle, before circling around the main desk to enter the elevatus chamber. Stepping inside, the pair turned, years of training putting them at parade rest, as the doors slid shut with a hiss and a click. With a hum, the elevatus began to decend, the numbers clicking down. Rogal took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, before he spoke,
“So, looks like I’m not the only one who’s got a taste for metal,”
“With all due respect sir, shut your mouth. I’m about to have old Hjarl grope my cortex, I do not need him seeing detailed versions of what I’ve been upto.”
Rogal laughed, “Come now, it’s Hjarl, he’s seen worse.”
A grin split Tiberius’s face, “Oh, yeah, whole screaming maw of the emperyan, right. Did you hear he found a lady?”
Rogal shook his head, “Administratum has its own Commissar, not my jurisdiction,”

>>16622545
I wish that image would be colored, I want moar artificial green eyes dang gummit!

D'awwwwww romance by TLK and BAM romance by DHG

All kinds of awesome.

Tiberius stifled a laugh, “Right, so you didn’t know?”
“No. What’s she like?” the hulking commissar asked, gingerly pulling himself up to his full height. His head hit the ceiling, and he sighed, hunching over and leaning against the wall.
“From what I hear, she’s rather, normal, for someone in her line of work.”
Rogal laughed, “So, still a few shots short of a charge pack,”
Tiberius nodded, “But he’s happy, which is what counts, emprah smiles on his happy children and all that,”
The commissar nodded, as the elevatus chimed, coming to a stop with a slight jerk. The doors opened with a quiet hiss, a bespecticalled secretariat waiting for them.
“Gentlemen, follow me.”
Rogal tilted his head, Tiberius sighing as he lead off, the burly commissar ducking as he left the elevatus. A low hum filled their earbeads, the vox officer tapping his out of habit. The Secretariat looked over her shoulder, “I will ask you to please deactivate your earbeads, the shielding down here renders them useless anyway, but please observe protocol.”
Tiberius rolled his eyes, tapping his earbead, Rogal following suit, as they continued down the stark white hallway. The secretariat stopped outside a door, turning on her heels, which clicked smartly on the tiled floor. The pair looked at the heavily armoured hatch, the faint light of protective sigils seeming to glow from under the metal. Their host swiped her passcard, the door rumbling as it receeded back, before its locks disengaged with a cascade of clicks and thuds. Ice cold air assaulted the trio, as the secretariat bowed politely, “The Hjarl will see you now.” Tiberius nodded, folding his arms against the cold, as he stepped across the threshold, Rogal putting his hat to his chest in protocol mandated thanks, before following his friend into the frosty darkness.

bump cause im tired of f5ing

So happy this has resumed! TLK you are truly blessed by the God Emperor for your writefaggotry.

Their eyes adjusted to the dim light, as they shuffled through the gloom, the chattering and murmuring of the psykers around slightly unnerving the vox officer. Rogal sighed as they continued, the metallic tang beginning to fill his mouth. The pair reached the middle of the room, where sat, upon a raised dias, sat,
“Hjarl?” Rogal called, the ornate throne rotated, a huge grinning man turned to face them, a huge grin on his face,
“COMMISSAR,” he boomed jovaly, “HOW GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN,”
Rogal smiled, bowing his head respectfully, “It’s good to see you too, Hjarl,”
“RIGHT, WELL LETS NOT WASTE ANY TIME, TAKE A SEAT AND LETS HAVE A LOOK AT THOSE SOULS BOYS”.
Tiberius rolled his eyes, taking the seat offered, leaning back and closing his eyes. Bright lights flashed behind his eyes, as Hjarl dove into his mind, fractal patterns spiralling through his mind. He felt the psykers laughter reverberating within his skull, before he felt the horrifying feeling of being hurled high in the air, before being slung back into his chair. His eyes snapped open and he took a deep gasping breath, slumping forward. Hjarl laughed uproarusly, clapping a hand on the vox officers shoulder, eliciting a groan of pain from Tiberius.
“YOU’RE CLEAN, LITTLE MAN. A KINKY ONE, BUT CLEAR FROM TAINT. HIM ON EARTH IS HAPPY WITH YOUR SOUL.”
Rogal helped his friend from the chair, and into another, a kindly low level pexpath handing him a cup of water. The commissar flopped into the chair, his long legs splayed out in front of him, as Hjarl rolled his wrists, flexing his hands before clamping them over Rogal’s temples.

The taste of metal filled Rogal’s mouth, as his conciousness feeling like it was being squeezed through a tube. Images of his life flashed by, he saw his childhood home, on a farm on a backwater world, before the war came. His parents had left him at the schola, like so many parents did. He saw his days in the schola, days spent in the workshop, the smell of sawdust filled his mind. Literally filled his mind, he saw and understood the metaphysical representation of the smell of sawdust as a concept, a spiralling sphere of light. The commissar saw his graduation ceremony, his first assignment, how he and Tiberius had earned their promotions. He saw the first time he noticed Octavia, months it seemed before the present day, he saw how he had noticed her every day since, unaware of his attraction to her. The commissar heard as if under water, the laughter of Hjarl, before his mind was thrown back into his head and he slumped forward. Sucking his tounge to the top his mouth, he tried to scrape the metallic taste from his mouth. “SHE’S A GOOD WOMAN, I CAN SEE WHY YOU LIKE HER. THE EMPRAH SMILES UPON YOU BOTH, “ Hjarl boomed happily, “YOU’RE CLEAN COMMISSAR. NOW BOTH OF YOU GET YOUR SIMPLE MINDS FROM MY HALLS,”
Rogal shook his head, trying to clear his head, as he pulled himself to his feet. Tiberius patted him on the back, as the pair made there way out from the psyker’s complex, the armoured doors opening, a wave of heat washing over them. The Secretariat was waiting there for them, a smile on her face, “Thank you for your time gentlemen,” She said, “Right this way,”
The pair looked at each other and smiled. They had passed, again, had they not, they knew the Hjarl would have crushed their heads and their souls in a matter of moments. Following the secretariat, the entered the elevatus once more, the apparatus humming as they returned to the lobby.

That's it for the moment, enjoy :3

sleep time for me, batteries need a charge.

>>16641878
You should feel awesome for you are awesome.

Three-hour bump for more cuddles!

>>16641878
Can I has moar!?

Psyker reminds me of BRIAN BLESSED!

>>16644156
imma drawfag, got any ideas?

>>16644308
The commisar huging and lifting the tech-priestess, her feet not anywhere near touching the ground, or holding her legs/butt and her legs crossed behind his back.

1d4 chan updated

>>16644861
What do I search for on 1d4chan? What's the name of the article?

>>16644879
See OP

http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Commissar_Techpreistess_love_story

crump

bumping with a WIP coloring of >>16622545

So forth about 3 hours in paint. yes paint. will probably finish it tomorrow after i have slept a couple of hours. I'm starting to see pixels everywhere.

>>16646485
>ms paint
Hory sheet!

I accidentally the whole picture
sry

>>16647445
Shut up and take my boner!

>>16647445
I love it

>>16647445
Didn't think my request would evolve so nicely... glad to see it did.

>>16647445
I cant get over how adorable she is!

So why is Rogal so big? He got a little Catchan in him?

>>16612487

I'm sorry. But this thread violates our Intellectual Property rights. Thoughts of romance, happiness or friendship do not exist in the Warhammer 40k universe. Please delete this entire thread and any such thoughts from your mind. Otherwise we will be forced to sue for ownership of your brain. Thank you.

-Games Workshop Legal Department

>>16630145
>>16634894
God dammit kate.

I wonder what would happen if they did want to have children though. I mean I don't think Rogal would be too keen on the vat system since he wouldn't really be able to take part in that, and I don't think Octavia would be able to birth Rogal's GIANT BABIES without getting torn in half.

Also as a side thought, growing babies in vats would kind of suck for those guys with baby crazed wives who would end up having like 12 babies at once. Someone needs to make a PSA poster about that.

>>16648908

As a tall man (2.1m tall) with a petite wife (1.6m), I can conclusively say that small women have no difficulty bearing children of taller men.

DID SOMEONE SAY VET-BABIES?

>>16649064
Yeah but I bet you're not built like a double Gaston

>>16649064

1.6 isn't small for a woman.

>>16649159
>double gaston

OH MY GAH

>“The lieutenant suffers from a mild case of Gathalamor syndrome, a form of neurosis wherein the subject feels unworthy of the Emperors love, and as such, seeks punishment.
Is this an established thing in 40k?

>>16649627
Yeah, from the old inquisitor game. One of the arco flagellants had it.

>>16644189
INDEED HE IS. EVERYTHING, EVEN ROMANCE NEEDS MORE BRIAN BLESSED.

>>16647445
As for you, i take my helmet off and put it to my chest IN MANY THANKS :3

>>16649703
You're welcome! Although I wish some other drawfriend would do some art as well. I'm starting to feel a little awkward being the only contributor. Or maybe I'm just being paranoid WHATEVER

Rogal stretched his arms out, relishing the warm afternoon sun on his face as the pair walked away from the administratum building. Beside him, the lean vox officer tapped on his earbead, patching himself back into the sea of communications, feeling whole once more. The commissar checked his chronometer, looking at his companion and clicking his tounge. The metallic tang hadn’t left his mouth, and he knew it wouldn’t for hours, but, there were ways to get around that.
“Officers club?” The burly man asked his companion, who nodded tiredly,
“That is the best idea I have heard all day,”
The pair walked through the well-established administratum complex, and Rogal felt a pang of jealousy that his men were only just getting a barracks, while the paper pushers were here in relative luxury. He sighed, knowing that it was just a side effect of how war was waged, and that any complex like the one they inhabited would be divided up like this. The world was sparsly populated, so this was the main guard base on this land mass, and had only ever supported a couple of regiments. With the orkish invasion, those regiments had been bolstered by forces from across the sector, the majority of guardsmen in tents and other temporary shelters, spread across the base. The administratum had claimed the main parts of the base, and the mechanicum the vehicle pits, which had grown nearly over night as prefab shelters were assembled all around, expanding the workspace threefold. Ducking his head, the Commissar followed his friend into the officers club, soft lights and pleasant music greeting them as they strode up to the stairs to the main bar. A couple of officers shot sidelong glances at Rogal and his onyx uniform, before returning to their games of cards and regicide. Tiberius knocked his knuckles on the bar, a barmaid walking over, she smiled at the pair, “What can I get you boys?” She asked, bright and cheerful.

>>16649959
YAY IT ARE CONTINUE!

INTERNET HIGH FIVES!

“I’ll take an amsec triple over ploins,” Tiberius said, leaning forward, “What about you, Commissar?”
Rogal smiled warmly, “An amsec combination seven, neat, on ice, if you please,”
“As you wish, Sir’s,” The barmaid said, grabbing a pair of coasters and glasses, placing them on the bar with a clink. Rogal turned and leaned against the bar, looking at his scruffy friend,
“So,” He began, “You and Caelistis, details, now.”
Tiberius chuckled, shaking his head, “What sort of details?”
“We can start with the how’s, why’s come next, and then the what’s, after I have a few drinks. I don’t know if I want to know what you get upto.”
The vox officer laughed, “Oh, there are things that woman can do that would make you eat your hat and like it,”
“Fifteen Thrones, boys,” The Barmaid said, interrupting the pair. Tiberius fished out his wallet, flicking out a crisp twenty throne slip, and handing it to the barmaid, “Can we get some crispseeds to go with them?”
The bar maid nodded, pulling a bowl from under the counter and filling it with the salted seeds Tiberius had asked for. Rogal took his drink and scanned the club for a table, spotting one in a corner booth. He nudged his companion, nodding towards the seats, and the pair moved off.
The commissar took a seat in the corner of the booth, his long legs extending out under the table, his friend sitting to the side, the bowl of crispseeds between them.
“To another successful test of purity and faith,” Tiberius said, raising his glass, “May we continue to make him proud,”
“To the emprah,” Rogal concluded, clinking his glass to his friends. The pair drank, Tiberius finishing first. He took a few crispseeds and chewed them thoughtfully, Rogal watching him with steely eyes,
“What?”
“You, Magos Caelistis, details, now.”

Tiberius sighed, “We met when she came to repair a malfunctioning vox relay. She was all feisty and making jokes and we got to talking. This would have been about the time you were out at the front, helping disrupt those maglev shuttles the greenskins were using to transport supplies.”
Rogal nodded, taking a pinch of the seeds for himself, flicking one into the air and catching it,
“So I take her out to dinner at that little place over the other side of the administratum area? Panachatto’s. We ate and talked and drank, and made plans for the next week.”
“Right.”
Tiberius smiled as he continued, “So we meet up the next week, she asks me over to her quarters, and tells me to bring all this stuff, I think nothing of it. We have dinner, and she’s constantly asking me to hand her things, or do something.”
Rogal laughed, “Oh, how terrible for you.”
“I know, so I go with it, escalate things a little, and next thing I know, shes got me pinned to the wall with her dendrites and she’s whispering things that would make a cultist blush in my ear. The rest, as they say, is history.”
The commissar nodded, “Sounds about right for you. Does she know about your little, quirk?”
Tiberius took another handful of the crispseeds, picking through till he found a particularly large one, “Yeah, I told her about a week in. She understood, told me if it ever got too bad though, she would drag me to the doctor herself and get me medicated. She, just, gets me.”
“You’re very similar,”Rogal said, a smile spreading across his face, “I saw a little bit of her file when I was replying to the inquisitor.”
“Oh really?” the vox officer asked, leaning in conspiratorially, “What did you read about my mistress,”
“Do you have to call her that?”
Tiberius nodded happily, his commissarial friend just shook his head, “Well, she got in some trouble with her collegia back when she was on Peretaraus."

Ah, writing it NOW, ok.

Yet it continues!

Rogal paused, taking a sip from his glass “Something involving the faculty generators and a rather unfortunate junior magos.”
“What did she do?”
The commissar laughed, “Well, she apparently engineered something called a sequential magno pulse launcher? Anyway, she apparently fired her hand using one of them at said junior magos, in an incident that got reported by the student voxnet as “The greatest spank”.”
Tiberius chewed on his crispseed, the corners of his mouth twitching,
“She had put the junior magos in a set of stocks,” Rogal continued, smiling as his friend tried not to laugh.
“Report says her hand was embedded in his augmented ass so hard it took a pair of servitors half an hour to work it free,”
Tiberius coughed and spluttered, his resolve broken, as he laughed. The commissar joined in, managing to gasp out, “Best bit is, she got in more trouble for making the magno gun thing than she did for actually hitting that cogboy,”
The vox officer took a few deep breaths to calm himself, the grin still plastered to his face.
“I love that woman,” he said, raising his glass once more, “To techpriestesses, and the men who love them,”
Rogal knocked his glass against his friends, “To techpriestesses,”
The pair drank to their women, Tiberius lowering his glass first, “We should bring them here. For dinner. Tonight.”
Rogal looked around, the officers club was a nice place, the ornate architecture pleasantly light on skulls. Shrugging his shoulders, “Sure, why not.”
Tiberius clapped his hands with glee, “Mistress will be so pleased. I’m a good boy,”
Shaking his head, the commissar took another swig from his glass, “That’s kind of creepy, Tiber,”
The vox officer looked at him apologetically, “Sorry, you know how it gets sometimes,”
“Easy old friend, don’t worry about it,”
Tiberius smiled, “Thank you. Anyway, what about you and the darling of the mechanicum?”

>the ornate architecture pleasantly light on skulls

I've always thought dating in the Imperium would be awkward thanks to all the eye sockets.

>>16650643
Nah man, chicks dig skulls int he Grim Darkness of the far future.
ESPECIALLY Admech girls.

>>16650627
Oh my god Calistis is amazing

>>16649847
We don't care, you draw adorable, we want adorable. Supply us!
...please?
>>16649959
Moar updates!

But where is da hugest git?
I demand glasses to be raised for mekbois, and to the men who love them! Also, the ensuing dinner with Orktavia. I demand that too.

But even with these flaws, the thread has been a huge success so far.

So much awesome, so much d'awwwww
>>16612564
JUICY DETAILS
>>16612569
awesome doc
>>16612728
horse tranqs
>>16617806
emotes!
>>16632478
Gathalamor syndrome
>techmistress in leather
THIS IS MY NEW FETISH
>>16641676
BRIAN BLESSED psyker

“What about me and Octavia?” Rogal asked, his face impassive,
“You’ve been spending a lot of time together, anything, interesting happened?” Tiberius raised an eyebrow suggestively, “Some carnal calibrations?”
The commissar shook his head at his friend, “Commissars ask questions, we don’t answer them.”
Tiberius grinned wolfishly, “Oh, so something has happened?”
“We don’t answer questions,” Rogal repeated, a smile spreading across his face. Tiberius tilted his glass at his friend, shaking his head with amusement,
“Right, well I’m going to take that as you have done something with her. Good work, sir,”
Rogal just nodded, as he pulled his dataslate from his pocket.
“If we’re having dinner here,” He said, thumbing to his datacast manager, “We should probably invite our guests, shouldn’t we?”
Tiberius nodded, pulling his own slate from its pocket on his chest. The pair sat in silence, typing their messages to their respective women. Rogal finished first, placing his dataslate on the table, and taking a few more crispseeds. Tiberius finished his message, following suit and placing his slate on the table, grabbing his glass and taking a drink.
“So there’s a whisper on the vox that we’re closing in on the orks, should be one final push, and we’ve retaken the planet.”
Rogal smiled, “About time, enough blood’s been shed here,”
“Blood of the martyr is the seed of the Imperium,” Tiberius quoted, “But what’s more interesting is they want to build up a presence here.”
“You mean garrison the planet?”
Tiberius nodded, “Get the population up a bit, start tithing the place.”
Rogal nodded, taking a few cripsseeds and chewing them as he pondered his friends information. The burly commissar sat, considering his options. He had been waiting for a chance like this, and now with Octavia quickly becoming a major part of his life, maybe it was time to take that chance.

>>16651166
"The burly commissar sat, considering his options. He had been waiting for a chance like this"
AND THEY LIVED HAPPELY EVER AFTER HAVING 3.14 CHILDREN (the .14 was a servoskull pet)

ITTY BITTY TECHPRIEST!

>>16651279
More like Octavia went baby crazy and made like 15 vat babies and Rogal turned to alcoholism.

Bad end

“Tiberius,” Rogal began, tapping a gloved finger on the table as he spoke, “Have you ever thought about what you would do if you were on a garrison planet?”
The vox officer shook his head, “Never thought I’d live long enough. Why do you ask?”
The commissar rubbed at a mark on the table top, “Just curious.”
Tiberius just shrugged and sipped his drink. With a buzz, his dataslate chimed, a new datacast waiting for him. He poked his slate with a finger, smiling as he read the message,
“Caelistis says she will join us soon, she’s just finishing up on whatever an ECCMS unit is. She also says that she will bring Octavia with her.”
Rogal nodded, as his own slate hummed. He pressed a few runes, pulling up Octavia’s message, which he quickly read. Tiberius signalled at a barmaid, and she sided up to the table,
“What can I get you, sirs?” she asked, and Tiberius grinned at her, “Another amsec triple over ploins and an amsec combination seven, neat,”
“On ice, if you please,” Rogal added, gently swirling what remained of the cubes in his glass.
“Oh, and some more crispseeds, that spicy flavour, if you have them, otherwise plain will do,” Tiberius continued,
“As you wish, sirs,” The barmaid said with a small bow. Tiberius watched her saunter from the table, and Rogal shook his head.
“Should you be doing that?” The commissar asked, before draining what was left in his glass,
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I should. Mistress thinks it would be fun if I had a friend.”
Rogal snorted, clamping his hand over his mouth. With an effort, he swallowed, coughing to clear his throat. “What?”
“You heard me. Mistress thinks I have been good enough to deserve a friend, so she told me to keep an eye out. She also told me to make sure this friend was female, with dark hair and eyes, and of a similar figure to mistress.”
Rogal let out a sigh, rolling the cool glass against his forehead, “Forget I asked. Please?”

>>16651317
D'AWWWWW

>>16651432
> bisexual BDSM techpriestess

... Go on...

>>16651432
>bisexual techmistress in leather
dugong

>>16651476
I have found my new fetish

>>16651432
How is she not Heretical?

>>16651476
>>16651538
>Lesbian techpriestesses
>Bi techpriestesses in leather and with BDSM

god god damnit

such overly narrow fetishes you have given me

>>16651594
....
oh fuck your right...
..
fuck..

Tiberius let out a bark of laughter, “Don’t you want to hear how mistress will tie us both up?”
“No.”
“How she’ll lash us for being impure?”
“No.”
“How she cleanses our souls with-“
“No, and if you continue, I will make sure you’re sent home with a gallantry discharge and be forced to live out your days a hero.” Rogal said, placing his glass down with deliberate slowness. Tiberius’s eyes went wide, “You wouldn’t…”
“I would. By the saints, I’d even put you in for a medallion estanza.”
The pair stared at each other, before Tiberius grinned, “You’re a nasty piece of work, Commissar.”
Rogal laughed, “Just how I was raised. But really, can you keep the mistress talk to yourself.”
“As you wish,” The vox officer said, a devilish grin on his face, “Master,”
“Dorn’s beard man, enough already.”
Tiberius laughed, and finished his drink, picking the slice of ploin out of the glass with the toothpick, and popping it into his mouth. Rogal shook his head, Hjarl was right, Tiberius was kinky. His mind however, wandered slightly, an image of a bound Octavia, dressed in an ordos famulous uniform, curled on his bed creating itself. He shook his head to clear the image, and it left, but promised it would be back. The Barmaid returned, placing a drink in front of the commissar, “An amsec combination seven, neat, on ice, for the Commissar,” She said, running her eyes appreciatively over Rogals massive frame, before placing the other drink down beside Tiberius’s first.
“A triple amsec on ploins, and a bowl of spicy crispseeds for the lieutenant,” She purred, as Tiberius grinned back, leaning a stubbled chin onto his hand,
“Are you working all tonight?” The vox officer asked, returning the look the waitress was giving him, as she nodded, hugging the tray to her chest, which boosted her already ample cleavage,
“I am, Sir,” she said, and Rogal let out a quiet sigh at their behavior.

I NEED TO SLEEP

>>16651612
Yeah, being THAT big, Rogal has to have SOME Catachan in him somewhere.

>>16651634
Obviously he is the son of MASSIVE PSYKER HJARL (BRIAN BLESSED)

God damn it, Tiberius. She said to make sure the friend was female, with dark hair and eyes, and of a similar figure to her.

You are being most disobedient and I doubt Caelistis will like that.

>>16651634
What does a ordos famulous uniform look like?

>>16651710
I'm imagining something like a repenta

>>16651710
I envision it as pretty much a 40K version of a french maid uniform

>>16651710

>>16651800
They are basically Bene Gesserit..... they act as diplomats, advisors, chamberlains, and maintain the noble bloodlines. So, let your mind go wild with sexy nuns?

>>16651821
Not quite what I had in mind then :C

>>16651878
I think I speak for us all when I ask, what DID you have in mind?

>>16651888
Indeed.

>>16651888
something more, maidish, yes. I always imagined the famulos being like a maid meets a secretary sort of deal. And no candles on her head, thats just silly.

am fixing things in the next part

>maid meets secretary
...no? They don't join a noble household to fucking clean things, dude.

>>16651928
>>16651828
Guys, guys
I'm sure that at least SOMEWHERE there is a maid one.

>>16651947
This is why SoB should be squatted. All they are is fetish shit for ronery neckbeards 90% of the time.

>>16651954
Why are you even in this thread?
Hell, why are you even on 4chan?

>>16651920
Nah, just go with your way. Candlehead is stupid anyway.

>>16651928
Didn't you ever read Artemis Fowl? Butler was a butler, and a badass. I imagined sister maids as much the same, they look after things, and look like maids, but are seven shades of ass kicking waiting to be unleashed.

Or their infiltraitors, and do the same thing. One day she's cleaning the silverwear, you get corrupted and KA-STAB, that silverwear is in your heart and kidneys.

>>16651878
I think that you have free reign when it comes to what they wear. They're the social sororitas. They can wear whatever their current post requires them to.

>>16651878
Here's another picture of one. The far left is a Famulous.

“In that case, can I ask you a huge favour?” Tiberius continued, his lean and stubbly charms working their magic on the barmaid. She nodded again, “Anything, sir,”
“My commissarial friend and I are having some guests for dinner, and I was hoping you could maybe, look after us tonight,”
“We don’t have a reputation for the best service this side of Sol for nothing.” The barmaid said, pushing her hair over her ear with a finger, “I’d be happy to serve you.”
Tiberius grinned, “Thank you my dear?” The questioning inflection compounded by his arched eyebrow. The barmaid smiled back,
“Elsa, sir,”
“Thank you, Elsa,” Tiberius said, “I’ll call you when we need menu’s”
The barmaid nodded happily, “As you wish, sir,” before she turned on her heel, and sauntered away once more. Tiberius grinned at his commissarial companion, who just took his drink and shook his head.
“Your incorrigible, you know that right?”
Taking a crispseed, the vox officer threw it into his mouth, “I don’t even know what that means, but thank you.”
Rogal sipped his drink, his mind wandering again. He saw Octavia, bound, gagged and blindfolded, the bodysuit and bustle of the ordos famulos replaced this time with a guardswomans uniform, the front torn open, exposing pale flesh and gleaming metal, and decided he liked that idea a lot more than the Ordos famulos. Her mechandrites flailed, trying ineffectually to undo her bonds, as he lifted her, bending her over the-
“Hey, look, they’re here,” Tiberius said, backhanding the commissars arm and pointing. Rogal followed his friends gesture, a grin spreading across his face, as he laid eyes on his petite lover. Emerald green eyes glittered back at him, a pink lips smiling, as a mechadendrite flicked her hood back. Rogal stood, his huge frame moving the table, as Octavia near leaped into his arms, her feet dangling in the air as she was hugged by the huge commissar.

>>16652115
SHE IS SO TINY! TINY TINY TECHPRIESTESS!

HNNNNG!

Caelistis shook her head as she hugged Tiberius, nibbling his neck gently, a mechadendrite wrapping itself possessively around his wrist. “Good to see you’re not a warpcharred corpse, meatbag,” She whispered in his ear.
“I made you a promise, remember.”
She squeezed him affectionately, before disengaging from their embrace, to find a shocked Octavia looking at them from her seat in Rogal’s spacious lap.
“Yes. Vox officer Tiberius and I have been seeing each other for a while now. You know how I keep things to myself,”
Octavia nodded, disbelief still apparent on her face, “But, he’s…”
“Weak flesh? Hardly,” She said with a smile, as the pair sat, one of Caelistis’s mechadendrites snaking over her lovers shoulder. Octavia shrugged and snuggled close to Rogal again, looking up at him with her bright green eyes,
“How was the rest of your afternoon?” She asked, a mechadendrite lazily collecting a crispseed from the bowl,
“Aside from having my consciousness groped by Hjarl, very pleasant,” he said softly, “and yours?”
The petite priestess beamed up at the commissar, as she began telling him about how they had done a test run on the hydra targeting cores. Tiberius leaned in close to Caelistis and nuzzled her ear, before he spoke, “So, about that friend for me you were thinking about?”
The mechadendrite at the vox officers shoulder moved to stroke his neck, as its owner smiled,
“Yes, my little fleshling? Have you found someone for your mistress?”
Tiberius nodded, “She meets your specifications, and is already well accustomed to taking orders,”
Caelistis’s smile turned wolfish, the mechadendrite around Tiberius’s arm tightenting with excitement, “You will have to show her to me,” She whispered back, her mind racing with the potentials.

“So tomorrow,” Octavia concluded, “We’ll do a live fire test. It’s so exciting.”
Rogal smiled happily, he loved the passion the petite priestess had for her work, he felt the same when he was working with the men, making chairs and tables.
“Right, well if you two lovebirds are finished catching up, I’m starving, can we get some food?” Caelistis said, “And drink, I need a drink.”
Tiberius grinned, “As you wish, mistress. Elsa?” he called, and the barmaid appeared, smiling as she came to the table, menu’s hugged to her chest. A sultry smile crossed Caelistis’s face, and Rogal shook his head.
“Sir’s, m’ladies, your menus. Can I get you any drinks?”
“I’ll grab another Triple amsec on ploins,” Tiberius said, smiling in his charming manner, “If you please,”
“And I’ll have the same,” Caelistis added, leaning forward, a mechadendrite flicking an errant cable behind her neck, “I love that bracelet, can I ask where you got it?” she asked, reaching out to take Elsa’s hand. The barmaid smiled shyly, but didn’t pull back, as Caelistis traced a hand over her wrist, eliciting a small gasp as metallic fingers met smooth flesh.
“I got it from this little shop a bit further in the complex, it has some really good stuff,” The barmaid said rotating her slender wrist and showing off the chain that was shaped like little tank treads. The real reason Caelistis had wanted to make contact with the slender barmaid was to fire off a quick biometric scan. Elsa felt her hand tingle at the touch of the Techpriestess, and she smiled.
“Really? You will have to give me the address,” Caelistis said, looping a finger through the bracelet and studying it a little closer, as the biometric scan fed back to her. Data scrolled past her vision, as she ran the the bracelet between her fingers “Look at me, taking up all your attention, you better take the Commissar’s order, or he might punish you”.

>>16652594
I'm really hoping you're thinking about doing a spinoff story about these two!

Hey kreiger, if you have any ideas for pics you'd like to see let me know, I'll probably be drawfagging when I wake up!

>>16652725
see
>>16651594

The biometric scan showed a burst of chemicals, and Caelistis grinned, releasing the bracelet and sitting back. The barmaid would do nicely, but they would need see her outside of her job. Rogal shook his head as he sat up, “I won’t punish you, but I will have some water, could you bring us a jug? Octavia?”
The petite priestess thought for a moment, a mechadendrite tapping on the table, “I’d like an Emperors mercy, please?”
Elsa typed the orders into her dataslate, before dropping it into her apron pouch and bowing, “As you wish, I’ll be back in a moment,”
The slender barmaid walked off, her hips swinging, both Tiberius and Caelistis watching. Octavia sighed, gently tapping Rogal on the leg to get his attention.
“I should have warned you about Caelistis,” she whispered, as the commissar leaned down to listen to her. “She is very much a libertine,”
Rogal chuckled quietly, putting his arm around his red robed sweetheart, “I know, I read some of her file while I waited for the rosette agent to reply. What’s a sequential magno pulse launcher?”
Octavia laughed, “Oh, you read about that?”
The commissar nodded, “How the in warp did she do it?”
The petite preistess’s eyes glowed brighter as she began to explain, “A sequential magnetic pulse launcher is a type of slug thrower. Designed to take any magnetic item, in this case, Caelistis’s hand, it hurls it forward using a number of magnetic pulses, that fire in sequence, down the barrel of the lancher. We don’t use it because there’s a lot of issues with managing the sequencing, as well as power bleeds and a few other things. Caelistis only fired it once, which was that time, and they made her disassemble it as punishment.”
Rogal nodded, he sort of understood how the gun worked, but the idea that it could do what it did still baffled him.
“She’s very creative, and very kind.” Octavia continued, “She looked after me at the collegia”.

Gynoid bump!

>>16652852
>“I’d like an Emperors mercy, please?”
>Ordering a drink called an Emperors Mercy
>With a Commissar right next to you

>Pic related

Rogal smiled as Octavia told stories of how Caelistis had stood up for her, helping her to market her amazing skills, the petite priestess repaying her friend with her expertise in fabrication and programming. Caelistis had always been the face of their team, and Octavia the interlectual braun.
“And that’s why she shot him with her hand, because he was the one who had epoxied my mechadendrites together, and she had said she would slap him harder than anyone had thought possible. So she did.”
Rogal laughed heartily, “Seems fair to me. He had it coming, little barrel stuffer,” he said, taking a sip from his drink. Elsa had returned halfway through Octavia’s story, delivering drinks and asking for entrée orders. Caelistis and Tiberius had ordered the toasted local flatbread and selection of dips, the commissar and Octavia opting to share a salad. The vox officer and his slender mistress had been whispering to each other conspiratorially, their eyes following the slim barmaid as she went about her business, waiting tables and taking orders.
“I am glad she is happy with Tiberius,” Octavia said, taking her tall and ornate drink in both hands, suckling on the straw, “He seems a good man,”
Rogal nodded, “He’s as good as they come. I’ve seen him do some crazy things, but those crazy things have saved more lives that he will ever admit.”
“Really?”
“You wouldn’t think it to look at him, and he is a vox officer, so they’re not supposed even see combat, but Tiberius has an honorifica to his name.”
Octavia’s eyes went wide, “Tiberius, an honorifica holder?”
“He never accepted the award, he’s far too humble. But yes, he saved half the battalion at great personal risk.”
“How do you know?”
Rogal grinned, his smile particularly lopsided, “I was there. But that is a story for another time. I think our entrée is here,” he said, as Elsa approached the table, their orders in her hands.

>>16630145

This is EXACTLY what it's like.

>>16653436
Personally, I can't get past "swoon.emt" without cracking up.

The couples dug into their respective meals, Tiberius feeding himself and his slender mistress as she lounged back, Octavia and Rogal spearing at the salad with their forks, idle chat playing between the four.
“So then, I plug the alternating capacitance unit back in, and the chimera roars to life, and that uppity sergeant nearly jumped through the glacis plate.” Caelistis said with a laugh, swinging her drink happily, the rest of the table laughing with her. Elsa returned to the table once more, her smile brighter than when she had last been,
“Who wants to order dinner first?” she asked cheerfully, her dataslate in hand. Caelistis ruffled her man’s hair affectionately as she read the menu, “I’ll have the seafish fillet, battered, on a bed of raavoli, with a light salad on the side,” The slender priestess said, her voice commanding yet sensuous, a smile playing on her lips as her thermal vision saw the barmaid’s body temperature rise. “My friend here,” she continued, “Will have the shredded grox steak and salad, with a attillian sauce.”
Elsa’s fingers flew across her dataslate, “As you wish, m’lady,” she said, and Caelistis grinned, watching the heat flow to the barmaids cheeks,
“You’re a good girl, Elsa,” she said, continuing her nefarious plan. Rogal and Octavia just looked at each other, rolling their eyes, before the Commissar spoke,
“I’d like the grain fed Aarcturian Grox, a thousand weight if possible, or the biggest you have, still pink on the inside, with the roasted vegetables, and with lots of gravy, if you please?”
Elsa nodded, “And for you, M’lady?”
“Oh, um,” Octavia’s eyes scanned the menu, her fleshbrain sitting up at the idea of a wonderfully decadent meal, helped her search, “May I have…” She trailed off again, her mind running through all the possible combinations that the menu provided, searching for the one with the highest match to her nutritional needs.

>>16652725
please do this :3
>>16644486
Or, some really cheesy romance novel cover like picture of Rogal and Octavia

“May I have the honey, brown sugar and spiced porklet ribeyes wrapped in graal slices, with the fellbard sauce, on a bed of brown grain, and a small serve of the potato salad, please?” Octavia said in one breath, the rest of the table looking at her with amusement. Elsa nodded, “Of course, M’lady. Do you require anything else, more drinks?”
Caelistis raised a mechandrite, “I’d like another one of these delightful drinks you brought me earlier. And my handsome little meatbag here would like another triple amsec on ploins.”
“One righteous fury and a one triple amsec on the ploins,”
“There’s a good girl,” The slender priestess said, a coy smile spreading across her face as she ran a mechadendrite around her neck, “Your manners are impeccable,”
Elsa bowed, “Thank you, M’lady,”
“Now run along, we’re getting hungry,”
“Yes, M’lady,”
The barmaid hurried off, her hips and hair swinging as she moved, and Caelistis let out a happy noise, “She makes that uniform look good enough to eat,”
“Indeed, mistress,” Tiberius agreed, before offering his lady another slice of toasted flat bread.
“Really, Tiberius?” Rogal said, chuckling, “Really?”
The vox officer waved an obscene gesture at his friend, “Yes, really. You don’t hear me complaining about how you and Octavia are so nauseatingly adorable together that it could-“
Caelistis cut him off with a glare, “Now Tiberius, that is no way to act towards our friends. Behave yourself,”
“Yes, mistress. Sorry, Mistress,” He said, before he shot another rude gesture at the commissar. Rogal just laughed and kissed Octavia on the head, “Yes Tiberius, behave yourself,” he added, Caelistis laughing with with the commissar, before giving her vox officers hair another affectionate ruffle, “You have a point though, they are nauseatingly cute.”
Tiberius smiled triumphantly, “See, I told you so,” he said, and the four laughed.

Octavia snuggling closer to the commissar, her fleshbrain driving her to be as close as she could to the hulking man. Her cognitor pointed out the inefficiencies of this course of action, citing her reduced ability to move, as well as how it was a waste of time as she would need to sit apart from the commissar in order to eat her meal. Her fleshbrain countered with the fact that she had mechadendrites for such things, and that her body was doing this of its own volition, the metaphysical manifestation of her more human side just happened to agree with it. Her cognitor sighed, ceding the point, and found herself strangely drawn to the fact that in the event of a catastrophic disaster, that were she was, cuddled up to Rogal’s huge chest, significantly increased her chances of survival in the majority of cases. Her fleshbrain put an arm around her cognitor, smiling happily. Her body reached out and pulled her huge drink towards her, the little umbrella swinging to the side as the drink left the table. She took the straw into her mouth, sucking quietly, the warm peach flavoured liquid filling her mouth, savouring the taste of as many levels as she could. Her mind wandered to the tidbit of information she had gleaned during the afternoon. The mechanicum was going to keep its establishment, as the world was being garrisoned. Octavia had hated travelling almost as much as she hated the war, but now a chance to settle down on a nice relatively peaceful planet presented itself. She had run the odds of such a thing happening, and the results were still pending, but the chances of it not happening had just clicked over to the hundreds of millions. Her fleshbrain showed an image of her and Rogal, together, and then her favourite permutations of their children, and she smiled to herself. If the chance came, she would take it.

So that's where we leave our lovers for tonight.

As always, your a wonderful bunch of people, who are awesome.

first thread here
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/16546488/
second thread here
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/16575266/
This thread here
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/16612487/
1d4chan here
http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Commissar_Techpreistess_love_story
downloadable text version here
https://rapidshare.com/files/1870962185/The_Littlest_Kreiger_Commisar-Techpreist_love.docx

Bravo. You illuminate the grimdark of the 41st millenium with candle-lit romance. Bravo to you.

You want to know something?

wh40k is over-marketed, over-hyped shit, and the only thing you'r accomplishing by dropping these links is selling the GW brand name for them. F-f-f-fuckoff

>>16654019
0/10

Try harder next time Mr, "LOOKATMELOOKMEINATROLL!!!!!!!"

>>16654019

This man speaks the truth.

>>16654019
You seem to be upset. Perhaps you should make a thread about your preferred table-top game and remove yourself from this one. It is the logical course of action.

>>16654375

Why would I want to do that? This is obviously /lit/. Tabletop gaming has no place here!

>>16653776
I eagerly await the next installment!

>>16654048

Nah, he is wrong. Little Kreiger is taking the brand and all it's grim dark of the grim darkness lore, and stabbing it repeatedly, mutilating all the (not) hard work all the writers (Matt Ward?) put forth and creating a much more balanced setting.

Soon people will pick up TLK's flag, and we shall take what GW has made, and then make our own lore for it because GW's lore is a peice of badly written snuff flicks connected together by Mary Sues and Ultra Marines.

Text file updated here
https://rapidshare.com/files/3106262267/The_Littlest_Kreiger_Commisar-Techpreist_love.docx
1d4chan up dated

captcha
organ-theft

lol silly captcha techpreistess dont steal organs they steal, steel and other mechanical like things

>>16655335
>He thinks techpriests don't steal organs
>LaughingBiologis/ServitorCrafters.jpg

>>16655335
Damn i really did miss quote cannon fluff sorry team im reporting to the nearest commisar for punishment nao.

Bump

>>16652000

Also, the Adeptus Sororitas likely have SOME history remaining as the Daughters of the emperor/Brides of the emperor - in that they were some corrupt governors personal cult before they became aware of his corruption.

>>16652000

Going by Enforcer that's more or less exactly right.

For a while she's basically the head maid/butler combination, hiring staff, looking after various things.

Then Heresy happens and the nobles realize they left the hiring to a Sister. Yeah, guess who has the real loyalty of the staff?

By the time the Arbites arrived, the noble house had already be taken apart and those involved taken down.

>>16656940
For the MOST part, yeah. They also opened the doors for the Arbites.

I'm draw a Caelistis (or at least what I think she looks like)

If anyone wants a wallpaper made up gimmie the dimensions

>>16658155
I approve of Techpriestess underboob

>>16658155
This is going into my android folder.

>>16658155

I will admit, I expected caelestis's tastes to run more toward the 'leather clad goddess' side of things, with her taste in undergarments running along the lines of things that cover UP her delicious flesh, and match up with her augmentations in places so it LOOKS like she's nearly fully covered up, when, in fact, she's close to naked.

That or a subversion, where her romance outfits tend to cover up her cybernetics - because its more arousing for her to bare metal than flesh.

Still! My preconceptions aside, that is fantastic. Doesn't she have real hair, though?

>>16658973
Oh, I dunno I just kinda drew what I thought looked pretty :/

>>16659004

it looks great

>>16659004
She looks fine.

bump

>>16658155
Nom nom nom, delishus caelistis. Awesome drawfag is awesome.

>>16660784
glad you like it!

>>16660784
Is it story time now?

blump

>>16658155
>mypeniscannolongercopewiththislevelofawesome.jpg

One can hope, its been helping me deal with my insomnia.

>>16658155
Caelistis and the barmaid Elsa and/or Tiberius doing something BDSM sexy... please? (Ok, three characters is aLOT, so Caelistis and a character of your choice doing something BDSM sexy... please?)

bampu

They see me bumpin, they hatin.
Patrollin, they trying to catch me postin sage

The four continued to chat as they waited for their meals. Laughter and merriment filled the establishment as other officers and higher ranking administratum staff filled the bar, making the most of the relative peace. Even now, Rogal mused, in the grimmest and darkest times mankind had ever faced, humanity endured. He looked around, here a pair of grizzled old veterans who had seen far too much shared a drink and still managed to find good times to reminisce about, there an administratum secretariat and her friends celebrated her engagement. Smiling happily to himself, he pulled Octavia a little closer, giving silent thanks to the Emprah that he was blessed to live in such a time. The skirmish of a few days ago was almost forgotten, having barely affected the base, though the official funeral rights were yet to be performed for the honoured dead. Their bodies would be the first laid to rest in the new base’s cryptarium, their names etched on the wall as martyrs of the imperium. Caelistis and Octavia’s conversation continued across his massive frame, as Rogal considered how he would be remembered.
Octavia looked up with curiosity, “Has something got your attention?” She asked, before suckling on her straw once more. The huge drink was aptly named, many people who had drank it often wished for the real thing when they woke up the next day. Rogal snapped out of his pondering, smiling back at his petite priestess, “Just, thinking about things,”
Tiberius laughed, “Here we go, he’s going to say something deep and pogniant,”
“Then you’ll get all lovestruck,” Caelistis added, “And me and Tiberius will need insulin shots from the sheer saccharine sweetness of you both.”
Rogal chuckled, “I am sorry. Not all of us need to hogtie one another to show our affection” he retorted, and Tiberius gave him a gesture that would get him flogged on a shrine world.

Octavia let out an eep, as her fleshbrain, powered by the steadily growing amount of alcohol in her various systems, filled her mind with images. Her cheeks went pink as her fleshbrain showed her, Rogal’s belt around her wrists, his commissarial sash gagging her, her mechadendrites bound together with electrical tape as was dangling over his shoulder, his arm around her waist, claiming her as his own. Caelistis grinned, noticing her petite friends reaction, as she leaned forward to rest her chin in her hands. “I wouldn’t be quite so sure about that,” The slender techpreistess said, Octavia letting out another eep. Rogal looked down at the petite girl beside him, and she avoided eye contact, suckling on her straw innocently. Or as innocently as she could with bright red cheeks.
Rogal’s lopsided smile grew, as his simple farm boy brain realised what was going on. He patted Octavia’s side reassuringly, “Not that there’s anything wrong in it,” He said quickly, Octavia looking up at him, her emerald eyes smiling. His mind flashed again with the image of Octavia in the guardsmans uniform, tied now with his commissarial sash about her wrists, her flak armour open, exposing the porcelain skin and gleaming augments underneath. He felt his mind begin to wander once more, but was interrupted by,
“Order’s up, Rogal,” Tiberius said, pre-empting Elsa’s return, her arms laden with their meals, her smile wide on her face.
“Right, for the commissar, one thousand weight Aarcturian Grox steak, rare, with roast vegetables, and gravy” she said, placing the huge plate in front of the equally huge man,
“For the lovely lady of the machine god, the batterd seafish fillet, bedded on raavoli, with a light salad,” The meal slid gracefully from Elsa’s arm to the table, freeing her to hand out the cutlery from the pocket in her Apron.

“The shredded grox salad for the Vox Officer,” another clink, as the plate piled with leafy greens and brown shreds met the wooden table top,
“And finally the spiced porklet ribeyes wrapped in graal , with fellbard sauce, on a bed of brown grain, potato salad on the side,” She said, placing Octavia’s meal down in front of the petite priestess of the machine god. She leaned over the table to hand out the napkin wrapped cutlery, pausing in front of Caelistis, giving the slender priestess a wonderful view, smiling at her coyly,
“Will there be anything else, M’lady?”
The Priestess shook her head, “That is all for now. You may go,” she said, watching with amusement as Elsa stood, “But, if we do need anything, I will call,”
“As you wish, M’lady,” Elsa said, her smile returning. She hugged her dataslate to her chest as she bowed, boosting her ample cleavage once more, before she turned, sauntering off once more. As she walked, her swinging hips bumped another table, sending the small table number placard to the floor. Caelistis grinned, the mechadendrite around Tiberius’s leg squeezing with excitement, as the slender barmaid bent at the waist to pick up the fallen item.
“Emprah on earth,” Tiberius whispered,
“I want her,” Caelistis agreed, her augmented eye snapping memnorpicts, “Such shape, such definition,”
“You could bounce a gelt off that,” Tiberius said, before he took a bite from his fork. Rogal had busied himself with his steak, digging in hungrily, as beside him, Octavia continued to blush, her fleshbrain continuing to show her all the different ways Rogal’s commissarial sash could be used. She speared a piece of meat and daintily bit into it, savouring the flavour. She smiled, as she watched Rogal eat, and beside him Caelistis and Tiberius continued to discuss the pretty barmaid.

thats it for tonight, sorry for the small update.

stay classy /tg/

first thread here
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/16546488/
second thread here
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/16575266/
This thread here
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/16612487/
1d4chan here
http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Commissar_Techpreistess_love_story
downloadable text version here
https://rapidshare.com/files/1870962185/The_Littlest_Kreiger_Commisar-Techpreist_love.docx

Elsa must be pretty damn strong to carry all that food...

updated text version here
https://rapidshare.com/files/2209622894/The_Littlest_Kreiger_Commisar-Techpreistess_love_story.docx

also realized previous versions had inaccurate names
also kreiger in process of up dating various articles across internet i realized could you post information for chapter breaks in your story for us?

also previous text versions no longer available

>>16658155
>>16664639

>>16664750
I'll fix it up on 1d4chan, and you can go from there, if you'd like

thank you sir i will update the text file
may the emprahs glory shine on you

>>16658155
oh dear god Walls YES!!!!
1366x768

can we get Octavia too Plz?!?!?!

>>16658155
I request it in 1920x1200, pretty please!

>>16665344
Here u go

>>16665501
Thank you! I dont know what in what kind of image you want to be paid in, but have my nuclear arsenal in the mean time.

>>16665037
And heres yours!

>>16665534
You're welcome!

>>16665690
Could you be extra awesome and make a 1920x1200 version of the Octavia pic too? Name your image price and you shall have it!

>>16665751
sure but I'm drawing a new picture of her now so I dunno if you want to wait

>>16666087
HNNNG! I'll wait! I'll wait! Oh my god, I can't wait! What do I do!?

dear god man can we get in color?

did this get trimmed?

>>16666087
Im F5ing every five minutes! I still can't wait!

>>16666767
Give it about an hour-ish I haven't even gone to inks yet!

Also i'm no good at cute i'm too used to drawing vampy women BUT I AM TRYING

>>16666805
We'll be here. Take your time and make it good and sugary cute

thanks you god of men
btw the thread is dying ill create a new one when it dies

>>16666863
Better yet, create a new one and link it here before this thread hits autosage

has this been archived?

yes archived

gimmie a min to connect to new thread