Machina Dei

The influences of the different factions.

The following was posted on /tg/:

"I think we can build a game on two simple concepts:

1) Ancient Roman Empire 2) Giant Mechs.

Doable?"

This is what resulted.

Thread 1: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/6419240/ Thread 2: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/6422623/ Thread 3: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/6425883/

Tiers

Units in Machina Dei all fall into one of three tiers: Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary. Each Faction has units in each tier.

Primary Tier

The Primary Tier is the most powerful of all tiers. Primary tier units are the upmost limit of power for a faction, and for many factions it is the first thing you think about when you think of them. It is rare for more than a one of these to be in an army, and many armies do jus fine without one.

Secondary Tier

These are the Mid-Level units. They often form the bulk of an army's capability, Almost all armies have a good handful of these.

Tertiary Tier

These are the weakest units. While they're still much more powerful than ordinary civilians, they are vastly inferior to other tiers. Where they make up for it is numbers. Most armies will have more Tertiary units than any other type. In addition, Because of their numbers, Tertiary units can form formations.

Factions

Every group with significant influence is listed here.

Roman

Roman war machine.

The Roman Empire has endured for 800 years under the reign of one Julius Caesar. Upon his ascension to dictator, the god Jupiter descended to show his favor, and Vulcan bequeathed unto the empire hundreds of great suits of armor, many time taller than the tallest men. Caesar used these machines to expand the empire, and the followers of Vulcan learned to create lesser machines of this nature. Now Caesar is old, and his age is finally beginning to show after living for centuries. He has headed east to fight the Chinese, leaving Nero to govern Rome in his stead.

Primary: God Machines

These are the bronze warriors made by Vulcan himself. Each is the size of the Collosus, has the form of a man, and wields a sword and shield of similar proportion. A man must climb inside of one, through the mouth, to pilot it, directing it with the motions of his own body.

Secondary: Man Machines

These machines, while magnificent, pale in comparison to the God Machines. Where the God Machines are made in sleek imitation of human form, these are merely plated things in an upright form Gears and bars are visible through gaps in the armor. They too have sword and shield, though they are smaller. These are the bulk of the roman forces. Unlike other Secondary units, Man Machines can use formations.

Tertiary: Lorica Faulta

Creating the metal warriors is not an easy task, and often it fails. The remainder is used for Lorica Faulta, or Failed Armor. This armor provides good protection, and lends weight to the blows of one who wears it, but it pales in comparison to even the Man Machines.

Christian

Jesus Christ walked the earth freely seven centuries ago. During that time, He healed the sick, taught wisdom, and helped those in need. But he was also critical of the Roman Empire, and so Pontius Pilate, then magister of the lands where Jesus walked, sought to have him killed. A troop of Man Machines were sent to slay him, but any wound merely healed, leaving the Christ yet living and free to speak as he would. So Pontius Pilate acquired the services of 100 smiths of Vulcan, and constructed a great cross, with the power of the gods, that Jesus might be killed. And it was built towering over Jerusalem, and Judas, one of Jesus followers, delivered the Christ onto Pilate for 30 silver. Jesus took his place within the great cross, and was pierced through, and did not heal. But neither did Jesus die, and so he remained there. And so Paul, a follower of Jesus, went out into the lands to tell people the good news which Jesus had taught, and to oppose the Romans.

Primary: Great Angels

At the beginning of the Universe, YHWH created divine beings to serve him. These beings were diverse in form, and mighty in power. Should many Christians die in the name of Jesus, these Angels may come to earth to vanquish the foes of Christ.

Secondary: Heralds

A christian may be bolted into a machine, like the one which holds Christ, and by the power of YHWH be given a new angelic body. It is with no joy that a Christian does this, however, for a death in this form destroys the soul, and a Herald can not linger long on earth to aid those she treasures there.

Tertiary: Christians

The Christians fight with the experience of a thousand lives, for they do not die. Indeed, many Christians still live that walked with Jesus. When a christian dies, she is reborn 3 days later. Scars remain, but YHWH gives his children new body parts should they lose some in his service. As a result, the oldest Christians sparkle with limbs or eyes made of lightning and fire.

Chinese

A vast empire governed by ritual and might the Thousand-Year Dynasties proclaim their rule by the Mandate of Heaven. An exotic nation far to the East, it is home to tall tales of unending numbers of tireless troops, monkey sages that trapeze off clouds and can kill a man with a touch, and hulking stone lions that gain life to defend the Forbidden City. Its capital is a bewildering combination of culture and conquest; for every nation under its authority, the Phoenix Emperor demolishes its capital and builds a full-scale replica in his own, consolidating power through the very ties that bind his enemies

Primary: Dragons

The dragons rarely deign to intervene in mortal affairs, but when they do, they bring great power into play.

Secondary: Jade Juggernauts

These heavily armored Jade vehicles have rockets on their sides, and roll on treads. The rockets are devastating weapons, as they launch with force vastly exceeding that of arrows, and can explode on contact, depending on type. They have a serious drawback, however: There are a limited number of them. When all rockets have been fired, the tubes must be reloaded with new rockets. It is rare that this could be accomplished during battle, and the only other possible manner of attacking is for the crew to fight.

Tertiary: Terracotta Warriors

In the great ritual factories of the many river valleys of China, the low rumble of work can be heard night and day. Formed from the bosom of the Earth herself these Warriors are assembled from a variety of molds, armed with iron and even steel tipped with chromium as to not dull even after ten-thousand strikes. The vast numbers of warriors in China's armies are without count,

These are armed with pikes and cho-ko-nu.

Indian

Lead by Ashoka the Great.

Primary: Greater Avatars

Shiva, Mishra, Brahma

Secondary: Lesser Avatars

Ganesha etc

Tertiary: War Elephants

Indian Elephants are used in devastating charges, and they carry archers on their backs. Some are blessed with superior size and extra tusks.

Celtic

Britain was a tantalizing jewel of shore of Gaul, and it was only natural that Caesar should lust after it. So Brutus was sent, as a reward for his aid uncovering an assassination attempt. Soon after, the Celts, commanded by Boudica, He took a full legion, and invaded. But he was unprepared for what met him. His supplies dissipated, in small quantities, during the night. His men were harassed as they marched by blue-faced savages. More than one Man Machine was damaged by a falling tree. The men were quickly exhausted, and injured. And so when they arrived in a circle of standind stones, they were unprepared for what happened. The Machines stopped moving. Brutus set the smiths of Vulkan who had come to work at once. But the blue-faced demons burst from the trees, great clubs in hand. The soldiers drew their blades, but with mere mortal force, the blades glanced off the hides of the blue beasts as though they were cut from stone. the Romans were set upon, and defeated, even before the Treemen stepped out of the forest.

Boudica was pleased.

A mere week later, she launched an assault on northern Gaul. The Romans there were caught by surprise, not having heard of the defeat of Brutus, and the Celts successfully seized an additional legion of Man Machines and established a foothold on the continent.

Primary: Treemen

Massive druidic trees covered in tusks, horns, and various charms

Secondary: Taken Weapons

The Man Machines taken at Gaul bear little resemblance to the originals, plant matter suffuses and powers them now.

Tertiary: Woaden

Warriors wearing Woad paint; it makes them supernaturally resilient. Swords glance of their sides.

Hun

Hun warriors share their bodies with creatures referred to as "spirit-kin". They're bizarre looking creatures with no real similarity or reason to their appearance, when they are outside of a body, but they are considered to be related to humans in soul if not in form. Attila, the current Hun leader, has several spirit-kin wives who share his body.

Huns will merge with a spirit-kin to augment their own powers in battle, and to provide the spirit-kin with a body. The spirit-kin can only endure for a matter of hours without a body to reside in, so they are very grateful for the Hun willingness to host them. They repay the warriors with beneficial mutations, be they as simple as increased size and strength, or more complicated, such as extra limbs, tentacles, mouths or eyes. This takes time, of course, so the oldest of the Huns are also the most powerful, and least human.

Primary: Old Ones

Bigger than most buildings, utterly inhuman.

Secondary: Spirit-kin

These are spirit-kin temporarily outside of their hosts.

Tertiary: Warriors

Merged with a spirit-kin and mounted, they rely primarily on bows. Fairly similar to humans.

Mercenary

Mercenaries are the factions which for whatever reason cannot form their own armies efficiently. They are considered Tertiary units, and may belong to any army.

Norsemen

Runic armor keeps their power from fleeing; it is used to wield immense weapons and kill things better.

Rus

Bear cavalry.

Gauls

Potion fueled warriors, see Asterix and Obelisk.

Jews

Golems. They do not need to be driven, and are powered by the words in their heads.

Bantu

Sub-Saharran Africans. They bind the spirits of animals, such as Lions and Cheetahs, to themselves.

Beduin

The Beduin use bound djinni for their purposes. Djinni have innate control of fire, as they are composed of it. Long ago Solomon bound and commanded many of the djinn for his own purposes; whenever a djinn is found trapped in a bottle, it is likely Solomon who put it there. Of course it's been a thousand years since then, and though some djinn are still bound to rings or bottles or lamps, others have gained greater or lesser measures of freedom since then, and the Bedouin sorcerers often struggle to ensure that the djinn do not act according to their own wishes.

Writefaggotry

Brother Anatole

Brother Anatole wiped the sweat from his brow as he kept watch on the narrow defile. The cliff fort, a long-abandoned brigand stronghold that was more cave than building, had served them well. They'd held out against the Romans for three days, and, Jehova willing, they had supplies to continue doing so for several weeks. Brother Elezar emerged from below and joined him on the battlement.

"Any change?" "No. Since the assault last night, there's been no sight of them. Perhaps they're content to wait us out." "Then they may know the location of this place, but not the nature. The grain stocks are full, the spring sweet and ever-flowing. So long as the Romans do not breach the walls, we are as safe here as anywhere." Elezar chuckled. "Far safer than the streets of Jerusalem." Anatole shot him a stern look. "Do not underestimate the Romans. That they even found our stronghold shows that they are resourceful." "Or that we have a traitor in our midst." Elezar spat. "If so, may he burn in Sheol for all time. And may our blades send him swiftly." "Peace, Elezar. Did our Lord not say, 'Blessed are the meek,'? If Jehova wills it, it will be so."

Anatole returned to his vigil, and Elezar turned to go and tend the wounded, then froze. He'd heard - no, he'd felt something, a vibration coming up through his feet. Like an earthquake, or many men marching in step. He turned back to Anatole. "Do you feel that?" Anatole's mouth hardened into a grim line. "They come again. Warn the others."

Elezar raced below, and returned several minutes later with the contingent that manned the battlement. In the meantime, the vibration grew ever stronger, until it could be felt deep within the rock itself. The men prepared their weapons, as the priests prepared poultices for the inevitable wounded and blessed the fighting men. Finally, after an eternity of creeping dread, the first glint of steel could be seen at the mouth of the defile. Then the battle standard came around the edge and into full view. Anatole gasped and drained to a ghostly pallor.

"Iesu save us, it's the Legio VIII Mechanicus."

Several men groaned aloud as the realization of their imminent death hit them like a hammer blow. Now the monstrosities were in plain view. Twice as tall as a man and emblazoned with the Imperial eagle, these were some of the least of Rome's mechanical works. Still, they were more than a match for anything the Christians had at-hand, and would hew through them like a scythe through wheat. And the men that controlled them were battle-hardened veterans known for their savagery. They had just returned from the sack of Persepolis and had nothing but contempt for the undisciplined Christian partisans. There would be no resurrection for the men here; their bodies would be dismembered and burned, their sanctified tombs defiled. On they came at a near-parade march, as though this were a tree-lined Roman avenue and not a killing field. Behind and around them were the legionaires, looking like so many armored children beside the steel behemoths.

As they closed, the defenders let loose with arrow and javelin. They wounded a legionaire or two, but plinked harmlessly off the thick steel carapaces of the great armored suits. The legionaires threw a return volley of javelins, and now it was the defenders' turn to bleed and die. A few men were struck, and a priest went down with a javelin in his neck, gasping like a fish in a net. The armored units had reached the wall and began hacking and battering it into rubble. Brother Baram, the leader of the men on the wall, saw the direness of the situation and ordered the use of their most precious weapon: several amphorae of Greek Fire. The legionaires scattered before the clinging liquid fire, but the armored units stood unfazed. One armored suit took a direct hit from an amphora and was set ablaze. It became a nightmare beast, a burning demon who implacably hammered upon the slowly crumbling wall. As the steel heated, it even began to glow and make an unearthly shrieking sound. Some of the defenders broke and fled at the sight. Eventually the armor fell and was still, but a dozen more still methodically went about reducing the wall to so much broken rock.

Anatole stopped in mid-bowshot. A strange peace settled over him as he dropped his weapon and strode purposefully away from the face of the wall. He grabbed the highest ranking priest by the shoulder and turned him around. "Gather the elders. We must begin The Ritual with haste if we are to have time." A look of horror and shock crossed the priest's face. "Surely, brother, the situation is dire, but not so dire that we might need summon a Herald." Anatole shook his head no. "There is no choice. If we do not, not a man here will survive, nor rise again. We do this, and we do it now." The priest ran to pass word, and Anatole turned and shouted to the men. "Hold fast! Fight to the last breath, and you shall rise again to serve our Lord! Glory to God in the highest!" The men shouted back as one, "And to the risen Iesu!"

The old stronghold was well-fortified, but even thick walls of stone could not resist the pummeling of the armored units forever. The wall buckled and fell, crushing defenders and opening a wound through which the Romans could pour. The Christians fought valiantly to defend the breach but were no match for Roman steel and the monstrous suits, which crushed man and rock alike in their effort to widen the hole. The defenders refused to fall back and were slaughtered where they stood. As the Romans gained the breech, the commanding centurion surveyed the scene before him.

The wall and the cliff face created a courtyard that backed onto a cave. Christians continued to throw themselves fearlessly at the legionaires, fighting men and unarmed clerics alike, singing the praises of the risen Iesu as they died. Beyond them were a group of defenders, obviously elites, their battle scars declaring their hard-earned martial prowess. And beyond them, in front of the cave mouth, stood a single cross with Anatole crucified upon it, surrounded by chanting priests. The centurion shouted orders to his men to kill the man on the cross, but he was too late.

Even as he spoke, Anatole screamed and pulsed with a blinding inner light. His flesh seemed to melt away and vanished, replaced by a pillar of white light. The light coalesced and took on the form of a two-story tall armored man with four wings, beautiful and terrible of visage. He reached into the empty air before him and drew forth a flaming greatsword. His mouth opened, and a voice like a trumpet thundered from everywhere, shaking the very foundations of the mountains and cracking the mortar of the stone wall. "YOU WHO WOULD SEEK TO DESTROY THE FAITHFUL, SHALL DIE TODAY!"

The Herald lashed out with his sword and killed a half dozen legionaires in a single blow. The rest broke and attempted to flee, but were stopped by the bulk of the armored units pushing through the gap. The first armored soldier charged the angelic form alone and was neatly cleaved in two, sparks showering in all directions. Three more came on together, landing hits but not perceptibly slowing the Herald before being similarly dispatched. The remaining living Christians rallied at the sight and threw themselves into battle with a renewed fervor, all the while singing hymns of thanksgiving.

When the battle was won and the Romans had all died or fled, the Christians gathered around the titanic angel. The eldest cleric spoke: "Thanks be to you, servant of Jehova, for your effort has saved us all." The Herald, in a far quieter boom, replied, "THE THANKS BELONGS TO ANATOLE, AND IT IS BY HIS SELFLESSNESS THAT YOU STILL LIVE. REMEMBER HIS NAME FOR ALL GENERATIONS, AND THAT HE UNDERTOOK THE GREATEST SACRIFICE IN SERVICE OF THE RISEN LORD." With that, his gaze turned skyward, and he dimmed and faded from view.

Elezar fell to his knees, weeping openly. Baram placed his hand on the man's head and said, "Weep not for your lost friend, for he sits now at the right hand of Jehova. Weep for we living, who must continue to struggle against the might of Rome." He then turned and walked away, joining the priests in the duty of entombing his fallen men, that they might rise again.

Attila

Attila sat down by the river. Bleda was playing at politics again. It irritated Attila, for Bleda was given to error in this arena. No matter; Attila had a greater purpose for this time. The river would bless the tribe. Attila knew little of shamanism, but he knew more than Bleda, and one of them had to do it. Attila tossed the strip of horseflesh into the river. He said the words that Rugila had taut him before his death. The river spirit would come. Then, on sudden impulse, Attila stood, and cut his wrist, letting blood fall into the river. Stupid. Why had he done that; that was the wrong thing to do. Then a blade arose from the water, curved and cruel. It was followed by a sinuous black tentacle with a single eye. The sword and tentacle writhed forward to Attila. "Augh," Attila stepped away from the thing. A mouth formed about its midsection. "Please.. your world burns me... Give me shelter in your form! I'll bring you power in battle like no other man.." The thing was like no river spirit, but victory in battle was what Attila had prayed for. "Very well." The thing slithered forward, and with great sped it leaped into the Hun's body. It was gone for a moment, and then the curved blade sprung outward from Attila's flesh, forming in his hand. Attila heard that voice once more in his mind, "I shall henceforth be... the Sword.... of Attila."

That was centuries ago. Attila had more of the spirits within him now. All the warriors had at leas one. The sword remained at Attila's hand - what was left of it. The arm had lengthened, becoming whip-like. The hand no longer had fingers, but was fused to the blade. And yet, it was the most human part of the body. The Blade still talked to Attila, of course. It was his greatest companion. And Attila was the Greatest being. The Romans would fall before his might. Soon.

Modun

Today was the day that Modun would become a man and join the likes of his father out on the battlefield. It was the day that he would be blessed by a spirit-kin of his own, a creature who would become his companion for the rest of his days. Needless to say, the boy was more than a little nervous. He'd heard many things about the merging - that it would hurt, that he might lose some part of himself - but, standing there surrounded by his kin, there was no backing out now.

Modun gripped the ceremonial blade tightly as he slashes his wrist, letting the blood spill onto the drawings that had been made in the sand. He kept his gaze fixed forward, not daring to look down at the pool of blood that was forming at his feet, but, even so, he still saw *something* move at the edge of his vision. It was his spirit-kin.

He felt something warm wrap around his leg. As he clenched his eyes shut, he could hear a voice speaking to him softly, as though from across a great distance. The voice was soft and feminine - surprisingly so. "Don't be afraid. I will give you glory."

He opened his eyes and looked down, seeing a girl who looked to be about his age hugging him. He knew his eyes were lying, that this wasn't her true form, but he felt soothed nonetheless. In part because what he saw was familiar, but also because it was a good omen to see the kin's spirit and not their form. He knew then that he would become a great warrior, quickly outshining his father.

So, while the merging hurt, as expected, it was a good pain.

Marcus

Marcus hated living at the edge of the Empire, and had quickly come to regret moving to Armenia. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. As a retired soldier, he'd be given a rather large tract of land he could live on and pass down to his children.

But Marcus had no children as all the local women were too ugly to even consider the act. The land, while spacious, was difficult to work, and, worst of all, being at the edge of the empire meant he was last in line for the benefits of being Roman. This was especially salient now that there were reports of nomads from the steppes coming down from across the Caucuses.

Nomads that ate the flesh of the conquered, and performed strange blood rites. Evil men whose hearts burned black with disease and death. They were subhuman scum not fit to see the splendor of the Empire.

But they were ferocious fighters, and the Legionnaires were no where to be seen. Marcus considered packing his things and heading back to the Inner Empire. Maybe signing back on with the military as a mercenary. But, for better or worse, Marcus couldn't bring himself to abandoned his hard won land, as damnable as it may be.

Early one morning, when Marcus looked out over the terrain as he did every morning, he saw them. Or, more accurately, he saw the smoke. The local township was burning, and the stench of death filled the air, carried to him by the wind.

Hurriedly, Marcus went inside to fetch his sword and armor. If he were to die this day, he'd die with a fight - with Roman honor and a Roman flame burning in his heart, but something was off. His home felt oddly alien. Everything looked the same, and everything was in the right place, but he couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness. Ignoring the sensation, he quickly put on his armor, tying the clasps tightly before reaching for his sword.

Then he felt it. Something latched onto his wrist. He saw it as well, but his mind refused to register the things appearance, so he wondered mutely why his hand had stopped short of the hilt. Outside he could hear the frenzied yells and blood curdling screams of things that should not exist on this world.

"Yessss..." he heard someone speak. Their voice was painful to listen to. "I shall take you, but do not worry, human, I shall not devour your flesh like I did the others. You are more interesting than that. I shall make you mine." Marcus could feel it moving across his body, under the armor he had put on - armor that quickly proved useless against this assailant.

He wasn't sure if it was fear, or something else that prevented him from moving, but Marcus was sure of one thing. He was not going to die this day, and, for the first time in years, Marcus began to cry.