recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
Errant Valor

The five dudes from the Duyver Imperial Guard who kicked off this entire fuckin 40k thing lol. The cause of them? An image of Gerard Way.

The name "Errant Valor" itself is just the designation EV in the Duyver phonetic alphabet, which has never been fleshed out in full. The guys who always end up parked next to them in actions are Errant Throne, Errant Ultra and Errant Wisdom. They're five random dudes from Schutten Duy who got randomly assigned to be each other's blood brothers. These days they only meet up intermittently on Skype.

Brekt dies in the first episode.

Sander goes on to join the Inquisition and then marry his Inquisitor's rich cousin.

Haas and Duiker get married and retire back to Schutten Duy.

Jens becomes a Commissar to a unit of Kriegers.
Devotion

## the Praxis is technically, after all, a religious organization.

### the saint

Set off to one side of the basilica, tucked away through a little door in one wall of the narthex, there's a vigil chapel. Acolytes use it surprisingly often - more than once Simon's come up and found the lamp outside it already lit. When that's the case he says a little prayer to bless whoever-that-is, then goes upstairs to the choir loft, walks around the edges, and sits to look out the windows. The Emperor is out there, too. The whole Imperium is out there - every single sweet or sour little soul they're trying to help look after from in here.

He doesn't do any of the churchy shit. He doesn't even light incense when he's just praying by himself. Once in a while he'll go in and light a stick down at the main altar, because he's the Inquisitor in charge of the ship and the ship expects certain things to be done certain ways to run happily, but that's different. It's not like he needs to bribe the Emperor into listening to him.

His prayers are just sort of check-ins. Updates. Reports on what he's accomplished so far, thinking about what's next. He trusts that if he were to mislead himself into acting against the Emperor's Will, the Emperor would send him a sign to let him know about it, and until then he's confident in his plans, so he's not out there asking for divine guidance. And since he *is* acting as the Emperor's Will, he can already assume that the Emperor is and shall be showing him favor, so he's not going to bother Him asking for it. But it's good to stay in touch, you know? *This is what we're up to out here; I know You'll remember to watch out for my little children while they're running around for us, my Lord*.

### j

The one in the vigil chapel is J. He's not doing any kind of proper vigil, but the chapel is fully closed off from the rest of the basilica and it is, if only just barely, large enough to do the Seven-Foes-At-The-Ford two-sword dance by himself. He doesn't have a recording of the drumming to dance to; he's muttering the beat under his breath "*puh puh puh, p-PO puh"* until he's too busy dancing to keep it up and the rhythm remains only in his own ears. his memory, his heartbeat.

He swirls, one blade moving in a steady arc half-slower than the rest of him to parry six of the foes and the other striking out against The Second Traitor, a crucial step in the dance, and because the room's too small he hits the wall with a jolt that carries up to make his wrist vibrate painfully. He keeps his steps in time; if he'd been flanked by fellows of his temple he would probably have survived, probably. He finishes the dance, so it's not ill-omened: if he'd failed to finish, *that* would be an ill omen, but *some shit might happen but it will be fine* is not an *ill* omen.

Thus he reflects as he finishes the last step and falls to genuflect. *For you, O Emperor*, he thinks once he's on his knees; finishes up the prayer of dedication, the *hey-God-were-you-watching*, and rises to inspect his blades and find he'd chipped the one. Alright, the omen's not *great*, either.

The Quartermaster will fuss at him for it, which is funny.
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Pat Holm

Lady Patricia Holm is a socialite and an adventuress, who through assorted ventures has come into quite a bit of money; she owns a number of vacation planets, upon a couple of which the influence of her long-term boyfriend Simon Templar has convinced her to run charity camps for poor children and orphans of the Imperium.

She spends a lot of her time either relaxing or schmoozing, but not infrequently adventure calls her and she returns to Simon's side, knowing that he always has the freshest adventures with the sparkliest jewels at the end. In light of her visits to the *Praxis,* she provides a generous fund to allow that ship's Provender people to go buy fresh fruit from nearby planets everywhere they go in space, so that she herself will not risk being fed corpse starch rations like some pauper Guardsman. She also funnels a good bit of money through the ship's Inquisitional funds in general, for reasons we politely do not inquire into.
Praxis Locations

Locations aboard the ISS Praxis

#### Grand Basilica

The big cathedral on top of the ship. Has windows through which you can see the stars, upstairs by the choir loft. Site of important Inquisitorial meetings, also of worship. see Grand Basilica

### Private Quarters

*Praxis* is designed to carry many more people than it currently holds. Each acolyte is currently given a suite of two rooms with an internal niche suitable for use as a shrine and a very tiny nook containing a toilet and a way to sanitize your hands afterward, a space originally designed to hold eight people. Even with this luxury of space tons of suites stand vacant. The rear room of each suite is provided by default with a big gothic-ass four-poster bed and an equally gothic-ass Narnia-style wardrobe with doors and internal drawers and shelves and hanger space; the acolytes are responsible for whatever else they want (they can just ask the Quartermaster if they realize that's an option though)

* Annie
* Chad
* Diarmid
* J
* Nils
* Thijs
* Yarrow

### Other

#### Back-of-House

all of the Facilities stuff, both the workspaces for running the ship & the spaces for living required by the people who do all that work. see also: Duyver HVAC Cult
The Mother of Forests

The M

other of Forests is a bird woman and the older sister of Forager. While she was in the egg her father Hyi'i'cheji brought back plants from far away, and her mother Utanji ate them on their nest. The seeds fell into the muck outside the nest and lay there asleep. When the Mother of Forests hatched the Knowing Goddess taught her magic, and when the Mother of Forests fledged she dove into the muck and sang to the seeds until they hatched as well. The reeds were first to hatch, and she built a nest among them to brood in while she waited for the trees to hatch. Now her many children are tended by the people, providing fruits and seeds and other good things to eat.
The Old One

The Old One or The Ancestor is a spirit-realm being which is found in the spirit-realm version of the Field of Reeds, to the west of Utanji's Rocks. It has a long, long head, and long leathery wing-arms that it walks on like front legs, and feathers that aren't feathers. It is as tall as a young tree. Nothing is known about it. No one has seen it except from very far away, at least not and told anyone else about it.
Medieval Field Trip 5: Regrouping

*part of the Medieval Field Trip series*

"Consult with me, beautiful," Simon says as he walks past Roger, and Roger instantly falls in to walk beside him. Simon sketches the current outline of the situation, and where he envisions it going from here; Roger sketches an idea of what-all they're going to need to accomplish that on the ground, and Simon tells him to call for Thijs, and thus discovers -

"Our nickelmaster went *home*??"

"I'll bring him back with the rest of it. I'm taking your car," Roger informs him.

"All that's mine is yours, my very own boy, including yourself and the *Hirondel*," Simon assures him in a very saintly manner, genuinely believing himself as he speaks.

Roger'd served as a motorpool pilot on the way down, so *Party Adjutant* is still in its parking bay under the *Praxis*. Simon, however, brought his private ride, an Ithilien Swallow-tail Speedster, a craft known for being "too much boat for any reasonable person" and not really intended to be flown without using the jacks. It's the exact literal craft in which Simon taught Roger to fly; he seat-of-the-pantses it back to the ship with practiced ease, somewhat regretful that he's alone and nobody's impressed by it.

Parked and cleared, he heads straight to the Quartermaster. He's still wearing particolored hose and a jerkin. "How much mail do we have?" he asks at the window.

"Dere's some packages - "

"No like chainmail," Roger clarifies. "We're facing arrows and flak jackets have too many unarmored seams, they go right through 'em, that's how General Bradford ate it in the 357th Battle of Tronno."

Thijs hops off his stool and manually unlocks the door on his way to retrieve a datapad. "Are you bringing reinforcements or chust de guys you got down dere already?"

"Reinforcements and locals if we have the supplies to outfit 'em," Roger says as he comes in and takes a seat in the armchair. He's holding the clipboard full of requisition forms from outside the window. He's got his own pen. "What's on hand? Helmets are easy, a helmet's a helmet, we've got tons of those. Saint needs you to come down with us, too, direct orders."
Joyce

name: Joyce

job: background character; mother of Diarmid

homeworld: Elysia

strong-willed, intimidating, taught Diarmid some really weird habits

ONE EXAMPLE

Theirs is a culture in which it's expected that the host will offer some tea, the guest will decline, the host will insist, and on the second or third attempt the guest will finally accept, but this entire ritual is supposed to be carried out the entire time? Joyce hates this and if you say no the first time she never asks you again and she makes herself tea and none for you. Diarmid is being raised by her with her as an example but also immersed within the surrounding culture, and where he ends up at in all this is that he always offers to share anything he has with people, but is - or at leat used to be - entirely taken aback when they accept right off. One time he offered the rest of the minivan a sip of the milkshake he had when he got on and was surprised when they took him up on it and passed it around until it was empty. That's not Joyce's fault, though. She would've told him to expect it.
Annie's Quarters

main page: Annie

located wherever he was randomly placed. a sign painted with a loping wolf hangs over the door.

#### front room

The walls' Gothic panelling has its centermost panels painted a festive red. There's a soft-cushioned wood-framed sofa, a pair of chairs, and a DVD player absolutely festooned with purity seals. Atop the television set stands a dish-type incense burner and a pair of Funco pops he got from a work Throneday thing, but they're Funco pops of TV characters so they stand in sort of the same function as statues of saints to the TV set? That's the theory upon which they've been placed flanking the incense burner, at least.

There's also a coffee table absolutely covered with rings because there are no coasters and he would not remember to use one if there were any.

There's also a pair of end tables; on one of them there's a charging stand with various cable types and another incense burner. On the wall just above the charging stand is hung a gaudy little icon frame containing a QR code, which was a gift from a techpriest acquaintance.

#### shrine space

The niche is left open-fronted and is crowded with little figural statues of various saints raised up on shelves and stands (hung inside with magnets), with another incense burner and offering space left below.

#### rear room

On the nightstand, a sort of Teasmade-type item which is a combination clock radio and timed coffee maker, with its attendant incense dish and purity seals. On the bed, a cheery ticking-stripe bedspread and sturdy white curtains. Under the nightstand, a dorm fridge with beer in it.
Chad's Quarters

main page: Chad (40k)

located wherever he got randomly assigned. "hang in there" cat poster taped to outside of door

#### front room

Every wall is lined with the big stack-of-cubes shelving units with workspace counters inherent. There's a computer terminal and a sewing machine and a Beadazzler and a lot of notes and papers and plans and tools spread out over the counters. There are three or four separate corkboards stuck to the fronts of the cubes with magnets, easily relocatable, tracking different projects ongoing or incipient. There are boxes and boxes and piles and stacks of craft supplies, and half-assembled muppets, and fully-assembled muppets, and clothing pieces, and and and. Faux fur, googly eyes, rhinestones, spools and spools of trim, a box that's just full of spools of thread half in color order but never fixed again after the first time he did it so now all the ones he's used since then are out of order. Pencils, markers, paint, spray paint, magnets, train tracks (HO), train tracks (O), hot wheels tracks, marbles, Tinkertoys. There's a single wheeled office chair that he kicks around between workstations as needed, kicking things on the floor out of the way also as needed.

#### shrine space

An assortment of prayer candles with intermittent offerings

#### rear room

Clean clothes everywhere, cast aside whilst assembling an outfit. Dirty clothes at least go right into the hamper. It helps that Facilities magically makes them go away and reappear clean again. An ornate vanity with a little pouf to sit on and Hollywood lights around the mirror. Sheer curtains on the four-poster gothic-ass bed, color-coordinated to the bedding, which is changed out intermittently but always has a really stupid theme. He likes to do food themes on the bedding for some reason? He's done pizza comforter/hamburger pillowcases/french fry sheets, tortilla comforter/tomato and avocado pillowcases/beans sheets, then reused the beans sheets with fried egg pillowcases and waffle comforter with a bacon throw blanket
Van Aarden swords

The House of Aarden have been barons in Schutten Duy for ca. forever and employ the greatest master swordsmiths the planet can produce. The swords marked "van Aarden" are absolutely fucking exquisite. The house style is very ornate and rococo with heavily-decorated hilts including figural sculpture and shit. They're also just fucking GOOD SWORDS that are good to keep sharp for hitting people and cutting things with, made by craftspeople who know how to balance the thing for the height of the person commissioning it, etc.

The Knickerbocker family of Vloer One of Schutten Duy have family-secrets ownership over a specific production method for a steel alloy that's FCKIN GREAT FOR SWORD BLADES EH, and there's an exclusive blood-contract tied between them and the House of Aarden so that only the van Aarden swordsmiths can use that steel. When that blood contract was forged generations ago, the branch of the Knickerbockers with whom it was made changed their appelation to "Knickerbocker de Aarden" which almost immediately became "Knickerbocker Daarden" or just "Daarden," and then that branch died out and the family secret and its attendant blood contract was renewed in the previously-non-Daarden Knickerbocker cousins, who proudly chose to keep their own name but thank you for the offer.

Thijs's older sibling is the current head of the Knickerbockers and either she or her kids have smelted the steel for every single blade Thijs has convinced Simon to commission for various Praxes. The swords would be just as amazing without that family tie but Thijs wouldn't GIVE such a shit without that family tie.

The *first* such sword Simon commissioned was for Thijs himself, to indulge him since he kept trying to sell Simon on them. Actually going seeing the resulting sword was sufficiently impressive that Simon's second commission was for himself; since then he's got a little tradition of getting a new van Aarden made for special occasion gifts when a Halo or an acolyte have proven themselves Swordworthy.

Thijs has an industrial piercing made of Knickerbocker steel, incidentally, and the only way he was able to do so is this: There is a tradition of making one specific fitting in the hilt out of piece that gets notched out of the blade's metal during the working. This practice is "wedding" the blade and the hilt together. Thijs took Simon's sword, the second one, the one that's the Saint's personal sword, and he took that fitting out and made a replacement out of a more normal alloy, and he worked the fitting into the bar of his industrial piercing. *He "divorced" the Saint's sword from itself yo*
Medieval Field Trip 6: In the Summer Swelter

*part of the Medieval Field Trip series*

They're wearing quilted shirts and then mail shirts and then a covering of tunics and the white-and-gold livery capes to keep the sun from baking the metal. The hem of every cape is dark-ochre with drying mud, so too every leg. Roger's helmet fits him perfectly, the noseguard doesn't even touch his nose, but consequently he keeps forgetting it's there and trying to scratch his nose or wipe his face and instead bonking his heavy-gloved finger into the helm. There's a steady drone of insects in the background and also in their vicinity.

It's four Praxes and six locals and Roger keeps having to order the locals to put their gambesons back on no matter if it is hot, eh. It'll be hotter when you're in one of the hells for fucking up a mission for the Emperor and getting shot with your gambeson off. They have a rather futuristic thing best simply referred to, here on this world, as a cannon with them. Roger needs to be where the cannon is for important future tactical reasons, so he's just staying with it the whole time. It's hard to get it where they're going without using the roads, and right now they need to *cross* a road, and they're sat hiding in a ditch with a freshly-felled sapling tossed over the cannon to disguise it as a bush.

The sound of a horse coming up the road. At first the horse and its rider are white in a way Roger thinks is simply sun-blindness, looking out from the underbrush up into the heavy summer air, but the glint is gilded and the sigils are the Saint's and Roger bursts from the underbrush with his sword drawn and a cry of "Stand and deliver!"

His ten are scrambling up in bewildered, variously-frightened obedience and Simon's sword is also already drawn and then the Saint laughs. "All I have is yours, just spare the horses," he says as he puts his sword back away, dismounts for an embrace.
Fort Box

Once upon a time Chad Rodriguez got bored and the way he chose to deal with it was to gather every cardboard box he could from the whole ship and build a giant box fort in a vast vaulted chamber he'd discovered in a lower level one day many months before. It held his attention for a surprising amount of time; he requisitioned graph paper to make it easier to doodle ideas during the long lonely hours of night clinic duty, and eventually he had a whole-ass fort with several rooms and windows and a table to climb up on to look over the parapets, surrounded by a whole-ass labyrinth you had to navigate to get in and out of it.

Three days after he triumphantly stood on that table and looked out over his completed works, he forgot about it because there was a ground crew operation that was way more immediately interesting. After that it was gone from his mind forever.

In his absence, the Facilities people found it, but they recognized its genius and chose to accept it. It has been adopted and maintained, and a few areas have been altered to improve the aesthetics of the labyrinth portions and extend the castle fortress at the center. People visit it for fun and sometimes to walk the labyrinth in quiet religious contemplation.

One day Chad might rediscover it by accident the same way he found the room unused in the first place. Until then it belongs to Facilities.
Duyver to-do

Schutten Duy (Shoot'n'Die)

- The (Steely|Silver|Shimmering) Spires

- northern mountain range

- Steel production and manufacturing

- Artisan swords and fine craftsmanship

- Duytjes: mines

Killen Duy (Kill'n'Die)

-The Black Fortress|The Dark Towers

- central plains

- Ammunition and assembly

- Book-learning and high culture

- Duytjes: powder-handling facilities

Grouen Duy (Grow'n'Die)

- They Practically Live Outside Down There [Derogatory]

- southern plains

- Plants and greenhouses and food

- Duytjes: greenhouse-farms

Die Gaard, or The Yard

- central plains, glow of its lights visible from Killen

- military facility, spaceport

Duyver Cinema

- Doctor Van Deusit
Roger Konway

**name:** Sergeant Roger Konway

**aliases:** Konnie but he hates it

**job:** Simon's right-hand man

**homeworld:** Cadia

**age:** 30s

## a physical description?

A little over 6 feet, fit, blond, eyes of a startling violet. Currently sporting a beard but often cleanshaven. Around the ship he's in old BDU pants or grey sweats; off the ship it's newer BDU pants that don't have holes in 'em; no matter where he is he's wearing an old mission t-shirt or similar, unless he's "dressed up" with a polo or a flannel. When there's an excuse to wrangle him into a suit he wears it well, of course, but the natural state of Roger Konway is not a suit-wearing one.

The Original Character Distinctive-In-The-Field sort of look, Iconic: chocolate-chip BDU pants tucked into combat boots, with armored kneepads - the edges picked out in gold paint. A t-shirt from Operation Silver Shark - four years ago; it's wash-faded and slightly yellowed - featuring a clearly-traced Bart Simpson wearing a crudely-added Praxis jacket surfing on the back of a huge shark, an explosion in the background; up around the neckline, two moons and a rough representation of the Praxis herself floating above the unevenly hand-lettered text. The matching chocolate-chip BDU jacket, untucked and unbuttoned. One large and ornate steel pauldron, trimmed in bright gold and countless rubies, engraved with several full stanzas of the Martial Prayer between the lines of gems.

## biography

### early life

Roger was born and raised on The Islands, just like Anne from the books and movies and anime serieses etc. He did all the normal Cadian shit like Whiteshields and the Imperial Guard and then while he was in the army his commanding officer became a heretic and fell to Chaos, unfortunately. Roger was pretty well implicated in the whole affair too but Simon Templar, then relatively newly-made as an Inquisitor, was able to sort everything out and also Roger fell in love with him. Simon fell in love with Roger too, mind you, but Simon is Simon, so that's worth exactly as much land as it'll cover when you throw it.

### praxis event

Our boy was there when Simon bought the damn thing. It was too damn big then and it's too big now and it fits too many people and they *have* so many people and it's getting out of hand, but it is what Simon wishes, it is to carry out Simon's grand plan, and so it's what Roger's in charge of now!

### on the praxis

he can't join the union because he's management :C

He's everybody's boss except the other Halos, and that makes a social life difficult, bless. He joins whatever clubs he can - which means he's in the Book Club for Dummies, and also continually not amongst the top five of Powerteam 5000 because there's no way he can lift as much as Diarmid, for instance; he gets a little sad-puppy desperate if he's left alone too long.

### see also

* Roger is so basic
* Roger's Quarters
* Roger's Office
* Party Adjutant
Medieval Field Trip 3: Merrie Days of Spring

part of the Medieval Field Trip series

They leave the vans parked in an untamed meadow, patrolled by servoskulls whose feeds can be remotely monitored by Sebastian. Simon leads them through the woods as if he's lived here for years, until they enter into managed woodland and finally a road with little pink flowers forcing their way up between time-pocked cobbles.

They take the road uphill and from the crest of it they can see a long thatched building just ahead and a town with one steeple and three or four tile roofs among the thatching, somewhere ahead with another lower hill between. At the nearby building they pay for and retrieve some horses evidently arranged ahead of time, and the services of two locals as guides, horse-caretakers and fixers ditto.

Towards the town they go. Simon's provided everyone with matching cloaks, lightweight and flowing, in white and gold with the Praxis seal embroidered on the backs as their livery; his own is matched but in more substantial fabric and a seal picked out with gems, of course. The countryside seems gentle, made of rolling hills and soft pinkish skies and the long neat lines of strip-plowed fields in a stage of fresh ochre dirt and bright green growth.
Iron Kilo

Fireteam Iron Kilo - self-proclaimed Idiot Kings - is *Praxis'* resident unit of the Duyval Imperial Guard. They're a Schutten Duy unit; they were actually sitting in a spaceport waiting for a connecting flight to go on shore leave when Roger started chatting them up for what they were all suspicious was some kind of chaser orgy. Not only was it a legitimate job offer, however, the standard *Praxis* salary puts the IG rate to shame, and the work's easier, so why not?

Its members:

* **5X** - there are two of him! Otto and Olli Vijweks, whose surname is pronounced, well, 5X. Otto says that as the older twin, he is naturally louder and more outgoing. Olli says that as the older twin, *he* is naturally more reasonable and doesn't run off at the mouth. Either way Otto is the louder one (and usually wears a gay little two-strokes moustache, unless he shaves to be more identical for shenanigans) and Olli is the wilier one; every time they decide to play Identical Twin Games like the ongoing effort to keep Roger from fully realizing there are Two Of Him it is Olli's idea. 5X, as a collective, has been deemed The Sacrificial Turnip: if Konvay has to be given bad news, or really interacted with at all as a figure of authority, they send 5X so he can soak up any blame and dislike which may rise up in their commanding officer's breast about it, leaving the rest of 'em relatively blameless.
* **Aster** comes from Vloer 2 and is the child of cheese cultivators. Wears little round-lensed glasses. The one in the group who took a level in field medic.
* **Raab** (pronounced Rob) was a welder by trade before his military career. He is good at solving practical problems.
* **Joone** (pronounced Yonah, like Jonah with a Y, but he never corrects anyone ever - collecting mispronunciations, answering to anything from June or Roger's best-attempt "Yune" to Jones or fuckin' *vatever*). He is the Weird One (Quiet Weird variant). Good sniper. Wins staring contests.

Nils thinks it's hilarious how many fuckin Schutten Duyvers there are. Fucking *listen to them*. Listen to the vay they *talk*. They say their uy funny.

The Quartermaster can barely stand to look at the five of 'em en masse, shit

1. ↑ Sadly, not every word in the Imperial Phonetic Alphabet is equally badass-sounding.
2. ↑ "Like ven you're growing turnips and you gotta send von to de Fruit Inqvisition"
Nils' Quarters

main page: Nils

located next door to the elevator one floor down from Simon's quarters

#### front room

Nils has a grand harpsichord, in space, casually in a bedroom. Nils may perhaps have been testing boundaries when requisitioning this object, but it gets played and played well. There is also a very cute little art deco-style vanity with a pouf to sit on and no mirror, because Nils' eyes are neither visible nor useful. Other than this the room is free of things to bump into, and the vanity and harpsichord are placed so as to be navigable by feel.

The walls, here and in the back bedroom, have been painted Nils' favorite shade of shell-peach, visible whenever eyes are borrowed, and a delight each time.

#### shrine area

At Nils' request (and subsequent checking through borrowed eyes), a door has been fitted over the niche. It's made of metal stamped with a pattern of little repeating aquilas. Inside the shrine Nils keeps a list of names self-written and attended on all great holidays, not only the one, with offerings placed behind the door.

#### rear room

The bed has opulent hangings with multiple curtains of velvet and silk, and the bed similarly is piled with throw blankets of various luxurious textures. Everything is that pinky-peach color, various slightly-differing hues and shades and values in the same little family, except for one which is blue and which Chad tried very hard to convince Nils was actually the right color just through pretending to believe it so hard himself - it almost worked and although Nils has seen its blue through Chad's eyes and others, it's allowed to stay on the bed because of that entire thing.
Baseball

Baseball is a sport enjoyed by all the duys, but especially in Grouen Duy, where they also use slightly different rules and equipment. Two teams of nine players apiece take turns playing defense of the field or offense attempting to score points, over the course of (usually) nine innings.

The majority of Duyvers are left-handed. Duyvers play baseball in a counterclockwise direction (you run to the left to first base)

In Killen and Schutten, the batter uses a low hooked stick like a field hockey stick, and the outfield is fully netted over; they don't have home runs in their version. Both Killen and Schutten lay claim to being Where They Invented Playing Baseball In The Duys and their derision for Grouen's innovations in the game cannot be overstated.

In Grouen the field is open all the way to the air. If you hit it out of the park that's a home run, and this innovation is more derided in Killen and Schutten than even the completely different bat they use (which is a rather awkward thing like an American baseball bat had a fling with a cricket bat).

Grouen Duy takes baseball way more seriously than the others and every neighborhood has a team which competes in different tiers with other neighborhoods. Officially baseball in Grouen Duy is an Amateur Sport; athletes are NOT paid, and they MUST be residents of the neighborhood for which they play, and also officially there aren't tiers and everyone's on equal footing. In reality the better-off neighborhoods offer free housing for good ball players recruited from elsewhere, which technically isn't paying them and which conveniently makes them residents - deals like that. Lots of different teams can make the playoffs but the same handful of neighborhoods tend to dominate every year. You know how it is. Regional rivalries spring up and non-Commission games get scheduled between teams at local request once the smaller-time teams get inevitably elimated.

Because it's an Amateur Sport it's assumed the players all have day jobs, and because it's Duyvel they have a horror of being unprotected under the nighttime stars in particular (even in Grouen which is much more chill about seeing sky in general); the Grouen Duy baseball season is thus limited to the months that provide enough time for a game between factory whistle-call and Full Official Nightfall. In Killen and Schutten they're playing indoors anyway - their games tend to be scheduled much later in the evening. Grouen games do often run into the night; huge banks of stadium lights blot out the view to and from space, and the nicest neighborhoods sponsor stadiums with retractable shutters that can roll out at night.

Even then, there is no *overtime* or extra innings. If, at the bottom of the ninth, the teams are tied, each team gathers on its own side to elect a single representative (known as the sacrificial turnip, a Fruit Inquisition reference from the Grouen Duy baseball scene) who will then play rock, paper, scissors to determine the win so everybody can go home.
Duyval Imperial Guard

One of Duyval's main exports is Imperial Guardsmen. These are a mass-produced resource, but they still attempt to provide an artisan product by training them all to be little special forces guy and giving them decent swords.

### Five Guys

The basic unit of the Duyval Imperial Guard is the handvol, a five-person fireteam. A lieutenant commands five of these teams and the chain of command goes up from there, etc etc. These five are Blood Brothers Forever and their only loyalty is to each other and they have no other family because they symbolically died when they joined the army and it's very, very gay

### Jagersergeants

Duyvers are little shits as a cultural generality they just have a society and the society encourages them to be little shits. When they were importing military ideas to make up this army they didn't want to have to be privates so instead the very base rank you get as a member of a fireteam is jagersergeant and you are technically an NCO or whatever even though tis clear and obvious that you're a member of the same base rank as all the other base rank dudes.

Cadians hate this because they can't make it fit easily into their spreadsheets and forms when their armies interact, and also it makes no sense

this word is pronounced with jager like in -meister and sergeant like normal

(which means if you're from the undvloer you're probably saying surchint, but that's all accent)
Utanji

## Utanji, the Knowing Goddess

A Celestial Crane and member of the Celestial Court. Her nesting mate is Hyi'i'cheji, the King of the Air. Her second mate varies depending on the story and the teller; sometimes she changes them serially, sometimes she's loyal to one but it's a different one than another storyteller claims.

### Utanji inventor of magic

When Utanji and Hyi'i'cheji first came to the Swamp Lands, They built Their first nest upon a flat-topped stone mountain. There was nothing around but the muck of the swamp when They first landed, but Utanji had eggs to lay, and so they built there. Since Utanji had nothing to eat, Hyi'i'cheji had to fly far and wide to bring back anything He could find, and Utanji was left alone in the nest to brood over Her pair of eggs. It was in this time that She invented magic. Before then people had only done things without thinking, but as Utanji brooded over Her eggs, all She could do was think. She thought, and She thought about thinking; She thought about doing, and She thought about thinking about doing; She thought in new ways and discovered how thought and intention shapes action. These and many other secrets of magic She taught to Her children, who taught them to the people. Thus She is the Knowing Goddess and the Mother of Magic.

### Utanji's children

The First Fledge-pair:

1. The Mother of Forests
2. Forager

The Second Fledge-pair:

1. Keraji the Weaver
2. Haidodoji Brushmaker
Duyver HVAC Cult

Duys are big machines and full of big machines - manufactories for industry etc - but the circulatory system is particularly important to the survival of these massive conglomerations of life. A distinct culture has arisen amongst the techpriests of Duyval, those responsible for maintaining the life of the Duys themselves. Already-small people with modifications to make it even easier to run around inside of ductwork to fix it up. Magnet hands to scramble up the steel struts of the structures. Infrared eyes and advanced barometric sensors and all that sort of stuff, which is 100% normal for techpriests anywhere. There's nothing particularly different from any other given insular group of techpriests, who will probably also have their own distinct culture with distinct local saints and etc. It's just that in Duyval there's an HVAC cult.

They don't build a lot of ships on this planet but they've built at least three; also they've exported some of these techpriests and allowed the commissioning of some of their steelworkers et alia and so there are ships in the universe that have Duyval craftsmanship built into their bones and a likely small contingent of specifically-Duyval-HVAC-cultists amongst their maintenance techpriests. One of those is the *Praxis*

## duyver hvac cult on the praxis

For strict religious reasons, the *only* people allowed to work on the ship's hvac system are members of the cult. You don't need to be part of the Duyver-descendant culture to become a cult initiate but you will have a lot of actual physical difficulty if you are tall and not modified to be flexible like a snake.

you never use duct tape on a duct. to do so is heresy.

the hvac system obviously and necessarily criss-crosses the entire ship and constitutes an entire second way of traveling through it, provided one knows the location of various grilles and fans that bar physical passage. helps also to have magnet hands like so many of the hvac cultists. all of the niche alcoves in the passenger cabins are connected to the ventilation system to make it marginally safer to burn ritual candles in them. the one in the saint's quarters has a wee hatch that he can fit through to bip down into the hvac system himself in a pinch.
Party Adjutant

Roger Konway's personal vehicle is technically classified as the same type of spacecraft as a minivan, because the ass end of it seats five as long as they're all good buddies. There's no additional cargo storage outside of the passenger compartment so they'd better be good buddies who pack light, too. Most of the amenities are stripped out, all the structural weight minmaxed and redistributed to give it the frame stability to handle rough maneuvering and maximum speed.

The exterior is long-nosed but blocky overall, with the gilded baroque cruft typical of Imperial skunkworks. Gleaming white with the Praxis I painted huge upon it, and also wide black racing stripes. It's a hatchback, the only way in or out except the emergency hatches. The interior is painted in flat grey primer, but in a way that's clearly on purpose; the visible support bars and rollcage components are gilded, for Roger Konway is the Saint's man through and through.

The cockpit is single-seat, and fully open to the passenger compartment. The pilot's seat doesn't have plugs because Roger doesn't fly with jacks and that entire system has been stripped out. The dashboard is painted in a variety of colors to associate the various controls with one another and make it easier to visually parse. It also has LEDs that change color in time with the stereo system. Purity Seal is Roger's favorite scent of Pine Tree Freshner and one is tied to the back of the pilot's seat's headrest.

It's 40k so of course the boat has guns; you only get six shots and any extra ammo would need to be strapped into the passenger seats, but they're there for an emergency. The gunner controls for the two barrels are placed at the extreme edges of the dashboard, so if there is an available passenger to grab one or both, they can help out without getting in the pilot's way, but in general Roger assumes he will be doing all the things, as normal.

1. ↑ The stereo system is fine.
2. ↑ Unfortunately, it doesn't *not* resemble a sex toy, although the idea I was going for was more Space Duesenberg in inspiration.
3. ↑ Any kind of separation would be wasted weight, after all, plus it's cozy and shit.
4. ↑ Saving weight here helps justify spending it on subwoofers.
5. ↑ It smells of a specific incense blend that's heavy on cinnamon and dragonsblood. Secretly, it reminds him of Simon's cologne, because that is also heavy on the dragonsblood note.
Annie

**name**: Anachreon of House Lupus

**alias**: Annie

**occupation**: Imperial Guardsman (sergeant), the guy who helps acolytes from less-tech-savvy backgrounds learn how to use a cell phone and shit

**homeworld**: a primitive Roman-esque planet in the Ultramarines' region of space

**age**: 40s

## biography

### pre-praxis

Anachreon was raised in a rural farmsteading household on a world with a primitive level of technology. Located in the Ultramar sector, their culture was proud to send their own off the join the Imperial Guard; those who returned after their time in the service were granted special rights and property.

Annie's House was Lupus, with the sign of a running wolf, which he lives under to this day.

He had a relatively long career in the Imperial Guard, which was militarily distinguished despite some personnel issues (historically not great at showing up on time sober and in full regalia for call time, necessarily... there's specifically the time he accidentally went awol bc he got arrested for drunk and disorderly and missed his flight out of a spaceport... when he was a grown ass man mind you).

### on the praxis

He's a big strong guy who knows battlefield shit and is good at rustling the less-experienced into a somewhat-useful group, so Roger likes to use him on ground crew whenever there are those less-experienced who need rustling. He can and will punch an ork through the face and then he will encourage you to try to do the same.

His side gig of helping low-tech acolytes adjust to the newly high-tech environment came about accidentally. He himself had to figure that shit out when he joined the Guard and left his homeworld; his homeworld's sergeants had done that themselves and they taught him and his generation of soldiers and he quite naturally does it for others. What he was taught, what he does, and what he passes on is quite simple: look at it, read it, and ask questions. These simple tasks seem beyond some people, though, and Annie has a surprising amount of patience for helping walk them through setting up their voicemail and learning how to write messages to people without either of them ever knowing what an app is or how anything about the cell phone works.
8o (disambiguation)

The following is a list of links to pages that might share the same title.
Please follow one of the disambiguation links below or search to find the page you were looking for if it's not listed on here. If an internal link led you here, you may wish to change the link to point directly to the intended article.

**8o** may refer to:

* 8o, an Insane Demon Community Level made by Zobros.
* 8o X, an Extreme Demon Community Level made by f3lixsram, meant to be a harder version of 8o by Zobros.
* SL8O, an Extreme Demon Community Level made by mbedsun, known to be one of the most hated Extreme Demons in the game.
* Jomekka - Eighto, a song made by the Composer jomekka mostly known for it being used in the level 8o by Zobros.
* Eighto, a Medium Demon Community Level made by Eskim0.
* Eighto, an Auto Community Level made by Usermatt18.
* Eighto, a Medium Demon *Epic Featured* Community Level made by xMisery.
* Eighto Circles, a Harder Difficulty Community Level made by Bamkii. It used to be a normal Nine Circles level, but was buffed to become way harder than a 6.
* Eighto, an Insane Difficulty *Rated* Community Level made by FurySenpai.
Whiteshields

## the scouting organization

All genders participate in Whiteshields. Kids are grouped by age and location; in urban areas like Tronno and Koover there's a troop per neighborhood, in the suburbs it's one per town, in rural areas they may have to consolidate (such as on the Islands, where several islands have to pool their kids to create a reasonably-sized troop).

### Whiteshield Scouts, age 6-11

All you do at this age is train and collect badges and sell cookies

### Whiteshields, age 12-15

You're carrying a live weapon, and participating in home front war activities

### Whiteshields Expeditionary, age 16-18

You're being actively repositioned to the *wake* of the current front, to assist in cleanup duties etc farther from home without putting you in direct action. That's for next year when you join the Imperial Guard proper

## the cookies

The littlest Whiteshields sell cookies and the proceeds are banked away over their service to provide them with body armor when they reach the stage of being sent out to participate in war activities. Since Cadian soldiers go to war all over the Imperium, their cookie distribution system is also highly advanced. Wherever there are Cadians you can order yourself a box of fucking Whiteshields cookies.

Flavors include **Thin Mint, Peanut Butter Puck, Coconut Samosa, Shortbread** and **Buttercrunch.**
Hey whatcha thinkin about

### diarmid

He blinks and looks at you gormless for a moment before grinning and saying, more self-awarely than some might credit him for, "Motorbike"

### J

Steady, dispassionate eye contact and voice. Full kayfabe. "If there were an emergency, say you were possessed by a demon, and I had to kill you, it would be best to break your neck rather than use a knife. Lots of blood, enclosed space. Cleaning bills."

### chad

He stops whatever he's doing and grins. Tucks the pencil he's been chewing on behind his ear. Sings, in a weird little falsetto with an accompanying weird little dance: "Numa numa numa, I made you out of clay; numa numa numa, I fuck you every day; numa numa numa, please hear what I say!" (His voice cracks on that last, highest note, but he doesn't care.) "Numa numa numa numa, numa numa gay. Yay!" Ends with a flourish of jazz hands. Then goes back to what he was doing (chewing on a pencil, thinking about something).

### yarrow

A sidelong glance and an open scowl. "Fuckin' ya fukken dad."

Persist. *No really, what are you thinking about?* "Suckin' his dick. Playin' with his fukken balls."

Persist again. *C'mon, dude.* He goes quiet. Another sidelong look. A weighing of judgement. "Rocks."

Do not laugh. In the absence of laughter, he ventures elaboration. "Just I haven't touched a rock in a minute." A pause; he scowls in another direction, defends himself from an argument which hasn't been made - "I mean I got shitloads'a rocks in my cabin I brung back from places but 'at's fukken different. Those rocks is like, dead. Ya wanna touch a fukken, a *live* rock, livin at its house n shit, yanno?"

### roger

He's actually been thinking about casualty rates and things that went wrong with the last mission and how to prevent the same things from happening twice in the future, and he has to scrabble to find something appropriate to talk about instead; for a moment he's caught wide-eyed and gormless like Diarmid or a cod. "Oh, you know, eh - "

If you don't save him by bringing up whatever it is *you* came to talk to him about, he'll have to come up with *something*. "Work shit," with a sheepish grin. The best lies are the truest ones, after all. "You know, scheduling and all that. Sorry I'm boring - "

### simon

He truly was lost in thought, and it takes him a moment to rouse from it; he comes up dreamily and intones, "Oh, I was just remembering a fellow I knew back in my military days, a meek little chappy named Meggs; he met a girl who had too many legs, but he put the 'feel ya' in, er, xenophilia, and, as I understand it, laid eggs. Happy mother ? of seven or eight hundred little caterpillars or something, if they haven't eaten him by now..."