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The search, at first, had proven to be entirely unfruitful, with no Ace and no clear route to the objective being found. Aquilanus had supposed it may have simply been because they were looking in the wrong area. Every Cormac that returned reported no contact. Three inexplicably failed to come back. It was as if the lowest levels of the Culinarium wanted them to fail. Time crawled by, molasses slow, who knew how long before they tried again.  

 

But this third time was a charm - Cannon Cormac ran across Ace after getting briefly himself and his team lost. It was a gift, he had said. The return trip for his party, unfortunately, was disastrous. Daemons plagued them again, skulking out of the pervading haze, then they had been ambushed by the 'renegade' Cormacs immediately after. The eight strong team had been reduced to just Cannon Cormac and Ace, beating off the numerically superior renegades with heavy gauge shells. Amongst the dead lay Crimson Cormac and one they had called 'Corvus' Cormac. Jump Packs were starting to become much rarer now that these assault Cormacs were getting themselves killed.

 

The rendezvous felt bitter-sweet. Cannon Cormac was bloodied but unbroken, Ace similarly so. With other Cormacs inbound, the plan was to move as one again and search for the entrance to the generator. Any surviving combat Cormacs would provide the vanguard and scouting element while the rest of the group trailed behind them, or so Olis was thinking. Between him, Aquilanus and Deathspectre, they had been able to keep things coordinated. For the most part.

 

What they hadn't counted on was another appearance by the Colrous. 

 

After clubbing down Cannon Cormac and brutally subduing Ace, the Colrous held the Techmarine hostage as he laughed hard. Hand gripping this unfaithful throat, the Colrous fought the urge to wrench hard. It would mean his own death; much too early in the grand scheme of things, he reckoned. The team that had accompanied the Moderati, along with Aquilanus and Deathspectre, had no time to take a shot - Ace would have been hit, no doubt. 

 

"You won't get away." Aquilanus promised.

 

"Oh no?" The Colrous tightened his grip on Ace's neck. "I'm just one twist, one squeeze away from killing your precious Techmarine. Now. Drop your weapons." He leered over the Techmarine's pauldron. A giggle escaped his throat. Blood that had flowed from the Techmarine's nose and mouth had clotted quickly, allowing Ace to spit a wad of thick, red mucus at the floor. The death grip forced him to tighten his neck muscles, fighting the chaplain-clown's hold.

 

The group looked at one another. Thankfully none of them were fool enough to take the shot and their guns clattered to the floor. As the Colrous let go of Ace, he blinked away. The Moderati knew instantly what had happened, as he'd seen the like before. The Colrous had acquired a Blink Shield's dynamo or something very much like it. Which meant he'd either taken it from someone, possibly Sanguiniusreborn, or had found one himself. 

 

"What, in the name of the Emperor, did he do that for?" Olis wondered.

 

"For kicks probably." Deathspectre speculated as he tended to Cannon Cormac. More plausible answers were in short supply. 

 

The Colrous appeared briefly at the end of the corridor before he blinked away again, just time enough for one Cormac to loose off a wild shot from his bolter, nearly striking Ace instead. He was quickly admonished by Aquilanus. 

 

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The Colrous smiled. None of them had discovered his ulterior motives. The tracking pin wedged into the soft neck armour of that Techmarine, Ace, would lead him straight to where he could begin culling unfaithful realities. His pet Cormac followed behind obediently, sweeping his bolter back and forth to cover his new master.

Wai-

Aw, drat.

There goes my planned escapades entirely.

Meh, I'll figure something else out later. laugh.png

The funny thing? I should have been completely unafraid to attack the guy, since I haven't already done the things I'll have to do in the future so I succeed in the past, meaning I'm basically guaranteed to survive. tongue.png

Sure, there's probably something wrong with my plan if you stop to think about it, so everyone make sure not to think about it and we'll all live to see the conclusion of the story.biggrin.png

His chainglaive tapped against the floor as he wandered the halls, occasionally hearing the sounds of distant laughter.

what in the haunters name have I gone and walked into? helterskelter wondered.

His auspex pinged yet another ghost return, giving it a quick smack in confusion, then as if from nowhere heard footsteps. Helterskelter secreted himself away, skulking away into a deeply shadowed recess.

what walked past added yet more to the puzzle, a smiling marine, and what appeared to be another cormac!

"I really should have read the manual on this place" he muttered to himself, "maybe I should introduce myself, but to whom...."

 

Wai-

Aw, drat.

There goes my planned escapades entirely.

There is no guarantee that the Ace they found is the original.

 

This. You can always trot in on us trying to fix something and get a bit peeved we were 'cheating' on you with, well, you. :P

Helterskelter, just find yourself one of the many Cormacs wandering around and introduce yourself!

 

Oh, I think he found one alright - it's the one scuttling after the Colrous, though. Might be best if you avoid those two, Helter. ;) 

Helterskelter, just find yourself one of the many Cormacs wandering around and introduce yourself!

 

Just remember, no matter how much I beg and I will beg, don't feed me after midnight.

curse you to a thousand hells!!! gremlins tune Isn't going to disappear all night now..

Any Ace would do. That was the mantra he stuck to since finding himself alone again. However, being alone stood a chance of compromising the mission. He had fought, killed and maimed to get this far, even those Liberites that inadvertently got in his way. It wasn't done because he was a monster - he was just running out of time. His reality was thinning, wearing out. Saving it became an utmost priority.

The dirty white armour he bore was cracked, dented, bruised and broken. It wouldn't be long before scavenging became a necessary option. The idea irked him more than he dared to admit. XIVth Legion honour markings belied the warrior's prowess in battle - his mourning stripe, a black strip bisecting his helm brow to neck, stood stark as did the various scythes and skulls. They all had been earned through hard fought battles and experience. Pride of place stood the skull backed by lightning bolts on his chestplate. It was a personal honour by the Emperor himself, something that very few loyal marines could ever claim.

Sounds of tinkering drifted to the Dusk Raider as he stalked the Culinarium's lowest levels. This Ace, the second he had come across, seemed reasonably sane. His Caliver tapped the Techmarine's shoulder, the Legionary keeping the Volkite aimed carefully at his quarry. Rising and turning, the Liberite regarded his new acquaintance. A smirk crept across his face.

"Olis, put down the gun."

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Hate to double post but here we go. The 'real' Ace with an alternate me. Bonus points goes to the brother (except Cormac) who can place the mourning stripe. whistlingW.gif

Edit - also, I was itching to post in this thread again but I waited and waited, trying not to double post. I failed. confused.gif

Edited by Olisredan
Corrected the Legion name.

And now yet another psychopath is unleashed... well, more psychopathic than normal Astartes. laugh.png

I'll probably continue where I let off sometime soon, since I'll hopefully be able to now. I may even start introducing some alternate versions of my character, although other people should feel free to do so as well.

Olisredan, if this was Olisredan, of course, lowered his weapon, but hesitantly. Ace carried on with what he was doing.

Olis was suddenly aware that the Techmarine had been very busy, despite the clicking, growling and occasional shrieking of the shadow creatures in the near distance. He seemed to be working on... something unusual. Suddenly, the device Ace had been fidgeting with gave off a shower of bright sparks, and lit itself with a faint blue glow, just bright enough to illuminate the piles of scrap around the big, boxy, somehow familiar shape Ace was working on. Ace turned his back to Olisredan, who peered over Ace's shoulder as the Techmarine plugged the glowing device into a tangle of wires and cables.

"What in the Emperor's name are you building?" Olisredan muttered, hearing the shadow creatures begin to move towards the source of the light. There was a deep rumbling noise, and the boxy construction started juddering. Ace slammed down a large hatch over the device and clambered up a ladder built into the side of the shaking box. Ace turned back to the incredulous Olisredan

"What, this old thing? It's just an STC I happen to have almost memorized the design for. Never thought it'd come in useful down here, though."

"But what is it?"

Ace flipped a hatch open and dropped inside. Almost immediately a pair of bright lights activated on the front of the construction, lighting up the huge roomful of scrap. Olisredan shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness for a moment while his vision adjusted. Behind him he could hear the shadow creatures going into a panicked frenzy, even as Ace yelled his response.

"This is what we call a Predator tank!"

Now that Olis could get a proper look at the vehicle, he could see it was very crudely made. The armour plating was scavenged from dozens of old, broken machines. The engine seemed to have been replaced with the impromptu battery, or whatever it was, that Ace had installed moments ago. The guns were even more primitive, mere skeletons of bolters mounted on the sides, and a main cannon made from lengths of crude metal pipe. It looked as though both lots of guns had been configured to fire alternative ammo - in this case clusters of nuts, bolts, loose screws, nails and other miscellaneous little bits of metal, grapeshot style.

It looked like a joke Predator, barely any better than the atrocities the greenskins cobbled together from looted vehicles. As the tank lurched forward, Olis jumped on the side of the tank and yelled at Ace;

"Are you sure this will work?"

"Of course it'll work! The real question is 'but for how long?' " Ace replied, a wry smile on his face. The shadow creatures began to rush the tank, and Ace opened fire with all guns. The scrap-metal shotguns shredded dozens of the creatures, and those lucky enough to avoid the shots but too foolish to dodge the tank were simply squashed as the impromptu tank surged towards the door at the far end of the hall, knocking scrap piles and enemies alike aside.

"There's no way you could have built this from scratch!" Olisredan commented as the tank smashed through the doorway, into a much bigger, more brightly lit room. It looked like a hangar bay, but for a complete lack of ships. Behind them, the shadow creatures dithered, torn between seeking revenge and staying in the sanctuary of the dark room.

"I didn't build it entirely from scratch," Ace replied over his vox. "There were a few sections of Rhino chassis lying around, and of course the guns. It's amazing what gets thrown away over the years! No ovens, though. Odd, that!"

"Ovens?"

"I'll explain later." Ace chuckled. The tank suddenly slowed to a crawl, and then stopped. "Ah, the battery's dead. We'll have to go on foot from here. Which reminds me - where in the name of Holy Terra are we?" Ace asked, clambering out of the stricken vehicle.

"I'm not certain." Olisredan dropped off the side of the tank, and habit made him check his Volkite was still in working order. Ace took another moment to look this Olisredan over. He was much more heavily armed than Ace was accustomed to - asides from the almost traditional Volkite Caliver he carried a bolt pistol, some grenades, two knives, and a short, metallic throwing spear mag-locked to his backpack.

"You look like you're expecting another fight," Ace chuckled, a little warily. "Anything I should be worried about?"

"Only if you don't co-operate. I need your help," Olis continued, pointing the Volkite at Ace's face. "This way. Now."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Soooooooooooooooooo I was building a Predator tank the whole time.teehee.gif

In a mysterious pit some unspecified distance under the Liber, with a room full of scraps. sweat.gif

But hey, you all heard what Madwolf called me earlier, right?

"I am Iron Seer". tongue.png

Edited by Ace Debonair

I thought building an actual predator with actual functioning weapons was a bit unlikely, so I went with a less-devastating set of weapons and a rather limited means of powering it. sweat.gif

Hopefully I haven't interfered in your story too much with my temporary tank-building shenanigans.teehee.gif

Hopefully I haven't interfered in your story too much with my temporary tank-building shenanigans.teehee.gif

Pfff, naaaah. Like I've said before - I consider this thread as a massive exercise in improv writing. Just take the ball, run with it and then pass it on to someone else. I like hiccups and unexpected stuff. Makes the responding posts more interesting.

From the opposite side of the hanger bay a powerarmored figure stumbled into the light.  Ace and Olis abruptly stopped their conversation as they pointed their weapons at the newcomer.  Madwolf tried again to stand his armor was in terrible shape.  His helmet was missing, one of his shoulderpads was shattered and he has numerous bolter and blade wounds in his torso.  "I was the strongest."  Madwolf murmurred as he slipped into unconciousness before the Moderati and Iron Seer. 

For his first day, Dizzyeye thought this was perhaps the worst. From behind the veteran Liberites came the novice Liberite, screaming down the corrider with his face firmly on the ground and his feet in the air. If there is a normal way to introduce yourself, this isn't the way. The novice was clad in blue and grey, bearing the sign of the Swords of Ultramar. While one hand was clutched onto a power sword, the other firmly held onto a simple datalog: the Liberites' lifework.

 

Casually the Iron Seer stepped to the side, raising an eyebrow as the novice flied past, if anything amused by the entrance. Dizzyeye did stop in the end, the wall of the hanger helping out a lot. One word can be heard from the marine.

 

"Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww....."

 

+-------------+

 

Well this time I shouldn't disappear this time. Hopefully with my chapters' draft up soon :-)

Edited by Dizzyeye

Legionary Olis surveyed his new compatriots. The first he dragged over to a stanchion, propping him up in a not-too-gentle manner. The other he trained his Caliver on. Madwolf he knew. Sort of. This wasn't the Madwolf he was used to - his own was a Son of Horus, and this one was clearly still breathing. The novitiate Liberite, however, he didn't recognise. 

 

"Name and Legion?" He growled. There was symbology and markings on this astartes that decidedly did not sit well with the Dusk Raider.

 

"Dizzyeye, Swords of Ultramar Chapter. You?" With a barrel of high technology in his face, the novitiate took care not to make sudden movements. The Legionary ignored the reciprocal question.

 

"A son of Guilliman. I should have known." He flexed his grip on his weapon. One question would determine whether this astartes could be trusted. "Who led the Heresy? Who is the Arch-Betrayer of Mankind?" Dizzyeye looked at Ace. Ace shrugged.

 

"Horus?" He ventured.

 

"Good enough." The Legionary tentatively lowered his Volkite. The shadow daemons were returning again.

 

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Moderati Olis, on the other hand, was stood before a vast double door, clad in bronze, with the description 'Generatorum' emblazoned across the upper reaches. They had been stood at this entrance for an eternity, while Ace worked on the smashed digital lock.

 

This wasn't their Ace after all. The clockwork ball had attested to that with a funny little chime instead of the steady chirrup from before. The gaggle of Cormacs still with them, along with 'other' Aquilanus and 'other' Deathspectre, had secured the area as best they could - ammunition was in short supply. Scavenging from dead Liberites hadn't been enough to stave off dwindling resources and now several of the group had been reduced to melee weapons only.

 

Cannon Cormac and Codex Cormac still commanded their own respective groups, while the four non-Cormacs regarded them as a homogeneous mob. Shrieking laughter haunted them from time to time, worse than the daemon-hounds that plagued the Culinarium's depths. It hadn't heralded the death or pain they had expected, further heightening the tension. When the Colrous did show, it would be bedlam.

With the volkrite removed from his face, Dizzyeye pulled himself up, shoving his datapad into a pouch and shealthed his sword. Training kicks in as he moves to the unconsious Liberite, checking over the injuries.

 

"I take it you aren't an apothecary?" inquired the novice, spooked as soon as a loud noise is heard from the demons, making Dizxyeye jolt a little. He grabs hold of Madwolfs' bolt pistol, grabbing hold of the marine and pulls him up to his feet, left arm keeping him up.

 

"We need to move."

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