[DW] Blackthorn/Swordhand: Episode III - The Sundered House

[A.T.]

^[blackthorn]

 

Atratus responds to Tybers call, "Xenos forces encountered within the central gardens, unaccompanied and unrestrained. Unclear if animal or mercenary but advise quarantine and purging of adjacent access points"

[Necronaut]

<Blackthorn>

 

+My work at the shrine of the Emperor is complete, Sergeant. You have my thanks for indulging me in such a task.+ Helgrim was recently finished cleansing the splattered blood and gore from the statue of the Imperator Mordant, as a result of his furious rampage through the Desiato house-guard. He had piled their corpses in the center of the chapel and now watched them burn, the purging flames dancing in his red eye lenses. His hideous features were twisted into a rictus of disgust under his death-mask as he watched them reduce to ash; the stench of burning flesh assaulted his senses. Heresy had been punished, sins paid in blood. Suffer not the xenos, the heretic, or the mutant to live. His thoughts drifted as he watched the flames climb.

 

+++

 

He released the secondary trigger of his combi-flamer, terminating the stream of burning prometheum. The flames of burning xenos corpses danced in the lenses of his pointed Mark VI helm. He turned to regard High Chaplain Zakiel, clad in his ancient tactical dreadnought plate, stalking amongst the ruined corpses of their foes. He raised his chainsword in salute to the venerable warrior and moved to greet him. He was still in the depths of his inner darkness as a result of the annihilation of his squad on a prior, disastrous mission. But there was a light at the end of the tunnel now, and Brother Zakiel was its torch-bearer. Helgrim mag-locked his chainsword to his hip and embraced the chaplain in a warrior's grip, forearm to forearm, informing him that purging operations were complete in their sector. No taint of the xenos remained.

 

Zakiel's skull-faced visage regarded the younger warrior, a man recently on the mend from being psychologically broken. Though his wounds still festered and he was racked by doubt, his renewed faith in the Emperor, as guided by the venerable chaplain, was helping them to heal over.

 

+Brother Helgrim, we have done the Emperor's Will this day and reaped a terrible bounty from the flesh of our foes,+ his grating voice crackled over the private vox between the two Astartes. +I am pleased to see you on the fore-front of battle once again; it is where you belong, brother. But I sense a change in you. There is a renewed sense of purpose in you, of late.+

 

Helgrim nodded in reverence to his master. +I have dwelt long in darkness, brother-chaplain. You have my thanks for my continued grip on sanity.+

 

+Dark thoughts lead to dark actions, brother. It would not do well for the Deathwatch to lose such a warrior as yourself to the predations of Heresy. Give it time, brother: you shall be the stronger for your trials. It was an honor to receive your penitent oath to our Order. You are already dead, yet born anew by the grace of the Emperor!+

 

+++

 

As he departed the chapel and walked to rejoin the rest of Blackthorn, the Chaplain reflected on Tyber's inaugural performance as Sergeant of Blackthorn, as first among equals. He pulled a well-worn oil cloth from one of the pouches at his belt and wiped down the nicked and scarred surface of his crozius, removing what remained of the house Desiato troopers that had not been burned off by its power field.

 

Tyber had been decisive and efficient, but not controlling, putting full faith in his subordinates to execute his commands as they saw fit. From what little he knew and had learned of Tyber and his chapter, they hewed to the old ways of their forefathers, waging war in an uncompromising manner. However, he knew next to nothing of their chapter cult and creed, and as such the man was still somewhat of an enigma. He considered it a good omen that Tyber had offered no complaint while he worked in the chapel; the Dragon's first outing as squad sergeant had been an unmitigated success. Helgrim nodded to himself as he walked and polished his ancient weapon.

 

If darkest heresy lurks in his hearts, then he hides it well...

Edited June 14, 2021 by Necronaut

[Steel Company]

Tyber waited at the landing port for their temporary master to arrive, while he waited at the edge of the landing zone he noticed that the chaplain was looking at him. Removing his helm he looked to the chaplain and asked, "Speak your mind, we have the time."

[Necronaut]

<Blackthorn>

 

Helgrim stared at Tyber for a few uncomfortable seconds longer, still ruminating on past defeats and the disgusting xenotic heresy they had just purged from the Desiato holdings. Twin Tybers were reflected in the crimson lenses of the chaplain's skeletal mask, both unhelmed, both looking at him quizzically. I see you, Tyber. What secrets do you carry, son of the Lion?

 

+We have done yeoman's work this day, brother. The Emperor's Will has been executed, and the sins of House Desiato's forces have been paid in blood. And yet our quarry evades us, one step ahead of our "friend" the Inquisitor.+ He twisted the affectation he used for Grist into a thinly veiled sneer. +That xenos had taken up residence unmolested on one of the Emperor's worlds boils my blood. That the rogue trader has slipped through our fingers is unacceptable.+

 

He gazed out toward the landing pad, watching the desiccated inquisitor hobble his way towards them with the assistance of his pet abomination. +It has been too long since I have fanned the flames of battle-lust in mine hearts. It is good to know that my hatred still burns ever-hot.+ He turned his gaze back to Tyber. +Tell me, brother,+ his rasping voice crackling over his helm's vox speaker, +what is it that you hate? Tell me of the hatreds of your forefathers, of their greatest enemies, of oaths of vengeance sworn in blood.+

Edited July 1, 2021 by Necronaut

[Steel Company]

Tyber runs a had over his head as he thought how best to answer that question. His first thought was to say the trappings of the Chaplain's office, the he thought to the enemies of man. After a moment he chose to say, "Ignorance of the Imperial Truth, the Emperor's vision for his realm. A realm free of the slavery of religious ignorance, a place where science and reason were the cornerstone of everything. Yet most of all, what I hate are those that would take his dream and twist it for their own gain. Or those that would cast it low in petty power games for their own selfishness."

[Necronaut]

<Blackthorn>

 

Hrm. An interesting response. His hatred is conceptual rather than material. And he sounds like an ancient legionnaire with his talk of Imperial Truth. There is only ignorance and tyranny to be found here, brother. Still, his sentiments seem well-intentioned...

 

Helgrim nodded to Tyber and clapped him on his left pauldron. +Well said, brother. Truly these are benighted times, but hatred makes us strong, and allows us to do the Emperor's Will with a clarity of purpose. It endows us with that same divine spark that allowed ancient man to rise up and master the wilds of Old Terra. I would caution you not to hate the religious fervor of mortals, brother, for they possess so little, and it gives them such a well of strength from which to draw. Pity them, maybe. All the same, nurture your hatreds, Tyber. Nurture them and they will see you through any hardship.+

 

Helgrim turned to regard the approaching inquisitor again, his ruined features twisting into a scowl hidden by his death mask. +Hatred and faith in the Emperor's vision.+

Edited July 1, 2021 by Necronaut

[Steel Company]

Tyber nods his head before saying, "I am trying to give them that. I saw first hand on our last deployment how important it is to the mortals." he pauses and looks to the side before admitting, "I still find such concepts unsettling and a disturbing afront to His vision, yet I cannot deny the effect it had on the mortals."

 

As his ears picked up the approach of the transport with the inquisitor, Tyber replaced his helm and brought up his squad readouts to check the status and distance of his squad members.

[Commissar Molotov]

Kill-Team Blackthorn

House Desiato, Meggdon Prime

 

Note - as Tyber and Helgrim's conversation seems to be placed before Grist arrived, I'm just going to move the Inquisitor's arrival here; this should flow slightly better.

 

That Tyber and Helgrim, so dissimilar, might find some common ground speaks to the grander purpose of the Deathwatch: unity in the face of the gravest threats to the Imperium. This combat has enabled some common ground to be forged - and perhaps some healing to occur in the wake of the loss of Daon Akkad.

 

The members of Blackthorn begin to return to the landing pad as per Tyber's orders. In the night sky, you see engines flaring as a shuttlecraft descends to join Spearcast on House Desiato's landing platform. Its heavy doors bear the symbols of the Inquisition - scorched by the heat of atmospheric entry, perhaps, but the skull leers hungrily from amidst the thrice-barred sigil. When they open with a hiss of pneumatic pressure, they reveal a visage almost as lifeless - Inquisitor Grist, flanked once more by the severe, bald-headed woman and Interrogator Haldane. Aboard Azurea, the Inquisitor had remained seated. Here, he stands, leaning heavily upon his companion and taking faltering steps down the shuttle's ramp.

 

Once he has desccended, you see two squads of carapace-armoured troopers descending, carrying heavy lasrifles that whine with overcharge. Some take a position on the pad; others immediately enter the household to round up any survivors.

 

The Inquisitor looks up at you, his eyes piercing.

 

"Watch-Sergeant. Your brothers have performed admirably. First the Aeldari, and now the Kroot? The xenophilious treasons of House Desiato have been exposed for all to see."

 

Around the pad, the brothers of the Deathwatch tend to themselves. You see Varvost checking the teeth of his chain-axe; Greysight tending to the preysense sight of his bolter.

 

Interrogator Haldane clears her throat before speaking.

 

"My lord, I wonder if I might be given leave to examine the bodies of the Kroot? I have never seen any in person."

 

As Grist inclines his head in acquiescence, she turns to Tyber:

 

"Watch-Sergeant, I would appreciate it if one or two of the brothers that fought against the Kroot were to escort me? I would find their wisdom and experience invaluable."

 

* * *

 

GM: Some of you may choose to remain on the landing pad, tending to your weapons and wargear and reflecting upon the assault. Others may wish to secure the Desiato Household, checking for any unforeseen threats or attempting to gather any intelligence on the whereabouts of Captain Desiato himself.

 

Once you let me know your intentions, I will set up the scenes as necessary.

 

Kill-Team Swordhand Beta

(Achillion, Yeng, Thire, Titus and Boros)

Sunder Dynasty Cruiser Riches Untold

 

 

When the Demi-Squad sets off again it is no longer Titus leading a huntsman's search for an evasive quarry; instead it is Yeng who takes the lead The Emperor may have decreed that His Space Marines would Know No Fear - but the ordinary men and women of the Imperium certainly do, and the eccentric Apothecary is possessed with a most un-Astartes understanding of human psychology and behaviour.

 

The Gatebreaker leads the five of you through the underdecks, pausing at intersections like a mouse sniffing for predators. More than once he motions for the squadron to double-back on itself, re-routing you based on criteria that the rest of you can only guess at.

 

Finally, finally, the Apothecary brings you to an airlock on a sub-deck deep in the bowels of the vessel. The runic key-pads next to the lock are inoperative, cold and dead, like so much of this ship. Yeng seems undeterred; there is a moment before the stoop-shouldered Apothecary engages a blazing white plasma torch on his narthecium, the flame painfully bright in the darkness.

 

After a moment, the torch cuts out and darkness is restored. Yeng motions for others in the Kill-Team to heave the armoured portal open. It squeals in protest, before yielding to your gene-hanced strength with an angry burst of venting gasses.

 

As the swirling miasma clears, you see for a moment a figure within the airlock. Some of you might bring up your weapons, hungry at last for an enemy to kill, a tangible threat aboard this ghost vessel. In the hair's-breadth before you fire, you realise what you see.

 

Your targeting reticules flash across a body floating suspended in zero-gravity like a loose-limbed, twisted marionette. It wears a void-suit of the sort that would be available to any of the thousands of menial crew-members aboard this vessel. The figure rolls lazily, but as any of you reach out to it you see that the suit's face-plate is shattered, the skull within reduced to tattered fragments. A silver tracery of glass fragments shroud the figure like a halo that sparkles in the stab-lights of your helms and wargear.

 

Kill-Team Swordhand Alpha

(Kol, Vorr, Embe, Maladon, Argus)

Sunder Dynasty Cruiser Riches Untold

 

GM: Kol - your caution is entirely justifiable - but likely unnecessary. All the indications are that the radiation found across the Riches Untold is an after-effect of the terrible weapons used in the internecine war between the scions of the Sunder Dynasty. Though for the radiation to be so potent centuries later speaks to the cruelty and savagery unleashed here.

 

The demi-squad lingers on the edge of the threshold of the bridge. As time seems to stretch forward into infinity, all of you feel the deck beneath your feet pitch, as though buffeted by a distant force.

 

There is a moment's pause, before your vox crackles. It is the voice of Thorvald Hammerhand, although it is wreathed in static.

 

++Be advised, Swordhand. The auspex reports a warp signature entering the vicinity.++

Edited July 7, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Petragor]

<Swordhand Alpha>

Embe quickly moves to the viewports to try and see if he has an angle to see what is going on outside, as he responds over the vox.

++What kind of warp signal? A Voidship, or something else?++

Edited January 20, 2022 by Petragor

[Lysimachus]

<Swordhand Beta>

 

Titus nodded respectfully at Yeng and spoke over the demi-squad vox.

 

+Apothecary, consider me impressed.+

 

He looked over the bobbing, ruined corpse dispassionately. Then he turned three hundred and sixty degrees to look carefully around the airlock.

[Komrk]

<Swordhand Alpha>

 

Vorkys bites his lip at the news of the warp signature approaching. They had made no meaningful progress on the bridge beyond simply finding proof that things weren't as they seemed. Now with a warp signature - likely a warship - appearing, it seemed their time was cut short. 

 

"Alpha, prepare to move back to the hangar deck and secure the 'bird."

 

Opening the vox he addressed Beta, "Brother-Codicier, follow your lead to its conclusion and then return to hangar immediately, as you're aware we have company."

[Reyner]

<Swordhand Alpha>

 

The multi-melta growled in Vorrs hands its machine spirit sensed it would be time to unleash its fury, it had been too long since it had fired in actual combat. Vorr flicked the safety off and triple checked the targeting systems on his visor and took up overwatch position guarding the entrance to the bridge.

 

++Finally brothers we may see the face of the enemy. It's a shame we can't trigger an overload on this derelict as a parting gift.++

[Deadass]

<Swordhand Beta>

Boros had said precious little as they ventured deep into the Riches Untold. While Swordhand was navigating the endless corridors, prying open bulkheads and searching for remains of the crew, his discontent had been simmering away unnoticed. Now, at last, they had found what they were looking for - and he was still doubtful of their mission’s worthiness.

++Lo, see here the fruit of our efforts: a dead man aboard a dead ship. How enlightening++, he muttered, lowering his weapon. Being honest, the Revenant was unsure about what upset him so. Was it truly the current lack of action? Or did Yeng’s erratic means of navigation play a part?

Maybe he was just angry at nearly having shot a corpse.

The sight at hand blew these thoughts aside. Instinct made Boros want to inspect the body more closely first, and he told his squadmates as much. ++Would anyone hazard a guess as to what sent this one to the Emperor?++ Using his armour’s auto-senses, Boros began a cursory examination of the head wound. ++Bolters would not have left us with much of a skull to look at, I reckon. Shotgun shells, perhaps?++

OOC: To try and discern what killed the voidsman, I'd like to have Boros make a Scrutiny Test: P 40 = Rolled a 40 (I see we're cutting it close again...) - Success, 0 DoS.

Edited July 12, 2021 by AHorriblePerson

[Commissar Molotov]

Kill-Team Swordhand Alpha

(Kol, Vorr, Embe, Maladon, Argus)

Sunder Dynasty Cruiser Riches Untold

 

The corridor leading to the bridge is armoured and secured, and as such there are no viewports from which to get a vantage point. If you were to enter the bridge, you might be able to use the central oculus to get a sense of what is going on.

 

At Kol's order the four other Marines prepare to leave; the tension in their power-armoured forms is evident.

 

++A ship, yes,++ Thorvald responds, through static that storms like fabled Fenris. ++It seems it is-++

 

The Space Wolf's voice is lost to hissing and crackling.

 

 

Kill-Team Swordhand Beta

(Achillion, Yeng, Thire, Titus and Boros)

Sunder Dynasty Cruiser Riches Untold

 

GM: You will each have heard Thorvald's communication, which might add an edge of haste to your situation.

 

By the way - if it's not clear enough, the other side of this airlock is the void!

 

As Titus looks around the airlock, the Stormbringer sees signs that this space has been lived in. You see boxes of ration-packs secured to the floor with makshift straps. A jury-rigged heater of some kind. And along one of the walls you see what looks like scratches, until you realise they are far too regular. Tally-marks - thousands of them, row after row of them stretching into infinity.

 

The Devastator reaches out and grasps the voidsman's corpse, arresting its motion and sending the constellation of glass shards floating away in the void. As you peer into the dark cavity of the suit's ruined helm, you see what remains of the shattered skull, along with fragments of teeth and bone that float loosely. It appears that Boros was correct - you can discern the ruined metal shards of a shotgun's discharge. Some of the malformed pellets rebound off the interior of the helm, like a jagged asteroid field.

 

Thire holds up a naval-issue scattergun, the muzzle coated with gore.

 

As you hold the corpse in your gauntleted hands, a data-slate bobs into view, spiralling in the zero-gravity.

Edited July 7, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Lysimachus]

+Self-inflicted.+ Titus grunted. +He survived for a long time, years perhaps. Hoping for rescue? But no one came... and he gave up.+

 

Beneath his helm, Titus frowned. A miserable, madness-inducing way to spend your final days. Tempting to end it cleanly. But there were still rations here. It had been the Crewman's duty to stay alive as long as he possibly could, and by taking the easy way out he had failed. Pitiful.

 

He saw the floating data-slate.

 

+His final words? If so, he might yet tell us what happened here. I suggest we take it and get back to the ship.+

[A.T.]

_[blackthorn]

Atratus inclines his head towards Tyber at the Interrogators request, "the xenos are not easily detected amongst the foliage and may have bolt holes or other habitats forged into the structure, I would not deem the site secure."

[Mojake]

"Brother-Codicier, follow your lead to its conclusion and then return to hangar immediately, as you're aware we have company."

 

Achillion acknowledged the sergeant's command with a silent nod, turning to snatch the floating data-slate from the lazy arc it had begun itself on at the corpse's disturbance.

 

"You heard him, brothers - let us return and face whatever seeks to catch us flat-footed. Brother Titus, lead on. Leave that wretch to the damnation he resigned himself to." The Librarian growled, his distaste for weakness clear in his voice.

 

As he strode onwards to the hangar, Achillion used a swipe of his gauntleted fingers to brush the voidrime from the screen of the slate and began to probe its secrets.

[Lysimachus]

Titus suppressed an instant's jealousy as the psyker took possession of the slate. As a scout he knew that Information was power. Nevertheless, Achillion had command, so the spoils were his to take. The rest of Swordhand would learn its secrets soon enough. He nodded.

 

+Aye, Brother-Codicer.+

 

Without conscious thought, Titus began to head back towards the hangar, barely waiting for the squad to follow. He did not retrace the twisting, backtracking path the Apothecary had brought them along, but instead cut across it, trusting his instinctive sense of navigation to find the fastest, most direct route back to the Warhawk. Oddly, he found himself looking forward to seeing the ugly but graceful craft again.

[Deadass]

<Swordhand Beta>

The Devastator gave their somber find a final glance before turning heel to follow the squad to the transport, covering the rear. The way back began as uneventful as their journey to the airlock, punctuated merely by the dull clang of magnetic bootsoles upon the metal floor. Still, Boros found his blood pumping ever faster at the Hammerhand’s words. ++The auspex reports a warp signature entering the vicinity++, he had said. No one knew of their assignment, and unless Captain Diocles had decided to look over their shoulders personally, logic allowed for one explanation only.

Hellfire, he thought, a look of evil glee spreading across his war-worn features. I may yet have my pound of flesh...

Edited July 12, 2021 by AHorriblePerson

[ApostleRP]

[blackthorn]

 

Artemios takes no persuading to leave the landing pad, as he was eager to get away from the wretched form of the Inquisitor and his entourage. Perhaps there were more inside deserving of the Emperor's Wrath. He suspected there were other members of Blackthorn who were not a "thorough" as he had been. 

 

He departed the pad, falling in step with a number of the Inquisitorial Storm Troopers now flooding into the estate. 

 

Perhaps he would find something of use while checking for other survivors.  

[Steel Company]

<<Blackthron>>

 

Tyber nodded in return to Atratus before voxing out, +Atratus, would you take them to where you and your squad engaged the Xeons?+ Turning his attention back to the mortals, Tyber added, +Be mindful of them, there might still be isolated holdouts.+

[That Beyond the Light]

++ Blackthorn ++

 

Interrogator Haldane and her guard approach Artatos and his team. He turns about and accompanies her through the still smoldering door that Spearcast had so precisely opened earlier.

Ekieo watched with intrigue, trying to figure her exact motives.

His eyes narrow and under his breath Ekieo growls

 

"This whole thing stinks of something rotten"

 

He decides to make his way over to Spearcast until further orders. With the Inquisitors Storm troopers and others in position by the door, there was little Ekieo could do, apart from replay the events and analyse them as he likes to do.

 

++ Learn from your mistakes so you may be greater in the next battle, but also to see the things that might have been overlooked in the focus of combat ++

 

As he walks towards the ship he passes the corpse like form of the Inquisitor Grist. Ekieo has dealt with many an inquisitor in his service with the Deathwatch. All have been odd, sly and quick to use people like pawns in a game. This one though, this one was unreadable, a man that ekieo found uneasy not just by presence but to look upon too. There was more to him than he would like to reveal and it felt wrong.

 

As Ekieo moved past, Grist looked directly at him. Holding his gaze through the dark red lenses of his helmet and the HUD details that projected in front of him, Ekieo continued on his intended course. The gaze burnt into him, like the smoldering wreckage that flickered as a reflection in Grists sunken eyes, it was like the inquisitor was able to see through the glossy glint of Ekieos lenses. He felt uneasy, curious too and suspect by the encounter.

 

Ekieo reached the base of Spearcasts rear hatch. He stood there and assessed the platform. The Darkness of night did little to obscure him from scanning the area. With the battle over and the house secured for the large part, he would wait for his team mates opinion and begin his play back of events...

 

Would he find any clearer answers from within...

Edited July 9, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[Jeremy.Phillips]

<Swordhand Alpha>

 

+Perhaps this new ship can provide us with some information. Maybe they're the ones who did this,+ Argus stated gesturing with his plasma gun to the damaged bridge.

Edited July 9, 2021 by Jeremy.Phillips

[Petragor]

Chaka looks to the Riches' bridge as he receives the orders to move back towards the hangar from Kol. The order is wise, transit between voidships is perhaps the moment where Astartes are most vulnerable, their abilities and gear rarely a match for the raw power of void-scale weapons. Yet it is tempting to have a quick look through the viewports at the approaching threat, or trying to breathe life into the auger station to get a better picture of the tactical situation. However, time is of the essense, and the crew of the fully functional Xenocide would be much more adept at scanning the enemy than Chaka would be with the dilapidated sensor on board the drifting hulk. His moment of contemplation passed, Chaka turns quickly to move towards the hangars, as ordered.

"Let us hurry. If the enemy possess any fighter craft they could trap us in here any second."

[Komrk]

<Swordhand Alpha>

 

The squad's retreat to hangar was as unimpaired as its advance to the bridge. The longer they stay on the ship, the more likely they are to be intercepted on their return to Xenocide. Vorkys could tell that the squad was rearing for combat, but returning to Xenocide was the main priority. 

 

"Alpha, when we return to Warhawk secure the area and prep the ship to fly."