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

[Commissar Molotov]

Atratus

Haldane nods at Tyber's warning, pulling a pistol from her coat. Checking the weapon's charge she looks up, satisfied.

 

"Lead on then, brother," she says to the Raptor. "This could be exciting."

 

The journey to the ruined menagerie does not take long; thankfully Haldane is content not to waste the journey with inane chatter. You can discern that she is watching you carefully, absorbing information and filing it away in the recesses of her mind. In this regard, at least, she will make a fine Inquisitor one day.

 

The Kroot remain where they fell, devastated by the combined might of Solza, Pyke and yourself. Their beaked maws and taloned claws lend them the appearance of birds shot from the sky. Their splayed limbs and burst cavities might almost be tragic, if it wasn't so pathetic.

 

The Interrogator moves onward, the weapon held steadily in her hand.

 

Eventually, you come to a grove in the midst of this artificial forest. The trees are strung with bones and totemic gee-gaws that must have had some ritual significance to the Kroot; they mean little to you , even as they sway musically. The trees' trunks are inscribed with aliens sigils scratched into the bark. Bones litter the ground in piles. You see they are snapped and gnawed, the marrow within long since devoured.

 

You see the Interrogator looking around carefully.

 

"If this is a Menagerie," Haldane says, "I think it's clear what happened to the animals within."

 

She turns to you.

 

"Brother Atratus, what did you make of these xenos? Have you faced them before?"

 

Helgrim and Solza

When the Chaplain re-enters the Desiato Household's well-appointed chapel, there is a new figure within: Ekieo Solza, the Black Consul. You have had relatively few opportunities to interact with this reclusive brother. You know he is a successor of the Ultramarines, like you; indeed, the Black Consuls rank among the more renowned of Guilliman's children. You also know the grim tales that the Black Consuls have been driven to the brink of extinction by the hated Word Bearers of Lorgar.

 

The Chapel is quiet now; the light of the funereal pyres you ignited has dimmed. The air is thick with smoke that mingles with the customary incenses. It might remind you of the cloying scents of Azurea's Chapel, if it were not for the scent of roasted flesh that fouls your helm's filters.

 

I'm happy for whoever reads this first to make the first "move" in the conversation - don't feel as though you have to wait!

 

Artemios and Pyke

 

Winning the battle was a trivial matter - securing the peace takes much longer.

 

When you last entered the Desiato Household, it was a battleground. Your blood was up; your world narrowed to weapon-scopes and auto-senses. Beautiful ornamented pillars and delicately-carved pieces of furniture were only obstacles in your path to be demolished.

 

Now, though, you are afforded the opportunity to travel through the household. The ostentatious wealth on display within this hive-spire would dwarf the kings and warlords of many worlds. A staggering thought, particularly when you consider that Desiato's is a modest Dynasty by the standards of the greatest Rogue Traders. As you move, you see Storm Troopers from Grist's detachment dragging the survivors of your assault into the open. By and large, these are servants and maids, dressed soberly and severely. The fear is evident on their faces; you see an old, frail-looking man on the floor, an expanding halo of blood around his head. A similarly ancient woman kneels over him, resisting any attempts from the troopers to move her.

 

A savage strike and the butt of the rifle is driven through her nose with a visceral crunch and a welter of blood. The woman falls to the ground with a cry, hands clutched to her face.

 

The trooper looks up, seeing your power-armoured bulk, and freezes momentarily, unsure what your reaction will be.

 

 

Arcost and Varvost

The Kill-Team has suffered precious few casualties, thankfully. Your skills as an Apothecary have not been required. You stand on the landing platform of the Desiato Household, watching as Grist and his entourage descend from the platform. Out of the corner of your eye you see the Eradicator, Varvost, stamping the foot of his bionic leg as though trying to shake something loose. Although his scarred visage is currently helmed, the annoyance and frustration radiates from him in near-palpable waves.

 

Incariel, Sabaan and Greysight

In the shadow of Spearcast, the mighty Stormraven gunship, you see the Iron Hand holding his latest project in the palm of his hand, some sort of tool in the other. The servo-skull is upside down, its tendrils and appendages squirming in what seems like annoyance. The scene is lent the appearance of a crab on its back in the hands of a fisherman preparing to crack open its shell.

 

From the Inquisitor's shuttle, two of the Storm Troopers bring out a large mechanical device on a litter, straining under its weight. It looks about the same size as your own power-armoured torsos. A display on the top blinks. As it passes, Grist pets the thing, as one might a child or a loyal hound.

 

"Be exceedingly careful with this," he says.

Edited July 13, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[That Beyond the Light]

^^ BlackThorn ^^

 

Ekieo re enters the household looking for a less watched and quieter place to be. He finds the chapel. Smoke and Incense blow through the vastness and grandeur of this chapel, pulling him in instantly, its quietness blankets with a comfort that is unknown to him. Ekieo makes his way deeper as he is drawn in without hesitation, all the while replaying events and analysing them further. He is satisfied that he could not of done more but still unsure if he has missed a piece that might unravel the unease that he feels about this situation. He will undoubtedly follow his commanders orders, but that does not mean that he can not question them within himself and understand them further. As Ekieo is aware, knowledge is truly power.

 

Kneeling before the alter, his loyalty to the Emperor, to the Imperium, to most importantly his chapter, un-wavered even when unsure of the motives of the people that hold and command the power. His distrust filtered back to the deception that his chapter faced, the in ability to stop a tragedy unfold and play out. This, maybe a reason for his attention to detail, his ability to look beyond the now and his eternal pain constantly sharpening and focusing his mind.

 

Within his helm he whispers his prayers of truth, thanks and gratitude to his Emperor and Primach, being the Protector and Saviour of this great Imperium. To honour his fallen comrades and the chapter brothers he never knew but is constantly reminded of through his battles with Heretics and Xenos alike. For the ability to exact justice in their names upon our foes. 

 

The prayers are faltered for a moment as even in deep internal reflection and prayer his senses are still heightened. He can tell there is a figure standing at the entrance, watching or assessing. Then begin the sound of heavy footsteps upon the great cold stone slabs that line the chapel floor, perking the interest of not just Ekieos ears but the sensory system of his helm. He turns his head slightly to the left to better his peripheral vision, his helms HUD analysing the large figure moving toward him. Even with all the smoke the black armour of not just a member of Death Watch now becomes visible. He turns his head back to its bowed state and continues with his prayer, all the while very aware of who is approaching…

Edited July 13, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[ApostleRP]

[blackthorn] 

 

Lycus pauses for a moment, after noticing the attention the Storm Troopers levied at him. It takes him but the blink of an eye to fully assess the situation. 

 

Lycus is aware of the realities of the Imperium, arguably more so than the vast majorities of the species. It is a brutal and authoritarian regime, that possesses no concern for the welfare of the individual nor the masses, simply the continuity of the Imperium itself. Alas, what other option is there? In a universe that seems intent on wiping Humanity from existence in the exact same manner that the Imperium has scourged countless Xenos species from the galaxy. To exist in such a world is hell, to survive the only ideal.

 

He has paid witness to the wholesale slaughter of cities, planets and systems, oft a necessary evil when dealing with some of the more malicious foes that skulk among the star-ways, but needless cruelty still turns his head on the occasion. Lycus steps towards the Trooper staring at him from behind the helmet that obscures his face. Lycus' helmet growls towards the Trooper as Lycus lets out a long breath. 

 

"Trooper, to what purpose do you beat this woman? Is she to executed? Taken away for questioning? Speak man, is she destined for the knife or the cage?"

[Ancient_Sobek]

"Trooper, to what purpose do you beat this woman? Is she to executed? Taken away for questioning? Speak man, is she destined for the knife or the cage?"

Pyke walks closer to add weight to his brother’s words. His chapter has been dedicated to protecting the meek that travel the Pilgrim’s roads. These poor wretches may very well be traitors deserving only death, but more likely are just innocents caught up in their master’s perfidy.

 

+ I’d answer him if I were you, my brother here is not known for his patience.+ the words flow casually from my vox as I nonchalantly wipe the remaining kroot viscera from my armor with a small rag. 

Edited July 13, 2021 by Ancient_Sobek

[ashlander47]

[Placeholdero]

[Necronaut]

<Blackthorn>

 

Helgrim entered the chapel in silence, somewhat unsure as to what drew him back. Perhaps it was to re-examine his work and offer prayers of sanctification? Perhaps it was to ensure the embers of his makeshift funeral pyre were dying and would not spread their flames further. In either event, he was surprised to find Solza in solitary prayer; the Black Consul knelt by himself before the shrine of the Emperor, his head bowed. The battle-brother's head turned slightly at the chaplain's intrusion. Providence, perhaps has brought us both here...

 

Helgrim walked across the chapel to stand next to Solza, and stared up at the marble effigy of the Master of Mankind. He stood silent for a time, regarding the exquisitely wrought statue before them. +Brother Solza,+ the chaplain intoned, +cousin, forgive me for interrupting your prayers.+ The word cousin was inflected with an affection afforded only to other scions of Guilliman's line, to those who had shed blood warring with Lorgar's tainted get. +I have heard of the tragedy that befell your chapter, of the heinous crimes perpetrated by our most hated Enemy. I would join you in prayer, if you would permit me.+

 

Helgrim looked down at Solza, seeing the grim reflection of himself some three decades prior, focused intently upon his prayers for his fallen brothers from the now-dead Kill-Team Scourge. To live with the knowledge that you are a lone survivor, or to be the inheritor of a doomed legacy, faced with the looming specter of annihilation, is a great burden to bear. Seeing no sign of refusal, the chaplain knelt beside the Black Consul with his mace stood upright before him. His right hand rested on the head of the battered crozius, his left held his rosarius.

 

The two sons of Guilliman prostrated themselves in silence before the Imperial shrine for a number of minutes, each saying their private prayers to the Primarch and Emperor for the fate of the Black Consuls. Helgrim eventually broke the tranquility that had settled over the smoky chapel.

 

+The Doom Eagles were born from circumstances not unlike those now facing the Black Consuls, cousin. Rising from the fires of the atrocity at Calth, similarly perpetrated by the Word Bearers.+ Helgrim practically spat the cursed name out, such was his hatred for the corrupted legion. +We are already dead, Solza. That was the lesson my chapter learned from that great betrayal so long ago: we are already dead. That which is dead cannot know fear, cannot know doubt. I will not ask you to share in my beliefs, but, rather, know there is strength to be found in such dire circumstances. That your chapter would tithe one of their precious few battle-brothers to the Deathwatch speaks volumes of their faith in you.+

 

He stood once again, standing before the still-kneeling Black Consul. +I hope you bear no resentment toward me for selecting Tyber over you as Watch-Sergeant, for I fully acknowledge your decades of experience, and I salute your prior service with Watch-Station Erioch. You are a great asset to our humble Watch-Station. It fills me with pride to fight alongside a fellow son of our Primarch!+

Edited July 13, 2021 by Necronaut

[That Beyond the Light]

** Blackthorn **

 

Solza rose from his prayer position, his armour gracefully moving in unison with the marines engineered physique. He looked to Helgrim and with the mechanical sounds of servo cupulas disengaging and enviro pressure seals releasing, he removed his helm. The Chaplins words had bitten through him and he felt that he needed to give him the respect that he deserved, for even Ekieo knew that being a Chaplin was one of the greatest serving honours a marine could undertake.

 

Ekieo took a moment within himself before uttering words, still taken back by the Chaplin. HIs thoughts racing, his emotions settling, his grasp of the events solidified.

 

“I am honoured by your words Chaplin Helgrim, we are Cousins indeed and I know well of your prestigious chapter. I served with a fellow Doom Eagle for a brief time at Watch Station Erioch, he fought with determination and had an unshakable courage no matter the odds. As you said, he fought like he was already dead”!

 

Solza paused as if in thought of memory, maybe an instance he would rather forget. Briefly breaking gaze with the Chaplin he looked upon the effigy that stood proud within the chapel, soaking in its glorious radiance. He locked gaze once more and continued...

 

“My Chapter stood with yours in the Achilus Crusade so you are no stranger to me and I hold the utmost respect for it. It seems as though we might be bonded not only in blood but in vengeance too for the traitorous actions against us by those Heretics”.

 

Ekieos eyes narrowed and with a lower tone he stumbled with that last word, much like Helgrim did. It was a foul taste that obviously neither of them could stomach! Taking a deeper breath even with the thickened air he composes himself and returns to his normal straight faced domineer.

 

“I have no ill feeling towards your decision Cousin in selecting Tyber as watch Sergeant. The better brother in your holy heart and by the divine right of the Emperor was chosen. I can not oppose that, it would be heretical of me. I am new to this Watch and I am aware that I may be of solitude. It is only because my nature is to watch, asses and calculate in order to perform beyond my abilities. To be as brutal upon my foes in battle as I can and as diplomatic as is just in my dealings with humanity”.

 

Ekieo stands to and extends his arm towards Helgrim in an invite to a warriors handshake..

 

“Cousin, we are both raptors of our Emperor and our Primarch. Swooping down upon our enemies to deal out the Justice that we were born to exact”!

Edited July 14, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[Komrade_Atomic]

Swordhand

 

Thire began to make his way back to the hangar, and while he held his melta ready for if anything lurking and seeking to surprise him, his mind was somewhat preoccupied. The bloodied body of the crewman was a thought which lingered on his mind. To be stranded alone with no foreseeable escape, to be damned to remain stranded in this shell of a vessel to remain still in space, it was understandably a grim situation which caused the crewman's actions. 

 

Thire gripped his melta tighter, and refocused on the path back to the hangar. He didn't want to have to get lost in these many halls from his loss of focus, and have to be stuck on this ship. Especially with approaching company.

Edited July 25, 2021 by Komrade_Atomic

[A.T.]

"Brother Atratus, what did you make of these xenos? Have you faced them before?"

 

"I have not. Their appearance corresponds to lesser xenos sighted within Ultima Segmentum, a vassal race."

 

Atratus turned towards the primitive totems, "I would question their capacity to create the weapons they wielded against us, yet those same weapons did not appear to be of any Imperial designation" Looking back at the Interrogator to measure her response, "nor to they bare resemblence to the workings of the Eldar.

 

"Desiatos' dealings with the xenos are broader than anticipated but may serve to guide us to where he takes shelter. The archives of the Deathwatch will hold detailed records of all Imperial encounters."

Edited July 17, 2021 by A.T.

[Necronaut]

<Blackthorn>

 

Helgrim stepped forward and took his gene-cousin’s outstretched hand in a warrior’s grip, forearm to forearm. +Raptors of the Emperor, Ekieo! We are His Justice, His Wroth,+ he thundered.

 

+I am pleased by your words, cousin. It gives me heart to know we have brothers such as yourself serving Azurea in our holy mission. I too served in the Achilus crusade, many decades ago, with the 3rd Assault Company. It is a shame we did not meet on that deployment, but it is an honor to fight and die alongside one of those Black Consuls again!+

 

Helgrim released Ekieo's grip and walked to stand directly in front of the statue of the Emperor, staring up at the skeletal visage mirrored by his own armor. The candlelight flickered ominously in the red lenses of his skull helm. +Tell me cousin, what do you think of Tyber as your Watch-Sergeant? I know you have scarcely drawn blood with the man, but I would know your initial impression. You may speak candidly with me; everything you say will be held in the strictest confidence.+

Edited July 17, 2021 by Necronaut

[That Beyond the Light]

{{ Blackthorn }}

 

His helm firmly held against his waist with his right hand, Solza places his other on the hilt of his Chainsword. He wraps his armoured fingers tightly around the leather cladding, finding the balance point as to not let it drop or swing to much on its mag locked belt.

He turns his head towards the alter once more, bathing in its ornate glory. With the satisfying creak that leather makes when gripped tightly he moves to stand side by side with Helgrim who looks lost within the intricacy that the great statue holds.

Without hesitation or falter Solza speaks.

 

"Tyber is a strong individual, an Astartes of great skill and prowess. A fighter of un matched skill and the potential of a great leader that all will follow to a glorious death or unrivalled victory. But that he is unable to see his true potential as this leader, and this will be his undoing".

 

Solza turns to the statue once more almost like he is building up the courage to continue. He turns back to Helgrim as he begins to speak, his deep voice softening as he does

 

"I feel he like I, has something in his past that he is unable to let go of, forget maybe and till he confronts these he will not be able to unlock true power and fulfill his potential. I'm not saying we all know what our potentials are, that we know we are on the right path, but it just feels his unknowing is more dominant than most.

 

Ekieos deep tone returns if not a little more enthusiastic than usual.

 

"I said once before, you must have your reasons to bestow him with this honour and they are not to be questioned. An Astartes of your calibre and reputation does not do these things without reason or lightly. I will follow him in to battle and excute his orders because you my cousin have faith in him and if you have faith in him that is as good as the Emperor believing he has this potential still to blossom".

 

Ekieo takes a step back, quickly releasing his grip on his chainswords battered leather hilt and prowdly slams a closed fist into the aquila that adorns his chest plate. The heavy sound briefly echos through out the chamber.

 

"In honour, In faith, In triumph I shall bleed with him".

Edited July 25, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[Necronaut]

Helgrim nodded at Ekieo's words. My cousin is wise beyond his years!

 

+Your words ring true, cousin. I, too, have observed these traits in Tyber, this dichotomy in the man. Great potential coupled with a reservation about seizing the yoke put before him. I believe, with time, he may surprise us all. I thank you for your candor.+

 

The old chaplain paced back and forth before looking upon Solza again. +I served alongside a Salamander, long ago, by the name of Brother Pyran, who often remarked upon war being a crucible in which the souls of Astartes were to be repeatedly smelted and reformed into something stronger with each new exposure to the flames of battle. Though he and I did not see eye-to-eye on how best to wage war, his words have stayed with me, for I have found no better metaphor to describe our existence.+

 

Alas, poor Pyran. You died for your beliefs, protecting the weak to the last. How I miss you, my brother. Your words live on through me...

 

Helgrim crossed his crozius across his chest, mirroring Solza's salute, +And I pledge myself to you and Tyber and the rest of Blackthorn, cousin. In honor, in faith, in triumph: so shall it be until the end!+

Edited July 26, 2021 by Necronaut

[Commissar Molotov]

Atratus

House Desiato Menagerie

 

Haldane nods at your first response.

 

"Yes, the T'au. I've read some of the reports from the Damocles Gulf, though I have yet to encounter them. The Kroot are known to be a mercenaries, working both for and against their masters."

 

The Interrogator kneels, sifting through the detritus that the aliens have left behind.

 

"Quite an interesting race," she muses, half to you and half to herself. "They seek constantly to better themselves, searching for genetic improvement in the foes that they defeat. Each Kindred is centred around a shaman they call a Shaper, and they follow their commands almost slavishly."

 

GM: Make a -20 Perception test...

 

 

Solza and Helgrim

House Desiato Chapel

 

The sound of your oaths to the Imperium, to Guilliman and to the brotherhood of the Deathwatch reverberate through the air. How ironic - or perhaps, how fitting - that a heretic's chapel might now be a place where lost souls find themselves guided back to the Emperor's light.

 

In that moment of peace and contemplation, you might perhaps find yourself believing that you can see something in the clouds of incense... a sensation fills you, as if you are almost on the verge of some great revelation...

 

GM: Either of you can roll a Perception test, or an Intelligence test, to see what you can discern here...

 

 

Artemios and Pyke

 

The Storm Trooper recoils at your vox-amplified growl, taking an involuntary step backwards.

 

"I... she..."

 

There is a moment's pause before another Storm Trooper enters the room. This one is not wearing his helm, revealing a craggy, weather-breaten face and a thatch of dark blond hair. As he appraises the situation, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle.

 

"My lords, these prisoners share in Desiato's crimes - they allowed the alien to nestle in the heart of this hive world. They are to be interrogated and then punished in his stead."

 

At this, the woman wails.

 

 

Kill-Team Swordhand

 

At Sergeant Kol's behest, the two demi-squads disengage, heading toward the Storm Raven, Warhawk. Throughout the titanic sepulchre that is the Riches Untold, the Astartes warriors of Swordhand move with swiftness, refusing to allow themselves to be impeded by the lack of gravity.

 

You feel the cruiser's bones vibrating around you. Maladon mutters to himself in binharic, tapping at his vambrace as he attempts to rouse the machine spirits. It is little use, however; your attempts to commune with the Xenocide's noosphere have been stymied. You can only hope that the Strike Cruiser has merely moved off, rather than being destroyed; for all you know, Thorvald and Rubio are contributing to the scattered cloud of swirling debris outside.

 

As you progress through the hull, the shuddering worsens. Is the cruiser under some kind of attack?

 

GM: Any of the Kill-Team with extensive knowledge of void-travel - at the least Embe or Yeng, but perhaps others - could make an Intelligence test here (or a Tactics (Void Combat) test) to attempt to discern some of what is going on.

 

 

Achillion's Demi-Squad:

As you move through the vessel, attempting to regroup with Sergeant Kol and the rest of the Kill-Team, you are able to listen to the data-slate. A dendrite-tether extends from the Apothecary's narthecium, a data-cable normally used to interface with the warplate of injured Astartes. There is a crackling squeal as recalcitrant data-djinns are brought to heel, and then you hear a voice within your helms.

 

The voice is tinny and distorted with age, but there is little mistaking the edge of fear that chokes the speaker.

 

"I managed to keep the void out of the compartment, but the machine-spirits are failing. I think they're feeling the cold. The whole ship is cold now. It creaks and groans. I might... I might be the last one alive. I've travelled as far as I could but I've seen nobody else. Not even the bodies. Emperor alone knows who they took were. They didn't look like any xenobreed I've ever seen. Eyes of fire and tentacles in the place of a mouth. Their weapons cut through us as if we weren't even there. Damn these Sunders... we pay for their greed and their lust. If anyone finds this, make them pay for us."

Edited July 26, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Necronaut]

<Blackthorn>

 

Perception test: Per50

Perception test: 1d100 62

Fail (1 DoF)

 

Spending a fate point to reroll (down to 2/3)...

Perception test: 1d100 94

Fail (4 DoS)

 

The Emperor does not favor Helgrim this day.

 

Whatever Helgrim might have seen in the smoke is lost to him, so focused is he on his cousin and his lamentations for his old, long-dead Kill-Team.

Edited July 26, 2021 by Necronaut

[Lysimachus]

<Swordhand>

 

Even as Beta sped towards the rendezvous at the hangar, Titus listened to the squad vox and then mentally reviewed what he knew of the various alien species that infested the galaxy. Most of his service with the Deathwatch thus far had been spent hunting what was easily the most well-known of all the Xenos, the vile Ork. He had, however, also spent a small part of his limited free time perusing Watch-Station Azurea's records of other, less infamous species that had plagued Mankind's long history. There were thousands of records, but most of them were brief, fragmentary or simply unreliable. Many were all three.

 

Eyes of fire, tentacle-mouthed, and users of radiation weaponry…? The Stormbringer frowned irritably. He could think of no race for which all of these factors correlated. The eyes and tentacles might describe Genestealers or some other Tyranid bioform, but he had never heard of them developing radiation weapons? He was vaguely aware of a few of the Tau's auxiliary races supposedly using rad-tech, but the physical description did not seem to match.

 

With a half shake of his head he dismissed the question for the time being. Even a non-specialist in void war such as himself could tell that something was happening out beyond the Riches Untold, and they needed to redouble their pace. Titus looked back for a moment to check on the demi-squad's progress, then hurried on through the darkness.

[That Beyond the Light]

×× Blackthorn ××

 

Perception Test: Per 57

1D100 - 15

Pass (4 DoS)

 

 

Ekieo is momentarily distracted from his conversation with Helgrim. His eyes track something unkown moving effortlessly through the thick smoke. It's shape distorted, its lack of sound confusing. As it appears and disappears from place to place Ekieo is suddenly overwhelmed with a volley of emotions...

 

May I be a vessel for the Emperors Glory

Edited July 26, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[Ancient_Sobek]

<Blackthorn>

 

Pyke slowly turned the grim visage of his Mk.III helmet to regard the storm trooper who approached them. Obviously a veteran or squad leader based on his weary attitude. Pyke disliked the man instantly. 
 

 +Since when does a servant have a voice in their master’s affairs+ His voice betrayed his utter lack of interest in this man’s opinion.

 

+It is true that they must each be questioned. But punishment comes after fault has been found, not before. These people may be vile heretics, or loyal servants to the throne. Until we know they will be treated with at least a modicum of decency. Despite your feeling on the matter if you damage the only possible witnesses we have before we can learn their tale then you impede the work of the Emperor and that is something I will not stand for...+

 

Pyke turns from the trooper, signaling his dismissal. He kneels to the woman and helps her to her feet. + The Emperor Protects+ he says with a nod before walking back to join his brothers.

Edited July 27, 2021 by Ancient_Sobek

[A.T.]

_[blackthorn]

Atratus adjusted the auger-systems within his helmet at Haldanes words, scanning the area for movement. "No creature in the attack bore command markings".

 

The raptor subtly adjusted his position to obscure angles of attack to the Interogator. Something was amiss.

 

Perception 60 -20. Roll = 40 = pass (dead on)

Not including any bonuses from autosenses, heightened senses, etc.

Atratus has awareness +10, Scrutiny trained

[Komrade_Atomic]

Swordhand

 

As the rumbling increased around Gideon, he also increased his pace, hurrying along the path back towards the Warhawk. As he progressed, he began to try and discern a potential cause of the ship's sudden shuddering. He cast his memory back to his time on the Rogue Trader's retinue, attempting to recall any facts or knowledge he had learnt from that time whether through his many discussions with the Rogue Trader's Seneschal, or watching void-combat occur from the bridge of the vessel.

 

OOC:

Tactics (Void Combat) test

Intelligence: 45

Rolled: 62

(1 DoF)

Edited July 27, 2021 by Komrade_Atomic

[Petragor]

<Swordhand>

With no direct obstacle in the path of their Extraction yet, Chaka focuses on the tactical implications of the loss of communicating with the Xenocide.

The possibility that they have already been destroyed is both too outlandish and too pessimistic for his liking. And if their enemy is that powerful there’s probably little Swordhand can do to oppose them anyway, so best to consider alternative options. Perhaps the Xenocide is being Jammed, or vital communication systems have been damaged in the enemy’s opening volleys?

OOC
Rolling Tactics Void Combat
Int=44, Skill level +0, total 44
1d100=40, 1 DoS

Edited January 20, 2022 by Petragor

[Brother Argent]

<BLACKTHORN>  (Finally...)

 

Pallan stood on the edge of the landing pad of the broken House Desiato, his face a blank mask looking out over the spires of the city below.  The smell of industry, combined with the combined filth of the desperate throng that lived among the rusted spires creeped into his every sense.  He tried to push the smell aside.  He hated hive cities.  He had grown up in the halls of the Fourth House on the Star Leopards home world.  It was a vast sprawling fortress, more a collection of small strongholds then one complete complex, spread along the shore line that looked out over the crystal clear seas.  Of a morning he would rise for morning prayers to look out over the open ocean and breath the clear air.  Even the time spent in his Chapters Apothecarion was spent high in the mountainous peaks of the Silver Spire, the Chapters fortress monastery.  But here he was surrounded by walls and dark spires.  Even on the open landing pad he felt cloistered.  He had nothing but bad memories in Hives.

 

He thought back on the battle in the Chapel.  He wondered if he would face censure from the veteran Chaplain, Helgrim, for his call to try to bring down the balcony from under the traitorous guards.  It was a plan that had had limited success.  Whilst part of the balcony had collapsed it had not caused the effect he had hoped.  Still between his own limited skills and that of his battle brothers they had made short work of the traitors within.  When Helgrim started making a makeshift pyre Pallan had almost offered to help him.  These people may have been traitors but still, the Star Leopards preached mercy in all things.  But he found he couldn't bring himself to spend any more time in the marbled halls of House Desatio.  It reminded him too much of the White Talons homeworld.  Their city had been one of marble and gold.

" Hive cities, " he spat with disgust before attempting to find something to distract himself from his melancholy musing.  He had seen the Inquisitor Grist shuffle his way from the shuttle earlier, followed by his entourage of creatures masquerading as humans earlier.  The frail excuse for a human was of little interest to Pallan.  He had always found Inquisitors to be nothing more then a gateway to dark trouble and the less he had to do with them, the better.  As he looked around the mostly empty landing platform, the rest of the Kill Team having moved off to their own errands, he noticed out of the corner of his eye one of his new brothers standing near him on the landing platform.

 

He had had little contact with the rest of his team, preferring to keep to himself for the most part, and only having really dealt with the Star Phantom, Lycus.  He still held nothing but suspicion for their leader, a man whom so readily associated with traitors, and this suspicion carried on to those so willing to follow him.  Still the time would come when his skills would be needed and so he knew he couldn't remain a complete stranger.  The marine he had noticed nearby was Varvost, one of the assault specialists of the kill team.  Although Pallan had little dealings with the Eradicator so far he had witnessed his brutal efficiency early in their assault.  Varvost reminded Pallan of one of his fallen brother, Lamelus.  In savage and brutal efficiency, if not nobleness of character.  Lamelus had fallen at the Eyrie, killed by the traitors as they swarmed Pallan's field hospital where he had being treated from wounds suffered earlier.  Even so he had taken four of the traitors with his before he fell.  Pallan had failed Lamelus, he would not fail Varvost.

 

He noticed the Eradicator was stomping his bionic leg, a relatively new addition from Pallan's medical records, as if trying to shake something loose.  The marines frustration was clear, despite his still being helmed and facing away from the Apothecary.  Pallan approached the marine, his own helm held under his arm.  Varvost turned sharply as he sensed Pallan's approach.
" Is something amiss with your bionics, brother?" Pallan said in his quiet dead pan voice, "Whilst such things are more the expertise of the servants of Mars I am not a complete stranger to their working?" 

[Commissar Molotov]

Helgrim and Solza

 

As Solza contemplates the coiling smoke in the chapel's air, you notice it drifting, as though there is a breeze in the room. If you were to follow the direction of the smoke it leads you to an almost imperceptible crack in one of the chapel's wall - as though the wall itself is not entirely solid.

 

 

Atratus

Even as the realisation dawns and your words leave your mouth, you feel rather than see a shape descending upon you.

 

++STRUCTURED TIME BEGINS++

Surprise Round

 

Kroot Shaper charges Atratus:

WS45(+10 Charge)(+30 Surprise) = WS85: 8 (HIT)

Xenos Hunting Blade resolves at 1D10+8(+SB8)(+2 Ancestral Blessing) R, Pen 2 against Atratus's TB8 and Armour 8(6)

Hit 1: 5 (23) - Reduced to 9 Damage

9 Damage inflicted to Atratus, now at (14/23)

 

ROUND ONE ENDS; ROUND TWO BEGINS

 

You stumble momentarily, although the figure above you is far lighter than its size would indicate. You see a clawed hand scrabbling for purchase across the beaked faceplate of your helm. The other brings a curved knife into your neck, piercing the soft armour once, twice, the blade arcing Astartes blood in a flung spray.

 

GM: Roll initiative..!

Edited July 28, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[A.T.]

Atratus fights his instinct to move away as he senses the threat from above, moving to shield the interrogator with his body. The xenos needed no more invitation to take advantage of the opening with a strength that surprised the Raptor, far greater than that of the lesser beasts as he shifted his weight into a battle stance seeking to throw off the aim of its blade - for all the persistance of the attack a killing strike eluded it as a sudden twist threw the shaper from his back, its claws unable to find purchase on the hardened ceramite armour.

 

Blades already in hand he stepped to interpose himself between the attacker and his ward.

 

Free activate burst of speed and feat of strength solo modes, Free draw powerblades(maglocked)

Initiative 2+2+7 = 11 - probably going second

 

Rolls as required (i'll add fluff after results)

Parry and counter attack #1 = 73 & 90 = successful parry, miss with counter-attack

Parry and counter attack #2 = 34 & 28 = successful parry and counter attack

Full attack sequence = 12 / 91 / 12 / 81 = three hits

 

Damage rolls for any hits that land after dodges: 30(counter-hit) / 31 / 30 / 28 damage (each at penetration 6)

Edited July 28, 2021 by A.T.

[That Beyond the Light]

** Blackthorn **

 

“Cousin did you see that moving through the thick smokey air? My sensors are giving me no reading, yet I'm filled with emotions that I can not describe”.

 

The disturbance appears again this time circling around the Astartes before disappearing once more.

 

“Is this a trick of some kind, a psychic attack”?

 

The smoke breaks again, gently opening an almost clear path to what looks like the corner of the Chapel to the right of the large statue.

 

Ekieo turns to Helgrim, confusion and intrigue in equal measures adorns his face. Helgrim encourages him to follow the path that has been shown, opening his arms up in almost embrace of the situation that is starting to unfold.

Both now turn and stand facing the shown path, Ekieo re engages his helmet to his armour. The HUD inside lights up and data streams fall before his eyes as he scans the rest of the area for any anomalies or enemies alike.

 

“I've scanned the entire room now and there is still nothing on my sensors. Shall we proceed and investigate”?

 

Helgrim nods in agreement and the two Astartes cautiously make their way down the parted smoke. As they grow closer to the wall the disturbance turns to a breeze that flows like waves, washing towards the wall and rolling gently around the marines imposing frames.

 

Once at the wall it becomes noticeable that there is a large crack in the spot that the disturbance has been flowing to.

Helgrim touches the wall around the crack, feeling it as if sensing what may lay behind.

 

“Cousin it looks as if this wall is not what it seems. Looks to me as if more is behind this façade”.

 

With that and one last unsuccessful scan of the wall Ekieo lands an almighty punch into wall. The wall begins to crack further. Servos and synthetic muscle fibres groan upon impact as he lands another punch. This blow putting a deep hole in it but still not puncturing the great stone that covers the mystery behind. With his hands he claws at it pulling chunks of stone away, as more debris falls it reveals something beyond the crumbling wall. In one last attempt to bring the it down Ekieo leans back winding up all his might. With the greatest of Astartes power blows he head butt's the wall, impacting it with so much force that the whole thing shakes violently. Finally it begins to fall to its ruin at their feet.

Now that it has fallen the Astartes take a few steps back when seeing what is hidden behind…

 

“What in the Emperor's name, why did this not appear on sensors”?

Edited July 29, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[ApostleRP]

<Blackthorn> 

 

Artemios watches silently as Pyke helps the woman to her feet and takes leave of the heavy handed Storm Troopers. 

 

"It would have been a greater kindness to grant her the Emperor's Mercy, than leave her in the hands of the Inquisitors lackeys. Especially when we can gleam the truth from their blood". 

 

A shallow chill goes down his spine as he remembers the small handful of times he has had to make use of the unique physiology he possesses that allows him to share in the memories of those whom blood and grey matter he consumes.