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

[Commissar Molotov]

Atratus:

Desiato Household

 

STRUCTURED TIME CONTINUES

Turn Sequence:

[ ] SHAPER | AG5(x2)+8=18 | WOUNDS SUSTAINED 0 | ANCESTRAL BLESSING (2/4)

[ ] ATRATUS | AG70(7)+2=9 | WOUNDS 14/23 | FATE 3/3

 

Note: As Atratus goes second, he won't have had the opportunity to take any free actions, or to Quick Draw his blades. That means he won't have the Wall of Steel talent until afterwards.

 

ROUND TWO:

Shaper:

Full Action: Multiple Attacks (Lightning Attack)

Shaper makes three attacks against Atratus with Xenos Hunting Blade

Hit rolls resolve at WS45

Attack 1: 24 (HIT)

--Atratus attempts to Dodge on AG70: 7 (PASS)

Attack 2: 9 (HIT)

Hunting Blade resolves at 1D10+8(+SB8)(+2 Ancestral Blessing (2/4)) R, Pen 2 against Atratus's TB8 and Armour 8(6): 3(+18)=21 Damage, reduced by 14 to 7 Damage (7/23 Remaining)

Attack 3: 51 (MISS)

 

Atratus:

Free Action: Activate Burst of Speed (+2AB for 3 Rounds - +10 to Agility tests based on movement)

Free Action: Activate Feat of Strength (Unnatural Strength (3) for 3 Rounds - +10 to all Strength tests)

Free Action: Quick Draw Paired Power Blades

 

Full Action: Multiple Attacks with Lightning Attack

Atratus makes 3(+1) attacks with Paired Power Blades

Hit rolls resolve at WS63(+10 Hunter of Aliens)

Attack 1: 12 (HIT)

--Shaper attempts to Dodge on AG50(+10): 46 (PASS)

Attack 2: 91 (MISS)

Attack 3: 12 (HIT)

-- Shaper attempts to Dodge on AG50(+10): 98 (FAIL)

Paired Power Blades resolve at 1D10+5(+SB4(x3)+3=15)(+2 Hunter of Aliens), Pen 6 E = 31 Damage

Shaper reduces damage by TB4 = 27 Damage sustained

Attack 4: 81 (MISS)

 

The Kroot leader fights with atavistic fury, attempting to avenge its fallen kin as the blade strikes down again and again. Some of the strikes skitter across the curved snout of your corvus helm, the auto-senses of your visor crackling with static. Others carve runnels in the ceramite of your breastplate.

 

There is a rattling, a jangling of totems, beads and charms clattering against one another. It sounds almost like monsoon rain pattering down. When the creature bellows in rage above you, its avian squawking only reminds you of the jungle climes that the Raptors have come to favour.

 

As the twin blades gifted to you by Lias Issodon come to your hands, you feel the steel rain continuing to hammer down. Your vision swims, the thudding of your twin heartbeat in your ears seems momentarily overwhelming. Dimly, you hear Interrogator Haldane shouting, but the words are meaningless to you.

 

ROUND THREE

Shaper:

Free Action: Restore D10 wounds with Fate Point: 5

Free Action: Restore D10 wounds with Fate Point: 8 (now at 14 Damage Sustained)

Full Action: Multiple Attacks (Lightning Attack)

Shaper makes three attacks against Atratus with Xenos Hunting Blade

Hit rolls resolve at WS45

Attack 1: 15 (HIT)

--Atratus attempts to Parry: WS63(+10 Balanced): 73 (PASS)

--Counter-attack on: WS63(-20 Counter-attack)(+20 Paired Blades): 90 (MISS)

Attack 2: 20 (HIT)

--Atratus attempts to Parry (second Parry due to Wall of Steel): WS63(+10 Blades): 34 (PASS)

--Counter-attack on: WS63(-20 Counter-attack)(+20 Paired Blades): 28 (PASS)

--Shaper attempts to Dodge: AG50(+10): 37 (PASS)

Attack 3: 75 (MISS)

 

Turn Sequence:

[ ] SHAPER | AG5(x2)+8=18 | WOUNDS SUSTAINED 14 | ANCESTRAL BLESSING (3/4)

[ ] ATRATUS | AG70(7)+2=9 | WOUNDS 7/23 | FATE 3/3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I see in Atratus's character profile that you've named the paired blades the Shadow of Homa - perhaps you can tell us something about Homa and who he was as you avenge the Raptors' grievous losses in the Badab War...

 

Edited January 9, 2022 by Commissar Molotov

[A.T.]

The creature was far faster than its brethren and almost as strong as an Astartes, experience on the hive ship had taught Atratus well not to underestimate what intelligence might lurk behind its primative facade or the intent of its attack.

 

As the blows rain down the Raptor centered his stance allowing the attacks to slide from his pauldrons as he struck forwards, keep the creatures eyes focussed ahead an not on the interrogator. His training had been strict and clear - never lose focus on the true objective, never sacrifice the war for the battle, and never believe your foe less cunning than you.

 

Striking and then feinting he pushed the creature back for a scant moment to glance at his ward before pressing his attack. For all its speed he must be faster... had Issodon known? Had the librarians forseen this moment in meditation on Homas legacy? With all that had happened recently Atratus couldn't shake the feeling that for all the keeness of his senses he could not see that path that sensed he and his brothers had been set upon.

 

 

 

Note - the upgraded dipole Maglocks (p157) allow a character to draw their weapon(s) as part of their reaction if they have the quick draw feat. Worth its requisition cost in gold :p  May have had some effect on the prior round.

 

Atratus will have a look over to see what the Interrogator is up to, before he loses track of another one... (if she is being dragged off by kroot or the like he'll assassin strike after his last attack to do something about it)

 

Fate point to restore d10 wounds: 8

 

Lightning attack with two weapons (target 63 after modifiers) : 62 81 14 17  (hit, miss, hit, hit)

Damage rolls : 8 8 6  (hits are for 30, 30, and 28 - pen 6)

 

Pre-emptive defenses: 5 / 40 and 19 / 59  - for pairs of parry and counter attack actions.  Atratus is a middling sniper but a particularly dangerous duelist.

 

(a kroot shaper is perhaps not the right time for Atratus to speculate on Badab, though i'm sure that time will come soon enough)

[Commissar Molotov]

My mistake on the maglocks - like I said, a lot of cross-referencing!

 

ROUND THREE, CONTINUED...

 

Atratus:

Free Action: Restore D10 Wounds: 8 (now at 15/23)

Full Action: Multiple Attacks (Lightning Attack)

Atratus makes four attacks against the Shaper with his paired power blades, resolving at WS63(+10 Hunter of Aliens)

Attack 1: 62 (HIT)

--Shaper attempts to Dodge with AG50(+10): 22 (PASS)

--Hyperactive Nymune Organ: Toughness Test (T45): 76 (FAIL)

--Shaper takes Fatigue (1)

Attack 2: 81 (MISS)

Attack 3: 14 (HIT)

--Paired Power Blades resolve at 1D10+22, Pen 6: 30 Damage, reduced by TB4 and Armour 2(0) to 26 Damage (now at 35 damage sustained, -5 Critical)

The fury of the attack forces the target to the ground, helplessly covering his face and keening in agony. The target is knocked to the ground and must make an Agility Test or catch fire (see Special Damage). The target takes 1d5 levels of Fatigue and must take the Stand Action to regain his feet.

Kroot Shaper makes Agility test: AG50(-10 Fatigue): 12 (PASS)

Kroot Shaper gains 1D5 Levels of Fatigue: 3 (4 Total)

 

Your suit chronometers blink insistently: this furious exchange of blade-against-blade has taken mere seconds. Seconds to end the Kroot chieftain's life. For it is dead, even if it isn't aware of it yet. Finally, one of the blades in your hands makes contact with the alien's sparse anatomy. You feel resistance as the artificer-wrought blade sizzles through organs and sinew. The weight above you goes limp, and you are able to throw it off, taking up a fighting stance in defence of the Interrogator.

 

The Kroot's lithe body clatters amongst the scattered bones and detritus of their Kindred's nest. Finally you get to see it for what it is. Its lithe body is scarred muscle stretched over elongated bone. Its skin is a dappled grey, streaked with red warpaint. You take in its jagged beak, the splayed nest of grey quills jutting from the back of its head as if to make itself seem larger. One clawed hand clutches at its eviscerated innards; the other still grasps its hunting knife.

 

With a sigh, the Chieftain sheathes his blade and juts his chin at you, as though inviting you to take the final killing blow. Its dark eyes gleam with intelligence and yes, hatred for you. That at least is an emotion you can understand.

 

Its next movement is almost so fast that you do not catch it - it fishes in a pouch at its waist and then flicks something that clatters at your feet...

 

ROUND FOUR

Shaper:

Free Action: Stand (Leap Up Talent)

Half Action: Aim(+10)

Half Action: Standard Attack with Haywire Grenade

Haywire Roll as per P.143: 70 (Dead Zone)

 

Atratus's Power Armour becomes Unpowered as per P.163:

- All benefits granted by power armour including History (but not inherent AP) are lost.

- Atratus must make a -40 Strength test to move. If the test is passed, base movement is reduced to 1 and all physical actions suffer a -30 penalty.

Atratus's Power Blades become unpowered swords (you can keep the wall of steel talent)

 

[ ] SHAPER | AG5(x2)+8=18 | CRITICAL WOUNDS -5 | ANCESTRAL BLESSING (4/4)

[ ] ATRATUS | AG70(7)+2=9 | WOUNDS 15/23 | FATE 2/3

Edited January 9, 2022 by Commissar Molotov

[A.T.]

The creatures eyes betrayed its intent as Atratus brought his blade down for the killing blow, but already the deception was done, whatever device it carried xenos or imperial had been activated before it was withdrawn and the Raptors armour fought against his every action as the xenos lept to its feet, not so wounded as it led him to believe.

 

Already a step beyond his reach he strained to inch forward, his sight of the creature narrowed to slits as the auto-sense visors within his helmet lost function. But the creature had betrayed one last weakness of its own... one of the blades slipped from the Raptors grip as he reached forward and the xenos hesitated as its hatred and lust for blood at the sight of a wounded prey overwhelmed its caution - and in that moment its fate was sealed.

 

Driving his inhuman physiology to its limits Atratus lurched forward with one do or die attack gripping the creature by its neck and drove his weight forward. Unpowered the gauntlet locked in a death grip as he bore down on the xenos, the thrust of his sword slow but inevitable as his target thrashed and clawed unable to escape his fate.

 

 

And it was done. Exhausted by his exertion Atratus raised slowly to a knee, surveying the scene as best he could as his suits systems flickered in and out of operation. This encounter only raised more questions - had the master of this house supplied such technology in anticipation of the Astartes or were these creatures subservient to another?

 

 

Augh - strength, Atratus' great weakness :p

 

Strength test vs target 24 (44, -40 for emp, +20 for unnatural strength x3)

86 = fail, fate point reroll = 9 = pass

 

All out attack, last fate point for killing strike, target 53 (base 63, -30 for unpowered, +20 for all out) = 3 = hit, no dodge or parry possible. Even minimum damage with Atratus' unnatural strength bonus of 12 should finish it.

[Commissar Molotov]

ROUND FOUR, CONTINUED

Atratus:

Atratus makes a Strength test to move in unpowered armour: 86 (FAIL)

Fate Point re-roll: 9 (PASS) - 1/3 Remaining

 

Full Action: All Out Attack against Kroot Chieftain with de-activated Power Sword

--With Fate Point spent to activate Killing Strike - 0/3 Remaining

WS63(-30 Unpowered)(+20 All Out Attack)=WS53: 3 (HIT)

Kroot Shaper is unable to dodge or parry

Hit is resolved at 1D10+3(+SB4x3)=4 (19 Damage) reduced by TB4 and Armour 2(0) to 15 Damage

Kroot Shaper dies.

 

STRUCTURED TIME ENDS

 

As you force the weight of your armoured form and transhuman physiology down upon the blade, the Kroot Warleader shudders with one last exhalation that signifies the extermination of its clan-coven.

 

You kneel, exhausted by the exertions placed upon you. This truly was a worthy foe of a kind you have not seen since the Tyranid bio-ship over Syndalla.

 

The machine-spirits of your armour are bellicose, and even now are fighting against the tech-sorcery that has hampered them. Soon enough, you will be able to stand. The matched blades of the Shadow of Homa will likely need to be placated before they can truly function as they were intended.

 

The Interrogator stands by you, a hand placed against your pauldron. Her face is etched with what you recognise as concern. In her other hand you see her plasma pistol, the coils cold and lifeless.

 

"Brother? Are you alright?"

 

Already, at the entrance to the Menagerie, you see some of your brothers entering to ensure your safety. Clearly, whilst you were in combat the Interrogator voxed for reinforcements.

 

 

 

+ + +

 

GM: In terms of current distribution, the Kill-Team is:

 

Desiato's Chapel:

- Helgrim

- Solza

 

Exterior Landing Pad:

- Arcost

- Varvost

- Sabaan

- Greysight

 

Household with Storm Troopers:

- Pyke

- Artemios

 

Desiato Menagerie:

- Atratus

 

Unaccounted For:

- Tyber

- Incariel

 

I will be moving next to the Chapel, but I will provide updates for Pyke/Artemios and Arcost/Varvost.

 

Steel - you might find it more narratively interesting for Tyber to be part of the Chapel scene, but if you'd rather connect with Atratus, I can work either one. Feel free to write a post where you join either scene.

[A.T.]

It took a moment for Atratus to register the Interrogators intentions, her words had gone unheared in the battle and as he had struck home his blow it occured to him that the creature would be wanted for interrogation despite the risk it would escape his grasp.

 

Instead of the cold pragmatism her response was very... human, something cast aside by those more senior that he had encountered of the Inquisition.

 

Removing his helmet he nodded to the Interrogator, "I am well, the grace of the Emperor and the skill of the chapters artificiers have held firm against my oversight, but I advise withdrawal until this area can be secured."

 

Holding up a hand he signalled for the newly arrived forces to adopt a defensive stance, fortunate that the creature had fallen upon himself and not the Interrogator, and keenly aware that where one had slipped by his notice there may be more.

[Steel Company]

<<Blackthron>>>

 

After freeing himself from the elderly Inquisitor, Tyber marched through the halls behind the mortal troops, stopping to inspect ruined paintings, tapestries, and various artworks. Removing his helm and turning it to face him before placing it to his forehead as he spoke to it in his birth tongue, “Ka tono atu ahau ki a koe, tukuna mai to kaha ki ahau kia haere tonu ahau i te huarahi o Te Manawao o nga Karauna, ahakoa kua eke ahau ki runga i te huarahi ehara i te mea mo au.”

 

Translation:

 

“I ask you, lend me your strength so that I can continue to walk the path of the Host of Crowns, even if I now find myself on a path I am not meant for.”

 

Slipping his helm under his arm, Tyber approached the chapel, stopping just outside and leaning around to watch the Chaplin and Solaz indulge in what the mortals called faith.

Edited January 10, 2022 by Steel Company

[Commissar Molotov]

Solza, Helgrim (and, shortly, Tyber)

House Desiato's Chapel

 

What had appeared to be a solid wall indeed appears to bear some sort of false panel, a veneer of wood and quarried stone. Perhaps an ingenious architect had designed a carefully-constructed button or lever which may have enabled it to slide away - it matters little as it is pulled apart by Solza's sudden assault. What lies behind is perhaps rather more unexpected - a second door, one that you see is rather more solidly-built. This one favours function rather than aesthetics, and you see that it will not be so easily bypassed.

 

Helgrim: whilst it may not be your truest area of expertise, you recognise a number of marks around the doorway as runes that ward against psychic abilities.

 

In the centre you see a gilt panel, evidently the door's locking mechanism: it contains four tumblers, each comprising the twenty-six runes of the high gothic alphabet. Underneath, a small brass plaque bears an inscription:

 

"If it is to be kept, it must be freely given."

Edited January 10, 2022 by Commissar Molotov

[Necronaut]

Blackthorn

 

"Excellent work, brother! Let us see what this wayward Rogue Trader has kept --," he cut himself off suddenly at the sight of the arcane runes etched into the frame around the door, and threw his arm in front of Ekeio, barring his path.

 

During his tenure as a Brother-Chaplain of Watch-Station Azurea, Helgrim had endured uncounted hours studying the myriad chapters of the Astartes, and their equally numerous chapter cults in the fortress's Librarium -- precious hours he could have otherwise spent in prayer, honoring the Exalted Dead, or exercising in the training cages, venting his rage at a wicked and uncaring universe. But endure he did under the patient tutelage of not just his former master, High Chaplain Zakiel, but also both Brother-Codiciers Montessa and Achillion. Very patient tutelage. It was his secret shame that he would only ever be, at best, a scholar under duress, but it was during this time that he had become accustomed, at least, to the sight of a Librarian's war-plate and the esoteric symbols inscribed thereupon, which is what had caught his attention when the secret portal was revealed.

 

"Hold, Solza! Hexagrammic wards!" He gestured to the doorframe with his crozius. "Whatever is hidden here is warded against those with the witch-sight."

 

Helgrim's right eye narrowed while he inspected the door further, until he came to the central panel which contained what could only be a locking mechanism; his augmetic left eye impassively glared its baleful red as it always did. He read the words inscribed upon the plaque and turned them over in his mouth a few times before turning his skull-faced helm towards Solza, his mood darkening. He glowered behind his mask at the veteran Astartes with his jaw clenched tight.

 

"Brother Solza, I would beg your forgiveness should I lose my temper, but I believe we are being confronted with a riddle, and I am not a man possessed of the kind of patience needed for word games. I pray you are more well-read than I am."

Edited January 11, 2022 by Necronaut

[That Beyond the Light]

>> Blackthorn <<

 

Solza’s instinctive step forward to investigate further is met with the forceful thud of Helgrims arm. Ekieo is surprised by the action and halts where he is, trusting the Chaplins move is the better judgement.

 

"Hold, Solza! Hexagrammic wards! Whatever is hidden here is warded against those with the witch-sight."

 

Helgrims words and actions rile even more intrigue in Solza. They both inspect the door further with keens eyes and equal measures of caution. Helgrim discovers the locking mechanism first and with the score of his voice addresses Solza.

 

"Brother Solza, I would beg your forgiveness should I lose my temper, but I believe we are being confronted with a riddle, and I am not a man possessed of the kind of patience needed for word games. I pray you are more well-read than I am."

 

“Word games are not my strength either, but I know also that temper will not help us here too”.

 

Ekieos words soften the atmosphere somewhat, whilst he presses his hand against the solid door and exerts a small amount of force, testing its metal as you will.

 

“The door is built from the same material as the bulk head we had to blast through, I fear though this time that force of that nature may damage what resides behind here”.

 

Ekieo calmly turns back to Helgrim and with a gentle inhale continues

 

“This does not mean we will not look within, im filled with faith that between us this trickery of words will be easily overcome”.

 

They both gaze upon the words etched artistically into the brass plaque and assess the Tumbler style lock system, its elegance and masterful construction gleaming in the candle light that illuminates the chapel. No advanced scanning equipment can help them here, its design favours only the mind to unravel its secres held.

 

From within his helm Solza mutters the riddle over and over again...

 

"If it is to be kept, it must be freely given, If it is to be kept, it must be freely given, If it is to be kept, it must be freely given…."

 

Hoping that the answer will roll off his tongue in quick concession to the repetitiveness, but it does not come. Solza straightens up and turns back to Helgrim. As he does his visored eyes pass over the intricate tumbler system once more. High gothic symbols in no particular order adorning them all.

 

“4 tumblers brother, and all adorned with High Gothic symbols. This must be a clue of some kind would you not say? What degree of knowledge on High Gothic do you possess”?

Edited January 11, 2022 by That Beyond the Light

[Necronaut]

Blackthorn

 

Helgrim growled inside of his helm at the indignity of being stymied by the riddle. Damnable humans and their foibles, their secrets, their duplicity. His fingers brushed against Deliverance’s pistol grip, and its machine-spirit all but called to him, tempting him to draw the ancient sidearm and discharge a gout of superheated plasma into the lock. No, this was clearly a test. He turned to look at the marble effigy of the Emperor, seeking to cool his temper and center himself. This was not a problem to be solved through martial might or violence.

 

What was freely given in this world or any other? What was freely given that was even worth keeping? An Astartes' life was one defined by suffering and sacrifice. An Astartes bled and died for the cause of humanity, but that was part of the bargain struck when one joined the Emperor's Angels. Unending sacrifice and suffering to protect humans from themselves. He scowled and moved to stand before the great centerpiece of the chapel, staring up again at the statue’s skeletal visage.

 

Would that one of Azurea’s librarians were here, or Zakiel. How the old Lamenter had delighted in chiding Helgrim for his more blunt approach. But the junior chaplain had only rarely encountered problems in all of his long life that could not be solved with bolter and chainsword, with prayer and exhortation. What would the High Chaplain have done here? He would have doffed his skull-helm and cracked a smile and had a quip ready with a twinkle in his ice-blue eyes. But Helgrim was on his own in the field now, with a junior officer looking askance at him while they wrestled with the meaning of a human sentiment, one alien to an Astartes.

 

"If it is to be kept, it must be freely given."

 

He snarled and stalked back to the door, drawing Deliverance and aiming it at the locking mechanism. The plasma pistol’s coils glowed a brilliant blue-white, casting the chaplain’s death-mask in a terrifying light. He stared down the side-arm’s iron sights, holding it in a white-knuckle grip.

 

Helgrim saw his brother from the Black Consuls take a step back with a worried expression on his face, his question left unanswered. He looked askance at Helgrim.

 

His face. His brother.

 

Helgrim’s right eye widened as an epiphany began to dawn upon him. His dead brethren from Kill-Team Scourge, those long decades past. They had lived together, eaten together, bled together. Died together on Malgas IV. Pyran, the Salamander, who had taken the fatal axe blow to save a cowering woman and child. Siegmeyer, the grim Black Templar, who had barred the way to the spaceport from the enemy with his zweihander until he was buried by the tide of ork invaders. Turok, the Iron Talon, who had perished when his plasma cannon detonated after catastrophic overuse when eliminating an ork combat walker. Polux, the Black Guard, who had died with his bolter empty and his combat knife buried in the throat of the Warboss. And Cassius, the Angel of Vengeance, who had suffered the most of all retrieving his fallen brothers’ gene-seed, which he had forced into Helgrim’s shaking hands before ordering him to flee and live with his dying breath.

 

His Brothers. Whom he had loved.

 

Helgrim lowered Deliverance, cycling the weapon down to its resting frequency, and holstered it at his hip.

 

“It is what we freely give to our brothers in our chapters, in the Watch, Solza. It is at once alien to we Astartes, and the glue which binds us.”

 

Helgrim turned the tumblers in the lock until the word “LOVE” was displayed.

[Commissar Molotov]

The tumblers are large enough even for the over-sized digits of an Astartes in warplate to manipulate; it takes seconds to align them to display the letters L O V E.

 

There is no tell-tale click or sign that the combination is correct; the door remains stubbornly resistant.

[Necronaut]

Blackthorn

 

"Hmph!"

 

Helgrim scowled at the door. He planted his feet and pushed. He leaned into it with his shoulder. Nothing.

 

The chaplain muttered, "Your turn, brother," and stalked off to stand in front of the statue of the Emperor once again.

 

Outwitted by a door. Zakiel would have never let him hear the end of it.

Edited January 11, 2022 by Necronaut

[Steel Company]

<<Blackthron>>

 

Tyber went to take a step forward, but stopped as that step would require him to cross into the chapel, bringing his foot back into position he called out to his brothers, "Is something wrong?"

[Necronaut]

Blackthorn

 

"Is something wrong?"

 

Helgrim's skeletal visage snapped around, his hand imperceptibly hovering over his sidearm, ready for violence. It was Tyber. He let out a breath and turned to face the young Dragon.

 

"Sergeant Tyber! Brother Solza has discovered a secret door within the chapel, but it appears to be locked. Its mechanism is bound by a riddle which confounds us both. You are a learned man, are you not?"

[Steel Company]

<<Blackthron>>

 

Tilting his head to the side Tyber thought on how to answer this one, "I do read when given the chance, knowledge is a powerful tool, why?"

[That Beyond the Light]

++ Blackthron ++

 

Helgrims departure to the chapels statue in frustration of his attempt leaves Solza to ponder on their discovery.

 

Suddenly the brief silence is broken sharply by a voice calling in

 

"Is something wrong"

 

Armour clanks as it moves, trinkets and favours clash against it with a tin and dull thud alike. This the sound of Helgrims heightened Astartes instincts reacting to the startling call, only briefly registing with Solza as he falls deep in thought at the task that has been now bestowed upon him. His trust in Helgrim not even faulters to react himself.

 

The voice is now recognisable as Tyber.

 

Solza leaves the Chaplin to converse with Tyber, kneeling before the tumblers and plaque whilst he returns his thought to the riddle.

 

Repeating the words on the plaque continuously, immersing himself within the riddle, trying to find what he can not see. He pulls himself further away from the outside world, words swirling about him but blurred and unrecognisable.

 

Frustration begins to set in,

 

"I'm normally more perceptive than this but I just can't seem to find the word needed".

 

Solza's concentration breaks momentarily and he catches Tyber talking to Helgrim.

 

"I do read when given the chance, knowledge is a powerful tool, why?"

 

Solza rises without effort and turns to the Dragon that is Tyber, still stood in the door way of the Chapel. Butting into the conversation and with conviction he bellows in his deep voice to Tyber

 

"Brother Tyber, I will figure this out and we will gain entry to this mystery that lies before us, you have my WORD on this".

 

A brief silence blankets the chapel as a moment is had by all....

Edited January 12, 2022 by That Beyond the Light

[Necronaut]

Blackthorn

 

"Brother Tyber, I will figure this out and we will gain entry to this mystery that lies before us, you have my WORD on this".

 

Silence settled over the chapel following Ekieo's outburst. Helgrim turned to regard the Black Consul, stooped over in front of the door's locking mechanism.

 

"... You have my word."

 

The chaplain's brow furrowed and he cocked his head, as if hearing something for the first time.

 

"If it is to be kept, it must be freely given."

 

"That's it, Ekieo," he said softly as the realization dawned upon him. "Love amongst brothers is earned, but it is our oath, our duty, our word which we freely give. The Apocryphon Oath. Your word you gave to the Watch! The answer is your word! Well done, brother!"

 

Solza straightened somewhat as the pieces fell into place in his own mind, and with a nod to Helgrim, he turned the tumblers of the lock to read "W O R D."

 

Somewhere, Zakiel must be laughing at us all, Helgrim thought to himself as he awaited the outcome of their second attempt.

Edited January 12, 2022 by Necronaut

[Commissar Molotov]

Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclick...

 

As the Chaplain aligns the final tumbler, you hear a cascade of clicks as the locking mechanisms disengage and the door swings open, revealing the room behind.

 

GM: To be continued...!

 

Kill-Team Swordhand

(Kol, Vorr, Embe, Maladon, Argus, Achillion, Yeng, Thire, Titus and Boros)

Sunder Dynasty Cruiser Riches Untold

 

Embe: As you progress towards the landing bay the truth becomes clear to you: the vibrations you can feel shaking the bones of this derelict vessel are a sensation all too familiar to you after centuries plying the void: the Riches Untold appears to be sustaining weapons fire. The shuddering explosions are rather too sporadic to be a sustained bombardment, however.

 

Navigating via the cartoliths that have been uploaded to your squad noosphere the two Demi-Squads are able to reunite once more, the Astartes falling into the familiar routines that have been drilled into them. Despite your disparate origins, the training routines enforced by Sergeant Kol and the Codicier, Achillion, have proven their worth.

 

Certainly, each of you feels more confident and empowered - there is strength in numbers.

 

As your Demi-Squad nears the cargo bay where Warhawk resides, you are acutely aware that not all is as you left it. The corridor ahead of you - a main arteria-route within the cruiser's depths - is obscured by a hazy energy field, just perceptible enough to be visible through your helms. Beyond the field you can see that there appears to be some modicum of gravity - the accumulated detritus that had filled the void has settled once more on the decking beneath you.

 

It would appear you are no longer alone upon this ship of the dead.

[Lysimachus]

Swordhand:

 

Titus slipped quickly and quietly along dark corridors towards the hangar bay, arriving scant minutes ahead of the rest of Achillion's demi-squad. Sgt Kol and the other half of Swordhand had also not yet returned from the Bridge, though Titus assumed they must be close.

 

The odd gravitic field before him was surely no natural phenomenon, but neither did it seem plausible that it could be some sudden, random resurrection of the ship's systems? Someone or something was out there.

 

He activated his squad vox and spoke calmly and concisely.

 

+Contact. Hangar bay. Proceeding+

 

The Hunter reviewed his memories of the hangar, plotting out a mental map of the location of Warhawk and potential areas of cover or danger. Then he reached down to his belt and pressed the Rune of Activation on the arcane device loaned to him by Fasume. Nothing appeared to change, but Titus trusted implicitly in the Forgemaster's wisdom. Thus prepared, he cautiously but quickly ducked around the bulkhead into the bay, a flitting shadow moving through the greater blackness.

 

Titus would like to use Silent Move/Concealment to enter the hangar unseen (perhaps hiding behind some of the cargo crates that were previously mentioned being strapped to the deck?) and scout out who/what is there?

 

Assuming this is possible, preemptive rolls:

Activate Stummer for +30 to Silent Move.

Ag55 +10 (Silent Move+10) +30 (Stummer) = 95

Roll: 31, Pass with 6DoS

Concealment:

Ag55 +20 (Concealment+20) +20? (Darkness?) = 95

Roll: 54, Pass with 4DoS.

[Petragor]

Swordhand

 

Receiving the Vox-message from Titus, Embe stays at the rear of the group, as to not give the squads position away to any hostiles ahead. During this moment of quiet, he takes his hand and places it on the wall of the starship corridor, letting himself feel the vibrations in more detail. This more careful inspection only comfirms the conclusion he came to a few seconds earlier, and he opens his own vox and quietly speaks to the rest of the squad.

+Feel that brothers? The Riches Untold writhes in pain. We're taking fire. Not heavy fire, but fire nonetheless. We should hurry, in the ships current state it is inevitable that something critical will be destroyed.+

Chaka grips the Lightning Bolt and his Combi-Melta tightly, in anticipation of hostiles ahead. He has lost many brothers to the death throes of destroyed ships in the past, and he doesn't intend for the marines beside him, nor himself to join the ranks of the dead. Not today.

[Commissar Molotov]

Titus:

 

 

You are able to pass through the energy field without incident - and as you do, your warplate's augur arrays reveal that a thin and breathable atmosphere has been established. The stummer allows you to travel in silence, dampening the servos of your armour. Though perhaps in some ways stealth might have been absolutely unnecessary: as you near the hangar bay you can hear a cacophony of clanging and clattering that puts you in mind of a mighty forge - or one of the tremendous storms of your homeworld.

 

You near the doorway that the Kill-Team had been able to force open earlier to find the Hangar bay occupied.

 

But these are not the tentacle-faced monstrosities the armsman talked of. The bulky pressure suits they wear lend them the air of deep-sea divers and makes them difficult to discern straight away, but you are all too familiar with this type of xenobreed. They are an endemic scourge in the Imperium, growing like weeds wherever they can.

 

Orks.

 

The hangar is filled with Orks - many of them carry prybars that they have used to force open the scattered crates and boxes. rooting through them. The smaller greenskins, the Grots, scurry about stacking and squabbling. In the midst of them you see your venerable steed, the Warhawk. Grots swarm over the craft, doing their best to disassemble the Stormhawk. You even see two clanking, belching armoured walkers being used to haul cargo.

 

Towards the rear of the bay you can see the craft the Orks must have used to reach the Riches Untold it looks characteristically ramshackle, as though it should never have reached this ship in one piece. Large cables and wires snake from it to a large generator that has been set up. It is overseen by an Orkoid beast, covered in scrap armour of the kind known as Mega-Armour.

 

"Oi! Not dere! Dere!" It gestures wildly with a great weapon that looks something between a wrench and a power maul.

 

 

GM: A-K are your ordinary Boyz; M is a Mega-Armoured Mek; the 1s are a 30-strong horde of Grots and K1 and K2 are two Killa-Kans.

[Komrade_Atomic]

Swordhand:

 

Gideon held his Meltagun at the ready, and slowly drew his Chainsword from it's sheathe, holding it ready in his left hand. While no expert at wielding both a melee weapon and something heavier than a pistol at once, the chainsword would at least would not need to be drawn should they suddenly enter close combat.  Hearing Titus' vox-message, and then Embe's, Gideon waited for a few moments, before he too activated his Vox, a thought crossing his mind.

 

+Hold one, we're taking fire, yet we have contacts in the hangar bay? It doesn't make much sense to fire on a ship if they've deployed boarders onto it.+

 

Gideon had pondered the thought in those few moments. The vessel was a wreck, and nothing could have been gained from the discharge of weapons fire against the Riches Untold other than Weapon Drills, but why do that while sending on Boarders? The idea confused Gideon, although he would soon come to realize that the boarders, of the Xenos race which he had fought back in the Delvis Rifts alongside Vorkys and Titus, were not necessarily masterminds when it came to tactics and strategy. 

[Lysimachus]

Swordhand:

 

Titus had to suppress a growl of indignation and hate as he saw the enemy. Greenskins. A vile plague that infected the galaxy. Especially offensive to him were the filthy little scavengers crawling across the Stormraven. His feelings about the transport were undeniably still conflicted, but the Warhawk was nevertheless a brother under attack. He felt a momentary desire to rush the pathetic Gretchin, tearing them apart and scattering whatever was left. But that was not his purpose here. More of Sgt Lucio's gruff words sprang to his mind:

 

"A Hunter gathers information first, skulls later."

 

Besides, any vehicle built in the forges of the Adeptus Astartes should be proof against such pitiful clatterings for some time yet. Immediately Titus began to exload data to the squad tactical net; collating numbers and positions, marking targets and identifying potential threats. He was certain such information would mean that when Swordhand arrived, it would be with the force and speed of a falling mountain.

 

+Orks, brothers. Bring the storm.+

[Petragor]

Swordhand

 

Receiving the data from the tactical net, Chaka quickly sees the situation more clearly. Only greenskins would fire upon a vessel they're boarding. Assuming it is not someone else responsible for the incoming shots... That would be a concern for later, the Warhawk was being disassembled and time was of the essence. A swift, merciless assault would be in order.

 

+We should strike, immediately. There is no telling what kind of vital components they could steal or sabotage if we don't.+

 

With that, he begins to walk forward towards Titus' position, triple checking the magazine status of the combimelta, and holding his thumb ready on the activation rune of the Lightning Bolt.

Edited January 15, 2022 by Petragor