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

[A.T.]

The moment of truth. Though not as experienced as his fellows Atratus could feel a change in the air, as did they all. This next moment would decide the outcome here, the tipping point of the engagement. The last blow to be struck by one or perhaps all.

 

Time slowed. Remember the mission, where was the skull?

 

Prospective rolls (DM)

Three D100 rolls to keep things moving along.

 

A parry/dodge as appropriate, and two more as may be required for things like contested rolls or swinging at Greysight as he moves away.

 

34, 10, 17

 

Good rolls at perhaps a bad time for a climactic scene - not to look a gift horse in the mouth but if the other two knock each other out and the red skull falls out of the techmarines robes atratus is going for it :p

[Nineswords]

ATRATUS CAME OUT of nowhere. As Vârvost was hurled back, the Raptor had plunged through the miasma of smoke, congealed foam and drifting cargo equipment, taking Greysight by surprise.

Stepping backward, the Storm Son unleashed the contents of both bolters, their simulated rounds inflicting grievous damage. Despite it all, the Raptor simply wouldn’t die. For a moment, Greysight had wondered if he was fighting Vârvost instead.

Greysight leapt away, trying to create space to fire, but his aim was spoiled under the frenzy of blows Atratus was raining upon him with punishing force.

After his third attack, the Raptor had finally connected, clipping the Storm Son’s legs. Atratus pressed his advantage and followed with a swift blow to Sabaan’s borrowed boltgun, jamming its firing mechanism, causing Greysight to drop the now useless weapon with a curse.

Stumbling, Greysight re-assessed his options. The Raptor’s momentum had to be cut short, and quickly if he wished to survive the next few seconds. Even in his fury, Atratus had been unrelenting and calculating, driving the Storm Son back and closing the distance to force him into hand to hand combat.

Atratus came in once more with an arcing chop designed to split Greysight in half, expecting the Storm Son to move back. Greysight sidestepped and lunged forward instead. With a meaty thud, Atratus felt, rather than saw the bolt pistol that was now nuzzled into Raptor’s solar plexus. Greysight fired.

With a sharp twist of his free arm, the Raptor battered the bolt pistol, sending its simulated rounds harmlessly away. With his other arm, Atratus chopped wide down again with the deactivated chain sword, followed by the familiar swoosh of a combat knife. Greysight went low to dodge and drove up, with a vicious head-butt to disengage himself from the Raptor, but another sweep of the chainsword connected with Greysight’s arm. With a painful jolt, the Storm Son found his left arm dropping uselessly. The impact had hyper-locally severed the connection between Greysight’s power armour and his neurally linked black carapace, turning his arm into a hindering deadweight.

Atratus simply wouldn’t die, and Greysight was running out of options.

Edited June 9, 2018 by Nineswords

[Commissar Molotov]

>>ROUND 13 CONTINUES<<

 

Solastion: (2x3) + 10 = 16 (FATE POINT)

Sabaan: 4 + 8 = 12 

Greysight: 4 + 4 = 8 

Atratus: 6 + 1 = 7

 

 

 

Sabaan: Fate Point to recover from stun

Servo-Arm as reaction: WS46 (22 - HIT) 

Servo-Arm does 2D10+14 Damage (Pen 10) - (6, 6) + 14 = 24 (Pen 10) to the right arm. 

Solastion has TB10 and Armour 8(0) reduce the damage to 14, dealing 7 impact damage to the arm (due to True Grit) - 'the arm is broken and until repaired, the target counts as having only one arm and takes 2 levels of fatigue.' 

 

 

GM: I'm prepared narratively for Sabaan and Solastion to have put one another out of action - for Sabaan's action to have been a 'last gasp.'

 

>>ROUND 13 ENDS<<

 

 

>>ROUND 14 BEGINS<<

 

Greysight: 4 + 4 = 8 

Atratus: 6 + 1 = 7

 

 

Greysight adopts a defensive stance whilst in combat against Atratus. (Giving him two reactions, and putting Atratus at -20 to WS to hit him.) 

 

Per Atratus's last turn, he will use 'multiple attacks' with his Chainsword (twice) and combat knife (once) due to the Swift Attack talent.

 

Chainsword: WS63(-10 due to two-weapon wielder(modified by ambidextrous), -20 due to defensive stance) = 34 (MISS)

Chainsword: WS63(-10 due to two-weapon wielder(modified by ambidextrous), -20 due to defensive stance) = 10 (HIT) 

 

Greysight attempts to dodge the Chainsword blow using his reaction (AG43 -10 due to his armour) = (41, FAIL) - with a fate point re-roll: (42, FAIL)

 

Atratus does 1D10+3 R (+SB11) damage - (8,8) - 22 Damage (Pen 3) 

Greysight has TB8 and armour 8(5), reducing the damage by 13 to 9. Greysight suffers 5 critical damage to the head, combined with the 2 critical damage from before: Greysight is "permanently blinded" and suffers from blood loss. Greysight suffers 1D10 Fatigue: (4 Levels) 

 

Combat Knife: WS63(-10 due to two-weapon wielder(modified by ambidextrous), -20 due to defensive stance) = 17 (HIT) 

 

Greysight attempts to dodge the Combat Knife using his second reaction (AG43-10 due to his armour) = (46, FAIL) 

Atratus does 1D10 (+SB11) (Pen 2) Damage: 9 = 20 Damage. 

Greysight has TB8 and armour 9(7), reducing the damage by 15 to 5. 

Greysight takes 3 critical damage (10) to the body, "killing" him. 

 

 

 

Atratus's blows crumple Greysight, his autosenses awash with static from the blows, both simulated and realistic. 

 

Still, the Raptor is able to heave himself to his feet, wrenching the blue servo-skull from Sabaan's waist and bringing it into contact with the red servo-skull.

 

Victory. 

 

>>ROUND 14 ENDS<<

 

 

>>STRUCTURED TIME ENDS<<

 

 

There is a moment of silence as gravity is restored to the room, bringing crates, flame-retardant foam, and the corpse of Varvost to the ground. 

 

Your armour safety interlocks release, the machine spirits relinquishing control to you and display-runes turning green once more. Motion is restored to you and you are able to disentangle yourselves from one another and regroup to take stock of the exercise before the Watch-Sergeant debriefs you. 

 

Edited June 8, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Commissar Molotov]

Thorvald stands, chuckling as he retrieves both his frag cannon and the helm he removed. He looks over as Akkad and Tyber help one another up. 

 

"Lesson learned, Tyber! I shall not disregard the protective power of holy ceramite again." 

 

 

++ 

 

Across the cargo hold, Varvost stands, grey foam dripping from his armour. He shoulders past the other marines reasserting themselves in order to come face-to-face with Greysight. There is a moment in which anything might happen - in which the lines between a training exercise and a real brawl might break down - but the Eradicator extends his hand to the Storm Son. 

 

++Nicely played... brother.++ The words are stilted, coming as they do through the vox-grille of his helm, but you sense that they are sincere.

[Steel Company]

Tyber takes a moment, adjusting to the readout on his display, finally seeing the status of his squad members, though he takes a moment to look at the out stretched hand of the Space Wolf, being well versed in the… complex history between those of the First Legion and those of the Sixth.

That was when the external audio kicked in +Lesson learned, Tyber! I shall not disregard the protective power of holy ceramite again.+

 

Taking the hold of the forearm of the Wolfson, to ease in coming to his feet, after placing both of his blades in their scabbards, he removed his own helm, to give the Wolf a friendly smile before saying; “As Senior Brother Adavan had once said to me, only a fool removes their helm in the field. Still well fought brother, your weapon of choice gave us pause on our entry.”

 

Rolling his helm in his hand to face him,  the black of the helm still a little alien to him, he posed a question to the three of them, “I wonder who’s team claimed victory, but more importantly, what did our Sargent think of our respective performances….”

[A.T.]

His armour felt different. It was not the release of the simulated damage, there had been many such tests but for the briefest moment it seemed like the ancient machine spirits had been roused by the battle after long months of being indifferent to his command.

 

Varvost barged past, his recklessness had been his undoing but also the hammer by which defenses had been broken. Atratus gave a nod to both he and Greysight but did not interrupt them as he reached to remove his helmet and settle his mind.

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad felt...strange.  The privacy and intimacy of talking to Tyber via low-power vox had relaxed him - now though, as reality asserted itself and the world returned to what had been so small a universe - two brothers talking, just talking at ease....he felt as though he were back amongst strangers.  Things would be different with Tyber now - always - and Akkad welcomed it.  It felt like he had a friend again that he could trust - so far.  It was obvious the big Marine had been careful with his words - there was no shame and no rancour taken by Akkad for that, the youth was being wise beyond his years.  This pleased him greatly.

 

Then he felt the usual cold chase away that warmth, force his face back into severity, a countenance of stern, firmly set jaw.  He scanned the data reels as the training simulation came to an end.  It had been a good fight, even though to be truthful he had felt some concern about it and was against it.  He had tried to encourage blue team with his words - he did not know what that would cost - maybe disdain from the Iron Hand, a chuckle from the Wolf.  Greysight he suspected would be calm and incisive.  He was glad of them.

 

He nodded at Tyber in gratitude for helping him to his feet.  He checked Cadence over and replaced Sonnet (I decided to give the bolt pistol a name as well) in her holster at his hip.  Securing the flap and his Combat Knife he maglocked the huge heavy bolter to his backpack and stood flexing his wrists and easing his muscles by flexing his knees.  He gruffed, satisfied everything was in working order.  He reached out to Tyber and to Thorvald, patting their shoulders in a comradely fashion, then without further word strode for the main cargo bay doors.

 

As he moved he watched the others coming out of Red Team's starting area and held a hand up in salute.  Now they would gather and await their Sergeant - and his assessment.  Akkad had his own words for some of his brothers.

 

Edited For Clarity.

 

GM ONLY:

Going to search a few places on the ship - I'm looking for an illegal still with strong old homebrew alcohol. I want to try and find one and get back to our barracks before any of the others do. I'm going to trade heavy bolter shells for booze (as I think they will be able to trade them in port/shore leave - up to you 'natch)  and then nip across to the flight decks to barter some autocannon shells - not the rounds, the cases, which I am going to set up as steins in our quarters so we can all imbibe as a team.  Going to do British Army/Navy tradition of "Gunfire" where booze is mixed with gunpowder and drunk. Thoughts?

 

MR.

Edited June 11, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Slips]

Willpower to Break Frenzy: 1d100 95 vs Frenzied WP of 63; thats a no.

Willpower to Break Frenzy #2: 1d100 12 vs WP 63 is a yes; did the 2nd attempt right away since we're out of combat now and he would be locked in his armor for a bit until he calmed down (-20 int while frenzied )

 

As he struck the techmarine, and his mechanical appendage came down to strike him back in kind, both blows struck home simultaneously and similarly in unison, both specialists froze in their tracks as if time had stopped them in that very instant in their duel.

 

Beneath the unmoving armored shell, however, Solastion was not as immobile. Literally seeing red, he struggled ineffectually against his second skin-turned-prison trying to bring his arm back up and down to swing at the techmarine again, and again, and again.

 

Its only once he started hearing his quad mates click back into vox communication that the haze started to fade. Despite that, it was no quick thing for his bloodlust was strong and fighting it down was a feat that got progressively harder as the years wore on. Only once the Techmarines armor disengaged from its training lock that he fully regained control.

 

"Well fought, Brother Sabaan." and he extends a hand out to the marine after he maglocked his chainsword back to his hip.

[Commissar Molotov]

Mazer-

My intention was that you would reassemble in the central room of the three cargo bays, where Vaidan would enter and debrief you. If you wish to do drinking as a new scene I can accommodate you. But first we can do this.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM/CM:

Have edited at your direction. Appreciated :)

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Shifting the weight of the jump pack around on his back Tyber adjusted his tabard and considered it’s meaning now. Plain iron grey, it marked him as an ordinary Brother of the second company of what had been the 9^th Armoured Assault Chapter of the First Legion. He recalled seeing more senior brothers with more ornate iron grey tabards, usually decorated with markings or trophies from victories or inscriptions from squad brothers. Tyber had foregone doing such, planning on doing that after HSC 296. In time he would be able to add a personal coat of arms to it, first he needed his Crux for that… in the meantime, however he could seek out each brother in turn to place their mark on this cloth, a way for them to go unforgotten as time went on and his watch ended.

 

Seeing that Akkad had already left, Tyber turned his attention to the Wolfson, “Brother Thorvald, I have what might be thought of as an odd request.” Pausing a moment to consider his words, he continues, “Would you be willing to add a token, words or mark to my Tabard? There is a tradition with in the Dragons, to have one’s squad leave a token, words or mark to a brother’s tabard, so that if they should find themselves separated by time and  or circumstance, those brothers would be remembered. It is not something that needs an immediate answer, all I ask is that you think on it”

 

Tyber gives a quick bow of his head to Thorvald before heading into the main cargo area to see how the others had faired.

[Nineswords]

THE HAND WAS black, even in the blackness. It reached out, bluntly and abruptly, a shadow in the darkness. It was also real, and with a start, Greysight opened his eyes. The world had returned to something resembling normal, gravity had re-asserted itself and the fog of fire retardants had dissipated into the ship's mechanical ventilation systems. He clasped the proffered hand and with a brutal lunge, Greysight found himself hauled upwards.

 

'Nicely played, brother,' barked Vârvost, whose helmet hovered dangerously close to Greysight's visor. 

 

Greysight grunted. Pain reduction stimulants had already begun to circulate through his trans-human physiology, blunting the damage reaped by Atratus' berserk assault. He bowed stiffly from the pain towards the Eradicator, a mark of mutual respect.

 

'It was not enough, however, Vârvost. In the end, victory goes to those still standing, and the Raptor is still standing. The game is yours,' replied Greysight, his eyes now adjusting to the carnage wreaked upon the cargo hold.

 

It had been damnably close, and Greysight had made a hundred new mental observations. He was surprised.  Vârvost would no doubt be a monster in close combat. It was only his haste to rush that had been his undoing, but the quiet Raptor Atratus was a wonder. 

 

Greysight looked over at Akkad, who simply nodded, and then to Thorvald. 

 

The wolf grinned.

Edited June 20, 2018 by Nineswords

[Commissar Molotov]

++Hunh.++  Vârvost's helm inclines as the Storm Son indicates the Raptor. ++Clever, though, to disregard the rules of the task and to forge your own. Victory often belongs to those with the virtù - those with the will, those bold enough to make it happen.++ 

 

He sheathes the chain-axe at his waist. 

 

++It might not have worked out for you - boldness did not work out for me in this case, either. But to gain a measure of one another is useful in itself. You fought well, and I will have no qualms fighting alongside you.++

Edited June 16, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Dosjetka]

The Watch-Sergeant had moved out of the repurposed cargo hold to a vantage point from where he could oversee the main training area. Anything not in his direct view could be seen via various dataslates he had wired to his helmet for extra processing power.

 

The first to move was Solastion, bounding forward to reduce the distance between his chainsword and target. He was quickly overtaken by his jump-pack-borne team who propelled themselves towards Blue Team’s fortified position. It took Vaidan a few seconds to notice that the Raptor had decided to hang back and make use of his sharpshooter’s rifle. Striking from the Shadows; Atratus had taken his Primarch’s teachings to heart.

 

]+[

 

Red Team did not take long to plan their breaching manoeuvre. Interestingly one of the “reds”, Solastion, decided to pick up one of the large crates scattered across the cargo bay. Even more interestingly the whole team decided to follow the plan of their junior member without question. Khyber Vaidan wasn’t one to deny juniors the chance to speak up and suggest their own battle plans, but he hadn’t expected the Apothecary to run with the idea without comment. He had misjudged the Crimson Knight and hoped he wouldn’t do so again.

 

]+[

 

Red Team seemed quite fond of throwing things around and Blue Team’s fortune was non-existent. After Solastion had thrown a cargo crate into the small room, both Tyber and Crimson Knight had thrown krak grenades in for good measure, and Vârvost had thrown himself into combat, catching the Astartes within almost off-guard. The Space Wolf was forceed to drop his large weapon in favour of a combat knife. The young Astartes followed the Eradicator’s lead and launched himself at the Astral Claw, who still somehow managed to provide his brothers with guidance even as he was getting hammered.

A Sergeant’s habits die hard," he thought. Vaidan flashed a smile before the sense of responsibility weighed down a little more on his shoulders: this was something he would be expected to do very soon.

A cry of surprise from Solastion interrupted the Watch-Sergeant’s thoughts. “Ah, it looks like someone has noticed the servo-skull and its guardians are missing,” he murmured in an amused tone. Blue Team’s plan had surprised and delighted him in equal measure. The Novamarine hoped that their unorthodox plan would work.

 

]+[

 

Akkad and Tyber had clashed, the former embracing the opportunity to spar with the giant youth with his combat knife, the latter using his arming sword and chainsword. Vaidan had been momentarily distracted by Vârvost being knocked down by the Space Wolf and missed the Astral Claw’s krak grenade uppercut until his and Tyber’s lifeline runes went dark indicating they had both been put out of action. Blue Team was full of surprises.

 

]+[

 

After dispatching Thorvald with a simulated blow to the head, both of Sanguinius’ sons hunted for the Iron Hand and Storm Son who had, for all intents and purposes, vanished into thin air. Vaidan smiled and made a mental note to remind the Space Wolf to keep his helmet on during combat, lest a Genestealer separate his head from his shoulders in one swift swipe.

 

]+[

 

Atratus had secured his team’s servo-skull, the little familiar now firmly attached to his belt. Red Team were thoroughly confused and blindly hunted their opponents. “This is good training for Syndalla,” Vaidan thought out loud, mirth visible on his features. As Solastion and his team reorganised themselves in the cargo hold, above the remnants of Blue Team neared the lift on the opposite side of their starting position. Any moment now and they would reveal themselves and see if their bargain paid off.

 

]+[

 

Fire erupted from the entrance of Red Team’s starting position, forcing them into cover. Sabaan and Greysight had finally reappeared and within moments locked themselves in the room, defying their brothers and baiting them to displace them from their new position. The Watch-Sergeant could sense Red Team’s confusion and frustration, and it made him laugh. He would likely have been just as embittered by such unexpected subterfuge. Reacting quickly to the situation, the Raptor made sure he clipped Blue Team’s wings by ordering the lifts to be shut down. In response, the Techmarine blurted in binary and significantly altered Red Team’s combat environment. Yet more effective quick thinking. The Novamarine was impressed.

 

]+[

 

As Vârvost was thrown backwards by the force of the exploding mines, his life rune dark, Vaidan couldn’t supress his admiration for Sabaan’s and Greysight’s ingenuity. It was also in stark contrast with the Astral Claw’s sacrifice in the face of overwhelming odds.

 

]+[

 

As Solastion and Atratus had crashed into Sabaan and Gresight, Khyber had sensed that the exercise was almost over. It had been the final assault. And once the initial chaos of bolt shells, fists, and blades had subsided, once the last echoes of their struggle had given way to a deathly silence, Atratus had managed to connect the two skulls giving Red Team the victory they had so keenly fought for.

 

]+[

 

As half of Vaidan’s mind outlined plans for the next exercise, the other half was still trying to process everything that had just happened in just 2,37 minutes. Vaidan packed up his equipment and made his way down to the cargo hold as the members of his Kill Team gathered once again in its centre, ready to be debriefed.

 

]+[

 

“Red Team has achieved victory in this exercise. However, both teams’ efforts are to be applauded. Solastion and his brethren quickly neutralised Blue Team’s firepower, but Sabaan and Greysight have shown seemingly unlimited reserves of ingenuity in the face of unkind odds and were so very close to ripping victory from the jaws of defeat.” Vaidan pauses, meeting each Astartes' gaze in turn.

“This is the first time I see you work as teams in a combat situation and there is much to analyse and learn from this first encounter. I shall debrief each of you personally shortly. After that we shall initiate a new exercise with different parameters. We shall follow this pattern until I am satisfied with your performances, both as individuals and as a team, but most importantly until I start feeling the strong bonds of a team that can work together efficiently. I have no doubts these shall appear very soon.” He turns and walks towards one of the smaller rooms, intent on starting with the personal debriefs immediately, leaving the members of the Kill Team to discuss the exercise and prepare themselves for the next training session.

[Commissar Molotov]

The Voice of Thunder punches once more into the material plane, flaming tendrils of eldritch warp-stuff clinging to the crackling Gellar Field as the Dauntless-class light cruiser roars towards the world of Syndalla, retro-thrusters burning white-hot. 

 

Across the cruiser's decks, clarion bells ring dolorously, announcing that the transit has completed safely. Officers check sensor arrays and auspex-readouts. Naval crewmen mutter rehearsed prayers of thanks even as their overseers crack their whips and order them back to their assigned tasks. And within his armoured cloisters, the vessel's Navigator smiles beneficently, the strain of warp travel easing, before his face twists into an expression somewhere between a frown of confusion and a silent scream. 

 

The assembled brethren of the Deathwatch, however, pay these events somewhat less heed.

 

By your reckoning, the transit to Syndalla has taken fourteen standard days. In this time, Watch-Sergeant Vaidan has relentlessly drilled you that you might become a cohesive unit worthy of the Watch. You have each begun to learn one anothers' strengths, weaknesses and fighting styles - and in some cases, your personalities. Perhaps the seeds of firm friendships have been sown. 

 

As you finish yet another training exercise, the vox-grille set into the wall issues a burst of static and binary before resolving into a reasonable facsimile of Captain Dimitar's voice. 

 

++ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES...++

[Mazer Rackham]

He had hoped for more quiet time with which to compliment his brethren, but due to drills and routine had only managed to amass a few moments with each of them.  A wrenched knee, not a real problem for such a powerful genhanced being such as a Space Marine, had combined with an odd feedback hitch in the left cuisse actuator - so the Enginseer had told him - had excused him from the latest exercise to minister to the machine spirits.  A low snarl escaped the armour as he shifted his weight on the bench to twist a fibre-bundle retention bolt with a torque vice.  He absently tapped the forehead of the helm to soothe the mechanical beast inside.

 

He needed the break, he reflected, to assemble the knowledge and new allegiances in his head.  So much the same and yet, so much different.  He let out a small breath that in a human could have been a sigh and resumed his other work.

 

He caught himself a moment before he laughed aloud at the strangeness of his situation as he bent over the blocky bulk of Cadence.  He whispered appeasing rites over her as he worked a small armourer's drill.  In a bold Badabian script, he added several words to her flank, where it would be always be in sight.  He uplinked her auto-sense matrices to his direct targeting manifold and felt the serenity of harnessed violence awaiting his order.  He set the weapon down and took Sonnet apart, carefully cleaning and re-applying the unguents of operation, accuracy and reliability.

 

Once complete he tested his knee and satisfied, tracked Vaidan to an armourglass window, now devoid of the merciful plated shielding protecting the unwary from the warp and now gazing out over the Emperor's Realm - the Stars of the Swordpoints, each a dagger of light pricking the eyes.  Below and far to Port a marble sat in space.  Akkad assumed it was the drop-zone: Syndalla and gently stepped beside Vaidan, resting his hand on the Novamarine's Chapter symbol, in a comradely fashion, so as not to arouse the ire of the Skull and Halo heraldry, approaching neutrally as an equal, not a rival.  Those shoulders looked a little heavier, as if the gravity of the ship and the world they were about to fall upon weighed on them.  The sometimes thankless dead weight of command.  Akkad knew that weight and had suspected it, his reason to seek the team leader out.

 

"The team is ready Brother-Sergeant, keen even.  Watch that big one though, and Atratus - they both hit hard." His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes twinkled to suggest humour.  "I think you are ready too.  If I'm honest Khyber I'm glad you're in charge.  Maybe one day I'll tell you why."  A real smile this time as he removed his hand.  He stood there enjoying the quiet and became serious.

 

"From Solastion to Varvost you have a good team."  He winced at the Eradicator's name, but was settled with him now, lapsing into a vague mutual indifference.  He locked eyes with the Sergeant. "Just be careful around Ryken."  He did not add anything, but his posture betrayed he wanted to say something more.

 

++ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES...++

 

He donned his helm and nodded to Vaidan.  They ran.

 

MR.

Edited June 19, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Steel Company]

Those precious few moments between training sessions had been busy for Tyber, he had spent that time approaching his new brothers one by one, seeking a token or word for his tabard. Each brother presented a different challenge, those that he had assumed would respond well to boldness and directness, he showed such, those that would respond favorably to humility he would display such.

 

When not approaching his brothers, he would spend time reading one of the approved texts that the Dragons issued each brother, the first line in the first book issued, the Sensa of vigesima filios, always stuck with him “A mind needs books, like a blade needs a whetstone.” Part of him missed the feel of the actual text, yet he had left that aboard the Praeco Veritatis Imperialis, he only had the copies that were storied in the memory of his Mk. VIII plate. That being said, Sargent Vaidan had proven to be an exacting task-master, leaving little free time. A fine example of a scion of the 13^th legion, he would remind himself.

 

Taken from his thoughts as ++ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES...++ came over the vox, Tyber shut down the display of the text on his helm before moving with haste to the requested area.

Edited June 20, 2018 by Steel Company

[Slips]

As tough as Space Marines were, accidents always happened. Though few and far between and of negligible impact for those that got injured, it was still his duty as and Apothecary to make sure the Kill-Team under his care was always at peak performance.

 

Therefore, as they trained incessantly under Watch Sergeant Vaidans gaze, the odd injury was sure to arise. Solastion always made it a point - even if it irritated his Battle-Brothers - to examine the injury no matter how minor; for even a minor injury to a Space Marine was potentially life-altering for a mortal. This also gave him the opportunity to converse one-on-one with his fellow marines and get to know them more. To say that he didn't take the opportunity presented to him to examine geneseed that wasn't of his own line would be a lie, however.

 

It was as he was reviewing the Eradicators Geneseed and comparing it to his own to mark out any deviance or changes that might have occurred within the same lineage that the ships vox system crackled to life and blared its message ++ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES OF THE DEATHWATCH, ASSEMBLE AND REPORT TO THE STRATEGIUM IMMEDIATELY. ASTARTES...++ shutting off his dataslate and maglocking it to his thigh, he spun on his heel and, with a brisk pace, made his way to the bridge, helmet in the crook of his arm.

[A.T.]

A token... Atratus pulled a piece free from the servo skull he carried and offered it to Tyber. A memento of the engagement, as was the way of his chapter it was the outcome that was remembered rather than the astartes.

 

Over the following days he threw himself into both study and battle, the decisiveness of Varvost that had been vital, and futile in equal measure, and the study and response to the cunning of his brothers and that which they would likely soon face.

 

 

Exit from the warp called Atratus to action long before the comm message, attack on the ship itself not beyond question. But no sirens or call to battle, yet, as the vox message came. Gathering everything he had been assigned for the mission Atratus moved to join his brothers in anticipation.

[Commissar Molotov]

Within the Kill-Team's makeshift staging area, Thorvald looks up from his seated position. Within his hands he clutches a series of tokens, perhaps shards of bone of the teeth of some monstrous creature, threaded together on a leather cord. Each is carved with runes sharp, angled runes that catch the light. The Space Wolf thumbs them reverently in the way that a Chaplain might his rosarius, or a priest of the Ecclesiarchy might revere relics of saints. 

 

As the Captain's order to assemble reverberates across the deck, Thorvald stands, placing the necklace over his head, to rest against his breastplate. He hefts the weight of his Frag Cannon as he turns to join the rest of the squad. 

[Nineswords]

THE CONVERSATION BEGAN anew. It always was by Greysight’s count, the fourteenth such conversation in as many days. 

 

Since the first training exercise in the cargo holds, acting watch-sergeant Vaidan had put the unlikely brotherhood through a programme designed to test and refine the squad in combat. It was exacting and methodical in equal measure, and Greysight noted with satisfaction that his approach was typical of Shah-Guilliman’s geneline. 

 

After the conclusion of the day’s activities, a modicum of time available to every brother to do as they saw fit. Greysight had fallen into the familiar pattern of exploring, stalking the Voice of Thunder’s corridors and crew holds. As was expected, the members of Blackthorn cleaved to their own predictable behaviours: the Crimson Knight Solastion spent his time in the apothecarium, whilst Akkad obsessively tended to his heavy bolter Cadence. The Giant pored over data slates and leather-bound tomes. Greysight left him to his study unnoticed, pleased that Tyber equally devoted his time to sharpening his eager mind as well as his martial prowess. 

 

The Raptor’s lesson in the cargo hold still stung, both figuratively and literally, and so it was Greysight found himself in the training cages alone, sparring with combat servitors provided by the Watch-Station.

 

It was dull, repetitive work. By all accounts, they were deadly to unmodified humans, but for all of their speed and armaments, they were also predictable things; an inevitable result of unimaginative combat protocols and partial lobotomy. 

 

Unlike the tyranids. Their hyper-adaptive evolution cycles made them dangerous opponents even to astartes; their seemingly infinitesimal numbers were precisely why they must be exterminated from the Emperor's domains.

 

Greysight had just dispatched yet another combat servitor when Vârvost had appeared without invitation, lurking at the edge of the training cages and watching the Storm Son with disinterest. Greysight did not bother turning, as he knew what to expect. Instead, he stalked over to the weapon cages, drawing a short staff of adamantium reinforced steel. Only then did Greysight turn and acknowledge the Eradicator with a bow. Vârvost nodded back and swung a broad-bladed sword designed to cleave opponents in two. 

 

Every conversation was different. During the first few days, its flavour was differentiated only through the tempo and chatter as the two brothers drove each other back and forth. By the fourth day, the nature of the conversation had escalated when Vârvost had changed tact, bringing new words as the topics began to diverge at an exponential rate. Each conversation was a test. One some days, the relentless argument of Vârvost's direct approach overwhelmed Greysight's more subtle conversation. On other days, Greysight's quiet tone carried the day, dancing around the subject until a good opportunity presented itself. 

 

These conversations in Greysight's opinion were far more meaningful than those he shared with the others, and he was glad for it. Without preamble, Vârvost spat out his first verse; a toneless opening gambit designed to end any argument as quickly as it had begun. Greysight spat back, the staff's darting tongue deflecting the shouting of the blade into nothingness. That was the secret of the staff; in the hands of a skilled orator, it was designed to deflect and ultimately chastise the opponent. To emphasise this very point, Greysight sang a verse of his own, putting Vârvost on the back foot with practised ease.

 

And so it would go for hours on end, Greysight thought with joy in his heart. Or so it would, had the voice of Captain Dimitar not rudely interrupted the song of honest combat.

Edited July 11, 2018 by Nineswords

[Commissar Molotov]

The strategium of the Voice of Thunder is a hive of activity, the crew under Captain Dimitar working with curt and disciplined efficiency. One entire wall is dominated by a viewscreen, showing the blackness of space. You cannot at this moment make out the world of Syndalla, but this is no surprise; you know that the Navy vessel will have exited warp space at the edges of the system, before travelling inwards using more conventional engines.

 

The Captain stands in the centre of the strategium, like a spider in the centre of its web. He stands beside a hololithic display table similar to that at the Watch-Station, its surface strewn with data-slates bearing reports from the various departments and sections of the cruiser.

 

As you approach, you see beside the Captain the Interrogator, Ryken. During the transit to Syndalla, you have seen little of him. He looks much as you remember, though perhaps his face seems thinner, and more gaunt. Clearly he is worried about his mistress. 

 

"My lords." The Captain nods respectfully as you enter. "We anticipate arrival at Syndalla within three hours."

 

The table resolves into an image of the planetary system, the various celestial bodies in their respective orbits, and a marker showcasing the location of the Voice of Thunder as it fires retros and burns towards your target. 

 

Dimitar looks towards you. "Do you have any questions regarding this phase of your mission?"

 

Edited June 24, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

"Do you have any questions regarding this phase of your mission?"

 

Akkad stood, his huge shadow splayed across the metal decking of the strategium, the sickly green light from the holosphere, his blocky bulk flickering across the floor, the odd jagged silhouette betraying the monstrous cannon maglocked to his power plant and a sweeping arc from the ammunition feed.  For a moment, an observer could have suggested the wavering of a soul, tormented, pinned to feet of the massive warrior.

 

Now in the security of the Strategium, Akkad removed his helm, so he could meet Captain Dimitar face-to-face as a courtesy and sign of respect.  He allowed a moment of silence before he spoke directly to the shipmaster.

 

"The Voice has made fine speed my Captain.  Has there been any orbital resistance or detection of our approach?"  Again, his whole poise was professional - neutral, his voice the same, giving an opening for questions from the others.  His green eyes played across them all wondering who would speak next, all their voices equal.

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

Dimitar gestures to the hololithic display.

 

"At present, there is no sign that we have been detected. Syndalla has precious little in the way of orbital defenses - indeed, less than I would expect from an Imperial world of its size and development. Records have shown that there are intra-system monitor vessels for patrol and interdiction - though as yet they have not resolved on our auspices."

[Steel Company]

"Captain, records can be out dated, what have your auspices detected, or are we still to far out?" Asked Tyber in a direct, yet respectful tone.