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

[Steel Company]

Hearing what Solastion had to say, Tyber wasn’t about to let go of boarding those ships so easily.

 

“And dropping in blind to what is going on, on the ground poses an unnecessary risk as well. Those vessels provide us with an opportunity to gather local information, not just the logs of what happened. This could give us pass codes to bypass orbital defense instillations, as well as up to date local maps of the world that could facilitate a safe landing and exfiltration. As our Sargent said, we lack the luxuries of our chapter armouries.”  He hoped his words would find their mark with all of his brothers on this mission.

 

Taking a breath, he continued with, “I for one have done a blind drop, and seen my company pay a heavy toll for not being peppered for what we faced, these ships, I feel are worth the risk. Besides, we would not have to be crawling through the ship, just entry through a hatch near the bridge should be enough… I’m sure the our current vessel would be able to make a large enough hole in them should we need it.”

[Slips]

”And whilst this is pretty different, I’ve spent my fair share of time on a genestealer infested space hulk. For all we know, this could very well be an elaborate trap. Get us within range or even board the vessels then detonate them with the use of blindly loyal and fanatical hybrid slaves.” Solastion glowers.

 

”If we’re dead set on this course, then, Captain Dimitar, would you be able to provide us with Las Cutters? I agree that our best point of egress would be the vessels bridge which we could bore through from the exterior.”

[Mazer Rackham]

How many times had Akkad heard these arguments?  How many times had he made them?  All were right, all convincing.  It was now down to who was the most persuasive.  There were several opportunities here, not just to the good.  He did not envy the Sergeant his decision - especially as he was about to add to that pot of consternation.

 

An opportunity for information on the situation....

A chance to be ambushed and lose our strength...

A satisfaction of curiosity...

The viability of salvageable craft or arms...

The bastards could have mined it...

 

Akkad waited for a small pause.  He locked eyes with Vaidan and stood up straight.  With a small, inoffensive gesture he broke into the conversation.

"My Sergeant," he began, weighing the general mood as he spoke, "we have three hours before we reach Syndalla.  I have more experience of starship warfare than any here save yourself.  I volunteer to board the ships."

 

He looked at each warrior in turn before continuing. "That would allow you to prepare for our Drop and to at least clear these hulks and confirm beyond doubt they are no risk." He nodded towards the massive plated form of the Techmarine. "If Brother Sabaan is willing, I would gladly have his strength and presence of mind - it will be needed sorely across there.  You risk only us and since we are satisfied that the hulks have no propulsion, a boarding torpedo will suffice and you can pick us up on the way past."

 

"Should we be able to secure further transport we shall come to you."  His armour growled to provide a dramatic undertone to his words, but it was not in frustration, but in approbation.  He did not move to soothe it.  The war spirits agreed.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

"If brothers Akkad and Sabaan are willing, I would like to accompany them. As I have been most vocal about the need to inspect those ships, it is only right I go as well." Tyber says, echoing the Astral Claw.

[Commissar Molotov]

Dimitar acknowledges the Raptor's question, turning and pressing activator-runes on the hololithic display. It flickers for a second before taking a new form - the two monitor-vessels, locked together in an embrace as two spent swimmers. They each tumble in the void, their innards slowly leaking to form a teardrop-shaped cloud of debris.

 

"This one," Dimitar indicates one of the two, "has had its bridge destroyed utterly." The truncated spire seems reminiscent of a volcano after a thunderous eruption. There is no trace of anything that might have been useful for you. "This one, however, is mostly intact." He points at the second.

Edited June 27, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Nineswords]

THE VOICE OF Thunder exited the turmoil of the warp into the relative safety of the material plane with little incident. Looming out from the Mandeville point, the Dauntless class cruiser fired its main drive thrusters and plunged its way through the darkness towards Syndalla.

 

Since Dimitar's untimely interruption, Greysight had remained silent, stopping only to collect his bolter and combat knife before heading the cruiser's strategium. It was, as Greysight expected, busy, as deck ratings and officers milled around, their drilled discipline belying a sense of unease. The brothers of Blackthorn assembled around a hololithic projection of the Voice of Thunder's relative position within the Syndalla system. Akkad, Tyber, Atratus and Solastion were discussing tactical dispositions with acting-sergeant Vaidan, Captain Dimitar and the Inquisitorial representative Ryken. Thorvald and Sabaan had kept silent and none acknowledged Greysight or Vârvost's arrival.

 

Something was awry. 

 

Greysight's attention shifted away from the gathered astartes and instead focused on the Voice of Thunder's officers. Captain Dimitar was too engrossed in discussion with the kill-team and Ryken to notice the sense of unease deepening across the bridge, as communications officers exchange nervous glances with the first and second class lieutenants. Greysight was about to interject, but was cut short by Captain Dimitar's sudden command to raise void shields.

Edited July 11, 2018 by Nineswords

[Dosjetka]

The Watch-Sergeant stood silent, brow furrowed, one arm across his chest while the other held its fist clenched against his lips. Mission success was crucial and his resources few. As the Kill-Team and Captain silently awaited an answer from him, Vaidan could hear only the background noise of the bridge crew operating their vessel: the hum of the ship's engines roaring into the dark and silent void, the creaks and groans of the vessel's iron and steel structure, the mechanical purr of the ancient but well-maintained machinery surrounding them, the occasional whisper between crew members no doubt still in awe of the Emperor's Angels of Death standing mere metres away from them, the rapid click clack click clack of a scribe typing up a report. All these mundane details and sounds that Vaidan found both familiar and comforting. He almost dreaded setting foot down on the ball of rock that filled up the screen like a bruised and overripe exotic fruit.

 

After a few minutes, Khyber turned to Captain Dimitar once more.

 

"My Captain, what are the ocular capabilites of this ship? What kind of magnification can you achieve? And do you have the means to allow us vision of Syndalla's surface unhindered by atmospheric disturbance such as clouds and smoke?"

[Commissar Molotov]

"Auspex sweeps have their limitations." The Captain replies. "Those ships are kilometres away, and the closer we try to look, the less detail we will see. If you're wanting to see into those defense ships, then you will have to do it manually. Once we're in orbit of Syndalla, however, we should be untroubled by those sort of visual disturbances. Corrective auto-senses and data-savants should be able to give you the lay of the land before you arrive."

 

Dimitar smooths his impeccable uniform before continuing.

 

"I would, however, expect this system to have further ships on patrol. We will likely have to progress further in-system to see where they are."

Edited June 27, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Dosjetka]

He uttered a "Thank you, Captain" before making a curt bow and turning to the squad assembled before him. His squad, he reminded himself, with all the privileges and responsibilites his rank bore with it.

 

"My brothers, we cannot risk ourselves so early in our mission. Our priority is establishing contact with the Inquisitrix. These vessels pose no direct threat to us as long as we keep our distance. Had I an extra squad equipped for a boarding action at my disposal I would not hesitate to send them out to that wreck but we lack the resources to carry out a scouting run into that carcass without exposing ourselves to unnecessary risks."

 

He pointed briefly at the ship with the intact bridge before continuing.

 

"Instead we shall continue on our course for Syndalla, keeping this vessel's sensors sweeping for any other voidcraft, dead or alive. Once we reach orbit, we shall proceed with an orbital reconnaisance before deciding how best to deploy onto the planet's surface."

 

Crossed arms, steely gaze, and stern expression all indicated he would tolerate no disagreement.

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad held the gaze, with eyes which had stared into hell and remained sane.  A dance of amusement twinkled at the back of them, but it was not mockery that greeted his lips.  Unlike the fight in the cargo bay, which he had disapproved of, letting this matter rest was no great hardship.

 

"By your will My Sergeant." He nodded acceptance of the decree.

 

Vaidan had not spoken harshly, but fairly and his words held no rancour.  He noticed the Storm Son, just standing there soaking it all in, watching how strengths of will were being tested as much as arms.  He allowed a small smile to take root at the corner of his mouth as watched the tension crackle a little around the room.

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: Could all of you take a perception test please and let me know how many degrees you pass or fail by! Edited June 27, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad stiffened a little, his posture less casual, the smile vanished.  Something was rapping on the door of his attention.

 

Perception Test: 50+20 (Heightened Senses) = Target 70
D100 Roll: 32 (Pass + 2 DoS)

 

MR.

Edited June 27, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Dosjetka]

Hidden Content

Perception test target: 42+20 (Heightened Senses) = 62

Roll: 65= FAIL (0 DoF)

 

Khyber was focussed on his squad, trusting the Captain, his crew, and his ship to alert him of any new sightings and danger.

[Steel Company]

With cool, practiced words Tyber bows his head to the Sargent's command "By your command, Sargent."

 

OOC:

 

Perception Test:

 

Per: 40 +20 ( Heightened Seneses) = 60

Perception Test Target #: 60: 1d100 38

Pass with 2 DoS

[Xin Ceithan]

The mission had priority. The decision of the Watch Sergeant was logical and straight forward. Good. Less verbal exchange, More clear lines of engagements. Promising.

 

"Acknowledged."

 

Sabaan redirected potential Calculus regarding a possible boarding action to deeper memory circuits. Yet his hands remained on his weapons. Apart from the click-hiss of the respirator he could have been numbered among the devotional statues lining the gothic architecture of the ship's bridge.

 

PER 40 + 20 Heightened Senses = 60 ( due the exceptional optic bionics figure in here? Or Augur Array? )

Roll: 41 http://orokos.com/roll/637098# ...pass ..so just 1 DOS

[A.T.]

Too busy with his inspection of the derelict ships weaponry, Atratus fails to notice anything else.

 

D100 roll of 95

Target number 75 with all bonuses

[Slips]

Awareness/Perception: 1d100 87 Target of 60; so fail.

 

Solation just crosses his arms across his chest and nods in approval once their Sergeant comes to a decision - one that he readily supports.

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: 

 

Awareness test for Greysight: 37+20 (57) = 94 (FAIL)

Awareness test for Varvost: 47+20 (67) = 98 (FAIL) 

Awareness test for Thorvald: 43+20 (63) = 81 (FAIL) 

 

 

The Voice of Thunder's engines burn hot as the Dauntless-class cruiser pushes past the wreckage of the system monitors, leaving them to the coldness of the void. Death is no stranger to any of you, and yet you are keenly aware of the thousands of individuals who have lost their lives here. It is akin to travelling through a graveyard. 

 

It is almost an hour before the next contact on the augur arrays. 

 

Once more, you see a vessel of Imperial design hanging in the void. Once more, you see the emblazoned sigils of an Imperial House - this time, the green and white of House Jakken. This time you see the central spine of the vessel broken, gravely compromised. You see the rents and tears in the vessel's underbelly that have vented its contents into the void. 

 

As the vessel drifts, it is Sabaan who points it out first. The sunlight casts long, slanting shadows across the plating of the hull, straight and regular. All the more noticeable, then, are the pitted scars along the vessel's flank, more like a burn from something corrosive, bubbling and hissing. Something acidic. 

 

Both Akkad and Tyber see them at the same time. It seems at first as though they are drifting leisurely, borne aloft by solar winds. Without any frame of reference, it is hard at first to realise how fast they move. chitinous armour plates gleam in the starlight, green-grey flesh rippling with a propulsive - peristaltic, even - motion that brings to mind squirming, undulating intestinal parasites writing within the bowels of a corpse. But it is clear that they have sighted the Voice of Thunder, and they are heading right for you. 

 

Some form of Tyranid bio-ship. Two of them, to be precise. 

 

Dimitar, to his credit, acts near-instinctively as alarms begin to howl across the strategium. 

 

"Helm, come about! Gunnery crews, acquire target locks and begin to fire!" 

 

You feel the deck begin to vibrate under your feet as the crew of the Naval vessel throw themselves into carrying out their Captain's orders. 

[Steel Company]

Taking a breath to center himself, Tyber takes a moment to have his plate run through a complete system check, making sure that everything is operating at optimal efficiency. This would be his first test against these beasts, the first of 9th Armoured Assault Chapter to do so since the brake up of the legions as far as he is aware. This would be the start of his path to his command of a company, his legend starts in his moment.

 

With a smile at the edges of his mouth, over the vox network he says ++Incipere fabulis nos fratres.++

[Mazer Rackham]

The holospheric silhouettes painted a frightening picture.  Two inhuman, utterly blasphemous beasts were squirming towards them, not burning plasma but flexing in the void as if swimming.  His disgust was obvious.  He had only rarely encountered Tyranid ships, but having learned of them from the Ordo, he now could put a reality to that nameless, faceless horror.  Sleek and glistening bony plating instead of armour - mucus wet long boring probes pulsed and throbbed in the absolutely merciless cold and depth of space.

 

++Incipere fabulis nos fratres.++ came from Tyber.  Akkad nodded, once.

 

His lip curled as the ship moved about him - it was as obvious as a Magog Thunderstorm, if they close with us, we are in trouble.  The Captain needed firepower, lots of it and quickly.

"My Captain, my Sergeant, by your leave I will assist the gun crews with reloading."  He rolled his helm onto his neck seal, speaking the third canticle of fastness.  His green lenses burned in query.  It suddenly dawned on them that if a faceplate could raise eyebrows, this was what it would look like.  He knew Imperial Gunnery, even a drilled ship such as this would appreciate some raw muscle loading the macro-batteries.

 

MR.

[Nineswords]

WITHIN THE STORM Son's fortress-monastery on Nakaris lies a great repository of artefacts and treatises concerning threats to the Emperor's dominion, accumulated by the chapter in its two thousand year history. From the Aeldar raiders from the in-between to the misguided technocracies of the Tau Empire on the Eastern Fringes, the breadth of the Storm Son's experience against such threats was said to rival the great librariums of Terra. Only two threats, however, elicited genuine hatred from the sons of the storm: the insidious horrors of the Enemy of All, and the limitless tide of the Great Devourer.

 

Two monstrous, bloated vessels loomed towards the Voice of Thunder, their pitted bone hulls making all haste towards the Dauntless-class cruiser. 

 

Greysight spat in disgust onto the decking, the sizzling of the acid-laced saliva drowned out by the frantic activity that now pervaded the ship.

Edited July 8, 2018 by Nineswords

[Slips]

Solastion scowls, his lip curling back to reveal his fangs, as his attention is brought to the approaching Tyranid bio-ships coming to attack them."Tyranids," he spits "Seems we have a lot more to worry about than a simple Genestealer cult if things have progressed this far, Sergeant." he continues, his sentence punctuated by him slamming his helmet onto his head.

 

++Incipere fabulis nos fratres.++ came over the vox. Ah to be so optimistic to face-off against Tyranids... Solastion thought to himself as flashes of his battle-brothers - even those in Terminator Armour - being laid low by the alien menace surfaced; the immense regret of not being able to recover the geneseed of those struck by their bio-acid weapons souring his mood.

 

He snapped himself out of it when Akkad spoke up, having to actually think about unclenching his jaw; the muscle so tightly wound it was starting to cause him pain. "Whatever we end up doing, we do so, at the very least, in pairs lest we get surrounded if they manage to board us."

Edited June 28, 2018 by Slips

[Dosjetka]

"Whatever we end up doing, we do so, at the very least, in pairs lest we get surrounded if they manage to board us."

 

The Novamarine nodded before putting on his own helm. His mind raced as it came up with a plan of action.

 

"Akkad, Tyber, Solastion. You are to assist the crew of the port broadsides and are the first line of defence if we are boarded there."

 

"Atratus, Thorvald, Vârvost. You are to do the same with the starboard broadsides."

 

"Sabaan, Greysight. The plasma drive vault is where you shall stand and assist the Tech-priests however you can. No matter what, keep those engines running. If they die, we die."

 

"Brothers, go forth and bring the Emperor's light to these foul creatures who dwell in the darkness between the stars! Stay sharp, stay together, and stay in contact!"

 

His hands drop to seize the flamer mag-locked to his thigh. Vaidan checks the connected fuel tank, nozzles, dials, and igniter. He whispers a prayer to the machine-spirit within before turning his attention to the bridge crew. The Novamarine selects a ship-wide vox channel.

 

"Voidfarers of this glorious vessel. We are assailed by a foe that has no right to be in the Emperor's domain. They no doubt believe they can vanquish us but they are gravely mistaken. It is us, the men and women of the Voice of Thunder, who shall ensure their complete annihilation. We shall purge these beasts with the thundering voices of our guns! We shall bring our righteous fury to the fore and slay these foul beasts until they are but bleeding carcasses in the void! WE SHALL NOT SUFFER THE ALIEN TO LIVE! FIGHT NOW, MEN AND WOMEN OF THIS MIGHTY WARSHIP, FOR THE EMPEROR AND THE DOMINION OF MANKIND!"

 

Hidden Content

Hopefully that'll inspire a few of those poor fools and perhaps even a member or two of my squad!

[Xin Ceithan]

++++ Simulus Data Recovery .... delayed+++

+++ Calculating+++

++ Recovery... Failed+++

+ reestablishing Data uplink +

 

>> Redirecting..

>>>Redirecting...

>>>>>Partial Simulus Recovery....successful.

>>> Re-establishing Simulus inload....

....

...that the objective had to come first. Weighing the unknown variables against the potential gain, not risking the kill team outside their main mission parameters represented good strategic oversight. The tactical situation remained unchanged.

The Iron Hand kept his weapons ready and kept his vigilance. Target markers and trajectories remained in his field of vision, the bridge's occupants bracketed in varying shades of yellow and orange. Potential hostile. To his knowledge, the ancients dialects of the tribes of Medusa did not include an expression describing a "friend".

His warplate growled in the background, sensing the tension.

 

Sabaan had spent the last hour revisiting the limited data they had been giving on the planetary defense forces and associated nobility. He cross referenced it with his attempts to discern firing patterns and damage assessments in an attempt to formulate an educated guess about the sequence of firing, maneuvering. It kept his mind occupied and kept him from walking other and beating the Interrogator up until he released more crucial mission or stopped being a nuisance. A pict-feed in his Auto Senses replayed the view of the derelicts they had left behind in their wake. The vessels drifted silently, orbits locked in a last embrace of mutual destruction. Absentminded, his targeting reticule drifted over Solastion. The servo-arm twitched.

 

Contact! He blink-clicked the old sensor feed away and focused on the new feed. Another ship. Another derelict. Given the sheer scale of interplanetary travel, this did not bode well. It suggested extensive fighting throughout the system and on an expanding scale, exponentially raising the probability of large scale uprisings as well as infiltration and influence on in-system assets of a much greater magnitude. It also dimished the odds of survival for the Inquisition cadre they were to relieve considerably.

 

His studied the new contact closely, seeking to expand his data and update the Calculus upon the information he had extrapolated from the last contacts. He felt his biological hearts quicken as he began his assessment. It looked like...

No. He was a Techmarine of the Iron Hands. He would not put his trust in gut feelings and half cooked assumptions. Damage Control protocols. But even in cursory inspection, the damage was clearly non-Imperial in origin. His optical array inloaded visual data. Lines of lingua tech-script spilled over zoomed in pict-frames, giving measurements such as length, width and depth of hull penetrations, estimated age and references to material densities and projected force of impact. Huge gashes had been ripped into the hull. Acid etched craters plotted across the hull. The ship had faced an enemy and lost. He cross-referenced it out of routine, following the blessed ways and established protocols of the Omnissiah. The data served to enhance his initial assessment.nHuge gashes had been ripped into the hull. Acid burned craters plotted across the hull. The ship had faced an enemy and lost. Nothing man made had caused it's demise. The perpetrator was unmistakeable alien. Xenos.

 

He would not have had to access his memory banks to confirm it. Nor would it have required a stream of noospheric deja vu. His own transhuman memory would have identified the works of that abhorrent xenos megafauna. He recalled fighting them on the vessels of his Clan assigned to slow the infection vector labeled "Leviathan". He recognized the repugnant trademark of their blasphemous organic armaments. He recalled removing splinters of bone the size of smaller gunships from the blessed hulls of their strike cruisers. He felt a phantom itch where acid had scarred his plate and the flesh beneath.

He sub vocalized a binaric curse as he gestured to the scarred hull, drawing the intention of his erst-while brothers to his findings.

His mind was already racing, revisiting his estimates, adapting variables, adjusting.

Such bio organic ordonance was way out the protected possibilities of a mere local infestation. It would require a void capable mount

...macro-scale equivalent power distribution...

....a displacement in excess of ...

 

As if to deliver irrefutable proof to his projections, the shapes of the two bio-ships rose towards the Voice of Thunder.

Sabaan reviewed his earlier predictions. New Calculus was required. Defending even a small ship the size of the Voice of Thunder would require careful planing. His brothers debated. A decision was made.

Watchsergeant Vaidan ordered their deployment.

 

"Compliance."

The Techmarine turned and began making his way towards his assigned position.

Edited August 7, 2018 by Xin Ceithan

[Nineswords]

ACTING SERGEANT VAIDAN'S impassioned words had the desired effect, as armsmen in the distinct black uniform of the Imperial Navy swarmed through the Voice of Thunder's corridors with renewed purpose. Greysight followed Sabaan who led them both towards the ship's plasma drive. None stood in their way, as deck ratings moved quickly out of the path of the striding astartes. 

 

The din was exhausting, frantic shouting and activity underscored by the ever-present wailing of ship-wide alarms. 

Edited July 8, 2018 by Nineswords