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

[Mazer Rackham]

Sabaan and Akkad: (Previous round narrative)

 

The pair charged towards the defences, their shadows coalescing out of the darkness, flames and bullets their herald and fanfare.  The PDF troops had given good, disciplined fire and it had taken it's toll on the thronging heretics.  Not even out of breath, the pair leapt over the barricades to the startled eyes and shocked breaths of the nearest soldiers - the biggest of them a mockery of mas-matched warplate, that growled and seethed with contempt and the power of tempered war-sprirts, the other, shorter, but no less broad, toting a Heavy Bolter.  To them it was a team-served weapon, in his hands alone it was borne as a heavy rifle.

 

"By the Saints and Emperor..."

"Our prayers..."

"We are delivered!"

 

Sabaan looked over them, ignoring their pleas to the Emperor and his respirator let out a sound not unlike a sigh - did not their weapons also deserve praise?  They did not fail them - although that was no shock - the Mars pattern (he noticed with some small pang of piety) was a robust weapon and as his targeting icons passed over the NON-HOSTILE troops, he could scan no tech-heresy.  The weapons were well cared for and not modified.  He looked askance across the Astral Claw on the thought.  Another sigh escaped him as the fool removed his helm.

 

Akkad pounded over the barriers and saw the shock on the human faces.  Now was the time.  They had to capitalise on the reaction here - turn hope into a weapon, a guttering flame into a promethium inferno.  Knowing the best way, he searched for the Sergeant he had spoken to.

"Greer My Lord." The Sergeant did not bow, he was busy directing his men.  Akkad forgave this, no small satisfaction from finding a reasonably professional and competent non-commissioned officer.  He spoke the Litany of Release and doffed his helm, exposing his face to them and the rain.

 

It was a risk, no doubt - the enemy were still in arm's reach, but humans had a need to see a face, to reach a common ground.  On another day, he would not have bothered.  Today would be different.  Maybe tomorrow as well.

"You and your men have my thanks.  Now, direct your guns towards the rear quarter of the Templum - my Brothers are coming."

"There's more of you, Lord?" Greer nearly choked.

"Yes, a whole Squad." Akkad smiled at him, although the smile did not reach the colder eyes, it was welcome enough in the midst of this bullet haunted and aberrant-stalked hell.  The Sergeant looked at him for some time.  It could be said of Akkad, and was in certain quarters, that he lacked the gigantic features of the Astartes, he was larger, certainly than a mortal man, but his features were well proportioned and he looked...humanlike.  He stifled a snort at the barb.  He owed these humans a debt, which he would repay in kind.  He hefted Cadence.

 

Round 5 Actions:

Sabaan and Akkad are still within Support Range (30m) and are maintaining Squad Mode.

 

Sabaan:

He uses Full Action: SAB at the Horde in J5.
BS 51+60 (Max bonus from Magnitude) = 111
D100 Roll: 52 Success + 5 DoS = 3 Shots + 1 Explosive
Damage: 1D10(Tearing)+9 Pen 4
1st Hit: 15
2nd Hit: 18
3rd Hit: 14
Explosive 1 D10: 4
Total hits: 4, Total Damage 51

 

Akkad:

Starts this round as stationary, he opens fire - Full Action: FAB at the Horde in J5.
BS 52 +60 (Max Bonus due to Magnitude) = 112
D100 Roll: 002 Success + 11 DoS = RoF 6+1 Explosive
Damage: 1D10 (Tearing) +12 + 2 (Mighty Shot) Pen 5.
1st Hit: 23
2nd Hit: 21
3rd Hit: 22
4th Hit: 23
5th Hit: 16
6th Hit: 22
Explosive: 4
Total Hits 7, Damage 131

Unrelenting Devastation: 1D5 = 3 Mag Damage.

 

 

MR.

Edited August 29, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Slips]

Willpower 63: 1d100 20; 4 DoS, so Solastion would be able to fight back the haze (Break out of Frenzy) and do a thing before just frenzying again as a free action because he is a Sanguinary Priest.

 

As the two Space Marines, in literal seconds, mow through dozens of xeno hybrids after having just crash landed amongst them, Solastion turns back once again to the mortals who have seemingly not yet registered just what has transpired before them and speaks aloud "Do not relent, children of the Emperor! The Enemy is yet before you! Slay them in his name!"

 

Solastion will attempt a Command roll to try and inspire the pdf/guardsmen to KILL the XENOS SCUM before them! Luckily, all Space marines have Command  either as basic or trained  (possibly both?).

Command Test: 1d100 57 vs Fel 47; unless he gets some positive modifiers, thats a fail.

 

Its at that moment that Solastion finally registered the message on the squads comms ++Regroup at the Templum!++ in the brief moment he had while the cultists shambled before him in shock at the sudden display of near-inhuman fury from the sable-and-silver armored form before him, Solastion sent a quick reply +Unable, surrounded, line will fail if we depart.+ His voice descending into a guttural tone as he finished replying, the change aggravated slightly by the vox-tone.

 

Solastion will then re-enter a frenzy as a Free Action (boy isnt this handy!) and HACK AND SLASH into the Horde of alive-in-spite-of-Solastion cultists with his Chainsword.

WS 109: 1d100 52 for 5 DoS and 3 Total hits (1 + 2 Bonus)

Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 27 20; 27 Damage Pen 3 + Righteous fury!

Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 18 26; 26 Damage Pen 3

Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 21 19; 21 Damage Pen 3

Righteous Fury: 1d10 1 extra damage.

 

And the last thing the rest of the squad hears before Solastions line cuts is the roar of a chainsword biting into flesh, metal and bone followed by a clipped-by-the-vox inhuman cry of pain.

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: I'm willing for Solastion's exhortations to the Guardsmen to be an Easy (+30) test, so you will pass - the Guardsmen will support! 

[A.T.]

Atratus strode down towards the guardsmen, mindful that the interrogator was his primary objective here. Most showed signs of injury and prolonged fighting, the lack of real weaponry brought against them suggested the planet was not yet truly under xenos control.

 

With each of his brothers indicated on his helm, to the north Solastion and Varvost were closest to the fighting and he moved to secure them entrance. Addressing no-one in particular and mindful of his lack of knowledge of the ecclesiarchy's structure, "we press from the north and south. Redouble your efforts, visit death and damnation on those who would stand against the Emperor"

 

Where are the entrances to this temple and how are they barricaded?

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: A.T., this should roughly be the situation within the Templum. If you'd like additional information on the exact placement of things within the Templum, I haven't done that yet (but I am happy for you to make up anything non-important.) I imagine the doors themselves are not barred; the Guard are perhaps relying on the barricades outside the building itself to do the bulk of the work. There are guards on duty within the building, though, along with any walking wounded and the like. 

 

[Dosjetka]

Hidden Content

Vaidan will commend the Guardsmen he meets for the courage and tenacity. If any questions are asked he will take the time to answer them but any attempt at prolonged discussion/questioning will be met with a stern "there's a time and place for such talk, and now neither". He will then ask who and where the commanding officer for this area is and based on that will seek to find them.

[Nineswords]

ADDITIONAL ABLATIVE ARMOUR concealed the aberrant driver, and all Greysight could see was a pair of inhuman, yellow pupils through his scope. This driver was a significantly harder target. Greysight thought about switching rounds, surmising that if he could not get a clean shot, then the Hellfire round's mutagenic acid would at the very least blind the creature, as it splashed its payload and ate through the protective screen. 

 

He wouldn't need to. 

 

Without warning, the yellow eyes and the head they belonged to dissolved in a puff of liquidised gore. The driver briefly thrashed in its seat, steering the tracktion engine straight into the horde around it, the makeshift tank violently rocking up and down as it indiscriminately ploughed through the hapless mob, before grinding to a halt. 

 

Greysight turned to look behind him. A hundred yards away, perched on the ridge, was the silhouetted form of Atratus, crouched and peering through the scope of a Mark IX Ultra-pattern rifle. 

 

‘Good shot,’ said Greysight in acknowledgement.

 

The moment was interrupted by a spectacular explosion, its magnitude so intense it shook the cathedrum for an instant. In the firestorm of destruction, two of the incapacitated tracktion engines were reduced to molten scrap, the explosive force sending large shards of twisted ablative plating and shrapnel into the baying mob, decimating them in seconds. Within moments, a pitiful wail could be heard across the cathedrum square as the  injured and the dying tried to stumble their way towards the barricade, their earlier bravado and momentum spent.

 

Inside his helm, Greysight raised an eyebrow, impressed with the destructive power of the astartes issue krak grenade. 

 

A familiar voice addressed the kill-team’s operational vox channel. ‘This is Akkad, I am with Sabaan. Blackthorn, Sergeant Vaidan. Status?’

 

There was a pause, the vox network lousy with static. 

 

‘Regroup at the Templum,’ sergeant Vaidan commanded. A series of blips followed as the kill-team acknowledged the order. 

 

With the immediate threat of the tracktion engines eliminated and the rest of the kill-team bolstering the northern defences, both Greysight and Atratus turned their attention eastward, noting several heavy stubber teams who had taken up position, attempting to wear down the Imperial defence through sheer attrition. Atratus' relatively higher position afforded him a better shot, and as Greysight scaled the slope of the roof towards the Raptor's position, he could see that at least one of the stubber rigs had been torn apart from an explosive bolt shell, though two more xenos-enslaved labourers attempted to repair the heavy weapon. Atratus turned, looking directly at the Storm Son.

 

'Brother Greysight, we achieve little here,' he said, his low voice distorted by the vox. 'I suggest we secure the main building lest the xenos seek entry from below and cut off our path.'

 

'Agreed,' replied Greysight. 'Begin without me and escort Ryken, I will join you shortly after another sweep.'

 

Atratus nodded, before hailing the interrogator to seek an entry point into the cathedrum. Greysight raised his boltgun, playing his modified scope across the two remaining stubber teams. Greysight fired at the nearest one, and was rewarded as the bolt decapitated the gunner, its explosive force knocking him off his feet. He immediately fired two more shots at the remaining operational team, but was instead met with ablative armour as the remaining gunners dived for cover.

 

He grunted. Peering over the ridge, Greysight observed the remaining defenders staging a controlled fallback. Sergeant Vaidan and the others would no doubt have a workable counter-attack strategy formulated by the time they reached the cathedrum.

 

Night had finally descended upon Beregar, and the absence of street lighting due to the conflict cloaked the capital city in darkness, the square lit only by the small arms fire and lamp packs of the xenos seditionists. Looking up through the rain, Greysight traced his eye towards a hatch Atratus had prised open. A golden light shone from within, choked by the encroaching storm.

 

A fitting metaphor, thought Greysight, as he followed his brother into the last bastion of the Emperor's domain on Syndalla.

Edited September 2, 2018 by Nineswords

[Commissar Molotov]

Round 5, Continued

 

Vaidan and Tyber: 

As Vaidan reaches the Imperial lines, the Novamarine quickly and efficiently surveys the defences, his helm inclining as he gains an understanding of the barricades arrayed around the Templum. The Guardsmen stand in awe, but are mindful enough to keep their grip on their weapons. 

 

The Watch-Sergeant fixes on one Guardsman, and his voice issues from his helm-speakers, a metallic undertone grinding through his words. 

 

++Who is your Commander? Where are they?++

 

The mortal soldier points towards the Templum. 

 

"Captain Haltreme is the highest-ranking now, my lord." 

 

Vaidan nods, curtly. 

 

++My thanks, Guardsman.++

 

With that, he sets off through the barricades, towards the Templum itself. 

 

++Brother Tyber, ensure the defenses here are secure should the cultists attempt to counter-attack.++

 

Solastion and Varvost: 

++Slay them in His Name!++ 

 

"Slay them in His Name!" The Sanguinary Priest's command ripples through the line of Guardsmen. Seeing the Eradicator and the Crimson Knight carving through the betrayers and gene-traitors is enough to convince them that the victory they have been searching for is close at hand. There is a roar, and the Guardsmen clamber over the barricade, bayonets affixed, charging at the hated enemy. 

 

GM: Solastion does 4 magnitude damage to the cultists.

 

Varvost performs his third Multiple Attacks action (utilising the Swift Attack Talent) - he has done 24 Magnitude so far!

 

Attack 1: WS62 (+10 Frenzy, +60 Size, capped at +60): 30 (9 DoS - 1 Hit, +4 Hits) 

Hit 1: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 6+13 (19 Damage)

Hit 2: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 10(+7)+13 (30 Damage)

Hit 3: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 8+13 (21 Damage)

Hit 4: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 7+13 (20 Damage)

Hit 5: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 9+13 (22 Damage)

 

Attack 2: WS62 (+10 Frenzy, +60 Size, capped at +60): 29 (9 DoS - 1 Hit, +4 Hits) 

Hit 1: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 8+13 (21 Damage)

Hit 2: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 6+13 (19 Damage)

Hit 3: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 8+13 (21 Damage)

Hit 4: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 4+13 (17 Damage)

Hit 5: 1D10+13 Damage (Tearing, Flesh Render): 8+13 (21 Damage)

 

10 Magnitude Damage

 

 

Cultists attacking Solastion: 

WS25: 84 (MISS)

 

Cultists attacking Varvost: 

WS25: 21 (HIT) in the 12 (Right Arm) 

3D10+3 = 5,10,3 = 21 Damage, Pen 0 against TB10 and Armour 8: 3 Wounds

 

Sabaan and Akkad: 

Sabaan does 4 Magnitude Damage

Akkad does 10 Magnitude Damage 

 

Under the force of such unrelenting devastation, the detonation of blessed bolter ammunition and the bursting of corrupted flesh, the few survivors have little choice but to flee. Some are caught in the back by accurate lasrifle fire; others disappear into the smoke and fog, finding some measure of safety in the dark. It matters little; this flank is secure. The burning wreckage of the traction engines casts a yellowish glow across your ebony armour and the lined face of the Astral Claw. 

Atratus and Greysight: 
One of the Guardsmen stands tall amongst the others. He has been wounded; that much is clear. One arm is bandaged heavily and held against his chest, whilst gauze wrapped around his head shows the telltale stains of blood. As Atratus approaches, he salutes the Space Marine, looking steadily up at him. 

 

"My lord, we prayed for reinforcements but... to see one of the Space Marines here is more than we dared to dream." 

 

As he speaks, he gestures to the guardsmen around him to apply with the Raptor's orders. 

 

• TYBER (SOLO) | AG43 ((4x2)+10) = 18 | WOUNDS 14/18(19) | FATE 3
• SOLASTION ALBIKUS (SQUAD) | AG33 ((3x2)+9) = 15 | WOUNDS 19/23 | FATE 3
• KHYBER VAIDAN (SOLO) | AG39 (3+10) = 13 | WOUNDS 14/14(20) | FATE 2
• NYCAX SABAAN (SQUAD) | AG43 (4+7) = 11 | WOUNDS 22/22 | FATE 3
• ATRATUS (SOLO) | AG65 (6+4) = 10 | WOUNDS 23/23 | FATE 3
• GREYSIGHT (SOLO) | AG43 (4+6) = 10 | WOUNDS 22/22 | FATE 4
• DAON AKKAD (SQUAD) | AG45 (4+5) = 9 | WOUNDS 22/22 | FATE 2
• VÂRVOST (SOLO) | AG54 (5+2) = 7 | WOUNDS 19/21(24) | FATE 2

 

 

 

Round 6 Begins

Edited September 1, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

The enemy broke.

 

Akkad saw the turning point before the others did, save maybe Sabaan, who encountered that turning with nothing more than contempt for even further weakness - if that were possible, for the lack of decency to stand and die there as they should have.  The Astral Claw empathised, there was no pity or mercy to be shown to traitors like this.  He spoke the Litany of Retention and made his Heavy Bolter safe and locked it to his backpack.  He drew his bolt pistol and combat knife.

"Now, men of the Emperor!  Kill them all!"  He leapt over the top of the barricades, shooting first, not looking if the troops were behind him, he knew they would be there.  Example and victory set the score of the vengeance, the tone of what would follow.

 

Bayonets lanced forth, the troops charging hard to keep up with him.  They shot, shouted, screamed.  Las-fire burned against his exposed face, but he made no move to don his helm, the enemy must see his face and fear it, the allies must see it and his confidence in them.

 

They did.

 

Blades came back slicked with slimy red and sticky, glutinous purple sheen.  He cautioned them to clean the blades on the enemy dead first as the ranks of foe thinned on this side of the Cathedrum.  He could hear the wailing and moaning of the wounded and dying.  Above the others, his blessed implant, the Lyman's Ear, he could discern one plaintive note above others.  What do we have here?

"Greer, pull your men back to the barricades.  They have fought well." It was true.  The troops at his side, faces shining bright, with relief and exultation in desperate success, although scratched and marred with dirt and grime.  He could tell all would have died for them, right then and there.  Marines caused that.  Victory caused that.  Belief and determination and the desire to repay the hell they had endured caused that. They reloaded, re-fixed bayonets.  He was greatly satisfied.  Greer had chosen well, he voxed his compliments privately.

 

Then, standing alone out in the corpse-strewn wasteland, he tipped his face up and the rain, which had been barrelling down before, had lessened. It pattered down on his face, soothing it, cleansing the dust, grime and dirt it had accumulated in the space of even a short time and he breathed in the smells and fresher air.  It was tainted with gore and violence, the cries of the wounded and dying and the sickly scent of sticky blood and ichor.

 

And above all was the smell of a hard won fight.  It was still victory.  It smelled better than his own sweat. He grimaced at the poor jest.  A slight trembling cry reached his ears.  His eyes focused, the momentary pause forgotten.

+Akkad to Atratus.  Brother - would you attend my current position? I have need of your talents.+ He was careful to ensure it sounded like a request.  He wanted the Raptor to want to help - not just follow orders or the instructions of an older brother.  That brought his thoughts round to wondering about how Tyber was coping with Vaidan.

 

He remembered the Watch-Sergeant's staring green eyes and his barely repressed anger from the business with Faith.  He sighed and looked up at the Cathedrum, blinking the raindrops from his eyes.  No good deed goes unpunished.

 

When would he ever learn that?

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

The mud was slowing his pace somewhat, sabatons sticking in it, making a sucking sound with each foot fall. Just as he reached the barricade, crushing bodies into the mud the entire way, a sudden flash of light blinded him momentarily as the auto sense in his armour adjusted to the sudden brightness provided by floodlights that ignited with the fall of night.

 

Placing his left hand onto the barricade, he vaulted himself over it, to land among mortal men and women, some dressed in uniforms of some kind, but many in just dirty civilian dress. Dirt and blood adorning their faces, ill-fitting helmets on a lot of them, all of them clutching las-weapons of some kind or another, each of them looked tired, as if they had been fighting for days on end.

 

“Another Space Marine!” called one.

“Emperor be praised!” another yelled.

“Have you come to offer us salvation?” yet another asked.

 

Tyber wasn’t sure on how to respond to them, they had encircled him, some being brave enough to try and touch his armour. One of them, a clean cut looking man, long las rifle held across his chest, lowered his head as he spoke, “Thank you M’Lord, you broke them when you killed their champion.” The man rubbed his right arm slightly as he continued, “Without you doing that, I’m not sure we would’ve held the line had they gotten through this time.”

 

++Brother Tyber, ensure the defenses here are secure should the cultists attempt to counter-attack.++ Echoed over his vox from Vaidan, Tyber couldn’t help but roll his eyes and curse to himself, inspecting defenses would be a task better suited to Sabaan at least he would have better understanding of them and how to improve them should they need it. Still he clicked back his confirmation in a short ++By your command, Sargent.++

 

Pointing to the one with the long las, Tyber spoke over the loud speaker +You, find the one responsible for these field works and return with them, we need to inspect these defenses…. I will not be far or hard to find.+

Watching the man go, Tyber looked skyward, following the lines of the temple skyward, again thankful for his helm as he found himself making a frown and muttering to himself, “This is exactly what Grandfather had not wanted, to worship a man.”

 

His mind took him to one of the libraries in Arce Bellator, Adavan sitting across from him, arms folded watching his charge attempting to read the book in front of him. The book was many times too large for the mortal boy of seven, each page nearly the size of his body. Adavan had been harsh, but there had been reason in teaching Tyber to read, sometimes instructions could not be trusted to be spoken, sometimes they would come written. Tyber would sound out the words before he spoke them:

 

Ego autem sum vir.
Potens est, sed usque homo.
Colunt me ducentem et iter mendacii.
A falsum et aliquam viam quae duxit multos filios meae.

For those that do not want to look it up:

 

I am but a man.

Powerful, but still a man.

Do not worship me, for that leads down a false path.

A false path that has led many astray, even some of my own sons.

 

It had taken but a few moments for the trooper to return with a woman in dirty cloths and a vest of brightly coloured cloth, upon seeing Tyber she dropped to her knees, sinking into the mud, she too was babbling on about salvation, gifts from the Emperor, from the door, Tyber could see a woman, in carapace armour, her markings had her standing out as a sister from one of the orders hospitallers, her presence here, angered some part of Tyber, a prejudice of some part of his indoctrination or perhaps breed into his genes, for the Sororitas had often been the foot soldiers the mortal Inquisition had deployed to try and force their will on the Dragons.

 

Forcing his mind to calm, he looked to the man with the rifle, his helm turning to make it clear that he was talking to him, +bring her along, we need to inspect these barricades.+ Seeing that the man got the point, Tyber turned  and forced his way through the mass of mortals that were around him, he had work to do, that he had very little idea on how to do, then it hit him, once they go to the first section. Taking a picture of the barricade, he sent the image to Sabaan, with a question: Does this seem adequate for the survival of these mortals in the short term?

Edited September 1, 2018 by Steel Company

[A.T.]

An unexpected request, but within the walls of the templum he was largely blind to the events outside. "Interrogator, remain here", and to the guardsmen before him, "ward this man with your lives until I return"

 

A brief hesitation as he moved unaccustomed to the role of bodyguard, the possibility of traitors even now within the midst of the loyalists not lost on him. But the call of his battle brothers took priority, "I have secured Ryken inside the templum. What do you require of me brother?"

 

 

Atratus will smash into the isolated pocket of resistance to the south unless Akkad has other plans

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: Mazer, feel free to continue the narrative in lieu of any structured actions. 

[Mazer Rackham]

OOC: Understood Mol.

 

 "I have secured Ryken inside the templum. What do you require of me brother?"

 

The reply was cool, to the point and smooth.  He appreciated that.  He could answer that.  He still had no answer for Greysight.  A small shudder ran through him - he needed to give the Storm Son an answer or that question would get worse - but how did you explain the intended murder of a Throne Agent?

 

+The enemy is broken and fleeing and we are in no peril - however come dawn we will be a magnet to the foe here.+ He patched in to squad Vox +Brother Sergeant, I have asked Atratus to assist me - if he wills.  I believe we may have the chance for a prisoner.+  He left the silence to tail off a few heartbeats.  He could hear the cries of some of the wounded.  The enemy were in panic, a rout.  Searching amongst the wounded...perhaps someone could be found and...inspired to talk.

 

He briefly explained his intention to the other Marines.

 

Time to hunt.

 

MR.

Edited September 3, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Commissar Molotov]

Mazer:

You've lost me slightly and I've read back through your previous posts. I can't find any mention of the purple robed man in your previous posts. This is just meant to be a minor skirmish and simply the tip of the claw rather than something where a Magus would appear. If you can fill me in a little then I can try and work with you to make it something that we can make happen.

[Mazer Rackham]

Mol/GM ONLY:

Gah, I did pop a PM, I guess it got eaten... :( my apologies.

Nutshell: Basically I was just going to see if I could involve A.T. to do a Raptor like thing, following a trail to a half-dead scumbag. Wasn't expecting it to go anywhere, but maybe an opportunity for roleplay or maybe dissension in the team "you don't trust his info do you?" etc etc. Someone - I think Steel, had mentioned a capture taking place - although I do dig you have your plans, so I wasn't expecting anything other than a touch of narrative, provided by me and only narrative and not important to anything or stepping on your toes. It was just a bit of spit-balling really and something that didn't come across quite how I wanted it - looks a bit ham-fisted now.

 

I hope that makes sense.

 

Thoughts?

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

Mazer:

No PM here alas. I'm willing to provide Atratus or Greysight the option to track some of the cultists if that is something they wish to do. I would ask you to remove the purple robed man section from your post as it doesnt make much sense to me - Akkad talks as though he's seen him before and it complicates things somewhat.

 

Perhaps you could have Akkad ask Atratus if he thinks it is feasible to track the enemy? As I mentioned, I wonder if Greysight might have some expertise too.

[Mazer Rackham]

GM/Mol:

Updated as requested. Cheers.

MR.

[Slips]

Their armour was now thoroughly scratched up and worn in the few minutes they've been in combat with these foes; more so than when they made their descent onto the planets surface from high orbit.

 

It was testament to their armours craftsmanship that despite all the superficial damage done to it, the underlying ceramite was all but undamaged. They were not impervious to harm, however, and rivulets of hyper-oxygenated astartes blood ran from puncture locations at their joints which have since auto-sealed.

 

Still, these fools would require infinitely more to take one of his ilk down and even then they would pay dearly for it.

 

Whilst Solastion and Varvost were mercilessly hacking through the hybrids - much like a man armed with a machete would through foliage in a jungle - it took the Crimson Knight nearly bifurcating a PDF Trooper to realize that his words had struck home and that the mortals had finally been snapped out of their stupor and joined the Angels in routing their foe.

 

Solastion will keep on butchering the horde much like he has been from the start: WS 109: 1d100 19 for 9 DoS for 1 + 4 Hits (this seems to be the average when hitting a Mag 60+ horde that Solastion and Varvost have encountered). 5 hits total.

Hit 1: Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 27 27; 27 damage, pen 3; Super Righteous Fury apparently. Weep for me, brothers, for Solastion is unlikely to ever see its likes again.

Hit 2: Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 20 24; 24 damage, pen 3

Hit 3: Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 22 25; 25 damage, pen 3

Hit 4: Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 27 24; 27 damage, pen 3; Righteous Fury again!

Hit 5: Chainsword Damage w/ Tearing: 2#1d10+17 22 27; 27 damage, pen 3; ANOTHER Righteous Fury! Truly the emperor smiles upon Solastion in this very singular moment.

1st: Righteous Fury: 1d10 6; Hit 1 total damage: 33 damage, pen 3

2nd: Righteous Fury: 1d10 6; Hit 4 total damage: 33 damage, pen 3

3rd: Righteous Fury: 1d10 5; Hit 5 total damage: 32 damage, pen 3

 

With the guardsmen now fully joining the Space Marines in their butchery of the alien, the tide finally began to turn. No longer were the two marines wading through a molasses of bodies as they swung their chain weapons through them. Beside them - at a respectful distance partly due to fear, partly due to self-preservation and partly due to reverence - the guardsmen shot, stabbed, clubbed, trampled and all besides those unfortunate enough to not be slain at the hands of the transhumans for they granted swift deaths; which was more than they deserved.

 

[Commissar Molotov]

STRUCTURED TIME ENDS

 

 

A hush seems to fall over the Cathedral square as the battle draws to a close.

 

Vaidan enters the Templum as Atratus leaves to attend the Astral Claw's summons. The two Marines nod to one another as they pass.

 

Looking around, the Watch-Sergeant quickly orients himself and heads towards Ryken and the injured PDF officer. Both of them stand over an overturned lectern that has been made into a map-table, papers heavily marked with annotations showing troop movements and the like.

 

"Sergeant Vaidan." The Interrogator gestures, beckoning the Novamarine to draw closer to the pair. "This is Captain Haltreme, the highest-ranking survivor within this fortification."

 

Haltreme makes an approximation of a half-bow towards Vaidan, though the physical pain the gesture takes is readily apparent on his face.

 

"My lord."

 

"We have precious little time for formalities and pleasantries," Ryken continues tersely. "I have explained to the Captain our mission. We must determine our next steps here within the city."

 

+++

 

 

GM: This is the map of Beregar, the capital city of Syndalla.

 

With the combat ended, you may do as you wish. At the moment, the narrative seems to be splitting two ways - Akkad taking responsibility for the exterior of the defenses alongside Tyber (and Atratus and Sabaan?) and the interior of the Templum - with Vaidan (and Greysight? Solastion? Varvost?)

 

I would suggest you use the OOC thread to gather together the questions you'd like to ask Haltreme and I will use Vaidan to do so.

Edited September 3, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Commissar Molotov]

The Novamarine disengages the seals around his neck, lifting the helm free with a hiss of pressure. Mag-locking it to his waist, he fixes his gaze on Captain Haltreme. 

 

"What has happened on this world, Captain?" 

 

"It didn't happen all at once." The Guardsman looks down, momentarily, before looking back up at the Space Marine towering over him. "There were riots at first, slave-farmers in the outlands standing up to their masters and burning the fields. When the PDF mobilised to suppress them, the cultists took advantage to rise up in the city. We've seen their four-armed creatures, watched them butcher our men. There's been running battles for weeks now, as they have taken half of the city."

 

"What do you know of the PDF's current disposition? Assets, manpower, zones of control?" The Watch-Sergeant is softly-spoken, firm, but probing, unpicking the Captain's words to glean the information he needs.

 

"We're scattered and unable to link up properly." He indicates the sectors of the city shaded in green and pale blue on his map. "We're caught up in block-to-block fighting in the Fabrica districts and we lost control of the Fallows in the first days after the uprising. There are garrisons throughout the city, but there is little in the way of coordination between them. The nobility and the Governor walled themselves in the Grand Estates, drew up the bridges and left the rest of us to die."

 

Here Haltreme taps the purple area on the map, his fingers tracing the solid walls and canals bordering it. The Governor's Palace sits squarely in the centre of the district, clustered by the other noble households. One building within the Grand Estates stands separated from the others, a tall tower, standing above any other building in the city. 

 

"And this?" Vaidan asks. "Is this where the astropathic choir is located?" 

 

Haltreme nods. "Yes, my lord. I believe so." 

 

"We will need to summon further aid from the Deathwatch." The Watch-Sergeant says, turning toward the Interrogator. "If Tyranid vanguard bio-ships are in-system, the greater swarm must not be far behind."

 

Ryken's jaw clenches. "It is said that the Hive Fleet creates a shadow in the warp, a weight that drowns out psychic communication. It will take an Astropath of great skill and power to project through it."

 

 

[A.T.]

Upon leaving the templum Atratus could see Akkads concern without needing to be told. Smoke from the crash rising high into the sky as a beacon to all across the city who would investigate and an easy marker for artillery.

 

"I will find a high perch and bring word of any who approach brother. If this place was not of consequence before it will be now."

[Mazer Rackham]

"You honour me My Hunter."

 

The Astral Claw nodded appreciatively at the Raptors' immediate grasp of the situation and laid a comradely hand on the younger Marine's shoulder before he moved off to find his vantage point.  He was lost in thought a moment and murmured quietly.  He was oblivious to the Guardsmen around him.

 

"We need to organise a better outer defence.  Atratus is right.  Come dawn, this place will be a flame to the moths.  We broke them, but did not kill them."

 

A shame - but we will rectify that.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Tyber sighed to himself, the woman that was with them, was being useless, still babbling away at the Emperor, her thanks for the arrival of Squad Blackthorn in the middle of this attack. It was a welcomed alert when Sabaan sent back a reply of simply, +Negative. Recommend salvage of the harvesters to shore up defensive constructs.+

 

At least he was good enough to provide coordinates for them… he thought to himself, taking his trooper in tow, the three of them wandered into the no-man’s land. At each moaning, sobbing or begging lesser beast the trio passed, Tyber would use his boots to crush their skulls into a muddy red paste, quicker than they deserved, slow enough that they could see the error of their ways before nothingness took them. As they stood in front of the three harvesters, two of them in pieces, the other more salvageable, a thought occurred to him, opening a Vox channel to Sabaan, Tyber asked quickly; +Brother Sabaan, were the other two of these units full of fule? Do you think it would be possible to dig a shallow trench around the temple and fill it with any remaining fuel to make a moat to be set ablaze should they attack again?+

 

Again a pause, again a quick reply +By my calculations, it is plausible.+

 

Looking to the trooper, using his external vox he gave simple directions +You, gather as many as you can, dig a shallow moat around the temple, we will fill it with as much fuel as we can… a surprise for the horde should they attack again.+

 

Watching the humans go, Tyber switched to the squad network, +Any brothers not currently occupied, I could use assistance in dragging back these harvesters to be used to shore up the defenses. Based on sizes, I estimate it would take three of us to push or drag one of these units back.+

 

He smiled to himself, recalling one of the physical tests before full induction to the second company, Tyber stood beside Adavan, Crixis, Varkan and Molak, at each end of the line the crew of Razorback 212 stood, all seven of them not in their warplate, overlooking Razorback 212 in the mud of the field of trials, the rain was coming down hard, almost bouncing off the ground, behind them stood Captain Rexis and junior Lieutenant Vasqueze.

 

“One of the tasks that brothers of the Iron Sacles may be forced to do in the field is push their immobilized Razorback out of the mud. Should your squad fail to do so, you will be sent back to the pool of brothers awaiting assignment to a company. You have two hours to get your Razorback ten kilometers, be done by midday meal or do not have midday meal.” Boomed out Rexis’ voice, it hadn’t taken long for each of the seven to position themselves around their Razorback, Tyber placed his right shoulder against the left rear corner, on a three count they all pushed, each of the seven grunting and struggling in the mud to get their beast moving. It had taken just under the two hour limit, but squad 212 had done it. Sitting in the mud, his muscles aching, Tyber felt a hand pat him on the shoulder, the voice of Adavan following quickly behind “I am proud to call you Brother this day Tyber, you are no longer my squire, but my equal.”

 

Looking around in the present, Tyber began checking out the fuel stores in the most intact unit, while he waited to see who arrived to assist in this task.

[Mazer Rackham]

Nycax Sabaan, Techmarine of the Iron Hands and Depiser of meatbags:

 

The cowards, those who would mock the Great Cog and the will of the Emperor had fled into the dark and rain filled night.  Anger ran along his fingertips in an azure sting of electrolytes out of balance as his humours surged.  He released a small trace of equilibriant and stood, studiously laglocking his Bolter to his hip.  Making certain of the communion of the retaining spirits, the behemoth of dark, water and blood slicked plate turned to watch the Dragon of Caliban march out toward the tractor engines.  Humans followed him, slipping over in the mud and gore.  A tiny itch behind his cranial cybernetic implant was the only feeling he allowed.

 

+Any brothers not currently occupied, I could use assistance in dragging back these harvesters to be used to shore up the defenses. Based on sizes, I estimate it would take three of us to push or drag one of these units back.+

 

Without a word he began to march over to the small group of Astartes assembling.  Flesh alone would not move these hulks, but by the Omnissiah's Will they would be re-purposed.  It was fitting to redeem the iron of these machines from their slavery to faithless, worthless heretics and bring them back into Imperial Service.  Flesh, once corrupted could not so easily be mended.

 

Idly, he watch the Raptor burn his thrusters hard and alight atop a perch of considerable area coverage. Adequate.  Whilst the machines were recovered, suitable protection could be had.  He did not consider a ragged platoon of humans to be sufficient.  The Astral Claw approached as well, no doubt to assist his clade-brother in the task.  It was the most useful thing he had done since....standing over my inert form.  The thought was a pressure on his mind, from elsewhere.  More self-castigation was required.  His servo-arm whined and stuttered, drawing the power from his internal capacitors.  The machine spirit flowed through him, a blessing so purifying of thought that for a moment all other things were banished.  He took up position at the rear-left quarter of one of the machines and his augmented hands gripped it.  His servo-arm demonstrated the power of the Cog over brawn.

 

+In position.+ he voxed simply, a metallic rasp thrummed out through his external vox grille.  It could have been the sound of an engine revving.

 

MR.

Edited September 5, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

Daon Akkad, friend to all Astartes and paragon of understatement:

 

Akkad smiled as he watched Tyber try to hold his temper with the woman who was very obviously caught up in a religious fervour.  He heard the weariness in his voice as the bigger Marine asked for a helping hand.

 

+Any brothers not currently occupied, I could use assistance in dragging back these harvesters to be used to shore up the defenses. Based on sizes, I estimate it would take three of us to push or drag one of these units back.+

 

Sabaan had already moved across, the Guardsmen parting like sand before the desert wyrm.  His armour had powered into life, the servo-mechanical arm flexing and turning, as if it had a sentience of it's own.  It was almost true, he allowed, the Techamarine was a strange one - all such Martian priests were and their mysteries unknowable to mere common brothers.  A small rueful smile played over his mouth, but was gone as fast as it appeared.  The Astral Claw followed, taking a small group of soldiers with him.

"Keep watch while we move the machines, be ready.  Do not be foolish.  Call out if you see anything and fall back." he warned them.  They trooped alongside him until he veered off to meet Tyber.

 

The big Marine was looking up at the spires of the Templum.  He just knew the younger warrior was sighing.  The arms on hip gave it away - if his frustration had been showing a mighty paw would have been gripping the hilt of the Oathblade - that great monolithic slab of razor onyx and High Gothic.

"Hail, Ahu and well met!"   He greeted him smiling, genuine pleasure stealing upon his face and no whim to remove it, not for this one.  "I see you have found something even bigger than you for us to move."  The gruff humour covered his relief.  It was good to see this anchor again, to know he had survived.  He gently banged a vambrace on the shoulder of the giant, reaching up to do it, then reached for his own helm.

 

The sable shell folded over his features and when locked in place, the Badabian Vertanese crystal lenses burned coolly in the night.

+Where do you wish me to push?+ The smile was still on his face, the crinkle of humour around his voice.

 

MR.