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

[Steel Company]

Tyber found a spot in the courtyard of the temple, under a makeshift tin awning; he pulled off his helm, placing it beside him as he closed his blue-grey eyes to listen to the rain against the tin. He’d never admit it under most circumstances, but he loved the sound of the rain, yet that sound was quickly becoming bitter-sweet, due in large part to both some of the best and worst things to happen to him had occurred during rain.

 

As a child, before induction, he knew that rain meant he would be able to spend time with his father during the day, playing a local version of regicide on the porch of their home. Even after being gone so long, Tyber could still remember the tattoos on his father’s face and body, the intricate work of the ink and tanned skin from a lifetime working in the sun.

 

It had been in the rain, that saw him inducted into the Dragons, when he chose to invoke a rule from ovum furem, that sated that even spectators to the game must be willing to join a team if they if they caught the ball that was tossed to them. That was how he first met Adavan, he had thrown the ball at him and being an Astartes he had caught it easily. Tyber could almost hear Arteims laughing and see the confusion in Adavan’s body language at being told he had to join Tyber’s team, that act had turned the game around and it wasn’t long before the boys of the Glass Bay were playing that game with three Astartes.

 

At the same time, it had been raining when he and Keeva had progressed from friendship to something more, it had also been raining the day he found that she had vanished from Acre Bellator, it had been raining on HSC-296 when that had cost him and the second company so much. He was so lost in his thoughts that again he had failed to notice someone join him under the awning, the voice was soft and youthful, “M’Lord?”

 

Opening his right eye, he looked off to the side to see a young woman, she couldn’t have been more than sixteen, in a muddy uniform, her dirty red hair tied loosely back under her helmet, her rifle on her shoulder, in each hand she had a mug of something, Tyber had to admit whatever it was did smell good. She seemed to take on a look of a herd animal caught in the lights of a ground vehicle once Tyber’s eye fell on her without him even asking she repeated herself, “M’Lord, I brought you some soup… that is if you even eat and are hungry.”

 

Tyber smiled at the girl, while he moved his helm to his left side, an unsaid offer for her to sit, as he accepted the soup, taking a sip, it reminded him of something his mother would make on rainy days in the Glass Bay, again he smiled, before he spoke, “You are most kind, I am happy to accept this gift.”

As she sat beside him, she blew on her cup, looking over the courtyard, she whispered out, “Thank you M’Lord, for your arrival, and everything you’ve done to help us… You’ve given us a real chance to make it through the night.”

 

Again looking at the girl, she reminded him a little of Keeva, pretty, but not too pretty, he reached into a magazine pouch for his bolt pistol and removed one round, it looked small in his hand, he rolled it over, passing it to her as he spoke, “Keep this, as proof to those you hold dear in the future, that you have met an Astartes and they he thanked you for your soup.” He gave her a soft smile, before looking back out over the field to where the transport had gone down, while he awaited Vaidan and Akkad to return.

Edited September 19, 2018 by Steel Company

[Commissar Molotov]

The rain spatters on the pock-marked hull of Chimera 2-12. Its hull is a dark grey, though the paint is peeling and chipped. 

 

The Kill-Team begins to gather around the armoured carrier, rain running in rivulets down dark armour and washing some of the gore from the warriors. 

 

It has been perhaps an hour since the shuttle crashed into the earth of Syndalla. Already, under the ministrations of Sabaan and Tyber the makeshift defenses around the Templum have been shored up and reinforced. The wreckage of the harvester-machines has been dragged into place, armour-plating repurposed and weapons-platforms erected with the captured heavy stubbers. Should the cult attack again, they will find the PDF a far tougher opponent than before. 

 

Vârvost leans against the hull of the vehicle, seemingly oblivious to the Techmarine's gaze of disapproval. In turn, Tyber, Solastion and Greysight arrive. The Raptor, for his part, remains overhead. 

 

++The streets are clear for now, but blocked in part to the south and east by bridges and barricades,++ Atratus's voice crackles over the vox-net. ++The rooftops are unprotected.++

 

 

 

Vaidan and Akkad, for their part, are yet to arrive. 

[Reyner]

"Forgive me Sergeant, but I did not want to discuss anything in front of the squad and vox will not do." A level tone, nothing ceding control, nothing asserting it, but nothing warm either.  The earlier easy way in which the two Starfarers had discourse did not seem appropriate now they were about to cross verbal swords.  "Tyber has told me something of what passed between you regarding the Armsmen.  Your displeasure is known.  I do not want this hanging over us. Perhaps you should speak of your concerns and expectations of me."

 

 

---

Taking the device from Akkad Vaidan hoped Sabaan would be able to recover something from it, finding Thorvalds remains was not their primary concern but it was the honourable thing to do - his geneseed should return to his Chapter

 

"My concerns were purely for the mission Akkad, this world is in the midst of rebellion and our mission is to find and extract the Inquisitor. But now I feel that has changed it is clear there is a Tyranid splinter fleet nearby probably on its way here drawn in by these damned Genestealers. I expect you to back me up when I make my orders. I have a lot of respect for you and welcome any insights you have. As far as I am concerned we can move past this but speak your mind."

 

Relaxing a little Vaidan waits for what Akkad has to say.

[Mazer Rackham]

Nycax Sabaan:

 

Accessing Squad Vox, the Iron Hand engraves a hololithic representation of the Chimera designated 2-12 upon each retina.

+I have restored 93.71 percent of motive integrity.  Brother Tyber is to be complimented on his work.+ There was an unspoken huff of air that only served to make any compliments both mere formalities and utterly grudging.  Once the hololithic model had rotated, points of access were overlaid.

 

+I have monitored Brother Greysight.  His observances and reactions...+ and the fact he is quiet and shows proper Machine Spirit obeisance, he intoned silently, sharply whilst flexing a steel shod finger in irritation at those who did not, the Servo Arm looming over Varvost momentarily, +...shall provide a 36.01 percent increase in vehicle survival.+

 

He turned to the turret and mounted weapons and augurs.  His voice rattled off the details like a cogitator chopping out punch-cards and his tone was final in each word, a stamp of a press forming each syllable as if from the Iron which made the man himself.

 

+This machine may fight, but be warned, the capacitors are only viable for 3 deployments of full power.+ He continued as the doors of the laser-formed model opened. +This machine can carry the whole squad.  I would caution you - the harnesses will not affix our wargear to arrest us in the event of a terminal deceleration.  You will have to use magnetic restraints.  There is a hand rail along the roof which you find useful.  The brethren with lift-assistance devices shall seat at the rear of the vehicle, where they may move without collision.+

 

+I shall take the Enginseer's position.+ He spoke as if it was his right, which of course, it was.  +Brother Greysight - take your position, I must instruct you in the correct Rites of Activation and Runes of Direction.  Heed me well all of you.  Do not allow any of your....fleshy....extremities to pass beyond any of the blessed Lozenges of Warning.+  He looked directly at Solastion for emphasis.  Then he voxed to Vaidan.

 

+Watch Sergeant, we will be Transport effective in 4 minutes.+  The hololith dissolved and the Iron Hand led Greysight to the driver console.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Tyber entered the Chimera from the rear hatch, catching the top of his helm and jump pack on the upper edge of the frame. Once inside he inspected the rear hatch on the top, not too unlike that of the Rhino class chassis, giving it a bit of a frown, due to his height and Chimera being designed for house hunched mortals at best, he found himself kneeling and hunched over, taking up more space that was ideal.

 

+Brother Sabaan, would the operation of this Chimera be too impeded if we were to open the dorsal hatch? I ask as it would see to provide those of us with Jump Packs a quick exit point to accomplish our sub-task without stopping this machine.+ Tyber suggested over the vox, trying logic with Sabaan, rather than seeking personal comfort during the drive. At least while standing, even with the hatch open, Tyber could relax and not take up so much of the limited space in the unit.

[Mazer Rackham]

Daon Akkad, seeker of Truth:

 

"...As far as I am concerned we can move past this, but speak your mind."

 

A generous attitude, considering they only had four minutes.  A smile deep inside him.  As the Sergeant relaxed a little, Akkad let out a breath.  It was a gentle thing, close to a sigh but not quite.  He came to stand level with the Kill Team Leader.

 

"The first time we met, you suggested a bout of combat.  I knew then you could take command of the group, but when you demonstrated your displeasure I was wrong-footed, Khyber."  Akkad held the gaze of the younger man - although slyly noting that Voidfarers could be any age - time and distance meant nothing in the warp after all.  He had used Vaidan's first name to engender confidence, to let him know they were talking as men, not the ranks they had earned.

 

"I did not expect gratitude," that level voice, not as harsh now, but still cool continued, "but I thought taking a wound for you and our earlier camaraderie would allow room." He didn't need to explain that, Vaidan would know that what he was really speaking of was leeway, what other, better men would call liberties. "I know the mission comes first and I hope you knew," Badabian inflection would have told Vaidan, if he had realised, that Akkad had used the past tense quite on purpose, "from when I backed you the first time, I would back you every time.  I think perhaps you were a different man then."  He smiled, knowingly, covering the implied hurt, for he would never tell a soul, maybe not even admit to himself, that he needed the company and acclaim of warriors like he.  A Relic of the old days, he mused, bitterly.  The words were not his, but belonged to Centurion Commodus.

 

A man he hated.  He focused, got back on track.

 

"Which leads me to the Tyranids.  You are right of course - they are out there, waiting, hungering.  I have seen them."  He stared a moment into some strange middle distance that could not be measured, remembering - and not fondly - the birthing pools, the dead, black eyes, the hissing, wailing and thrashing and the hunger...the dreadful, paralysing, terrible hunger...

 

"And I worry Khyber, that your change in mood towards us hints that you harbour a secret doubt."

 

Akkad merely looked at him, meeting his eyes.  Piercing.

 

MR.

[Reyner]

"And I worry Khyber, that your change in mood towards us hints that you harbour a secret doubt."

 

Akkad had cut right to the heart of it. He was right, there had been a change in him. Right from the start this mission hadn't gone to plan but they had to make the best of what they had.

 

"Daon are you sure that you shouldn't be wearing a psychic hood? You read me like a book and I am not going to lie to you. I do harbour doubt, I doubt our mission here - what does an Inquisitor know or carry that makes them more important than striking a direct blow against the Tyranids? Once we reach the palace we are going after the Broodlord. We killed hundreds of xenos on the Voice of Thunder and we killed even more twisted abominations at the Templum but those deaths mean nothing. We need to make a kill that counts for something! Then once support arrives I'm confident we could take on a Hive Tyrant or two maybe even a Norn Queen. I am sorry my friend I will not let you down again."

 

Smiling Khyber holds out his hand.

[Mazer Rackham]

"I am sorry my friend, I will not let you down again."

 

Akkad looked at the proffered hand, a glance only.  He had further questions, to test the resolve of the Sergeant, to try and prise up that armour and get towards what Akkad suspected was the real issue.  He felt Vaidan felt a little out of his depth, he had a Demi-Squad before, now he had 8 Astartes of completely different Chapters and humours and a Mission of Galactic Importance.  The confidence could have been a mask - that slipped when he felt things were unravelling.  A good mask, one he had worn often enough.

 

Mistakes, even silly, meaningless ones, must be made to look like part of a grand plan when a man was in command.  Vaidan needed to feel the support he led, the support they had all promised him.  With a sleight of hand in the shadow, he reached for something, turning back, Khyber's hand was still there, but a gentle look of confusion crossed the features of the Novamarine as it hovered emptily for a long moment. Then, Akkad's own hand slipped out, clasped something into the Sergeant's palm, closed his hand over it.  He laid a hand gently on the taller Marine's shoulder, firmly placed on the Starburst and Halo that blazed so fiercely in the lightning.

 

"You did not let me down.  I was merely concerned."  Sincerity and severity in equal measure played on the Astral Claw's face.  "The woman, the Armsmen, they were all happenstance, but had to be sacrificed.  Humans must die so that Humanity may be saved.  You did the right thing - but be careful in your judgement.  You threw yourself into that brawl and took serious wounds, leading us by your example, then challenging us where we followed."

 

Time was nearly up.  He sighed again.

 

"Trust us, trust me.  As we trust you, My Sergeant."  He left Vaidan alone for a moment, striding out into the rain and thunder.  He donned his helm, marching over rubble and corpses, burned, chopped, bayoneted and blown into bloody bricks of what Enlil-Su called Kibble.  He did not look back, but brandished the tracking device.  Vaidan hadn't even noticed him take it and vowed to be more vigilant with a rueful smile.

 

As he opened his fist, the object in it rolled over and gleamed in the light.  It was a Heavy Bolter shell.  Squinting, his Occulobe tensed and flexed in the poor and random light.  Two words, in fine copperplate.

 

+] DAON AKKAD [+

 

MR.

 

EDIT: 1,000th Post! 

Edited September 20, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Slips]

++Brother Vaidan, Brother Akkad, we are ready to depart whenever you decide to join us.++ is all the Apothecary says over the squads vox before he ducks into the Guardsman transport. It could carry Ogryns, true, but their bulk was a fleshy kind; relatively malleable and flexible. Astartes bulk came through their Power Armour which was neither. As such, he decided to remain standing, if barely, in the rear, his magboots disengaged since they had not started moving yet.

 

He took the time to mentally review the state of the troopers. The Sororitas had done what they could, as did their Medicae. He was relieved to have seen no signs of wounds caused by Tyranid Bio-Weapons beyond the obvious claw cuts. He would have liked to have had the time to dissect and inspect the Aberration Tyber slew but time was of the essence and properly applying his skills was more pressing than cutting into the corpse of a slain foe; besides, he was not specialized in the brewing and distillation of toxins from the essence of fallen enemies like some of his peers were. No, his focus primarily lay in healing the wounded.

 

Solastion was not able to save or help all of them; he knew that going in. With grim determination, he administered the Emperor's Peace to those too injured to save but, with some relief, those souls were few and far between. That said, the power behind his Reductors strike, primarily used for Astartes, meant that Solastion had to take great care to not pulp the skulls of the patients he was euthanizing.

 

Beyond that, general injuries were as to be expected; cuts, blunt force trauma, gunshot wounds, burns, etc. And, in the little time he could spare with the aid of the Sororitas Hospitalliers, did what he could. Soon, his primary duty called to him and he rejoined his Squadmates at the...functional...Chimera. 

 

The Sanguinary Priests thoughts were brought back to the present once more. 

Edited September 22, 2018 by Slips
Typos, syntax, WORDS!

[Mazer Rackham]

+Brother Vaidan, Brother Akkad, we are ready to depart whenever you decide to join us.+

 

Akkad smiled under his helm as the Crimson Knight walked up the ramp and clambered inside the Chimera.  He had been within touching distance when the Apothecary had spoken.  He followed him closely, gently patting his shoulder as he passed, leaning in to hand Sabaan the device.  A small nod of gratitude was the only reply.  He took up station behind Tyber, squeezing past and managing to sit in the spot just under the turret ring and behind the driver's door.  A slight stab of smug satisifaction troubled his lips.  He had done this many times after all. Varvost stood outside, waiting.

 

He could hear vox clicks from Tyber, but guessed it was another he was talking to.  A slight tremble in Sabaan's Servo-Arm gave it away as the hulking Machinewright adjusted the integration harness - usually reserved for Enginseers and stepped backwards into it.  A hiss of pneumatics and the four cables pushed forward into his lower back, coupling with induction ports there.  Auto-ratchets screwed the cabling tight and a small halo of blue light appeared around the Iron Hand's helmet as the noospheric interface projected in holographic haze. The Chimera top hatch doors parted and opened, exposing them all to the rain again.  Akkad sighed, five minutes out of the rain would have been nice.  It didn't matter so much in sealed power armour, but working with infantrymen so much left it's mark.

 

He watched Tyber stand erect, the top exhaust of his jump-pack poking up behind his helm and shoulders like some kind of castle fortifications.  Akkad smiled and spoke over open vox.

+Be careful not to get your head shot off Ahu.  I doubt we have a replacement.+ There was almost a chuckle there.  A gruff half-bark came from the Eradicator who leaned in, looked like he was about to say something, but merely shook his head.

 

He folded his arms and relaxed, closing his eyes and awaiting orders from Vaidan, he leaned back.  +Nice and steady My Hunter,+ He intoned softly, +be aware that Chimeras are like cows, slow to get going and even slower to stop when they're up to speed.+  Relative safety.  It had been a long time since he had felt that.  Like all good infantrymen waiting, he dozed.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Tyber barked a laugh at Akkad, along with a youthful tone to his voice, +I welcome them to dare and shoot at me, perhaps they would provide a worth challenge when I flew up to face them!+ he called back over the vox.

 

In truth, he was keeping an eye out on every roof top, tower and window that they passed, less worried for a single shot from a slug thrower, but more for an improvised explosive device being tossed into the troop area that was exposed with him standing. While also overlooking this beast of burden for them, he couldn’t help but remark that an Astartes sized version of this could be useful, combine the forward fire power of a Predator class of even a Sicaran class with the full troop bay of a Rhino class transport would provide an improvement even over the mighty Razorback. Over a close channel to Akkad, Tyber remarked, +The only thing I wonder Ahu, is if this ride will result in a similar end to the last time I rode in a vehicle that carried the hull number of 212. Still, being in an Infantry Fighting Vehicle again fills me with a sense of comfort, that I haven’t felt in what feels like a long time.+

 

Tyber genteelly patted the open hatch plates with his left hand, whispering to himself and the beast that bore brothers, “You will do fine, you carry a proud number on your hull, let these beasts learn to fear the number of 212.”

Edited October 11, 2018 by Steel Company

[Mazer Rackham]

+The only thing I wonder Ahu, is if this ride will result in a similar end to the last time I rode in a vehicle that carried the hull number of 212. Still, being in an Infantry Fighting Vehicle again fills me with a sense of comfort, that I haven’t felt in what feels like a long time.+

 

Akkad didn't open his eyes, but he didn't smile at the youthful bantering.  If he didn't know he was here, or who was jesting he could have sworn he was lounging in another chimera with his own unit of brothers.  Comfort wasn't what was needed here, but the big Marine didn't need telling.

 

+But this time - if there is one - will be different.  This time you're ready.  And so are we.+

 

He added the last few words with gentle finality - the subtext that his eyes may be closed and he may be relaxed, but he knew where his weapons were.

 

MR.

[Reyner]

Rolling the heavy bolter round in his palm Vaidan smiled carefully placing it into one of his pouches. Akkad no doubt had given Sabaan the device from the shuttle which he would hopefully be able to get something useful from it. After walking back from the shuttle wreckage Vaidan clambers into the Chimera and squeezes himself into the commanders position, if he was lucky he might get to use his flamer from the turret hatch or even let rip with the multilaser.

 

++Brothers we have been idle here long enough, we have our mission and know our path. We will make for the Governors Palace - Captain Haltreme informed me that the drawbridges around the Grand Estates district had been raised, so those of you blessed with the power of flight will dismount and lower the drawbridge so we can cross using the Chimera. Once we cross we will split up and cover several objectives at once. Varvost, Tyber and Atratus will head for the Astropath Tower and try to summon aid from the Deathwatch. Once you accomplish that objective head back to the bridge. The rest of us will head to the Palace, investigate the Governor then meet you back at the bridge. It pains me to say but try to keep your distance from the enemy just in case the Grand Estates are overrun we do not want to get overwhelmed. Let's move.++

[A.T.]

"Understood". Atratus waited for the others to board, unsure if the transport would hold those of them with jump packs even with its adaptations for the larger abhuman species.

[Mazer Rackham]

Nycax Sabaan:

 

The Technomancer hovered over Greysight, although more in spirit than in physical form.  The boundless communion of the machine spirits assailed him, dozens of Ratio Minoris and Majoris crying for his attention.  A fuel conduit was out of harmony and the transmission stack was protesting, the exhaust outlet valve was partially rusted shut and only worked 66.3% percent of the time, a complaint registered by the Engine compressor valve.  He ignored them and they silenced one by one, as they were used to it.  Hot runes disappeared with each satisfying click.

 

+Now mark well+ began the Iron Hand, his metallic tone carried to Greysight's helm alone, even more resonant, yet with a further range of harmonics, as if one hundred voices whispered at the edges of each syllable. Only an Astartes ear could have stood a chance at picking them out. +The rites begin with the rune below your left hand.  Ignition.  Then forward and reverse are controlled by the two levers.  Push them in opposite directions, the conveyance will turn left if the right lever is reversed and so on.+  His next burst of words were enfleshed with the cold steel of binary cant in the higher echelons. +This is lacking the steering orbital of our Rhino STC vehicles, but simple design will assist in your manipulation.  The pedal under your left foot is the emergency arrest.  Velocity of direction or manoeuvre is dictated by how far each lever is pushed.+

 

With that, Sabaan's consciousness withdrew, to attend to the protestations of the engine.  His breathing slowed, regulating, the throat of the vehicle coughed, spluttered and smoothed as did Sabaan in turn, sympathetically as he cleared all valves. Then together they seemed to settle and await the striking of the switch that would send them into action.

 

MR.

[Nineswords]

[Expunged] Edited October 29, 2018 by Nineswords

[Steel Company]

Taking a breath to center his mind, allowing himself a moment or two while he waited for their transport to get underway, to think back when he might have shown his talent for the Paladin’s Path, when Adavan or Voltarn might have seen it, only one instance came to mind, and he wondered if that could’ve been the point in time that had made his path clear, yet he was to blind to see it.

 

A youthful Tyber, not more than 13 or 14 Imperial Standard Years stood on the outer ring of the central sparing circle, with thick scale leather armour over his body, a wooden heater shield in his left hand and a wooden sparing sword in his right. Across from him stood Sergio Vasquez, dressed similarly, in the center stood towing over them, in bit a simple linen sir coat, Tavar the Master or Recruits, his tattooed right arm high in the air, knife edged and read to drop to give the que for Tyber and Sergio to launch themselves at each other. This entire seen had played out several times before, each time Tyber’s reach, muscle strength and mass gave him an overwhelming advantage over Sergio, has it had for him when he faced others of his station in this ring, Tyber gave a little frown, this would not prove to be a long or interesting fight for him.

 

He took a moment to look around the room, keeping one eye on Master Tavar, this time it was different, dotted around the room, Tyber could see Master Voltarn, Adavan, Apothecary Artemis as well as several other Captains and Chaplains that Tyber still had to learn the names of. Out of the corner of his left eye he saw a slight twitch in Tavar’s right trapezius muscles, his que to bring his shield up, with his sword in a trailing position, he shifted his weight to his left leg, giving it a slight bend to be ready to launch himself in but a couple of heart beats from now. Across from him Tyber again noticed that Sergio wasn’t readying himself, did he miss that subtle motion Tyber wondered.

 

Just as that tought entered his mind, Tavar’s hand came down, launching himself with as much might as he could, he charged head long at Sergio, whom too had just started to move, yet his shield wasn’t held up but wasn’t being held at all, rather he had thrown in at Tyber’s feet, with little time left to avoid it, Tyber felt the impact of the edge into his right shin, knocking him off balance and down face first into the mats. Tyber could here whispers around him, evaluations of what had just happened most likely, yet no words of the match being over, forcing himself up, he saw that Sergio had his back to Tyber, a relaxed stance in his motions. Looking over to Adavan, he saw his mentor give him a little nod, forcing himself back to a good position to leap at Sergio, Tyber launched again at him, this time dropping his sword and shield; this would be settled without weapons.

 

Sergio was enjoying what he thought would be victory, normally the rules for duels were simple, first one to hit the mats, lost. It had been his mentor’s suggestion to use the shield in such a way, it wasn’t against the rules, but wasn’t the most honorable of tactics either. It was to his surprise when no word of victory had been issued, rather it was shock when his brutish opponent slammed into him from behind, driving him face down into the mat with enough force that Sergio let out a yelp of pain when he felt his nose break under the impact. As he was still dazed when Tyber rolled him onto his back, using his knees to pin Sergio’s arms in place while sitting on his chest, from that position Tyber began to pummel Sergio’s face with his fist. With each strike Tyber grinned a little more, this was satisfying, for all the slights Sergio had sent his way, from calling him ‘beach savage’ to making him look foolish by setting Tyber’s chrono back an hour just to make him miss morning meal.

 

On the fourth or fifth strike, Tyber felt something take hold of his right wrist, out of instinct, he spun and struck with his left fist, the connection sent a jolt of pain down his wrist and arm, as his eyes settled on the sight, he felt a cold jolt of fear run down his spine, his left fist was firmly against the right side of Master Tavar’s face. Master Tavar gave him a hard look, those green eyes piercing deep into Tyber, his voice low and rough came out “You have stones boy, I will give you that.”

 

Tavar lifted Tyber up by his wrist, giving a nod to both Adavan and Voltarn, in some unspoken question before he rumbled out “Victor.”

 

It was the rumble of the Chimera along with a lurch of the drives kicking in that brought him back to the present, letting him know to on the lookout for anything in the windows or roof tops on their trip.

[Mazer Rackham]

They stood together, particles of ice cracking from the occasional split vent, where a water pipe or fluid conduit had ruptured and leaked out into the void.  It was not uncommon, he had seen it many times.  Imperial ships were like that - made from the strongest stuff, commanded by the sternest of words, but still as a leaky as a Brocca Root.  The void was open to them and their teeth, even though niether admitted, nor indeed even noticed any more were on edge from the actinic, regular heartbeat pulse of the monstrously powerful void shields around them.  Here and there a comet burned through, leaving a trace of fire, then gone - a literal flash in the panopticon of space.

 

Blue plasma contrails stretched out for over one hundred feet, ionised gas and particulates too stubborn to burn to cinders cast smouldering in the wake of the metal behemoth, cast like a fishing spear into the ether.  The plasma exhaust knifed into the black, the emptiness off to their left and below.  Stood here, out on the hull, maglocked and tethered for safety stood two figures, ebon in raiment, their arms a silver shard, reflecting the light.  The void shields, so tight to the ship sometimes carried a low kind of atmosphere, but the Voice of Thunder had known no orbit that catered to oxygen and so the only accompaniment to their breathing and the familiar thrumming of the engines was the distortion from the Vox.

 

Akkad welcomed the relative silence.  The weeks had been long and heavy with noise - bluster, shouting, battle-cries that would have pulverised mortal ears - the clash of metal on metal, of chainswords biting into meat - that dusky and they heavy scent of scorched oil-soaked servitor skin being rent and hewn.  A small smile flicked across his lips, which he licked to make sure it had gone as he thought of the relaxing agents needed being injected into his armour ports by Solastion, the attentive and stern-fingered Apothecary, mainly to ease the muscles of his arms after firing a heavy bolter so much.

 

He stood there, enjoying the silence a little longer, a rune flashing onto his heads-up-display, waiting for the signal to begin a small training exercise he had suggested.  He blink-clicked and immediately there was a small tremble through the deck as bales of refuse left the evacuation chute.  Angled so as to fall into the plasma venting from the engines, so to leave nothing to the enemy - or to put out of their misery anyone stupid enough to be caught in the funnel, the two Marines were going to try and prevent the normal destruction by fire and replace it with bullets.

 

+Your trigger is just there, under your finger Brother.+ A small smile had returned.  His companion was easy to get on with.  A barrel of a chest heaved and bucked as the other laughed with a great mirth.

+Aye, but it is well mine is loaded and unjammed!+ Akkad smiled at the jest - it was appropriate.

Clunk - Boom - Clunk - Boom - Clunk - Boom.  The silence remained, but the audio relays in each helm, much like in the training simulator, played the noises for them, so they could keep track of what went on.  Akkad admired the work of the Frag Cannon, shredding and destroying everything at close range.

+I have never seen such a thing, Thorvald,+ he turned slightly to the Space Wolf to his left as he spoke, his tone carefully metered with appropriate awe, +to witness you fight was a legend come to life beside me.+

 

Another moment of silence as the Space Wolf heaved that monstrous cannon around for another volley, the vox remained open and Thorvald was laughing - goodly in bonhomie, the way a praised warrior did when he wished to accept praise without giving in to pride.  It was becoming of him, wholesome.

+Indeed, but when I learned of your uppercut I was put to shame.+ A smile in the voice told Akkad he was not shamed in the least.  Akkad smiled with him.  The Lion and the Wolf waited until the next rune was blinking hotly in their vision.  The irony had not been lost on Thorvald, who had told the story of the legendary meeting of the Primarchs, albeit more favourably for his own gene-sire Akkad suspected, with a trace of humour.

 

The automated chute command had been slaved to their autosenses by Sabaan.  There had been grumbling, but the Techmarine had done it anyway.  Another slew of refuse sidled into oblivion.  Akkad loosed Cadence and rendered it into pieces.

 

+Still brother, you are lacking in your oath to me.+ he allowed a small pause as the Wolf next to him tensed, ready to open his umbrage at such a slight +I did cut more threads than you.+  The other hulking Astartes maglocked his weapon to his backpack and relaxed, hands on hips.  He sighed deeply into the vox, ruefully and they discussed the prize.  When Akkad suggested the wolf tooth, from the centre of the necklace, the Fenrisian was initially non-committal.

 

+Perhaps little Lion+ he smirked, +but I am certain there is a wyrd upon it.+ His tone grew dark - not exactly something Akkad had seen before - but he had the honour of having served with the Lamenters.  Touched by prophecy from the potent blood boiling within them, the glazed look, the distant voice...the horrible accuracy of portent.

+All I can see,+ he continued, fingering the ivory fangs, +is darkness, clouds and the smell of rain - and a language I do not know.+  He snapped out of it suddenly, turning, slapping Akkad on the shoulder suddenly, casuing him to miss.  The Space Wolf let out a whoop and hopped foot to foot.

 

+You owe me something now little Lion!+ It was not really in an insult.  Thorvald was taller - the Astral Claw possibly being the smallest Astartes of the squad.

+You're only a cubit taller than I...+ he protested, with great false huffing.  The Space Wolf took the bait gladly.

+Oho! Feeling antiquated?  You are older as well as you not?+  Akkad was beaten again.

+I am going to have to shut you up somehow.  Perhaps I can get you something to drink?+ The way he said it made Thorvald incline his head, the keen interest of one of the Hounds of Russ was now fully on the smaller Marine.

+And why didn't you say so before! Lead on, by Russ!+

 

They went inside, leaving the remains of servitors to melt and be turned into dust, forgotten and alone in the sea of stars.

 

MR.

[Nineswords]

IMPERIAL TECHNOLOGY IS fundamentally straightforward to a greater or lesser degree. The Emperor of All, in his wisdom, designed or guided the design and manufacture of artefacts that were built to endure. Perhaps He perceived the end to His Great Crusade and envisaged an Imperium without Him, falling into slow decay as the millennia’s passed. We have singularly declined in our technological innovation, despite our continued resistance to the greater cosmic horrors.

 

Faith, blind tradition and dogma. These are the drivers of our species, for better or worse. We collectively repair and preserve without knowing why, rather than create something new. Strip away the Rites and the rituals, and all that is left is a pale shadow of former glory.

 

That is the truth of it, heretical as it was.

Greysight’s privately held views were in danger of distracting him from the Iron Hand's prescriptive instructions of operating the battered Chimera carrier. The Storm Son silently nodded his understanding of manipulating the control levers of the tank, before Sabaan moved off to minister further protestations of the transport’s engines, intoning Saint Ferreolus’ Rites of Activation in his oddly modulated voice.

Depressing the acceleration pedal, the Chimera lurched into an awkward rumble, struggling under the collective power-armoured weight of the kill team as it slowly trundled out of the cathedrum square into the night.

Edited November 12, 2018 by Nineswords

[Commissar Molotov]

The life of a Space Marine is a life of pain and loss.

 

The Codex Astartes, written by Guilliman in ancient ages long past, holds that maxim. It is true; perhaps truest of all for the Space Marines of the Deathwatch. Torn away from the familial bonds of Chapter and blood, thrown together with gene-cousins so unlike as to be alien. All of the brothers of the assembled Kill-Team have experienced glories and victories, but loss, too. Always the loss.

 

The drizzling rain of Syndalla makes it easy to allow melancholia to knife into your hearts. Above, in the far orbits, perhaps the wreckage of the Voice of Thunder spins lazily as the final fires gutter out. Elsewhere, the body of Thorvald Hammerhand lies broken, perhaps even desecrated by the xenos menace. And somewhere within the city of Beregar, an ancient evil stirs, doubtlessly already aware that the Adeptus Astartes have arrived to exact retribution for the crime of existing within a galaxy that belongs rightfully to Man.

 

The Chimera is a sturdy, dutiful beast. It would not do to call the Rhino personnel carriers favoured by the Astartes comfortable; after all, the Space Marines have little need to comfort, so inured are they to hardship. Yet even they have the weight of ages and the skill of the artificer craftsman in their construction. The Chimera, by contrast, is utilitarian in the extreme. Within the cramped passenger compartment you can see the welding seams, the hastily-stamped manufactorum marks and the peeling prayer-seals that would have been applied in mass consecration ceremonies. But however ungainly its birth, the vehicle does not fail you.

 

The Chimera crunches to a halt at the edge of one of the main canals that thread Beregar City. The canal's water is near-stagnant, barely moving. Within the murk you can see shapes that could be bodies, sunken and swollen. The Canal is approximately 200 metres wide, brick walls punctured occasionally by inlet-pipes and sewer-drains. Above, you see the high walls of the Grand Estates, approximately 15 metres or so. There is a drawbridge that would ordinarily provide access to the estates themselves, but this has been drawn up.

 

The drizzle is omnipresent, unrelenting.

Edited October 29, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Steel Company]

As the transport ground to a halt at the edge of the moat, from his position being half out of the Chimera already Tyber placed both hands on either sides of the hull, pushing himself out of the top hatch. Even through the gauntlets of his Mk. VIII warplate he could tell the hull was slick with the rain water, even with the low light systems of his armour turning everything shades of grey, it was still hard to make out the details of the wall at 200m away. Getting into a kneeling position behind the turret of the vehicle, he activated the basic zoom functions of the HUD to start scanning the ramparts for any signs of a watch posted to it. Their approach had not been stealthy, as was the nature of treads on ground, but no challenge from the ramparts was worrisome, were those on the other side of that wall already dead, under the control of the Gene-Steelers or worse turning a blind eye to what was going on outside their walls.

 

Sighing to himself, Tyber got down off of the Chimera and took up position as close to the moat as he could and got himself ready to launch on wings of fire to the top of those ramparts as to secure the wheel house and let those without jump packs continue on, on their task.

Edited October 29, 2018 by Steel Company

[A.T.]

Atratus took up position near Tyber, scanning the target position with his scope. A more oblique flight vector from a higher position would have served them better but their approach would have been observed and speed was now of greatest value.

[Slips]

Im assuming that the Moat isnt actually 200 meters wide and its a typo for 20m? 

 

As Solastion exited the chimera, the rear boarding ramp groaning in protest as his and Akkads combined weight tread upon it, Solastion took the time to look over the looming Gothic structure arrayed before them in the drizzling rain as he gathered up with the rest of his squadmates.

 

It wasnt the most aesthetically pleasing compound, to be sure, its features all standardly Gothic in appearance and decoration. The moat, while simple, was an effective countermeasure against enemies using wall-scaling equipment that didn't leave them vulnerable to retaliation. The main issue he had with what he saw before him were all the exposed drainage pipes. Easy points of egress for those properly equipped and in small enough numbers to approach clandestinely; that they themselves had yet to be spotted by any guards atop the wall made Solastion sight in disappointment, it's not as if their approach was the stealthiest. At least the majority of them were too small for humanoid sized forms to fit within.

 

All this reminded him of his own pre-ascension assaults upon much more technologically rudimentary castles; one of his only remaining memories of life before the Crimson Knights. Moats had definitely been an issue then as well but, constant bombardment by ancient Treb-Yu'Chays - usually using inflamed munitions or even the decomposing corpses of the dead - coupled with some patience, meant that when finally came the time to assault the structure there was little in the way of stopping them from breaching the walls and putting those within to the sword.

 

Things were different now though. If the exterior walls had any ferromagnetic contents then he and his brothers could easily scale the walls with the air of the magnetic soles of their boots; in the case of those with Jump Packs, simply jumping up and over the the structure would be easy enough. His main concern, however, was not how easy it would be to enter but to exfiltrate if the situation became dire. For all they knew the walls beyond them were the breeding grounds for the corruption present on world.

 

++Hm, would we have been so blessed as to have a son of Dorn in our presence at this very moment...Either way, Brother Vidan, how do we proceed?++

Edited October 30, 2018 by Slips

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad stirred, pulling himself to a low crouch.  He followed Solastion out of the rear ramp as the hydraulics dropped it down into the rain.  He left the Assault Marines to clamber out and prepare themselves to assail the battlements, so to speak.  The silence from the buttressed curtain wall was deafening.  Rain did nothing to reveal empty sentinel bastions and poorly maintained crenelations.

 

Disgraceful.

 

This would be a executable offence in anyone's book.  The world was on fire and there were no guards to challenge their approach in a battle-worn Chimera - not the most subtle of vehicles and the Marines made no attempts at stealth - except for Atratus, who seemed to move like a ship of shadow by habit.  An eyebrow popped up as he considered that even standing still, the Raptor had a shadowed nonchalance.

 

A feeling took root in his stomach, his sixth sense, so well attuned was ringing a familiar tone.  Cadence was moved without thought, from being maglocked at his back, to being slung across his body, in ready hands.  He looked across at Tyber, his head motion a sharp snap.  His voice came over closed, private vox.

 

+Strong arm, swift feet Ahu.  Nekelmu Ina Etuti Asbu Inusu.+

 

He made the Aquila to ward off the feeling and spoke in dark, almost wistful tones in Gothic.

 

+The Evil Eye dwells in the darkness there.+

 

MR.

 

Edited for foreboding flavour and was at work!

Edited October 30, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Commissar Molotov]

After a moment, a searchlight flickers on, a stab of light that punches through the rain to illuminate you in a sizzling circle. Even with the aid afforded to you by the auto-senses of your helms, it is hard to make out figures within the crenellations of the Estate wall. Atratus, with his scope, is far better equipped. The rockcrete offers little protection to his gaze.

 

"Who goes there?" A voice crackles out over a vox-hailer.

 

++Really?++ Varvost's voice crackles within the internal vox-net. ++Blind as well as stupid?++

Edited October 30, 2018 by Commissar Molotov