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

[Steel Company]

Tyber edged closer to the lip of the building that he, Varvost and Atratus were perched on. Just behind him, slightly to his left Varvost was also close at hand. Activating the zoom fuction of his HUD on the armoured figures, it was in the glint of the lights around the base of the tower that he saw it, power cables leading to the blades that they carried. Placing a hand out in front of Varvost, Tyber spoke over the vox to the others with him; +Power cables, they have power blades… this could be problematic if they try to block our entry. Do either of you have suggestions?+

 

Getting down to one knee he watched the units, trying to see a pattern in their patrols, if there was possibly a moment in blindness of the entrance to the tower, while he waited to hear any suggestions. He couldn’t help but think on the presence of power blades, Adavan had told him of how he’d seen such weapons destroy lesser weapons with ease and how they all but ignored all but the heaviest of war plate.

[A.T.]

"A more direct route might better establish the threat here", suggested Atratus, "the tower is likely protected by augers against those who would approach by stealth, but may recognise the authority of the Astartes and stand down if confronted".

 

Looking to vantage points beyond with clear lines of sight to the tower, "if not the actions of a single such servitor would reveal the intent of all. Covering fire and a withdraw to high ground, or a lightning strike against them before they might take advantage of their blades and numbers."

[Steel Company]

Tyber sighed to himself, he couldn’t fault Atratus’ words, the logic was sound. He cleared his mind, before speaking over the vox, +Brothers, I will go down there and try to gain us entry. Varvost if you could hang back with in a distance you feel comfortable charging in with should everything turn against us. Atratus could you maintain an optimal line of sight with your rifle should the need arise.+

 

With that Tyber stood and stepped off of the ledge, using his jump pack to arrest his momentum enough to allow for a solid landing. He took a less menacing stance with his walk, well maintaining a slight sideways approach to the building, making sure that the mark of the Inquisition on his left pauldron was clearly visible. Gritting his teeth, he hated that symbol, trying to make use of it made him feel sick to his stomach. Stopping just shy of the barriers Tyber activated his external vox unit to bellow out +In the name of the Emperor of Mankind, the Inquisition and the Aduptus Astartes, open these gates, we have business with the master of this Astropathic choir.+

 

As the rain beat down on him, he couldn’t help but think of something Adavan had told him when he was still a small boy, while he awaited a responce.

 

It had only been weeks since he had come to Arce, he had met his master one of the Astartes he went by the name of Adavan. Tyber sat in his master’s chambers on a small stool, his master at a desk, staring out a window, rubbing his chin, thick slab muscles twitching with every motion. His master broke the silence that had been never ending, his voice was deep and dark with melancholy “Listen to me well, boy. You may one day find yourself leading others, a good leader will never ask one of their brothers to do something they are not willing to do themselves. I have seen too many brothers fail in their duties due to someone above them not willing to do the tasks they assigned others.”

[Xin Ceithan]

>>>> Simulus inload.....regained. <<<

 

After giving due praise and completing the  rites of unchallenged arrival as well as performing the protective benediction of watchful readiness, Nycax Sabaan stepped from the armoured personal carrier to follow his brethren into the Governour`s palace. The Chimera remained behind, unmoved. Compared to to the machine spirits of the Astartes craft he was used to, the APC was a docile beast. It performed it`s designed function ruggedly and steadily, without the often predatory or zealous urges common to the blessed designs favoured by the Space Marine Chapters. An old warhorse doing it`s duty, unaware and uncaring about the world beyond. It had a becalming quality to it, which Nycax found oddly welcoming after recent events.

 

Truth to be told, Sabaan had noct quite been himself after their extraction from the Voice of Thunder and the fiery descent to the surface of Syndalla. The unorthodox linkage to their landing craft and it`s rather sudden disconnection just before the lander`s crash had been taxing on his mind, his spirit and his augmented body. It had taken time to expunge the after-echoes of the pilot servitor feeds from his thoughtstream. Sensor ghost of debris and reentry burn had flickered into his field of vision. The blessed nanocytes of his Auto-Sanguine Implants had aided the already impressive healing capacities of his genhanced flesh form and now the scars from the  psychostigmatic feed back burns received in the linkage were already fading,  woven  into the tapestry of older scar tissue and fleshgraft. His olfactory senses still registered the distinctive smell of burned flesh inside his warplate.

 

The presence of his duty bound brothers, especially Akkad in those confusing moments after the linkage loss had steadied him.

Without the interlink feed of an Iron Hand clanclave, Sabaan had been forced to brace his self in the sacred duties of the Astartes. He killed the enemies of the Primarch, the Emperor and the Omnissiah and lended the blessesings and sanctioned rituals of the Great Maker to aid in HIS grand design.

He had also talked a LOT since making planetfall. It was a strainful, laughably incomplete form of communication but forcing the conumdrum of sensory impressions and fraying thoughtfeeds into as a basic a shape as words required in verbal exchange had helped him to remain Nycax Sabaan and had thus enabled him to perform according to the parameters of this mission. It could have been worse.

Even Talking (!) his brother through the use of the Chimera`s control elements and guiding the  STC spirit to the walled estates had helped Sabaan regain his equilibrium. At least, as much as that was possible under current conditions.

 

A thought occurred him as he disembarked. The humble Chimera had delivered the Killteam to their current objective. In had performed outside it`s designated role and borne the sacred forms of an Astartes Killteam. It had not been blown apart on the wax or been dismembered by foul xenos.

 

>> It also did not burn up and crash along the way. That`s a first today<<

The phantom of a grin formed where once his left mandibular joint had been. His respirator issued what passed for an augmented snort.

 

2-12 had survived where all other transport options made available to the killteam had sacrificed their existence so that they could continue in their duty.

Nycax decided to take that as a good omen.

 

The Techmarine halted and retrieved a micro-incision torch from his utility belt.

Shadows played around the rear ramp, as a needle thin lasbeam from the stencil like instrument burned an inscription next to production stamps and purity seals just inside the crew ramp. Then the  light died. It left a rapidly cooling las-etchted benediction the size of a human thumbnail. In precise, no-nonsense letters proclaimed "CHM-2-12-Honoris-Ferrum, the inscription.  circulating a single “ X “ at the center.  The Chimera´s engine rumbShadows played around the rear ramp, as a needle thin lasbeam from the stencil like instrument to add an inscription next to production stamps and purity seals just inside the crew ramp. Then the  light died  left a rapidly cooling las-etchted benediction the size of a human thumbnail. In precise, no-nonsense letters it proclaimed: "CHM-2-12-Honoris-Ferrum"' the inscription.  circulating a single “ X “ at the center. 

The Chimera´s engine rumbled on unimpressed as it remained on stand-by. It`s simple nature was not so easy to upset – not even by the unforeseen benevolence  of one of the Ohmnissiah`s chosen warriors.

 

It`s organic compatriots were much more given to excitement. Sabann kept a vox link open to the Chimera and established rudimentary vox observation pattern as he kept his aural feeds open to the chatter of the Syndallan defenders. He focused on the vox-returns closest to their current position and began adding them to the navigational grid overlay of his autosenses. So far, it was mostly idle and pointless chatter focused  around the sightings of the Astartes. Vox Discipline was apparently not a strong point of the local PDF forces. If the enemy had not received word of their arrival after the engagement at their drop site, it could not be long now.

He picked up his pace and closed with his brothers.  Bolters ready, they advanced in to the building.

[Mazer Rackham]

Daon Akkad, Squinter at Fools:

Perception roll: Target - 50+30= 80

D100: 74 Pass, no DoS.

 

Surprise.  The Governor was surprised.  Akkad was not convinced - the surprise was genuine, but what was the trigger?  That the Xenos were here, or that they had been found out?  Cadence sat in his hands.  In deference to the fact he was in a Governor's Manse and awaiting Vaidan's order, the barrel was lowered.  In deference to the fact he was no idiot, the safety was off.  Akkad casually looked around.

 

++Brothers, eyes open upon the crowd. Emperor knows they've been infiltrated by the cult at this point if the Governor himself is unawares.++

 

GM: How many obviously armed men are in here and what are their positions?

 

He only half-heard the rest of the words of the Crimson Knight, then his attention swam back into focus.  He voxed to Solastion.

++My apothecary, if the enemy spoor has permeated these walls we should let none leave these halls.  Their cause may be...contrary to ours.++  His voice was steel, trapped under a layer of frost.  His tone was more of a suggestion, in deference to the specialist - his disgust reserved for the tainted amongst them.

 

He considered removing his helm and blink-clicked a few runes.

 

GM(CM) Only:

Akkad wants to scan for Tyranid enzymes or pheromones in the air, with the Auspex, or, since he still has the tyranid matter digesting in his guts (I think it lasts several hours), he would alternatively like to try and smell them. I can do a Tech Use Test or Awareness (Smell)

 

MR.

Edited November 8, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Xin Ceithan]

Once more a sea of vivid colour and organic shapes and smells broke upon the onyx cliffs of their armoured forms. It was oddly reminiscent   of the  situation they had faced aboard the Voice of Thunder.  The optical cluster whirred as Sabaan blink clicked through the multi-sprectral visual feed, noting –mostly agapic- augmentation and searching for signs of obvious genetic defiances or hidden weapons.

His Bolter still up and ready , he cycled his attention through the visual feed and monitoring the vox feed from the 2-12 as well as the verbal exchange between the Watch Sergeant and the local Governor.

 

>>The Calculus is much  more in our favour here. And the xenos at least had not wanted to talk<<

He wasted a few nanoseconds on projecting the most efficient pattern to pacify the room. The facial muscle memory itched again.

 

Observing the Watch-Sergeant, Sabaan noted an odd mixture of recognition towards Vaidan`s seemingly intuitive gift at establishing a connection between him and others and a curious sense ofrelief about not having to perform any form of “diplomatic interaction” with such baseline humans. Vaidan obviously possessed a laudable amount of patience.

 

Or it might just be a form of organic recklessness. The Watch Sergeant had not only begun disclosing mission critical information but also opted to remove his helmet in the presence  of a horde of potential -if low grade- hostiles. Sabaan was still calculationg the probabilities of the matter. Odds were, Vaidan was indeed taking a calculated risk in an attempt to enhance his interaction outcome by presenting his unarmoured face. Baseline humans seemed to put a lot of importance on interacting “face to face”, even when said face had obviously been genhanced and transformed beyond the mortal norm.  From Sabaan`s point of view, the possible outcome did not really outweigh the risks. It wasn´t even due to his experience as an Astartes of the Iron Hands or his training in the Martian mysteries. No baseline Medusan would present his face to an outsider in such careless a way.  Or even to a less intimate member of their own clan group.  Not unless someone felt the need of volunteering for semi-professional facial reconstruction. The concept of “friend” was rather hard to grasp or convey in his native Medusaan dialect.

 

But if Vaidan`s action was among the odds of taking a calculated risk, Sabaan was utterly unprepared for Solastion following the Watch-Sergeant's example.

He felt his servo-arm twitch as the Crimson Knight removed his helmet to join the ongoing verbal exchange

>>... And this is the one lecturing about head protection after  the faux stimulus exercise. << The not-thought pulsed through his thoughtstream.

Another phantom grin.  A  hissed grunt  escaped his respirator.  Deeper in the room, a waifish male orderly fainted and collapsed into a gilded trolley carrying containers with liquids of varying alcoholic components. No one took particulary notice.

 

++ I support the Apothecary`s suggestion to move to a more secluded environment++ Sabaan  voxed. He did not like being a room full of unaugmented humans at the best of times anyway.

 

Since his initial sensorium Survey had revealed nothing blatantly defiant. he began filtering the appearance of the mortals present in regard to the heraldry of the derelict defence craft they had passed on their way into the system.   Maybe further information could be gathered about the situation from someone who should at the very least be informed about loss of contact to one of their patrol craft. If the Governor truly was ignorant of the current situation, maybe another source of information could be accessed here...

Edited November 12, 2018 by Xin Ceithan

[Nineswords]

AKKAD WAS TENSE. He was also smart enough to lower the massive bulk of his heavy bolter so as not to escalate a tense situation. In truth, it would be unwise of any baseline humans in the room to ambush them, but then again, after everything Greysight had seen, their foes were anything but human, so it paid to be prepared. 

 

Which is why Greysight's boltgun was also lowered with the safety off.

 

As Solastion and Vaidan briefed the governor in more detail than Greysight felt comfortable, the Storm Son slowly scanned the room. Eyeing the magnificent frescos, and beneath them, the less magnificent wretches that passed for Syndalla's nobility, he felt a general sense of unease. Greysight realised what it was: everything seemed to be just so. To all appearances, the kill-team was addressing the governor and his inner court.

 

Greysight breathed deeply, clearing his mind. He had already plotted an expedient route back to the chimera should the situation turn sour, but at that moment, Vârvost's blunt presence would have been most welcome.

Edited November 12, 2018 by Nineswords

[Commissar Molotov]

Vaidan, Akkad, Solastion, Greysight, Sabaan:

 

The silence that follows the Apothecary's question speaks volumes; the noble classes here seem wholly unprepared for the threat of a Genestealer invasion.  

 

"Time is of the essence with these matters," the Crimson Knight says, "and we must act quickly."

 

The Governor nods in agreement. 

 

"We will aid you however we are able in cleansing our home from this taint. I can lead you to the chambers within the manse given over to quelling the insurrection. There are officers of the PDF there who might be able to assist you further."

 

 

Sabaan:

You do indeed notice that one of the assembled gentry wears the crossed golden sickles of House Vortis. He is an elderly man in a militaristic uniform that closely mimics the style of the Guardsmen, with allowances made for his prodigious bulk. 

 

Akkad:

As a pale green wave washes around the cyclical display of the auspex, you cannot determine any sign of Tyranid pheromones within the room itself or its vicinity. Unless... 

Is that...?

 

 

 

 

 

Tyber, Atratus, Varvost:

 

"Covering fire and a withdraw to high ground," the Raptor's helm glints dully in the light as he motions towards the servitors, "or a lightning strike against them before they might take advantage of their blades and numbers."

 

Varvost shrugs, the motion amplified by the bulk of his shoulder-pauldrons. Either option seems feasible to him.  

 

 

As the Dragon drops to the ground, dispensing orders, the Eradicator nods, unsheathing his chain-axe and bolt pistol. The square plaza surrounding the Astropath's tower is quiet and still. In the far distance you might perhaps make out sporadic gunfire, but here the sound of Tyber's voice reverberates far louder.

 

++In the name of the Emperor of Mankind, the Inquisition and the Adeptus Astartes, open these gates; we have business with the master of this Astropathic choir.++

 

The closest of these unusual bird-like figures stops in its tracks, tilting its head toward the Space Marine. Its beatific visage is impassive and unmoving; the voice instead comes from a grille in the mantle around its chest. It is a synthesised choir, and overlay of tones both male and female, old and young. 

 

"THE WAY IS SHUT." 

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad froze.  Noticeably, like a gundog picking up a scent.  A flicker of an eye opened a squad channel, the voice was the command tone, warning and authority blended perfectly to pierce a superhuman mind and reach down into the hypnogogic training.

 

+Blackthorn, on your guard, something is...amiss.+

 

MR.

[Slips]

As the governor mentions leading them to the manses strategium, Solastion steps back into line with his brothers, helmet still off for a beat before Akkad's words ring into his ear.

 

+Blackthorn, on your guard, something is...amiss.+

 

In a nonchalant movement, Solastion slips his helmet back on and without even so much as twitching or indicating anything was amiss got back on the squads vox now that the mortals would be unable to notice their communications ++Understood Brother Akkad.++ He replies as he places his forearm at rest casually upon the hilt/pommel of his chainsword maglocked at his hip.

 

He then waits a beat or two before deliberately taking a glance around the room himself.

 

Awareness/Perception: 1d100 23 vs Perception 40 + 10 (autosesnse) + 10 (hightened sight/hearing if applicable) = 60 for 3 DoS (or 2 if the heightened sense do not apply).

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: Solastion notices nothing amiss. 

[Steel Company]

“THE WAY IS SHUT” the false thing said in a choir of sound, the sound echoed off of the walls and street. Tyber placed a hand on his bolt pistol while he boomed back with his external vox +You dare to defy the chosen of the Emperor, such choices have consequences.+

 

Activating the targeting systems of his armour in concert with the command and control functions Tyber highlighted the power cables on the weapons, setting them as priority targets and assigning targets to the others. With that task completed Tyber activated the greater squad level vox network, +Sargent, we have encountered servitors that are blocking our path, they do not recognize our authority as Astartes, those that carry the mark of the Inquisition or the Emperor of Man. Combat is a possible course of action, however they seem to be armed with power blades, combat would be less than ideal as the risk to ourselves is great. I have attached an image of these servitors as I am unfamiliarly with this type of combat unit. We await your recommendation Sargent.+

 

Slowly with subtly Tyber undid the strap over his bolt pistol, getting ready to fire, should combat be forced, At least with taking out the power cables the threat these pose will be greatly reduced he thought to himself.

Edited November 12, 2018 by Steel Company

[Xin Ceithan]

At Akkad's reaction , Sabaan began to intensify his survey. The ping from his internal Augur Array went out into the room. While almost unnoticeable to a baseline human, it was just perceivable to the Genhanced senses of the Astartes. It send a little ripples through the alcoholic liquids in their various glass containers. The pet carnine held aloft by one of the nobles whined. It was a miserable

, hairless thing and hardly the size of an Astartes fist. It resembled a sack of flesh who considered any form of locomotion an almost forgotten legend from another geological age. A trait it seemed to share with it's owner, Sabaan noted in passing.

He focussed his optical cluster on the bulk of the noble his cross reference labeled as belonging to a House Vortis.

 

++ This one. His heraldry resembles one from the patrol craft we encountered++

In addition to the vox cast, Sabaan exloaded a marker rune to the autosenses of the squad.

++I suggest further inquiry++

While his tone was even and of the by now customary unmoved mechanical quality, it brought to mind images of sharp objects, sensorium probes and intense physical discomfort from the animal parts of the human mind.

 

The Techmarrine slightly adjusted his grip on the Boltgun still held in readiness across his chest, so he might access the Omnispex strapped to the vambrace of his armored left forearm. Runes flickered as he began adjusting the device to follow up any oddities his implanted senses might uncover...

 

GM

 

In addition to using the Augur Array (which is a baseline Auspex ) in addition to the exceptional eye implant to check for irregularities or ambushes, Sabaan would use the more sophisticated Omnispex for more detailed follow up investigations of any leads.

[Reyner]

The Governor nods in agreement.

"We will aid you however we are able in cleansing our home from this taint. I can lead you to the chambers within the manse given over to quelling the insurrection. There are officers of the PDF there who might be able to assist you further."

 

Good at least there is a central control chamber, the data would be useful to try and pin down the Broodlord or any other command elements of the cultists thought Vaidan. If there was time he needed to ask Sabaan what data he could recover from the device from the shuttle.

 

"Yes Governor, that would be helpful please lead on. I am interested in seeing if there are any patterns to the enemies attacks or if your men have encountered any significant strongholds. It will aid us in our hunt for the monster leading the assault on your world."

 

++ This one. His heraldry resembles one from the patrol craft we encountered, I suggest further inquiry++
 

Without his helmet Vaidan wasn't sure which one Sabaan was referring to but he tapped his vox bead twice acknowledging the information.  

[Mazer Rackham]

+Understood Brother Akkad.+ Solastion.  The Crimson Knight peered around the chamber as casually as a Space Marine could.  He tensed a little, as if a helm could squint, his body language gave the impression.  Then - confusion in posture as if he had not found the thing he hunted.  It was no surprise, Akkad was in harmony with his earlier bad feelings.  Nekelmu...

 

Vaidan spoke levelly, keeping his conversational tone, as if what he had said did not mean the end of the world of these autocrats.

"Yes Governor, that would be helpful please lead on. I am interested in seeing if there are any patterns to the enemies attacks or if your men have encountered any significant strongholds. It will aid us in our hunt for the monster leading the assault on your world."

 

Then Sabaan.  He hadn't realised what the pulse had meant or where it came from until the compass pip burned into his retina.

++ This one. His heraldry resembles one from the patrol craft we encountered, I suggest further inquiry++

 

He noticed Sabaan was holding his boltgun ready and the quick-eyed Greysight had a glance around.  One with the technospirit of a machine, the other the insight of a needle-laser.  It reassured him.  And yet...

 

And yet.

 

There was something wrong.  Just wrong.  Was it the room?  This was the first time he had been in a Governor's Manse sine the scouring of Badab, when he had burned it down with his steel-clad kin with fire and sword.  In the darkness of his mind he could hear the tears and wailing of his mother and his sisters.  He was 9 summers old and was not yet a man by the standards of his people.  A princeling, a noble brat maybe.  Then, then had come the academies, put into seclusion by his new step-father.  Integrated into a larger house.  His uncle killed by his own hand a year later.  Daon was the...spawn...of another male lion, so had be erased.  Bitterness.  Then had come the Astartes and the Trials and soon, he was a Lion himself.  It had been hard.  He came back to the present.  That was not what was making him feel odd - just a side-effect of this place.

 

With one eye on the auspex and the other on the bulging human clad in velveteen finery and satin raiment, Sabaan's compass pip hovering above him in Damoclean fashion, Akkad lifted his left hand and beckoned to the man from House Vortis.  He sensed his Savant and his Hunter nearby.  It was good.

 

+Ave, Nobilis filius Vortis, volo enim vos adtende mihi.+ Through a vox-grille it sounded a little less harsh than normal barking, it was not voiced as a demand, but it was not a request either, despite the courtly embellishment.  His hand waved in a blur, but to the other Marines it was clear as day.

 

Astartes battle sign.

 

Be/Wary/

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

Tyber, Atratus, Varvost:

Targeting reticules spring up on Tyber's faceplate, clustering around these strange servitor-constructs. At the Dragon's incredulous response, it speaks again:

"THE WAY IS SHUT."


Vaidan, Akkad, Greysight, Solastion, Sabaan:

GM: To those using auspices or attempting to discern "oddities" - I'm not going to give anything away for free! Be specific about what you're looking for!


As the Governor begins to move towards the edge of the room, Sabaan and Akkad begin to turn their attention to the figure bearing the insignia of House Vortis.

It occurs that the room you are in, for all its finery, is a refugee camp. These wretches may not have flyblown sores and swollen stomachs, but they are just as lost, just as powerless. Walling themselves within the Grand Estates and willing the insurrection to vanish into thin air was not that dissimilar from those aboard a sinking ship clinging to the balustrade and wishing the waves away.

As you move, the nobles follow you with their eyes, grit their teeth at the whining of power armour servos. Some still manage the odd whisper, whilst others stand open-mouthed, perhaps unbelieving that the Astartes are real, and not the fabled figures of legend.

As Akkad, carrying a heavy weapon near enough the size of a man, steps forward and addresses the noble from House Vortis, his eyes bulging almost as much as the seams of his waistband.

The High Gothic is inflected with royal Badabian, rendered with a metallic grind thanks to the vox-grille. Akkad's words are, however, clear.

"You know me?" the noble replies. While there are those that bow their heads when confronted by the Astartes, those that genuflect or act in a servile way. There is a complex mix of emotions on his face - disbelief, perhaps, competing with the natural inbred sense of superiority natural to the nobility.
 

Edited November 13, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

"You know me?"  Akkad sensed the potential amongst the throng of what were clearly enriched refugees to expect and embrace proffered obsequiousness...the small shard of formal normality creeping back into lives turned upside down, the way lives were when pitchforks and burning torches came to your door in massive quantities.

 

"Who does not? I know your sigil and heraldry, it was required learning." Akkad added a touch of levity through a faint smile, providing the notion to the audience that it was worth note as opposed to knowing a potential enemy.  He continued, his voice now become more grave.

 

"I must advise you, on our way here, we came upon the hulk of one of your defence ships.  A ship from House Qurn shared it's fate.  Destroyed, in ship to ship action." He was careful to refrain from telling him that they blew each other to pieces.  Spreading panic or alarm was not the goal.  Finding out how much the noble knew and how deep the animosity ran was the idea.

 

In the background of his conversation, the Auspex continued to quietly sound.

 

MR.

[Slips]

Be/Wary/

 

Came the battle sign. Though it was slightly different to the one employed by the Crimson Knights, the core intent was the same and, as such, the meaning of the gesture was not lost on the Sanguinary Priest who curtly replied in kind.

 

Eyes / Open Which basically consisted of him splaying two fingers out - pointed at himself - followed by a quick chop meant to signify the area they were in; all faster than the mortal eyes could track. He hoped that his Astartes Battle Sign language wasn't so different from the others that a different meaning would be gleaned but he'd have no way of knowing without asking and there were more pressing things to be mindful of than the subtle differences between disparate Astartes Chapters variants on Battle Sign.

 

As Brother Akkad addressed the House Vortis noble, who in turn, seems dumb struck at being addressed by one undoubtedly their superior in every way, Solastion rolled his eyes at the rotund mortal. At least the mortal nobility of his homeworld kept themselves fit for martial combat. If the xenos attacked now he was almost certain the c-lestorl clogging his singular hearts arteries would be enough to cause cardiac arrest; even if the heart was bionic.

 

Not wanting Akkad to be alone should the heavy weapons specialist lag behind ever-so-slightly, Solastion stopped short as the Astral Claw made his declaration and took a handful of steps towards the marine; stopping a respectful distance away, not wanting to interrupt. As much as another eight-foot-tall, black ceramite-clad Astartes bearing the emblem of the Inquisition could, that is.

[Commissar Molotov]

Akkad:

 

Any progress you might have made through flattery is quickly eradicated upon the new of the destruction of the system vessel.

 

"My son captained that vessel." The noble's jaw tightens; he looks downwards. "Foolish boy as he was, he was my heir, and I had high hopes for him. When we lost contact with orbit I feared the worst, but... I only hope that these xenos pay bloodily for what they are doing to us."

 

 

[Reyner]

Vaidans vox bead opened with static and Tybers voice came through.

+Sergeant, we have encountered servitors that are blocking our path, they do not recognize our authority as Astartes, those that carry the mark of the Inquisition or the Emperor of Man. Combat is a possible course of action, however they seem to be armed with power blades, combat would be less than ideal as the risk to ourselves is great. I have attached an image of these servitors as I am unfamiliarly with this type of combat unit. We await your recommendation Sergeant.+

The servitors would normally not be a danger to the Space Marines but them having power weapons would make their armour useless and add unnecessary risk to attacking them. If they had power blades then they could also have other hidden surprises like refractor fields or digital weapons.

"Governor, are you able to open communications with the Astropaths Tower? Its guards are not recognising the authority of my Brothers and I do not want blood to be spilled between loyal Imperials - not when we have the Genestealer Cult to deal with."

Edited November 14, 2018 by Reyner

[Mazer Rackham]

"My son captained that vessel." The noble's jaw tightens; he looks downwards. "Foolish boy as he was, he was my heir, and I had high hopes for him. When we lost contact with orbit I feared the worst, but... I only hope that these xenos pay bloodily for what they are doing to us." 

 

The Astartes are armed with many weapons, equipped with the mightiest of guns the most adamant of harness, a plethora of genetic marvels within, transforming them into more than men, more than human, but still, haboured inside each is a human heart.  After crushingly daunting hours of training, days, years, centuries of unremitting battle, the weapon of an Astartes is forged in the hellfires of war, stripping and chipping away at any humanity left, until distant memories and echoes of feelings remained.  For all his experience, for all his prowess and fury and the mountains of broken corpses left in the wake of his battles, Akkad had no tool, no emotion or reply to the loss of a child.

 

Momentarily wrong-footed, he physically shifted his weight as the apothecary gestured Eyes/Wide both as warning and confirmation of his own signal.  A curt nod at the Crimson Knight provided reply.  A second passed - in that moment Daon re-assessed.  He could not comfort or even feign grief to enter his confidence.

 

But - if an Astartes fist is a weapon of war, his mind is a tool of reason.  Akkad knew sacrifice in the service of cause and politics was something he was used to.  Astartes were flexible.  When one door closed, another opened.  His tone did not change and at Noble Vortis' revelation, he was glad he had been sombre, a courier of death, delivering a message of annihilation to a gene-line wasn't lost on him.  He did not remove his helm, but he leaned forward, half clumsy bow, half for intimate audience.

+His ship fought to the death with great fury.  Their enemies were destroyed completely.+  His words were truth, a lie by omission in politics was not a shame.  +He gave his life and his crew to defend this world, your home, in the Emperor's service.+  He watched as the Noble absorbed this a moment, his inflection not unkind, but insistent, as if this, especially from a Marine was something of supreme virtue - which of course - it was.  He took a breath in order to let the rotund, but defiant lordling know he was going to continue.

 

+We are here as part of that service.  The enemy have already bled.  We shall bleed them white Lord Vortis - but tell me, where are the nobles of your ally, house Qurn?  We must bring them this news and swear vengeance with them.+  Swear vengeance upon them too - or you, if need be, he didn't say.

 

He looked around, waiting, noting the huge obsidian forms of his brethren stood at bay, Vaidan and the Governor Orlai still in Parley.

 

Perception check now I'm close to the big boi - looking for puckering at the neck, purplish skin, or to see if he is overly perspiring from lying to me:

Perception 50 + 10 (auto senses) +10 (Heightened Senses) = 70

D100 Roll: 65 Pass, no DoS.

 

MR.

 

EDIT: Per roll

Edited November 15, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Xin Ceithan]

Augur returns were …inconclusive... even when followed up by  examinations via the Omnispex. There was a high level of dense, irregular deposits in the make up  of the walls and the windows. Too high and to effectively placed to be a mere coincidence. Shifting the  details of the  exact material compositions into a tertiary memory dump, Sabaan postulated this to be delicate attempt to interfere with remote augur sensing. As exposed as it was, this meeting place of the local dignitaries was a prime location for multispex reconnaissance and a high priority target for direct physical intervention. Even if Syndalla`s current ruling class had  chosen to neglect their duty, some of their ancestors had apparently spent more time considering potential threats to their security. In fact, the Palace and the noble Estates were prime examples of the often like outlook of Imperial architecture, built as bulwarks against a hostile galaxy. Which in this case, spoke in it`s combination of  drab, imposing fortress  structures and gothic adornment of the Neo-Dornian tendencies of the later 36th Millennium.

>>By the Primarch, they even installed a  cussing drawbridge<<

 

Sabaan had also pinpointed at least seven sensorium screening arrays in their close proximity - two of which were broadcasting a stream of scrapcode that spoke of a level of neglect bordering on heresy even if  no deliberate attempt at disfiguring the works of the Omnissiah had been intended in the first place. With what little information he could gather,  the Techmarine also noted a bewildering array of walkways and access panels for heating, climate control as well as menial deployment. Again, it was doubtful if the present inhabitants had a clear understanding  of the exact layout of their surroundings. With the make shift augur readings available to him, Nycax had pinpointed a small elevation shaft which had probably been intended to move smaller cargo –nutrients and fluids- upwards to the gathering chamber. If corrosion and the crevasses formed by the excess water running it`s length were anything to go by, it had not been accessed for over a century.  The Imperial fastness was rotting from within and been for ages.

>> As above. So below.<<

Even to his Medusan sensibility, the analogy seemed a bit too blunt as he considered the other ..interference... to his augur reading.

The mortals gathered were clad in what finery they had been able to save. They had obviously seen better days and while they attempted to present a façade of nobility and defiance,  they failed miserably upon closer inspections. They were but a bunch of frightened, wide eyed animals who flogged together out of a sense of despair and tradition. Their groundworks were as shaken as the building they had taken refuge in.

On multispectorial scans they were a wobble of colours and outlines. Amid the  blurring shapes, overlapping each other, any  manner of deficiency could have been hidden. Their moaning and whispers were intruding into his aural receptors and displacing the Auspex feed.

>>Not to mention the smell..<<

Sabaan despised larger gatherings of mortals on a fundamental level.  Even in the  continually fading memory of his mortal days, it had been rare for him to to share a space with more than a handful of people. Medusa was a lonely place. His lifetime as a Warrior of the Iron Hands had only enhanced this. Out of combat, Sabaan had spent his time in the company of few individuals, mostly in metal boxes of aseptic cleanliness and artificial lighting. The press of so many people... And by the Primarch, the smell..

Actually, the smell might have been the most distinctive information about how far out of hand the situation on Syndalla had gotten. The so called “nobles” of Syndalla made every effort to present their shell of control, of normality, but they smelt like any other human being driven from their homes. The smell was  dysglycämic, unwashed and carried the all encompassing miasma of unreleased  tension and ...above all..of fear.   As such, this disdainful assembly of organic life was  not only a pitiful representation of the failings of the flesh, it was also a perfect hiding place for any xenos-tainted thing that might have slipped in with them.

 

--Be wary—

 

Sabaan absently noted 12.5 minor discrepancies from the batlecode  as described by the Codex Astartes, but the simplicity of the communication  had proven itself since before Mankind had left ancient Terra. He double-clicked his acknowledgement over the Vox.  This place had the markings of a perfect ambush. The sooner they could regroup to a more defensible location, the better. 

 

He had overheard the exchange ahead between the Gorvernor, Vaidan and Solation. He also registered an increasing irritation at the squabbling of the representative of the socalled House Vortis at the loss of his son. The emotional despair of the man was almost as alien to him as the mercurial nature of the Aeldari.  It wasn´t that life was cheap on Medusa. In a way, it was rarer  than any Archeotech the mortal scavenger clans sought. It  was a fragile commodity and  so prone to failure that what little life remained had to fight with tooth and  claw for every inch of it`s meager existence. An existence unaugmented humanity was ill-equipped to adapt to. Thus, the loss of a family member or a clan-mate was more of an expected event than an unforeseen tragedy to the Medusan state of mind. A logical conclusion of an unforgiving equation. And even under such conditions, or perhaps because of it, it was still more easily replaced than the paleotechnological marvels that sustained it.  The loss of an oxygen scrubber, a rad-cleanser or a motive core weighed far more heavily. Such a loss could doom an entire clan.  Thus, losing a single life was more of a minor note in the Calculus of survival.   Sabaan failed to comprehend how the man would place such an emphasis on  the loss of a single relative. Considering that loss involved the destruction of an entire voidship in comparison.... It was pathetic. Weak.

The nobleman`s offspring had at least attempted to face the enemies of mankind instead of hiding behind the crumbling walls of his homeworld.

Or he had chosen to hasten it`s destruction and had used his heritage to gain a position in which he could deliver an underhanded blow to it´s defenders.

In any event, Sabaan had not forgotten that they had not been able to ascertain the events that had led to the destruction of the system defense craft.  All in all, House Vortis had failed in their duty to defend Syndalla. It mattered little if this was due to neglecting their vigil or foul xenos infiltration.

The dubious emotional sense of loss...did not the caress of the foul Genestealer induce an overarching need of protection in those that produced its corrupted spawn?

Was this not only a sign of weakness but of corruption?

 

It vexed the Iron Hand that Akkad seemed to feign any sort of sympathy for such weakness.  Sabaan abruptly noted the absence of the Interrogator. Should this situation not warrant the attention of the Inquisition?

 

The Auspex send another ping...

 

 

 

GM:

 

So while all the talking happens and Sabaan muses on the waste of oxygen, he will attempting the following:

 

Keep the Augur Array up to screen for hidden / approaching enemies and try to locate hidden passages / approaches as well as possible listening devices.

Use the Omnispex to enhance this (or vice versa )

 

Using the Deathwatch Lore (and possible experience from actions in cleansing ahead of Hive Fleet Leviathan to scan the area and the mortals presence for hints of genestealer cult imagery ( exceptional bionic eye included )

 

Guessing there are some hidden GM checks involved here

 

Edit: Placeholder.....replaced!

Edited November 20, 2018 by Xin Ceithan

[Commissar Molotov]

Vaidan, Akkad, Solastion, Greysight, Sabaan: 

 

Any response from the governor is drowned out as the glass dome above you all shatters inward, sending a cascade of crystalline shards downwards, scattering off your ceramite armour. Some of the nobility are less lucky; you see one speared by a shard the length of a man's forearm. 

 

Such mundane horrors, however, are nothing compared to the monstrosities that follow. Slick with rain, gleaming wickedly in the light, you finally come face to face with the genestealer monstrosities. As some crawl deftly across the ballroom's ceiling, others drop down to the floor. Their yellow eyes, catlike, display a frightening intelligence. Each have a pair of limbs that terminate with long, bladed talons, whilst the other are surprisingly human-like hands.

 

Combat - Round One 

 

GENESTEALER 3 | AG60 (6 + 8) = 14 | WOUNDS 20 / 20

NYCAX SABAAN (SOLO) | AG43 (4 + 10) = 14 | WOUNDS 22 / 22 | FATE 3

GENESTEALER 4 | AG60 (6 + 5) = 11 | WOUNDS 20 / 20

GENESTEALER 5 | AG60 (6 + 5) = 11 | WOUNDS 20 / 20

GENESTEALER 7 | AG60 (6 + 5) = 11 | WOUNDS 20 / 20

KHYBER VAIDAN (SOLO) | AG39 (3 + 8) = 11 | WOUNDS 14 / 14 (20) | FATE 2

DAON AKKAD (SOLO) | AG45 (4 + 6) = 10 | WOUNDS 22 / 22 | FATE 2

GENESTEALER 1 | AG60 (6 + 3) = 9 | WOUNDS 20 / 20

GENESTEALER 2 | AG60 (6 + 3) = 9 | WOUNDS 20 / 20

SOLASTION ALBIKUS (SOLO) | AG33 ((3x2) + 2) = 8 | WOUNDS 23 / 23 | FATE 3

GENESTEALER 6 | AG60 (6 + 1) = 7 | WOUNDS 20 / 20

GREYSIGHT (SOLO) | AG43 (4 + 2) = 6 | WOUNDS 22 / 22 | FATE 4

 

 

 

 

Edited November 19, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

The glass rained down like silver shards of hard rain.  An arm was sliced off by a length of crystalline over 5000, years old and that, ironically, was a side fresco depicting the reaching arm of a saint.  The blood slashed out like a geyser - all at once, a jet as an artery sheared open - a gristly moment of pause as the world slowed and then the crimson lance spat all over Akkad's own sable armour, slicking his helm.  For a moment, gore was all he could see.  He reached forward to the blurred shape of Lord Vortis, unharmed but for a few scratches, simultaneously grateful to the Emperor his helmet still sat upon his head as the glass continued to fall amongst nobles, guards and servants alike, cutting, ripping, enfleshed.

 

He had seen holovids before of Imperial Victories, of replayed battles given over to drama for the masses.  There all was overweening screeching and orchestrated panic.  Not so here.  No-one screamed immediately as the glass fell and rent them, it was shock, pure and simple human reaction, but then the Genestealers came - as he had always known they would - and shock gave way to horror, nameless, voiceless horror that causes silence, for the heart, mind and throat are too strangled by fear to utter a word.

 

The silence was complete, the world still.  It was perfect.

 

Akkad took it all in as his systems, physical, biological and neurological all shifted in less than a fraction of a heartbeat to battle-ready.  The acidic sting behind his eyes and in all his joints and muscles as one of the Emperor's Finest prepared to react.  He knew - without question his brothers were the same - Sabaan, a fraction of a second ahead.  The 'Stealers were round them all like wolves, spread.  He knew they had come to test them, to devour them, to prevent them murdering the very monster they had come to destroy.

 

It was a tableau of murder, painted by a master, steeped with the saturated brightness of reality and the glowering dark horror of realisation.  Perfect.  That perfection was shattered as the world sped violently back into sync.

 

Vortis had been within arms' reach, so conspiratorially close that it was a simple matter to grab him by the shoulder and direct him where he wanted. His voice was a snarl, all pretence gone.

 

+Get down!+ He thrust the portly noble down between his knees as he braced, the half-crouch so natural after a century of war. +Move from there or do anything without my instruction and I'll kill you.  Understand?!+  A mute nod and the noble cowered under him, reaching for a small ceremonial knife at his belt to defend himself with.  Akkad made a half-grimace, half-sneer under his helm as Cadence swung up.  He racked the bolt with his offhand, slipping his grip to the top of the huge gun.  The metallic sound of mechanisms engaging echoed into the room, accompanied by a snarl from his servos.  A blink slid his feed to the noospheric relay with Sabaan.

 

+My Sergeant, your orders?+

 

MR.

Edited November 19, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Reyner]

The glass dome exploded inwards, a deluge of water and razor sharp stained glass blasted into the room. Vaidan felt a shard slice his cheek typical that something would happen when his helmet was not on his head, many of the nobles were injured as well several bleeding out with catastrophic neck wounds. Then he saw them, Genestealers, they finally reveal themselves when the team was divided and friendly targets all around them. Had they been watching the Space Marines all along? Now they attack hoping the Deathwatch would hesitate to open fire in a space full of other humans? No matter. The Governor was already fleeing down a corridor and he was the only one they needed here, Vaidan knew that if you showed a Genestealer any hesitation it would be the last thing you ever do. The nobles may slow the monsters down enough for the Space Marines to destroy them at least.

 

+My Sergeant, your orders?+

 

"Kill them! Kill them all Brothers! Suffer not the alien to live!"

 

With that Vaidan readied his Bolter and began to open fire.

 

+Tyber come in, we are under Genestealer attack at the palace. We will need your assistance.+ Vaidan cut the link and roared in fury as he fired.