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

[Commissar Molotov]

Deleted Edited January 13, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

OOC: Mood music!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MN3x-kAbgFU

 

The ruddy rumble of 2-12 droned on into the night, the rain a dull witness to the treads crunching into the ferrocrete roads.  Churned water and ground pieces of aberrant mortal remains spattered onto the road behind them, the silence amongst them pervaded the interior of the hull in which the eight warriors sat, each in their own world. The fate of a beast and the death of a world stood in their hands now.  Akkad ministered to the heavy bolter in his charge, reciting the Third and Fourth Canticles of Accuracy.  He looked across the hold when finished, regarding each of them in turn.  Bulky Astartes, hemmed into the cramped vehicle, a dependable beast, now marked with the sigils of the Iron Tenth.

 

Tyber stood, shoulders and helm poking from the top of the main hatch.  His mighty paw gripped and re-gripped the hilt of the Oathblade, a block of sable murder awaiting the familiar, powerful draw.  Varvost, sitting picking small motes out of the teeth of his chainaxe, helmet a slab of battered ceramite.  Solastion fidgeted with his Narthecium, the Reductor suddenly snapping into the silence with the noise of breaking bones - retreating with the sibilant hiss of pressure as it feigned the sucking extraction of Geneseed.  Atratus tapped pouches quietly, competently, a small tug on the magazine of his sniper rifle to make sure he was loaded and tight.  His helm missed nothing, not even Akkad's sly appraisal.  The Devastator nodded slightly in salute.  Greysight sat, helm-less, hands clasped before him, face inscrutable, the look of the Great Khan stealing the features of the Storm Son, but his hand brushed the empty place where his Sulde should have sat all the same.  Vaidan snapped a fresh canister of Promethium into his flamer, locking it into deployment position, smooth, confident.  Sabaan sat in quiet contemplation - Akkad imagined him in communion with the machines as the embers of his eyepieces burned a dull arterial red.  He had no need to check his pouched and weapon, he could just ask them.  He could almost hear the ghost in the Iron Shell, whispering Are you ready?

 

+How long do you think we have when we breach Ahu?+ He asked Tyber quietly.  The huge Marine dropped his helm, emerald lenses a mirror of the smaller, older warrior.  It was like looking back into a past he could have had.

+To slay the beast?  A few minutes at most I would calculate.+  He replied levelly.  At the word calculate he glanced at Sabaan.

+Do you think they will remember this?  In a thousand years?+  A chuckle greeted the words and tone, but not in mockery.  He did not reply, keeping watch from the top hatch of the transport.

 

Akkad could feel it.  There was an end approaching.  He reached forward and worked Cadence's bolt, ratcheting in the first round of the belt.  She seated true.  He noticed the dark stare of the Storm Son across the hold.  They shared a glance and the latter bowed his head a fraction - an acknowledgement of oaths made.

++Let's get it done.++ He said into the Squad Vox, as the Chimera began to slow, approaching the rendezvous coordinates.

 

They had to make it count.  They had to finish it.

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

Vaidan, Solastion, Sabaan, Varvost, Atratus, Greysight:

The waste and filth produced by Fabrica flows out to sea through runoff tunnels, where it is swept away by the tide twice a day. It was here that Captain Haltreme had identified an entranceway that could provide the Kill-Team with a way to strike at the Broodlord's nest. The six of you are led to the channel by a wiry PDF scout in a rubberised rain-cloak, holding a long-las sniper's rifle. He moves swiftly, darting from cover to cover. his subterfuge is something you cannot hope to match in your power armour, though you suspect it is a habit instilled through the weeks of bitter cityfighting.

 

In the distance, you hear the heavy detonations of the captured siege guns as the PDF forces begin their diversionary attacks. You finally arrive at a large circular outlet pipe, fully large enough to permit you access. A large grating of steel bars cover the entrance. The scout kneels and produces a plasma torch from beneath his cloak.

 

"Stand back, my lords. This will take a few minutes."

 

Before he can turn, the Novamarine holds up a hand, stilling him. Sabaan moves forward, his servo-arm wrenching the grate free with contemptuous ease and the sound of grinding metal. The tangled knot of grating is discarded as the Deathwatch ready their weapons.

 

"You have our thanks, soldier," the Watch-Sergeant's voice is a deep rumble. "Inform the Captain that we are entering the tunnels."

 

Once within the sewer channels, water splashes around your armoured boots. Your auto-senses easily defeat the darkness, allowing you to move quickly and efficiently.

 

Akkad:

You step quietly through the ruins of a manufactorum complex, kneeling behind a deactivated power-loader. Gazing through the 'loader's roll-cage, you scan the skeletal husk of the abattoir complex. Through the open rafters of the manufactorum's shattered roof, you make out clusters of exhaust stacks in the distance, like the broken teeth in a giant's jaw. Dawn is coming, and you can see the sky lightening - though it could well be the fires taking hold of Beregar.

 

You have assembled a platoon of thirty PDF troopers within the skeletal ruins of a manufactora. The Sergeants move quietly amongst them, checking their soldiers' equipment and weaponry. They are equipped well enough; lasrifles readied and each squad boasting a grenade launcher and missile launcher. You are reminded of the Tyrant's Legion, the auxiliary masses raised by Huron to defend the Maelstrom. It is clear that the soldiers are nervous; they make a show of readying their weapons to disguise their shaking hands and their sideways glances at your armoured form.

 

Something tickles at the edge of your perceptions. You see one of the Sergeants approaching you.

 

"My lord... will you speak to the men?"

 

 

Tyber:

You are apart from the rest of the Kill-Team, alone perhaps for the first time since you left your Chapter. It affords you the moment to reflect on all that has happened since that day.

 

Within the armoured form of the Chimera, you find yourself sitting next to Interrogator Ryken. He wears the iconography of the Inquisition around his neck, a symbol that makes you uncomfortable, even as you recognise its worth in motivating the troops around you. From a holster at his waist he draws a plasma pistol, a weapon you notice as being of rather excellent craftsmanship.

 

Seeing your helm's dispassionate gaze, the Interrogator nods at you. He checks the weapon's charge before holstering it again.

 

"Good hunting, Brother Tyber. Let us make these alien bastards pay."

[A.T.]

Atratus advances in a crouched position, keeping low and central in the pipe to ensure clearance for his pack and rifle. Only one question remained of this endeavour and he opened comms to Vadian, "Brother Sergeant, we have yet to determine the fate of the inquisitor. Should we discover her within what are our orders?"

 

The question carried the weight of their first meeting, the mission come full circle. What if the inquisitor had been compromised.

[Mazer Rackham]

"My lord... will you speak to the men?" The Sergeant looked up him, half expecting "no" Akkad could tell.  He gently nodded, turning. So much time amongst the Legion made this almost comfortable.  He reached up and unlocked the seals of his helm, his face half revealed in the sickly pre-dawn creeping upon them.  He maglocked it to his thigh.  He smiled at them, chose one who was particularly young and who was having a great deal of trouble locking the magazine into his lasgun.  He was putting it in backwards.  At another time and place Akkad would have thought nothing of pulling Sonnet and ending the runt, but this was now and his manpower was not limitless.  His thoughts changed tack as quickly as the desert winds.  He gently prised the weapon from the boy.

 

"How old are you lad?" He allowed his warm baritone to wash into the hissing rain and haunting darkness.

"Six...sixteen summers, sire."  Akkad did not correct him, detecting a countryside accent.  He tapped the magazine in and handed the rifle back.

"Take heart lad - you'll laugh at this next year."  He inspected them, straightening their form, exchanging small words, noticing the tiny details.  It mattered to them, just as it had in the Legion.  Finally he came back to their front.  They were steadier now.

 

"My brave friends.  Before you is no easy task, but I have asked for you to help me," He greeted the slack jaws of incredulity with a raised eyebrow and small smile, "because you have suffered long enough and survived many trials just to stand here."  He broke off and stood looking out at the building hulk in front of him, gesturing.  The dramatic pause was perfect as his thoughts flew to Badab and the kind of things that would break his heart to see.  It resolved on his face as grim determination.

 

The artillery opened fire at that moment, striking sporadic light flaring, masking the approach of Blackthorn.  He raised his voice.

 

"Out there, lie the enemy and their filthy alien leader.  Look to your left and right and realise that victory rests in your hands!" His tone now took an edge, whetting a razor on a grindstone. "Do not do this for the lords and ladies who you call sire," his words were deliberate, their own, "but do it for you, for the families who cry for out vengeance, justice for fathers, brothers, sons, mothers, daughters and sisters!" HThe familial descriptions were punctuated by him nodding or pointing at random soldiers.  He could see the glint in their eyes that told him he was hitting home. Knuckles tightened on lasguns.  He fashioned the hook to drive in to them, to draw out the hatred.  "Remember their faces!  Remember their names!  Do not fail them!"

 

"Scream their names as you kill these bastards!  Carve their defeat for your loved ones!"  He sucked in air and a bellow roiled forth. "For the Lost! For the Lost!"  They took it up, repeating, until it became a wall of noise - paltry at only thirty throats, but good enough.  He donned his helm and scanned the terrain quickly from behind the power loader carcass.  He brandished Cadence and unleashed them.

 

+Now! Follow me! Kill them all!+ He led them out, surrounded by them.

 

For us, for Syndalla, for the Lost. 

 

For Thorvald.

 

Akkad will use Command Skill to inspire the troops:
Target: 48 +10 (armour bonus) + 10 (Unhelmed) = 68
D100 Roll: 20, Pass plus 4 DoS

Akkad will use Tactics: Assault Doctrine to direct his men in effective attack.
Target: 41
D100 Roll: 51 (Fate Point Re-roll) = 31, Pass plus one DoS.

Akkad will use Tactics: Defensive Doctrine to direct his squads safely as they attack.
Target: 41
D100 Roll: 004, Pass plus 3 DoS

 

MR.

Edited January 14, 2019 by Mazer Rackham

[Steel Company]

Under his helm Tyber’s face wrinkled in disgust as Vaidan spoke a prayer; We are Astartes, we are above such things… Is my Legion the only one to hold to the Imperial Truth now? He thought to himself, while his left hand absentmindedly gripped, released and gripped again the handle of his arming sword, it was the questions by his brother by choice, Akkad, that drew his attention out of his own head space.

 

+How long do you think we have when we breach Ahu?+

 

Tyber dropped his helm; emerald lenses a mirror of the smaller, older warrior, taking a moment to think on it +To slay the beast?  A few minutes at most I would calculate.+  He replied levelly,  at the word calculate he glanced at Sabaan, while thinking I doubt he will catch it, a subtle jest and a measure of respect to help at building trust between us.

 

+Do you think they will remember this?  In a thousand years?+  A chuckle greeted the words and tone, but not in mockery.

 

Again Tyber thought for a moment, before settling on likely course of action he responded with a light tone to his voice, +For the majority of them, they will never know we were here, those that saw us, their lives, those that we talked to and made the effort to make an impression with, the lives of their children… Still if they were to build a monument or a work of art commemorating it, I would very much like to live long enough to see it.+

 

……

 

Tyber looked at the golden symbol on Ryken, it filled him with a complex feeling mixed of dread and rage, along with a feeling that tucked at the hairs on the back of his neck. There was something not right about Ryken, something that he just wasn’t able to pin down, it made him most uncomfortable to have seated beside him.

 

He watched as Ryken slipped a very ornate plasma pistol from his holster, almost more artwork than weapon, At least he doesn’t dare to wield a bolt weapon. Tyber thought to himself. Ryken must’ve felt his gaze on him for he nodded at Tyber and spoke; “Good hunting, Brother Tyber. Let us make these alien bastards pay.”

 

He felt a little strange having this mortal talk at him in such an easy and open way, those that he had heard about that bore that symbol never spoke in such a way to an Astartes, they often forgot their place, they were not equals, they were still mortal, mortals were always below Astartes as was the Emperor’s intention, they were unfit to lead themselves.

 

Now however was the time to show at least some unity with a mortal, at least to those that had volunteered to go with them; “Victory is ours already Interrogator, the only question is how fast will it come.” As he finished speaking, he gave the Interrogator a forceful but restrained pat on the back, not enough to cause damage, but enough to force him to lean forward.

Edited January 14, 2019 by Steel Company

[Slips]

It was everywhere. The smell, the fluids and the oppressive dark. For the smell and fluids he had his power armor; thankfully environmentally sealed. For the dark, well, for the Transhuman such as those who stalked in the dark alongside him, it wasnt all that dark.

 

For his part, Solastions sight was awash with hues of cool blues, warm reds, fiery oranges and abyssal blacks as his helmets extra functions gave him an even greater visual spectrum than what they already had access to. Every so often he switched his view to his medical x-ray settings and looked through the walls but didn't see much of anything.

 

As they pressed on the lack of much of...anything...was causing Solastion to get suspicious.

Edited January 18, 2019 by Slips

[Xin Ceithan]

Blackthorn moved through the sewage. The sound of their active Armour was muffled by the splashing of waste and effluent. The stench was almost physical in it's intensity, a cloud of industrial, chemical noxes that would have eaten through the lungs of an unprotected human in minutes. The sludge left streaks on their plate. Each step they took was a deep thumped, gurgling, pounding among the toxic melange.

The Killteam moved as one, covering each other, united in their purpose. Sabaan cycled through the optic feed of his bionics. He kept the Augur on passive, listening for any returns, avoiding any active ping that might give them away to their prey. This was what the ancestors of the Vuurgan must felt, hunting monsters deep in the Land of Shadow. He blink clicked through his Armour and weapon readiness runes.

The prey was close.

Edited January 17, 2019 by Xin Ceithan

[Mazer Rackham]

GM approved! :)

 

Tunk, tunk....tunk. Pat, pat,pat,pat. Tunk, tunk.

The rattle of Autogun bullets clipping and careening off his armour forced him to duck a little more. He pushed the others down, keeping them as safe as he could, dashing from one crater, to a barricade, to a clutch of broken machines crushed by a chimney stack, which had fallen in a 300 feet long clatter of bricks and debris. Lines of bare steel crisscrossed his sable plate like a tapestry of violence. A stubble of masonry clipped the central vane of his Mk VII helm. His voice was direct, lacking all flamboyance, but still not as ragged as the voice that spat at the enemy.
+Danquis,+ he called to the third-section Sergeant, +have your launcher hit the third window, second floor - kill that heavy stubber!+ The sixteen year old fell in beside him, breathless. He'd been following him Akkad realised. He hurriedly crushed the helmet down below a rebar-studded ferrocrete lump. +Keep down idiot! Second Section, third floor top window right! The ground floor can't get us!+

A pack of three stragglers threatened to fall on the barricade the hid behind. The youth fumbled, recovered, bayoneted one and then pulled the trigger eviscerating the mutant. Akkad stood, Cadence in one hand, his left, fingers splayed into hooks as the sharpened talon-claws were propelled with his full weight, ripping across the other two savagely, tearing long gashes and ribbons of meat from corpses that didn't know they were dead. He grunted, both hearts pounding. Finally, he thought, finally, the Astral Claws are at War. His blows and attacks became vicious, mauling like the lion on his pauldron. He stamped down, splattering a skull like a melon. Cadence reaped and slew, bolts detonating, never tiring, always hungry. Sound and fury and death. For the Lost! He had to keep up the momentum.
He scanned the broken buildings. It was working. The enemy were deploying more and more men to face the threat, pulling them away from Tyber's concealed Chimera, ready for the gutting strike.

++Vaidan: Akkad. Enemy forces redeploying, they're taking it. Suggest you hurry.++ He took a breath.

+Ahu. Make our monument!+ His words were a joyous growl, he kept the vox open to Tyber as he spoke to his squads. +Clear the upper floors! Cover our brothers!+

"How much further?" The youth asked, yelling above the din. He peered up in the half-light of dawn. They were all wounded, sore and tired from hours of fighting. Silver armour slick with the blood of foes flashed emerald in the light from a Viridian flare as the artillery signalled they were ceasing to reload. He huffed. Blackthorn were attacking at last. Akkad looked down and hefted Cadence, speaking gently, almost wistfully. They were not Tyrant's Legion. They had fought with more heart. They were better.
+All the way. To the bitter end.+

 

MR.

Edited January 16, 2019 by Mazer Rackham

[Steel Company]

+Ahu. Make our moment!+ came the voice of Akkad over the vox, Tyber noted that it had been left open as Akkad had continued with +Clear the upper floors! Cover our brothers!+

 

Reaching across Ryken, Tyber gave a double rap against the interior door of the Chimera, giving wordless single to the mortals that were driving the unit now to go ahead with all speed into the flank of the enemy. 2-12 lurched forward as drives applied power to the treads of the machine, engine roaring to life, those that road with in the armoured hull armed with some combination of las-carbine, shotgun, las-pistol and chain sword. As Tyber’s unblinking lenses fell on each of them, he noted that they were all young, all showing signs of pre-battle fear, removing his helm, he gave them all a welcoming smile as he said to each of them, “It will not be long now, I could give you a long speech about doing this for the Emperor, but do this for yourselves, show these vermin that this is your world and you will take it back.”

 

There is a jostling as the Chimera bursts through the wall, waiting for the sound of drumming from the heavy bolter, whine of the multi-laser and the pop, pop, pop of smoke grenades to signal their meeting of the enemy, but none came. Tyber sild his helm back on, noting the inspection that Ryken seemed to be unwelcomingly providing him, he thought to himself, If he points that pistol at me, he better not miss…

 

What greeted them when the door finally came down, was not what he expected to see.

 

edit:

 

Adjustments made to better fit with what CM said below.

Edited January 17, 2019 by Steel Company

[Commissar Molotov]

Akkad: 

 

You find you and your platoon within a large courtyard, clearly some sort of loading dock for the abattoir itself. You see a rail-line, and cargo-carriages berthed in a siding. Even as brood-brethren fire autorifles and lasguns at your forces, you see one pull open a sliding door to one of the stock-cars. You are not prepared for what exits. 

 

They breed them big on agri-worlds, full of growth hormones that make them ever-larger and more aggressive. Even so, you are unprepared for the sheer size of an Alpha Bull-Grox as it exits its confinement. Its rheumy eyes look round in frustration and confusion and the sound it emits is plaintive, uncertain, caught between the two fighting sides.

 

It is as the handler jabs the shock-goad into its flank that it roars, calculating in that instance that its best chance of escape is through the Imperial forces. It lowers its horned head and paws the ground once, twice, before charging at the Guardsmen laying down fire at the cultists. 

 

 

Tyber:

 

Ryken makes a Scrutiny Check against Brother Tyber (Per 48): 27 (PASS) 

 

The Interrogator nods at your words, though there is something in his eyes that makes you think he realises just how much you dislike him. And, perhaps, something that suggests the distrust is mutual. 

 

As the Chimera crunches through the walls of the abattoir-complex and the vehicle's ramp crashes down, you disembark - not to the crash of gunfire - but to silence. Perhaps not silence - you hear the spinning of large cooling fans mounted in the ceiling, the dripping of condensed water and the shuddering of vent shafts. In front of you, you see giant slabs of carved meat hung from hooks, stretching away. The air is kept chill, and even through the cyclers of your helm you can smell the acrid tang of chemical preservatives.

 

Even as you shoulder your way through the chamber, you realise that lines of sight are almost entirely obscured by the ranks and rows of animal carcasses, giant meaty slabs. As for any sign of the enemy, you see nothing. 

 

Vaidan, Sabaan, Greysight, Varvost, Atratus, Solastion: 

 

Over the vox-link, the Watch-Sergeant's voice is grim. 

 

++If we can save her, we will. If not, then we do what we must.++

 

+++

 

Atratus makes a Perception Test: Per 50 (+25 Mk 6 Auto-Senses / Heightened Senses)

Roll 1: 5 (7 DoS)

Roll 2: 2 (7 DoS) 

Roll 3: 4 (7 DoS) (What??)

 

The Raptor is as hawklike as his Chapter's emblem would suggest, seemingly effortlessly spotting the multiple tripwires strung along the tunnels. Clearly, the cult has invested some energy in trying to dissuade infiltration. His combat knife makes swift, surgical cuts that Solastion would have been proud of, and the traps are disarmed. 

 

Once more, the Kill-Team is free to advance - soon coming to a large cistern area. The flow is strong here, a deafening roar filling the echoing chamber; to cross will require each of you to wade through the bloody water at least to your waist. 

 

GM: You will need to determine who will cross the cistern in what order, and pass strength tests to resist the current.

Edited January 17, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[Xin Ceithan]

Liquid Blackness gushed in front of them. The Iron Hand stood at the edge of the chasm, feeling the pull of the current. The thing they were hunting had withdrawn into the caves and barricaded itself behind wards of water and fire. Among the darkness, the dampness of the sewer walls, Sabaan could almost envision how their distant ancestors came to be afraid of such places. He cleared his head with a pneumatic grunt, which was lost among the thundering currents. The Primarch pulled had pulled a much larger beast from a river of molten Iron, slaying it with his bare hands. Flawed as their progenitor might have been, how could Sabaan fail here? Such weakness was inconceivable! He would allow neither Claw nor treachery to impede their hunt.

He let his optical cluster wander around, searching for hidden foes or further traps....

 

[OOC] Guess there is another PER check coming - respect the exceptional bionic here! Also, Sabaan will look for a way to anchor himself using the Servoarm and help his brothers across - again remember to include the bionic arm here.

Edited January 17, 2019 by Xin Ceithan

[Steel Company]

Tyber looked at the walls of meat, then to 2-12 as he opened his vox to the driver and said, +Move forward, till you are either through or over that wall of meat, we will follow behind+

 

As 2-12 grounded forwards, he along with those that were with him fell in behind the wake left by the mighty 2-12, keeping an every vigilant watch for anything that may try and ambush them.

[Mazer Rackham]

A giant slab of meat and bone erupted from a cattle cart, prompted by the goad, it was a mammoth beast.  Rage, panic and knotted sinew propelled it towards the guardsmen only a few feet away, charging straight towards them, a knot of troopers to his right.  It was a choice of being gored or the fire on the heretics slacking.

 

+Lammasu-Ina-An!+ He called to the beast, The Bull of Heaven! The warsongs and poetry of Badab crashed through his veins, the epic struggle of Gilgan Hamesh spurring him to action.

 

He trusted his armour spirit to shield him, locked Cadence off and summoned his strength to meet the prey-beast, the Lion on his pauldron sensing the bloody flesh to be had.

 

Akkad attacks, the Lion on his shoulder flaring in the dawn as he pounces.
Free Action - Pull Combat Knife

Full Action: Charge with Grapple (Unarmed damage option)
WS: 37 + 10 (Charge) = 47
D100: 007, Pass, 4 DoS!

Akkad tries to wrestle the beast in his vice-grip! 

 

MR.

Edited January 18, 2019 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Time flowed slowly for Atratus, senses honed as he sought this final prey. Despite the futility given present company he instinctively broke the cadence of his steps to match the distant thudding bombardment. Scuffs and dried blood on the wall marked the movement of the heretics through here revealing the traps they had placed as if marked with flares, but at the cistern they turned back. This obstacle would explain the lack of guards and perhaps aid their surprise but the Raptor instinctively looked up as others peered into the water below, knowing that the xenos would not be as deterred by this as their human servants.

 

 

73 - just about a pass

[Slips]

As Atratus, who was leading them forward, made short work of the "traps" the xenos, the mere fact that they were present meant that they were at least on the right track. Stalking ever forwards, the team then made it to the outflow pipes source: a cistern. The water was especially dark and the current strong. The terrain presented a perfect opportunity for an ambush and as Atratus peered out and looked above, confirmed his suspicions.

 

But, they were space marines and there was only one way forward.

 

Solastion will wade into the water in the middle-ish of the group; he is a melee fighter but also the apothecary and wants relatively quick access to any given squadmate.

 

Strength Test: 1d100 43 vs Strength 80 for 3 DoS

[Nineswords]

THE ROAR OF the water threatened to overwhelm the internal helm bafflers in Greysight's helmet. Tens of thousands of pounds of pressure exerted itself through a gargantuan cistern, providing a potentially lethal barrier for further advancement. Studying the flow and signs of erosion around the outlet, Greysight conjectured that this part of the ancient sewer network had been re-activated in the last few months. By his calculations, his brothers would have to wade through the current waist high and take care to not be swept by the currents.

 

Sabaan, Atratus and Solastion had already gone ahead, leaving Sergeant Vaidan and Vârvost in the rear guard. Clutching his boltgun high up on his chest, the Storm Son took a tentative step into the current, adjusting his balance to compensate to the water pressure. Unable to mag-lock his boots onto any metal surface, Greysight instead patiently navigated over ancient stonework, worn smooth after decades or even centuries of use. 

 

Approaching the lip of the other side, Greysight suddenly lurched into the current as the stone gave way, pulling Greysight under into the tumultuous current of the cistern and into the darkness.

 

D100 roll - 68. Ouch.

Edited February 3, 2019 by Nineswords

[Xin Ceithan]

A sudden warning chime came up as Greysight's locator rune wavered and began to drift. Water and debris rushed around them, pounding against their armour. Without thinking, Sabaan launched himself forward into the deluge, diving after the tumbling heat shadow of the Storm Son. He reached out with his right, servos whirring, trusting in the force of his bionics to secure his ailing brother-in-arms. The Servo Arm came up, screeching along the wall, seeking for a purchase, something to halt their descent...Mortar and piece of stone broke off along the way, banging against their plate as the darkness threatened to claim them...

 

[OOC: Sabaan is obviously trying to (1) grab Greysight and (2) then try to halt/steady the two of them, using the Servoarm as an anchor them. Not sure what to roll in what order .. so I'd grateful for a heads up but am totally ok and wiling to let you roll for this, Mol. ]

[Slips]

If Solastion is able, he will try to either aid Greysight or, aid Sabaan in aiding Greysight should it be necessary and/or if he finds himself to be closer.

[Commissar Molotov]

Akkad: 

 

Alpha Grox attempts to dodge Akkad's grapple (AG30): 52 (FAIL) 

Akkad attempts to Damage Opponent: 

Opposed Strength Test: 

Akkad (STR50): 6 (4DoS)

Grox (STR65): 62 (0DoS)

 

Akkad inflicts unarmed Damage (1D10+SB) due to Unarmed Master: 8 (+12) : 20 Damage

Grox has Armour 4 and TB 10: 6 Damage Taken

 

Alpha Grox attempts to Break Free: 

Opposed Strength Test: 

Akkad (STR50): 13 (3DoS)

Grox (STR65): 89 (2DOF)

Grox FAILS - grapple maintained. 

 

The grox skids to a halt, bucking wildly, even as the Astral Claw maintains his grip. A gauntleted fist to the head is enough to still the beast for a moment, even as it howls with anger and frustration.  

 

Tyber:

The Chimera's driver acknowledges in the affirmative and the armoured vehicle begins to grind forward. As it moves, slabs of grox-meat swing wildly on hooks, slowly being battered aside. 

 

Tyber makes a hearing test: Per 40(+20 Auto-Senses/Heightened Senses, - 10 Noise): 36 (PASS)

 

Even over the growl of the Chimera's engine, you hear a noise; a half-choked cry, a strangled scream and the sound of flesh being parted, wetly. Behind you, to your right. You turn, but the curtain of meat still obscures everything. It takes only moments for you to stride forward, to part the obstacles and to find the broken corpse of one of your guardsmen, the blood at his throat already crystallising with the cold. 

 

Then you hear another cry. And another. 

 

Vaidan, Varvost, Greysight, Sabaan, Solastion, Atratus: 

 

Sabaan AG test (AG43): 23 (PASS)

Sabaan STR test (STR64+10 - Bionic Arm): 89 (FAIL) 

Fate-Point Re-Roll: 33 (PASS)

Servo-Arm STR test (STR75): 35 (PASS)

 

Even as the Storm Son loses his footing and begins to be swept by the current, the Iron Hand moves forward, the constant calculus within the head revealing an unacceptable margin of failure. The Techmarine manages, barely, to arrest Greysight's fall, holding firm as his servo-arm wedges itself within the slick masonry of the sewer wall. 

 

Vaidan Strength test (S66): 48 (PASS)

Varvost Strength test (S61): 15 (PASS)

 

There is a moment of silence, and then finally, the Kill-Team is across safely. The Marines check their equipment and armour near-automatically before setting off once more. 

 

++
 

Locator-compasses and map-overlays indicate that you are beneath the abattoir itself, lower than any basements and underground complexes. Your helm displays show that battle has already been joined above, on the surface. Ahead, you see that you will soon be entering another chamber. 

 

Greysight: 

Half-Aim: (+10BS)

Called Shot (Half Action): BS45 (+10 Bolter Mastery, -20 Called Shot, +10 Close Range): 1(!!) - 5 Degrees of Success

Damage 1D10+9 (Pen 4):  8 (17) against TB3 and Armour 4(0): 14 Damage

Lookout is killed. 

 

There is a silent cough as Greysight's bolter fires once, eradicating the solitary lookout ahead. 

 

You near the doors to this new chamber; beside the now-headless body of the lookout, you see a crude idol of a six-armed figure, fashioned from shards of broken metal and bone, and draped in shreds of skin and tattered ribbons of cloth. A sinister marker of the unholy and debased gods these xenobreed worship.

Edited January 20, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

The giant knots of muscle flexed in the mighty bullock's neck.  Akkad grimly hung on as it threw it's raw power against him.  He had it round the head to prevent thrashing and it bore him back a few metres as it bucked and heaved, but he dug his toes into the ground, great rips of ferrocrete erupting in plumes of dust as he gouged furrows of frustrated friction in parallel lines away from the enemy and back towards his men.

 

+Do not slack fire!  Kill them all!+ He shouted to the Troops, sparing not even a glance as the beast bellowed and butted.  A momentary elbow to the head quieted it a second, allowing him to lock his arms at the wrist. He closed his eyes. +Anu-Dayyani'El, Lord Judge of Heavens - find me worthy!+

 

Akkad invokes Solo Mode; Feat of Strength
Declares Full Action: Grapple
Sub-Action option: Throw down.
Strength Test: 50 + 20 (Armour) = 70
D100: 91 Fail and 2 DoF (Fate Point Re-roll)
D100: 14 Pass, plus 5 DoS, plus 3 DoS for Feat of Strength Unnat Str x 3.
Total, Pass 8 DoS.

 

With a mighty heave, Akkad used the continuing impetus of the charging beast and the sweat of his brow.  His left hip dropped, right foot lifting, pivoting on the momentary shift and kicked the Grox behind it's right foreleg knee, it's own weight and his mighty heave trammelling it into the ground on it's own chest, unable to bear the strain of such brute force and the weight of an Astartes armed with several double-digits of weapons and ammunition.  It crashed unceremoniously down - importantly - on the ground below him head below his knees in forced supplication.

 

Akkad continued to wrestle the beast screaming at it through maximum vox.

+Kamasu! Submit, beast! Know me, your master!+

 

Command Attempt: Fellowship +10 (Armour) = 58
D100: 28 Pass, 3 DoS.

 

A snorting expulsion was the immediate response, wild eyes rounding on him, ears flapping beneath his locked trunk-like arms, flexing muscles and servo-mechanics both in a feat of domination neither could lose.

 

MR.

 

EDIT: typos and narrative function.

Edited January 20, 2019 by Mazer Rackham

[Commissar Molotov]

Vaidan, Solastion, Atratus, Greysight, Varvost, Sabaan: 

At last: the heart of the matter. A sinister and debased mockery of an Imperial cathedral, or the templum you fought to defend just hours earlier. Fitting for a sinister and debased creature perverting the hearts of men. Those among you with advanced scanners and sights are able to gain a glimpse of what lies beyond; a formidable concentration of enemies, though not unassailable. 

 

 

You have moments to formulate a strategy before battle is joined. 

 

(GM: I will roll initiative tomorrow - formulate a strategy!) 

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: Hi all, on my work computer so can't post all the fanciness, but here goes:


Initiative Order:

ATRATUS | AG6+10 = 16 | WOUNDS 23/23 | FATE 3
GENESTEALER 6 | AG6+9 = 15
KHYBER VAIDAN | AG3+10 = 15 | WOUNDS 15/15 (20) | FATE 1

BROODLORD | AG6+8 = 14
VARVOST | AG5+8=13 | WOUNDS 21/21 (24) | FATE 2
GREYSIGHT | AG4+9 = 13 | WOUNDS 22/22 | FATE 4
BROOD BROTHERS A | AG3+10 = 13 | MAGNITUDE 15
GENESTEALER 4 | AG6+6 = 12

SOLASTION ALBIKUS | AG(3X2)+6 = 12 | WOUNDS 23/23 | FATE 2
BROOD BROTHERS C | AG3+9 = 12 | MAGNITUDE 15
CULTISTS 2 | AG3+9 = 12 | MAGNITUDE 42
GENESTEALER 5 | AG6+5 = 11
GENESTEALER 1 | AG6+4 = 10
GENESTEALER 7 | AG6+3 = 9
GENESTEALER 2 | AG6+2 = 8
GENESTEALER 3 | AG6+2 = 8
SHADOWY FIGURE | AG3+3 = 6
CULTISTS 1 | AG3+3 = 6 | MAGNITUDE 42
NYCAX SABAAN | AG4+1 = 5 | WOUNDS 22/22 | FATE 2
BROOD BROTHERS B | AG3+1 = 4 | MAGNITUDE 15

 

Edited January 21, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[A.T.]

Atratus moved without hesitation, drawing a bead on the distant figures knowing well that rabble would swam to block any shot the moment they recover their wits and the brood-progenitor would fade back into the shadows before their assault.

 

Whatever happened next he would not permit himself to fall short in his duty in this decisive moment.

 

Half action aim, half action shot with sniper rifle

D100 to hit = 8

3D10 damage = 4+8+10

Righteous fury = 5

Total damage (+4) = 31, Pen 7, Felling, Toxic

[Steel Company]

The mortals were dieing, being murdered from behind, Tyber gritted his teeth under his helm while in the back of his mind he heard that voice again, Pathetic. That’s what is happening here, again you have others depending on you, and you are letting them die, again. Answering himself, and only to himself, he whispered below the vox pick-up “They are only mortals, trillions more can replace them.”

 

Switching to his Vox Link with 2-12, while he pushed Ryken down, he addressed the crew +2-12, fire for effect, 360 degree coverage. Light up the meat, we have to find what is attacking our troopers.+ Switching to local network for his entry team, he told them all to duck and cover while 2-12 strafed the room with both bolter and multi-laser.

 

From his kneeling position he kept watch for any signs of movement trying to get away from the wave of destruction making its way around the room, doing what he could to stay a head of the Heavy bolter sweep from 2-12, while staying under the turret mounted multi-laser.