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

[Slips]

"Cripple a Tyranid vessel, you say? Coupled with your arrival here, I'd assume that this vessel is the one that makes its way, here, to Syndalla then?"

Asked the priest as he led the assembled marines to the hololithic command table at the center of the Strategium found within the Manse.

 

"If thats the case, then we'd be very appreciative of any information on the vessel you could give us. But, before that, a few things." he went to the tables console and brought a map of the area up.

 

"This...is the city of Beregar we find ourselves in."

 

"Highlighted here, in purple, are the Grand Estates and where we find ourselves. Main thing of note is that this is where the Nobles usually call home and supposedly one of the more secure locations. The 200m moat would seem to suggest that but, having had genestealers successfully infiltrate the location, its a dubious claim at best. In Red and Orange, we have the Commercia and Fallows districts respectively. This is where a majority of the combats involving the cult occurred and are mostly clear though there yet exists pockets of resistance that remain to be cleared out."

 

"In green, we have the Portica and the only access point to the Space Port beyond. Possibly the most important location on the planet to hold if an extended campaign or evacuation becomes necessary. In the center here, in blue, we have the Templum where we initially made planetfall. Not much more to be said about the area beyond being one of the first to have been completely purged."

 

"Finally we have the Metalica and Fabrica districts in Magenta and Yellow respectively. Not much to be said due to the way the Adeptus Mechanicus in general operates and is one of the reasons we yet have munitions to put to use in cleansing the world of the Xenos taint."

 

"For the most part the Cult operates in the mannerisms known to the Imperium and the Deathwatch: majoritarily using subterfuge, sabotage and guerrilla tactics. The only exception being when the Patriarch itself comes under threat or leads the way with the purestrains. Though at a cost, we were fortunate to have forced its hand, so to speak, and cut the head off the proverbial serpent before the infestation became rampant. However, it seems the cult had gotten to the Inquisitrix who first alerted the Watch Station to possible activity for all we found were her bones and Rosette. Oddly enough, it seems the Interrogator that accompanied us has since vanished and I've heard no word of his whereabouts."

 

"Beyond that, we more or less have the Operational Independence and Command to do as we see fit to repel the incoming Tyranid Threat." shifting the view of the hologram to display an orbital view of Syndalla.

"In terms of spacecraft we have the vessel you arrived on and the few Navy Vessels that arrived a few weeks prior. Otherwise, we only have the PDF vessels and Orbital Stations. Not much all things considered but with proper usage are still formidable assets to have at our disposal." he said highlighting and pointing out the vessels as he came to them."We also have a wildcard in the form of the Rogue Trader but otherwise have no information to share on that subject for they are ever aloof and distant as their lot are wont to be." he said highlighting the ship that remained distant from the rest.

 

Shifting again to a pure data view of all personnel they otherwise had at their disposal, he continued.

"In terms of mortals on the ground, this is a basic overview of what we have. Standard stuff for the most part but all depleted in some form due to the infestation. A safe assumption is that the Mechanicus will keep tight rein over what they control and will use them as they see fit."

 

"This more or less covers it. We have successfully purged the world of the genestealer infestation and are essentially in the final stages of a full cleanse. The Broodlord is dead but have lost our Watch-Sergeant and an Inquisitor in the process. We also have a conservative nine days before the incoming Tyranids reach Syndalla itself. Any questions?"

Edited March 2, 2019 by Slips

[Commissar Molotov]

As the Sanguinary Priest's words settle, it becomes clear to the brothers of Swordhand what Blackthorn have faced: their fight against the uprising; the climactic battle against the Broodlord in the profane sanctum; the fall of Watch-Sergeant Vaidan and the weeks of battle to eradicate the Cult from Beregar.

 

The scope of the task before you is increasingly clear: in six days, the Tyranid swarm will reach the outer system; in nine, they will reach Syndalla itself. It falls to the thirteen Astartes assembled here to ensure this world survives until the Imperium can reinforce you.

[Morovir]

https://orokos.com/roll/707740

In order:

Raptors: 84 (TN 50 - FAIL)
Astral Claws: 46 (TN 60 - 1 DOS)
Storm Sons: 11 (TN 50 - 3 DOS)
Dragons of Caliban: 7 (TN 50 - 4 DOS)
Crimson Knights: 12 (TN 50 - 3 DOS)
Iron Hands: 50 (TN 90 - 4 DOS)
Eradicators: 73 (TN 50 - FAIL)

 

Teralil took in the kill team standing opposite his own. Two were of chapters he failed to recognise - both Assault Marines - one he assumed to be a son of Sanguinius, and the other he would have taken for his brothers in the White or Black Consuls if not for the hideous discolouration of his heraldry. The rest he took in swiftly. A gargantuan son of Caliban, draconic in nature - he could find no fault with that. Another son of the Blood, one of their bizarre "Sanguinary Priests" - he could not fathom why they did not simply call it an Apothecary and leave it at that. A Storm Son - a relatively new chapter, born of a barbarian bloodline - too mired in mysticism for his taste. An Astral Claw, though he was a worthy soul - his chapter had endured millennia as wardens of the Maelstrom - he had heard disquieting rumours of numbers far exceeding those mandated by the Codex Astartes, a concept he found abhorrent. Finally, an Iron Hand. While he had respect for this warrior, as both from a First Founding chapter and a fellow Techmarine, this was tempered by their peculiar Chapter structure, far from the strictures of the Codex. His Chapter had lived in the age of Guilliman, how could they not have seen his wisdom and followed it?

 

He nodded to the Iron Hand, but said no more.

 

Ironically, for one with such lowly origins, Teralil is a bit of an elitist when it comes to Chapter pedigree.

Edited March 4, 2019 by Morovir

[Nineswords]

NINE DAYS. THE trajectory projections were corroborated by the brothers of Swordhand, and verified by the metriculators on board the Xenocide. It would be six days before the Great Devourer reached the outer system, and nine to Syndalla itself. Greysight had no doubt in his mind the greatest concentration of the tyranid's vanguard would strike at Beregar, the source of the Beast's psychic broadcast.
 
Purging the cult's nest of poison, and the extermination of the broodlord was not deemed a successful prosecution of mission parameters; which had altered significantly since the destruction of the Voice of Thunder. The grim discovery of the Inquisitor's remains was eclipsed by a tedious and protracted exercise in flushing out the remnants of enemy resistance. In the weeks that followed, stranded and alone upon the once prosperous agri-world, the brothers of Blackthorn resolved to transform Beregar into a killing field, awaiting the inevitable arrival of the tyranids. 
 
Akkad and Tyber had seen to the redeployment and training of the planetary defence force in concert with Fleet-Captain Locke. In the absence of Vaidan's leadership, Solastion emerged as a competent acting Watch-Sergeant, coordinating with the new planetary governor, Vortis, to organise and improve the morale of the untainted civilian population. The Sanguinary Priest's angelic visage became a beacon of reverence to the frightened and the faithful: a living son of the Great Angel, and his mystic battle-brothers had come to the aid of Syndalla, and interest in the primarch reached fever pitch as rumours of further Space Marine reinforcements began to circulate.
 
Hidden from the general populace, the Iron Hand Sabaan had communed with the small Adeptus Mechanicus presence in the southern districts, to assess the city's defence capabilities, and to re-arm us. It had been necessary to conscript a significant portion of Beregar's citizens to manufacture ammunition for the war ahead, and the forges of Metallica glowed with the fiery rage of a primordial volcano in its ceaseless toil. Only in Death does duty end. Such was the necessary sacrifice the common people, and through it, emerged unity of purpose. 
 
That left Vârvost, Atratus and Greysight. 
 
Whilst the search for Thorvald remained fruitless, their efforts in rooting out the remaining cultists were more successful. They tracked. They explored. They uncovered hidden holdfasts of the enemy, and purged them in fire and blood. Soon, the once human abominations of the genestealer cults feared the shadows that lurked in the dark.
 

 

+++

 
The Deathwatch assembled deep within the Governor's manse in a makeshift strategium, a former audience room whose finery had been devastated by war. Blackthorn had moved what little furniture remained, which had not been reduced to splinters, and made ad-hoc repairs on the manse's internal power and communication systems. The analogy was not lost on Greysight as he listened to acting Watch-Sergeant Solastion's briefing.

 

A dozen Adeptus Astartes gathered around the jittering phosphorous glow of the hololothic display unit, assessing the orbital scans and tactical dispositions made by the Xenocide, and the remaining vessels of Locke's flotilla. Marks, rents, gouges, all indelibly marred the assembled kill-teams' power armour. Despite hasty repairs, each brother was a living, ruined monument to the Imperium's defence against the extragalactic predations of the Great Devourer. 
 
Kill-team Swordhand was a welcome addition to Syndalla's defence. The coming of additional Deathwatch reinforcements lifted Greysight's grim despondency. With no information of any further Imperial support, the news of more Space Marines coming to the aid of the beleaguered planet greatly improved the morale of the common citizenry, in spite of the doom that made its inexorable way towards them.
 
Their spirits, however, were dampened when a pictcast authorised by the governor, conducted over the planetary emergency broadcast network did not show the rumoured battle companies of a full Adeptus Astartes chapter, ready for war in polished battle plate. To their disappointment, a single Stormraven gunship unceremoniously banked into Beregar's Grand Estates, disgorging just five warriors onto the planet's surface. The pictcast was abruptly cut off when it became clear the arrival of these new Space Marines did not have the desired effect on Syndalla's populace, and it appeared that no further Imperial reinforcements were forthcoming. The quicksilver of the mysterious order lacked its usual lustre, and large portions of the uniform ebon paint scheme had been chipped or sloughed off, rendering the newcomers into dull patchwork effigies, matching the shoddy countenance of the waiting kill-team. Combined, their battered appearance merely heightened the warriors' terrifying and unsavoury reputation to the general populace. 
 
Unlike the poor quality of the pictcast capture, Greysight regarded his new brothers through his genhanced occulobe, appraising and perceiving these new warriors through his hyper-developed mental architecture. 
 
There, the monochromatism of the assembled group was broken by robes the colour of an unspoiled sky, denoting its scarred owner as a psyker – a zadyin arga – though Greysight knew that this practioner wielded a different power to the Path of Heaven. Next to him, another belligerent giant stood next to a diminutive, pensive emchi wielding a mace. Close by stood Akkad's counterpart, a shoulderpad marked in arterial red, bearing the sigil of a black talon. Last of all, standing apart from the assembled kill-teams, stood another forge-father introduced as Teralil, inscrutable and as silent as a statue. None of the devices borne by the brothers of Swordhand stirred recognition in Greysight. It was not uncommon, after all, the size of the Emperor's domains defied conventional imagination.
 
The Deathwatch was here, and Emperor willing, it would enough to stem the tide.
 

+++

Edited March 5, 2019 by Nineswords

[A.T.]

With the group assembled Atratus stepped forward to adjust the hololithic controls while Solastion spoke, the display shifting between the three proposed defensive strategies put forward during their time here.

 

Direct assault on the approaching fleet, a close-in defense of the planet against the inevitable assault, or permitting the swarm to close and flanking the command ship as its escorts move to attack the planet. Each predicting little chance of success, now enhanced by the arrival of Swordhand.

[Commissar Molotov]

Vârvost stands beside the Sanguinary Priest, the dark shadow to Solastion's angelic visage. His arms are folded across his breastplate as he glares at these newcomers.

 

"What of you?" he says, "What have you faced?"

Edited March 4, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[apologist]

"The last bastion, Apothecary of Swordhand."

 

It hit him, them. Blackthorn intended to stay and fight on the surface. He buckled his helm to his belt, turning away to hide his unease. He smiled weakly as the other marine continued. "Once the manse of the Governor and the seat of Authority on Syndalla.  Now a fist of defiance at the aliens." There was no dissemblance there; he seemed quite sincere. 

 

"Two fists now; brother," he replied, with a note of forced cheeriness. The Astral Claw tilted his head – though in appraisal of the corridor or agreement with his words, Yeng couldn't tell. As the Astartes continued through the entrance hall, Yeng gave a curt summary of the Gatebreakers' realm, out where the galactic halo of stars thinned, leaving gaps between worlds of yawning, heartbreaking immensity.

 

Roving void-warfare specialists, he had explained; to which the other marine had queried, innocently, 

 

"Nomads?" 

 

Yeng had grinned then. "Nomads? Yes, though childhood in slave caravan spoils the taste of that word. Nomads." he seemed to ponder the word for a moment, then turned back to Akkad. "I think I prefer voidsailor." His eyes were merry as he caught the Astral Claw's expression, "We see little of Imperium's workings with our eyes. Too far." He looked ahead, his face taking on a guarded look.

 

"Hm. We see little of man there, either; and what we see is not always good. We are spread – a ship or two together here; another ship or two there." he moved his pinched fingers in and out to illustrate. "Imperium is inward; we join worlds at the edge. Stop xenos," – the word was obviously new to him – "crossing the lines between; or savaging the joinings. Keep them in the cold: so we serve." 

 

"It is written, The whip is best when its cords are bound. The net is best when its cords are spread. True. But nets get ragged. Need patching. For oathkeeping, Gatebreakers send Gentles like me," he paused, tapping his wrist-mounted reductor to explain the word "to wear black." 

 

Entering the antechamber to the main room, he continued. "It is for Gentles to renew bonds; serve and learn, and bring back." He held up the claviger for inspection, its dark wooden haft chased with silver. Akkad could see odd, crude spiral designs, along with lines, arcs, crosses and meshes. They meant nothing to him. Yeng grinned. "This tells Emperor to remember his Gatebreakers. To send thread to fix his net." Akkad understood he meant arms and armour – and came to understand the mongrel, much-patched armour the Gatebreaker wore. Was there more? Akkad couldn't be sure. 

 

They entered the pock-marked and battle-damaged room serving as a strategium. It felt cold, in that peculiar way stone rooms do. As the marines broke up, to range themselves around the console table, Yeng finished, "I learn a lot from your Codex already. More from the scroll-spirits of fortress. I learn lots, but what I really learn is that I have much more to learn."

 

+++

 

Yeng listened, attentively, to Solastion's words as he outlined the situation. His thoughts were on the Astartes interned in his back; and in stasis on Xenocide. There was weight there; and responsibility. As the Priest opened the floor, Yeng stood, and motioned him to one side. Solastion's gaze glittered, but he bent his head to the Gatebreaker.

 

"When the Odes were first bound to parchment, it is said that the King of Al-Yinn declared them complete and perfect; that nothing more was to be written on the scrolls, nor taken away." Yeng's voice was soft, but not conspiratorial. "The Sage Mem nodded, knowing the King's quick temper, placed the scrolls in their blank silver case and carried them away."

 

He smiled.

 

"It is also said that for each day that it was in the Sage Mem's care, the case grew more elaborate, its decoration ever more fine."

 

Solastion detected a sad sincerity to the Gatebreaker's words.

 

"When the King of Al-Yinn went to join the Emperor, his Son demanded to see the scrolls. His servants brought the case to the King, and as four strong men struggled to place the case on the ground before him, so heavy and finely decorated was it, the front swung open, revealing nothing but grub-chewed fragments. 'Alas!' cried the King, 'the weight of time has turned our wisdom to dust.' And so it was; for paper is like the hope of man; fragile, and easily lost. The new King wept, then, for he thought the teachings of the ancients lost forever."

 

Yeng looked straight at the Sanguinary Priest, meaningfully, as he went on.

 

"The Sage Mem bowed deeply. 'My treasured Lord,' he said. 'Weep not. Though the words are gone, the wisdom remains.'"

 

The Gatebreaker paused. "My apologies; it is a childish story, buts its words came to me as you described feats of Blackthorn." he paused here, as though choosing his words. "I pretend no knowledge of your ways, Sanguinary Priest, but I would consider myself a poor custodian of the Watch-sergeant if his body were to remain here, at risk of loss? He has, after all, no decorated case to tell his story; only the memory of we – very mortal – Sages."

 

Before he could reply, both of the apothecaries heard the clang of Ghent's gauntlet on his chest.

 

+++

Edited March 5, 2019 by Apologist

[Reyner]

"We faced a Hive Ship whilst you were down on this mudball chasing shadows. That ship threw everything it had at us from waves of Gaunts up to Carnifex level threats, the ship itself constantly tried to kill us using its own immune system and changing its interior to lead us into ambushes. Birthing chambers, reclamation pools and walls that can constrict in short if our intelligence had been better we could have ended the threat decisively. We need to strike again and take down that ship not sit down here waiting for the endless onslaught."

 

Vorr felt himself getting annoyed but did his best to reign his humours in, the loading arm on his backpack twitched as it tried to understand his anger as a reload command. Breathing out slowly Vorr unlocked his MK6 Corvus helm and locked it to his belt as the light hit his shaved pale scalp the blood red electoos brightly pulsed. A modified Imperial Aquila was burned into his forehead but its talons had been modified to match the sigil of the Red Talons and stripes swept out from the Aquilas wing tips and heads like a circuit board spreading out down his neck to his back.

 

"Half of our squad were cut down in that hellscape but by the Emperor we will have our vengeance."

[Commissar Molotov]

Vârvost half-shrugs, nodding at the Red Talon's words. Vengeance has its place, after all, but survival is a virtue all of its own.

 

"Tough enough that the alien bastards had to spit you back out, then." There is appraisal in the Eradicator's words, but perhaps a germ of respect there too.

 

The Red Talon's suggestion that Syndalla should be abandoned in favour of a decisive strike against the Tyranids hangs heavily in the air.

Edited March 4, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[Xin Ceithan]

>> In that at least, we are united. The Iron Hands don't do senseless last stands<< Sabaan nodded inwardly. Outsloud, he said:

 

"A surgical strike at the xenos lead element would certainly improve the probability of a successful defence. If we can manage to clearly indenting it. IF you damaged it enough to increase success rates in a second Assault. There is no sense at throwing yet another Killteam into a xenos voidbeast for something as tactically wasteful as .. Vengeance."

[Steel Company]

Tyber listend to Sabaan’s words, closing his eyes to recall the opening line from the Twelfth chapter of The twenty lessons of the twenty sons. That chapter had always been cautionary about rushing head long into something and ignoring what was going on around someone, a lesson lost on the Primarch of the War Hounds.

 

“Vengeance is a fool’s errand, best attempted after digging two graves.” He said softly, looking at Vaidan’s form, then to the empty space that was left for Thorvald.

 

Shifting his stance to a relaxed one by the map display, Tyber reached out and rolled it around a few times, his words more rhetorical then an actual question, “What if we set up choke points, inside the city with armour and heavy weapons, using the gates to the city as the natural funneling point? Granted it would reduce our ability to defend the city as a whole, if they breach through the fire… Fire…” he snapped the fingers on his left hand, “What if we dug a trench, filled it with a slow burning fuel, but hot burning, source and lit it just as the beasts make their approach, to limit the attack avenues?”

[Reyner]

"That would depend on the Tyranids landing outside the city to build up their forces. Does Beregar have any void shield capacity? If it does not the Xenos are much more likely to rain down all over the city in clouds of Mycetic Spores. They would try to overwhelm the defences by attacking from everywhere at once."

 

Vengeance was useful tool to use in combat letting yourself slip into its power made you more unpredictable and dangerous to the foe. The Red Talons treat it like a secondary power supply in their never ending crusade against the Traitor Legions.

Edited March 4, 2019 by Reyner

[Morovir]

Teralil shook his head. "Fire will not stop them. These beasts have no fear of it - they will simply staunch the flames with their corpses and continue through. We would only be wasting valuable fuel."

 

At the same time, he sent a blurt of binaric at Sabaan.

 

++What is the current status of Astartes ammunition reserves within the city?++

Edited March 4, 2019 by Morovir

[Steel Company]

Looking at the second tech marine out of the corner of his left blue-grey eye, Tyber raised an eyebrow, while offering a response, "Less about fear, more about the fire's ability to cause them harm enough to reduce their numbers... As to the question about a shield, our transport did not record one, how ever their orbital defenses are rather good at hitting a lander on the way down..."

 

His voice was a touch lighter at the end, referencing something he had said to Sabaan during their decent about the meaning of a 'near miss', "That being said, I am more that willing to hear anyone else's thoughts on how to best build a defense for the city. Myself and Akkad have both trained up some of the local elements to be better than what we found when we got here. His 303rd Infantry unit and my First Armoured Cavalry."

 

Giving a shrug, he turned from the display, to leave the room as he said "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the library, seeing if there is anything recorded that we missed in the defensive capabilities of this world."

[Dosjetka]

The Invader remained quiet for a moment, deep in thought, as the other Astartes chattered amongst themselves. He suddenly raised his fist and slammed it against his breast plate. The surrounding conversations died in an instant.

 

"I have a question, Watch-Sergeant Albikus. Since Blackthorn been on this world for longer, you know of the defensive and offensive capabilites we have at out disposal far better than we could ever hope to learn in the brief period of time ahead of us. Blackthorn has spent time with the politicking lords and ladies, the bloodied officers and soldiers, the preachers of both creeds. Blackthorn has seen this city crumble, contributed to its destruction, as you sought to flush out this cult. Blackthorn has seen the lay of the land and no doubt knows it well."

 

Having raised his fist once more, the silver one this time, Ghent pointed straight at Blacksword's Apothecary.

 

"Since you are the commanding officer here, what was your plan before you received word of our arrival?"

Edited March 4, 2019 by Chaplain Dosjetka

[Nineswords]

DISCUSSING POSSIBLE DEFENCE strategems felt like it had taken hours. In fact, two hours and thirty-four minutes had elapsed since Greysight set his chronomark at the beginning of the Watch-Sergeant's briefing. As new details and intelligence emerged, an overall picture of the system's defence became increasingly dire.

Quite simply, an effective global defence of Syndalla was not possible. In the end, it fell to Captain Hass and his staff of the newly formed 303rd Syndallan Sentinels to coordinate the remaining military presence on the rest of the planet with newly conscripted citzen militias. Reasoning the main force of the tyranid's bio-ship would strike at Beregar as the largest concentration of human life, the Deathwatch had resolved to stay together to compound their effectiveness in defending the capital city.

'What if we dug a trench, filled it with a slow burning fuel, but hot burning, source and lit it just as the beasts make their approach, to limit the attack avenues?' asked Tyber.

'Fire will not stop them,' countered Teralil. 'These beasts have no fear of it, they will simply staunch the flames with their corpses and continue through. We would only be wasting valuable fuel.'

The Dragon of Caliban appeared unperturbed. 'Less about fear, more about the fire's ability to cause them harm enough to reduce their numbers.'

Vorr cut in. 'Does Beregar have any void shield capacity? If it does not, the xenos are much more likely to rain down all over the city in clouds of mycetic spores. They would try to overwhelm the defences by attacking from everywhere at once.'

'No,' replied Tyber. 'Our transport did not record one, however, the orbital defences are rather good at hitting a lander on the way down.'

‘The scale of brother Tyber’s thinking is too small,’ said Greysight, quietly. It was the first time the Storm Son had spoken since the arrival of kill-team Swordhand.

'We do not have any void shield capability, not on any meaningful scale anyway. Brother Vorr's assessment is correct. I have witnessed the coming of the Devourer, and the spores herald the death that follows. So, we must create a shield and hold it for as long as possible. In the last few weeks, I have accessed Beregar's central informatarium and reviewed as much data as I can. It comes down to the food, really.'

The emchi, Yeng, raised an eyebrow.

'Syndalla has higher concentrations of nitrogen, oxygen and hydrogen than even pre-Imperial Terra. I believe the planet's unique atmospheric properties is the reason why Syndalla breeds hardy soldiers and more importantly, why it is so productive as an agri-world. Why not simply seed a catalyst into the sky and ignite it as the initial waves of mycetic spores rain down upon us? They will not be able to withstand both atmospheric entry and the firestorm we generate,' suggested Greysight.

The strategium was silent. Akkad was visibly agape at the Storm Son's impossible proposal.

'Ignition of the atmosphere using a nuclear nitrogenic catalyst would cause the global temperature to rise by one-hundred-and- three-point-four degrees and exterminate most organic matter in seconds,' rebuffed Sabaan.

'Yes it would,' replied Greysight. 'But you forget Velikovsky. Seeding the atmosphere with the right catalyst would create small diffuse pockets of volatile liquid deute–'

'Praise be to the Omnissiah,' the Iron Hand interjected, an uncharacteristic excitement in his metallic rasp. 'You propose a chemical, not nuclear reaction. A localised thermobaric shield.'

The Storm Son smiled.

'The exact composition of the catalyst would need to be refined, of course. You will also need to find an airborne presence to supply more oxygen to fuel the shield, and hope they do not collide with anything that gets through. And a targeted lance strike for ignition. Let us be realistic, it will be difficult to seed a pocket the size of Beregar, let alone other population centres on Syndalla. Even if it works, it will only slow the advance around the capital and no more. There will be long term consequences too,' explained Greysight.

'Acceptable,' appraised Sabaan coldly. 'Syndalla will eventually be able to recover from the excess nitric acid produced by the diffusion of nitrogen enriched deuterium, though I cannot accurately calculate how much it will irreversibly alter Syndalla's atmospheric composition. Certainly, the planet will be unable to produce anything like the scale of agriculture it currently yields for generations. Wild life will be decimated through episodic acidification, and tens of millions will be affected by compromised respiratory and circulatory function.'

The Iron Hand let his conclusion hang.

'Set the sky on fire,' said Greysight with grim determination. 'The alternative is annihilation should the Great Devourer overwhelm us.'

 

+++

Edited March 6, 2019 by Nineswords

[Commissar Molotov]

The hololithic table is able to transition back from an orbital view of Syndalla to a topographical map of Beregar City itself.

 

 

Despite the destruction and devastation wrought by the Genestealer Cult, the city itself remains strong; its walls are inviolate and designed to hold off sieges in the way that most Imperial architecture can be militarised.

 

You see also the clustered shanties to the north of the city, known as the Fallows, where refugees from the wider planet have been gathering over the past weeks. Attached reports of food shortages and scattered outbreaks of violence appear, though you are able to blink-click them away.

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad closed his mouth and took his helm in both hands lifting it.  He scrolls through the reports of food shortages, rioting, civil unrest.  They had no time to quash it.

"The Inquisition called for aid and now a monster awaits to devour this planet in the gulfs of empty space, shifting on tides of hunger."  He stared forward, somewhere into the middle distance, ignoring them.

"Now we are to burn the land and the crops and the seas and the air to defeat a devourer unused to starvation."  He helmed himself, sealing down and after a moment the Badabian Vertanese crystal burned with sickly fire as the war-spirits came to harmony.

+I wonder, what was the point of even firing a single bolt round, now the earth we watered with our blood - with Thorvald's blood - will be scorched anyway.  Humans must die so that Humanity may live+ He admitted with a small shrug, +but you talk of vengeance, you talk of victory, of defiance.+

 

+You need to understand that we are not waging this battle to win, if the prize is a corpse-haunted wasteland, a burned and ruined hulk. We are waging this war out of spite.+

 

+I'll be with the 303rd.+

 

He turned, bowed his head to the Iazu and walked outside, his soul drowning in bitterness.

 

MR.

[Slips]

Great, theatrics.

 

Solastion desperately fought against the urge to roll his eyes hard as the Invader made a show of drawing all those present's attention by thumping his chest then singling him out by pointing a singular, silver, accusatory finger at him.

 

Could be worse, he could be a self-righteous Ultramarine...

 

"To say that we had a solid, set in stone, plan that we - I - had decided upon at this very moment would be a lie. Prior to your arrival, we had just gotten done resolving a...spat...between the PDFs leader; a general Wrex, and the Imperial Navy's commander; a Captain Locke." he informs them.

 

"The current plan, as it were, with the assets at our disposal, was to stall for as long as possible so that Imperial reinforcements could get here. Not much more to it. Initial idea for planetfall was to fight a retreating battle all the way back to the spaceport once the Tyranids made planetfall."

 

As Greysight outlined his idea to set the world ablaze, Solastions brow furrowed. "If only we had Phosphex..." he muttered

 

"As it stands, a scorched earth approach might be our only recourse. In the face of Tyranids its better to deprive them of biomass entirely than attempt any form of conventional warfare where possible due to them being able to so readily replenish any losses they might suffer. We'll be putting millions - if not billions - of lives to the sword but its a fate better than being consumed by the enemy." he said dourly.

 

"Brother Techmarines, how many atmospherically sealable locations do we have access to on-world?" 

[Commissar Molotov]

With the Dragon having left, with the Astral Claw having left, the number of Astartes in the chamber diminishes - making it painfully apparent how your numbers were diminished even before this assembly.

 

The Librarian of Swordhand is still yet to speak, his silence a marker of the void between the two Kill-Teams: so alike in appearance and yet marked and divided by their disparate experiences. All of you bear scars, physical and mental, from your deployment to the Deathwatch. This duty now places its own demands upon you, forcing the Astartes into unfamiliar environments to fight unfamiliar wars won with the pen just as much as the blade or the bullet. It is an entirely unsettling experience for you.

 

The Astral Claw's words hang in the air. Victory - but at what cost?

 

Vârvost looks at the gathered Astartes.

 

"If we are to win, then we cannot fight alone. We need every capable body within this city to take up arms. Encourage these people to defend their world."

[Xin Ceithan]

Sabaan watched the Astral Claw leave, lost for a moment in his own thoughts. For a moment, there was a sudden feeling of heat and pixelated echoes of flame danced around his field of vision. He has a brief sensation of falling, falling towards the surface of Cumbria. The surface of Syndalla...

 

He closed his remaining organic eye. His twin hearts beat. once, Twice. A deep breath through the respirator.

He spoke out aloud but included the clave vox as he spoke.

 

++ The Thermobaric option will have immense and long standing , maybe lasting effects on this world. It does offer a defensive option hat at least offers the planet a chance of restoration and regaining it's usefulness to the sector and the Imperium as a whole. As you are probably aware, conquest and removal of existing biomass by the Tyranids macro gestalt will permanently and totally negate any use this world could provide in it's present form. If we chose to defend this place, we will either have to make use of extensive force multiplication factors or waste the resources representated by a dozen Astartes++

 

He nodded to Greysight.

 

"If we are following this option, I will seek out the Magos Superior and see what assets the local Enclave could lend to this effort. There may also be transport craft remaining we repurpose as delivery systems. Agricultural bulk landing patterns do not make suitable troop delivery systems, up they might be useful to our efforts here."

 

Another nod, this time towards Solastion.

 

"I estimate a minimum use of dispersal assets and ignition devices at these coordinates to achieve minimum primary incendiary coverage."

 

A gesture added blinking runes to the hololithic display.

 

" Again, exchange and access to more data, especially on athmospheric conditions. Given the world's status as an agricultural center, I estimate there to be a rather high yield regarding weather conditional augury in place already and projections on the conditions regarding the use and effect of stratospheric hydrodryasis as well as dispersal of pesticidic screening. I would have a more detailed simulus available after including this data."

Edited March 5, 2019 by Xin Ceithan

[Commissar Molotov]

GM:

 

In an effort to help things:

 

After this meeting will end, the scene will transition to the Xenocide, as per my posts in the OOC thread.

 

Slips:

It seems to me that the following things will need to happen:

 

- Meeting with Fleet-Captain Locke to discern her thoughts and to consider whether she might be able to lend anything to the defense (she has several thousand armsmen across the three vessels, for example.)

- Meeting with General Wrex to discuss the ground defense of Beregar, where the troops will be posted, etc. If you are to progress with forming civilian militias, he would likely be worth discussing with. At the moment, he is in control of where to post the troops.

- Meeting with Governor Vortis, discussing anything civilian in terms of defending the planet, but worth also discussing the propaganda effort.

- Meeting with Captain Desiato to determine his motives and perhaps to extract a promise to defend the planet, along with whether he has anything he can lend to the defense. You may also wish to gain an understanding of what his vessel is capable of.

- Meeting with Adeptus Arbites or Ecclesiarchal figures to see what support they could lend.

- Petitioning for entry into the Metallican District - the Magos Primus has been rather evasive and Skitarii units have not left the district.

 

Perhaps feel free to assign some Marines to each task, and I can start preparing posts.

 

-

Edited March 5, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[Commissar Molotov]

Tyber:

 

As you enter the Manse's Library, the tome you seek is not one of those on the former Governor's shelves. It is one at your waist, a tome you have kept for yourself for the last three weeks.

 

It looks small in your gauntleted hands, the leather covers temporarily deforming indenting with the pressure you impart. The slick, oily covers make you idly wonder what kind of beast lent its hide to the tome. The pages inside are loose, the stitching fraying and the writing blurred with age.

[Steel Company]

OOC:

 

If there is anything in there that Tyber might come across, I'm happy to edit this post and accomidate it CM.

 

Standing in the library of the manse, running his left fingers over the fine books, much of them fictional work, he found himself chuckling as he read one of the titles aloud “The lonely Governor and the lusty Sororitas… Wishful thinking on his part I would gather.”

 

Sighing to himself, he wandered over to the space that the painting had been in, taking a moment to inspect the weapons that remained in place, apparently not valuable enough to steal with the painting it would seem. Nothing in here seems give me an idea of where to… he started to think, remembering the tome he’s had with him since the attack on the former Governor, taking the book from his waist, again something about this book peaked his interest, something about it seemed at odds with everything else that had been in this room. Placing the tome down on the desk, Tyber opened it gently, trying not to lose or damage any of the decaying parchment that was locked inside, starting at page one, he would take the time now to properly read through it with his enhanced eyes and mind speeding up the reading process.

Edited March 5, 2019 by Steel Company

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad does not wish to ascend to the Xenocide, although he will ask for ammunition and if Metal Storm or Kraken rounds are available for Cadence, for someone to bring them down.  He wishes not the company of either Blackthorn or Swordhand.

 

He greets Colonel Haas, his command squad and medicae, mounting up in their command Chimera, carrying bandages, a few rations, some paintbrushes, ten tins of matte black paint and as many lasguns as they can carry.

 

+Colonel, it is good to see you+ He gruffly advises, but he means it.  +Take me to the Fallows.+

 

MR.

Edited March 5, 2019 by Mazer Rackham