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

[Steel Company]

So lost in his own thoughts about the battle above that Tyber had failed to hear Solastion’s command, even as the rest of search party started to depart. It wasn’t until his brother by choice mentioned Chimera 2-12, without thinking he spoke his mind to Akkad over a privet channel, +As much as I like 2-12, I’d rather ride in one of those Rhino 1c.’s that the Arbites are abusing with their touch. Those old machines need to be reminded of their nobility as transports of the Astartes, not be saddled with mortals all the time.+

 

Stepping beside Akkad, Tyber pounded on his pauldron, while his tone took on a darker yet wistful tone, +Tell me Ahu, do you miss your home chapter? Do you find those not of your chapter do not seem to understand the ways or meanings to the things that you do? I know I do… and it leaves me with mixed feelings on come to the Death Watch.+

 

He stopped his strides, turning to look over his left shoulder at the room before continuing to move towards the transport while finishing his thoughts; + I am envious of them, our squad members that are able to find gene siblings or common ground with the Codex Astartes, I feel as an outsider that is tolerated here most times… I can see why my Chapter tends to keep to ourselves.+

 

 

+++

 

Boarding 2-12 Tyber took his spot, standing in the crew compartment, head and shoulders out of the hatch, helm in his hands, watching the courtyard go about preparing for the war that was coming from the sky any day now.

Edited June 17, 2019 by Steel Company

[Mazer Rackham]

+As much as I like 2-12, I’d rather ride in one of those Rhino 1c.’s that the Arbites are abusing with their touch. Those old machines need to be reminded of their nobility as transports of the Astartes, not be saddled with mortals all the time.+

 

Akkad rocked slightly, smiling under the thunderous pummel from the Dragon.  He was accustomed to it and had the opportunity to feel the absence of the bonhomie the big Marine offered when he had been in orbit.  His speech over the private channel was unguarded, as it so often was when they spoke together as Kin.  It was one of the reasons Akkad liked him.

 

+Tell me Ahu, do you miss your home chapter? Do you find those not of your chapter do not seem to understand the ways or meanings to the things that you do? I know I do… and it leaves me with mixed feelings on come to the Death Watch.+

He stopped his strides, turning to look over his left shoulder at the room before continuing to move towards the transport while finishing his thoughts; + I am envious of them, our squad members that are able to find gene siblings or common ground with the Codex Astartes, I feel as an outsider that is tolerated here most times… I can see why my Chapter tends to keep to ourselves.+

 

Akkad smiled again.  He could understand the points the Marine raised all too well.  He chose to reply in the same easy manner.

 

+Well my Kin, I don't feel that about the esteemed Rhino, but I do feel that way about my warplate.  My Chapter has a significant number of Mark IV suits and I chafe that I didn't receive one upon my elevation to Veteran Sergeant as is our custom.+  Akkad only had to stoop a little to clamber into 2-12, the space inside as familiar to him as the halls of his own household when he was a boy.  he held a soft spot for the Chimera chassis and even Sabaan had marked the old and stolid vehicle as worthy.

 

+To your other observation,+ The voice didn't quite smother the wry smile, +I know well what you mean of Chapter differences.  However, I have stood amongst fine warriors from great and glorious Chapters - of which I count you of course Ahu - all of whom had different traditions.+  He thought back to the Lamenters, the Mantis Warriors, even the Executioners.  The words he wanted to tell the Marine wouldn't come, but a voice echoed in the back of his head.  Rovik.  Of course.  Always Rovik.

 

 +A man once told me that "No one man is an island even though we are all on the sea..."+  He thought for a moment as he sat down in his familiar spot, watching the huge warrior bang open the top hatches to poke his head and shoulders through.  Tyber took off his helmet and closed his eyes as Akkad continued. +"But if he is to stand apart - it is best he be an archipelago."+  Akkad pulled Cadence into his hands, frowned.  He dropped the vox link and whispered the next words into his helm, for his ears and his ears only.

 

"Other men say the Strong are Strongest Alone.  For when is a man more tested?"  he cocked the Heavy Bolter and tapped the Inquisitorial seal at his waist.  He was going to test General Wrex.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Tyber gave a soft smile at Akkad’s words, before looking skyward, he was enjoying the feel of the air on the newly shaven head before he spoke, leaning slightly back against the open hatch, “I know what you mean about mark four, thinking back about the company I was attached too, that was the only armour type to be seen… I had not seen or touched mark seven or eight until I was dispatched to the Death Watch, I was told that our mark four would stand out too much.” He paused to look down at his barrowed plate as it pinched him under his left arm, “And now I find myself in my third suite of armour, while on my third operation…”

 

He started to give a deep throaty chuckle, “I wonder if this will be a trend?”

 

Taking a more serious tone, he continued quietly, openly and honestly, “I think what I am finding most frustrating is being told ‘The Legions are gone, and for good reason.’” He paused to bring the barrowed helm to his forehead, “I am Astartes and my Gene seed has a direct lineage of one touched by the Emperor himself. My Chapter served the Emperor himself during the unification of Terra; we bent the knee to no-one other than the Emperor himself… So long as my chapter lives and breathes, the Legions are not gone; they will endure, just as the Emperor intended.”

 

Sliding the helm on, he added to himself, “All are subservient to the Legion; the Legion is subservient to the Emperor and only the Emperor.”

Edited June 19, 2019 by Steel Company

[Morovir]

Teralil stepped forwards, and made the sign of the Cog.

 

"I will assist in your recovery of the Space Wolf. The Codex Astartes condemns the abandonment of brothers, even those who do not follow its dictates."

 

He thumped his breaching augur on the floor.

 

"Where do we begin?"

[Mazer Rackham]

 “I know what you mean about mark four, thinking back about the company I was attached too, that was the only armour type to be seen… I had not seen or touched mark seven or eight until I was dispatched to the Death Watch, I was told that our mark four would stand out too much.”

"And now I find myself in my third suite of armour, while on my third operation…I wonder if this will be a trend?”

 

Akkad heard the tone, felt a tiny worry behind the lightness.

 

“I think what I am finding most frustrating is being told ‘The Legions are gone, and for good reason. I am Astartes and my Gene seed has a direct lineage of one touched by the Emperor himself. My Chapter served the Emperor himself during the unification of Terra; we bent the knee to no-one other than the Emperor himself… So long as my chapter lives and breathes, the Legions are not gone; they will endure, just as the Emperor intended.”

 

Akkad paused to let the declaration sink in a little as the big Marine replaced his helm.

+You are right my Kin.  The Legions didn't disappear, they became us.  Although if you tell Solastion I said that, I will have to hit you with a krak grenade.  Oh and I certainly hope you don't keep needing new warplate, because you won't fit in mine.+  He chuckled to make sure the barb was pulled and became only a small poke.  He sighed deeply, let the other warrior hear it.

 

+I do miss my Chapter, but I have a fear my Kin, they do not miss me.+  Their thoughts were interrupted by the Machinesmith from the Obsidian Glaives.

 

"Where do we begin?"

 

Akkad blink-clicked squad vox, patching in Vorr, Tyber and Teralil.  He added a parasitic channel to Solastion, data feed only, none priority.

++Hail Teralil, board this humble steed.  We have much need of you.  We go first to the Air defence array and the secrets of it's cogitators.++

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Feeling free enough to respond to Akkad’s last transmition over the privet channel over the demi squad level channel, Tyber spoke with a more guarded tone, the first word in the language of the Glass Bay +Tuakana, I have a feeling we are in a more similar waka than we would first think, in that regard.+

 

Turning to look at the new Techmarine, Tyber dipped his head in deference and added; +2-12 has seen us through a few engagements against the cult that was here. Even Sabaan marked her with his seal of approval. I know that she will see us to where we need to go… It should not be hard to track down where we lost Thorvald, our transport suffered, as Sabaan put it, ‘a near miss’ that all but tore the craft in half.+ Tyber’s voice was lighter as he mentioned the ‘near miss’ than he first intended.

[Reyner]

++Brother Vorr, how is your driving?++

 

Vorr glanced at Akkad his Corvus helm hiding the grin splitting his features and the red flash of his electoos.

 

++My driving is satisfactory Astral Claw although I do prefer to be in the gunners seat. But a Chimera doesn't have the same appeal as a Razorback or Predator. Everyone who is joining us get onboard now and secure yourselves.++

 

Chimeras aren't built for Space Marines so Vorr is forced to remove his shoulder plates and power pack to squeeze into the drivers position, stowing them in the hold with his missile launcher. It wasn't comfortable but he would manage.

[Commissar Molotov]

DAY 26

 

Akkad, Tyber, Yeng, Vorr, Teralil:

 

The wind is harsh, whipping through the chest-high fields of wheat and other grains as sharply as any scythe. But any farming tools within this district have long been set aside, or else used to bolster the fledgling citizen militias established by General Wrex. The fast-growing seedlings established by the Magos Biologis and preferred for agri-worlds have long grown out of control and turned wild - those fields that have not been put to the torch in violent uprising.

 

The knife-like winds have little impact upon your ceramite armour, but with your helms off and your eyes fixed to the horizon, the sensation of it pricking against your face is almost pleasant - a welcome change from the stuffiness of the chimera's interior. Three days of searching for the corpse of Thorvald Hammerhand - for any sign of the Space Wolf - have been fruitless. At a pace that far outstripped any PDF force attempting to keep up, you have scoured the countryside surrounding Beregar City. With the aid of Brother Teralil, you were able to extrapolate likely trajectories from the cogitators at the Spaceport, triangulating velocities and altitudes in an attempt to work out where he could have fallen. And as yet, nothing.

 

 

GM: This is a moment of contemplation after three days of obsession. Perhaps it is your first break. You are perhaps having to come to terms with the idea that the search for Thorvald may be fruitless.

[Noctus Cornix]

++Brother Tyber...++

 

The interruption on the vox-link was an abrupt one, a voice that had remained uncomfortably quiet for the past few days in a self-imposed exile of meditation in whatever dark, empty room he could find away from other living things, even his own kin. It was so easy to linger into his older familiarity, what seemed like a lifetime of solitude in service among the dead leading the Codicier to seek solitude, even when his heart yearned for the bonds of brotherhood. He had been apart from his brothers since the final purge of the cultists, absent from all but the most necessary of tasks and briefings required of him. He had remained polite, but brief, falling back to his acting meditation chamber for whatever time allowed. It was a poisonous thing to give in to his melancholy... And yet he had done so in the knowledge of his.. Affliction seemed the appropriate term, though he could only consider it as a weakness.

 

This was the first time the Codicier had gone out of his way to contact any of his brother Astartes.. though it was not his own squad he contacted, but Tyber. 

 

++I... apologize for my absence. You wished to ask a question of me?++

[Steel Company]

Date: XXX.918.M41

The Void war would start any hour, yet he found himself sitting in his bunk area looking at the unassuming book before him, he knew he read it, yet he could recall nothing from it. This vexed him deeply; he could always recall at least something of every book he had read since learning how to read. The oily grey leather was still an odd choice to him, the lose sheets of vellum were still tucked in as nicely as possible, but often stuck out. His thoughts were shattered by the sound of the Vox unit in his helm alerting him to a message.

 

++I... apologize for my absence. You wished to ask a question of me?++ came the voice of the Librarian whom had joined their squad.

 

+Think nothing of it brother, I wish to bring you an artifact that we found in the late governor’s possessions… I have a feeling there is something strange about it… Also I wish to alert you to something else that Black Thorn had found that has gone missing…+ closing the link, Tyber took the book and headed for the Librarian.

 

++++

Once at the door to the chamber he gave a rap to the door, watching it pop open slightly, Tyber tilted his head slightly to the left, sure that he had not knocked hard. Entering the room, the low candle light was warm and inviting to him, it reminded him of Arce or the candle light used in the Glass Bay at night. In one corner he could see Montesa with his back to him, Must be a Seventh Legion thing? Tyber thought to himself.

 

Placing the book down on an alter in the room, he wasted little time in passing along the information, “As I mentioned over the link, this book is strange… it was the only mundane book in a room full of opulence… what is more strange about it is, the binding is grey oil leather, yet leaves no oil stain. I have read this book several times now, yet I cannot recall anything from it. I find it both strange, yet not strange at the same time…. I was wondering if the tome is more than it seems…”

 

Pausing to take a breath and try to read the other Astartes, he continued “The other thing I wished to mention was a painting that had been stolen from the Governors Palace, it was of a dagger shaped crusade era cruiser, titled ‘The Dark Lantern’. Brother Akkad mentioned that looking on this painting caused pain. That in of itself is concerning, but what I consider the greater alarm is that the painting disappeared at the shortly after the Rouge Trader arrived in system… My instincts tell me that he had something to do with it going missing. I tell this to you as you had a meeting with him, perhaps you might have sensed something while you were there…”

 

 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Day 26 on World, XXX.918M41

 

Tyber was standing in the field, the smell of the air oddly fresh despite everything that has happened on world, his helm was sitting on the Chimera with in arms reach. He leaned back against the hull, looking up at the sky, “Three days. Three days we have been out here with nothing to show for it!” as he spoke the last word, he balled his fists and pounded the hull of 2-12.

 

Pushing himself off of the hull he stepped out into the grains, his boot snapping the haft of farming tool, the loud snap drew his attention to it. Bending down to pick up the haft, he flipped it end for end in the air, catching it before hauling his arm back, ignoring the pain of the pinching of the armour and letting the haft fly he let out a deep frustrated primal yell at the horizon. Taking a deep breath to center himself, he pulled himself back into 2-12, leaning against the open hatch, he mused out loud, not really expecting an answer as he rubbed the back of his head with one hand, while picking up his helm in his other; “What I wouldn’t give for a transponder to track down…”

Edited June 21, 2019 by Steel Company

[Mazer Rackham]

Seeing the Ahu was wrathful, Akkad could not help but feel the same way at a fruitless search.  He watched the destruction of a perfectly good farm tool and wished that he had one to throw as well.  They all needed a distraction.  He remembered a competition once for the younger nobles, to help with swordplay - the teaching of deftness.  It may help them as brothers.  he sniffed, the General was a dead end as well, they had not spent enough time to spring any kind of awkward proposal to wrong foot him.  Politics.

 

He selected several sturdy reeds.  He banged his fist on the distracted Dragon's shoulder plate.  The head swivelled to meet his gaze.

"Hold this."  The Giant took the sturdy switch and his head tilted in assessment.  He passed the others a stick.  Teralil looked like it was blasphemous.

"Brother Yeng?  A wager.  How many strikes for Tyber to win?"

 

He looked at Teralil, Vorrand Yeng. "You're welcome to take part of course."  He turned to Tyber and dropped into a crouch.  "First strike, no blood and as the humans say, winner stays on?"    He smiled broadly, eyes twinkling.  "En garde!  Or did your skill with a blade dwindle in null g?  Forgotten how to hold a sword?"

 

It was so much like home.  The fields, young men, warriors together, no boundaries or agendas.  Clean.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Tyber gave a solid laugh, dropping into a tail guard position, left leg forward, knees bent. He watched Akkad for movement. Not seeing any movement, Tyber lunged forward a half steep.

 

Akkad seemed to take the bait, lashing out with the stalk with a mighty thrust. Tyber swung forward and up in a solid motion to knock Akkad’s stalk high. Letting go of his own stalk, Tyber continued his momentum into Akkad, knocking him over.

 

Laughing Tyber lowered his hand to his brother by choice, while giving a friendly jest “Consider that payback for the Krak grenade on the Voice of Thunder.”

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad laughed heartily as he bowled across the gravel road.  He took the hand offered, hauling himself up.

 

"I see it is up to the other brethren to teach you to keep that elbow up!"  But he winked, dusted himself off and banged his vambrace against plastron in warrior applause.  "The mighty Tyber is victorious,"  He bowed, "Who challenges him?"

 

MR.

Edited June 21, 2019 by Mazer Rackham

[Noctus Cornix]

It had been... some time since Tyber had departed from his meditation chamber. Two day, seventeen hours, and thirty-one minutes ago, to be precise. The Dragon of Caliban had left after appraising Guillermo of all the necessary information. After which, the Codicier had politely thanked his brother and let the son of the Lion depart in search of his lost squad-brother. 

 

He should have gone with him. He should have at least offered... but that was nearly three days ago, and the Codicier had remained silent in meditation of the war to come. Tyber sought the body of his fellow squad mate to alleviate his grief. Perhaps then they were not so different?... He doubted that even as the thought crossed his mind. Sorrow was not an emotional response often discussed among the astartes. They were the bringers of despair; to fill their enemies with dread and misery upon their was was their sole purpose in existence. It was not the place of his kin to mourn, not for the trans-humans....

 

But they did... didn't they.. in their own, stunted way. The mortuary rituals of the Blood Angels were legendary, with lesser but no less potent funeral rites of Mortifactors, Salamanders, and other chapters. This was not even to speak of the VII Legion's own offspring, the wayward sons of Dorn... the last, broken wall. It was the custom of his kin, handed down from their father Chapter, to carry the bones of one's fallen kin into battle, to let their spirits take to the field of war even in death. It was seen as a great honour, but was it really anything more than sim-

 

He paused himself, stealing his mind from itself with the all too real understanding of the depths he was letting himself sink into. With a joyless smile he cursed himself for his own weakness. He was certain his ancestors were as well... Letting the doubts slide away from his mind, Guillermo peered off to look over towards the book that brother Tyber had left for him, the rather plain looking book that had left a distant son of Caliban uneasy. The descendants of the I Legion were well known for being a suspicious and untrusting sort, enough to leave some amidst the Holy Ordos red with shame.. but their inherent scrutiny.. whatever its origin, was never without cause. Even feeling the bare creak of his bones from having remained unmoving for nearly three days, the Codicier finally rose from his meditation and approached the lectern to examine this curious tome with his sixth-sense as much as he did his eyes.

[Commissar Molotov]

Akkad, Tyber, Yeng, Vorr, Teralil

 

The jocular nature of your gathering is cut short by a terse vox-communication from Solastion.

 

++Talon One, we have reports that Levy Outpost 43 has failed to respond to regular vox communications. Proceed to investigate.++

 

You know that the PDF Levy have established outposts situated around Syndalla's main settlements and throughout the countryside - numerous bunkers and outposts equipped with heavy weapons, food and supplies enough to sustain a platoon of troops for several weeks if need be.

 

According to the maps within your helm visor displays you know that Outpost 43 is less than an hour's travel from your current position.

 

Montesa

 

The volume given to you by Tyber is an unassuming one; a battered and scuffed tome, much like a psalter used in Ecclesiarchal services. It is bound in a greyish leather that seems slick and oily, as though rejecting the light that shines upon it. It is unquestionably old, and contains many loose sheets of vellum inside, seemingly arranged in what seems like a random order. At your most cursory inspection, the pages appear to contain fragments of a personal journal of some kind, interspersed with drawings in a heavy, ink-scratched hand.

 

GM: Try to detail what Montesa is doing or looking for with his investigation, and I will ascertain what he knows.

[Steel Company]

Tyber sighed and toss the stick away, before looking skyward and speaking to it “Grandfather, show us some fortune and allow us to find Thorvald along the way.”

 

Placing a hand against one of his belt pouches, that contained a tooth of the brood lord that he had taken for Thorvald, he added ever so quietly “Please, Grandfather.”

 

Taking a deep breath, he placed the helm on his head before vaulting into 2-12m waiting long enough to see that all were onboard before banging twice over the driver’s hatch to signal that all were ready to get moving.

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad waited until everyone was embarked and settled, Vorr revving impatiently.  The Astral Claw unlocked the Auspex from his waist and fiddled with it.

+I will set it to scan for explosives.  I have also taken measurements of everyone's armour...+  He peered up at Tyber +Just in case.+  He gave both the Apothecary and the Techmarine a sideways glance, not sure who would be in charge of the party should direct action be required.

 

He put it out of his mind as the Chimera ramp closed.  If the bullets were flying, it would not really matter.

 

MR.

[Noctus Cornix]

Guillermo will first try to perform a prescience test on the tome to see if there is any form of psychic or warp resonance with the tome. Following that, he will attempt to read closely to the document, looking for any important information and figure out what this journal is about while trying to transcribe said notes of importance onto parchment of his own. Given the strange warning from brother Tyber, he will take no chances. 

Edited June 26, 2019 by Noctus Cornix

[Commissar Molotov]

Akkad, Tyber, Yeng, Teralil and Vorr:

 

The chimera's travel is rough; ground worn smooth by grain macro-haulers has been allowed to turn fallow, roots and vines snaking across the roadways between fields. It takes you a creditable fifty-eight minutes to travel to the Outpost, thanks to Vorr's driving.

 

When you disembark, there is only silence. The Outpost is a firebase in the familiar Imperial style you might encounter on a thousand different worlds; sloped walls emblazoned with the Imperial aquila, sally-ports from which heavy stubbers protrude and banners that stir fitfully in the breeze. The armoured gates of the outpost are sealed.

 

There is no noise. No challenge from the defenders.

 

 

Montesa:

 

To take the volume in your hands, it seems a pitiful and insignificant thing. You can discern that the skin that binds it is from some sort of creature, but one with which you are not familiar. Certainly it is not the flesh of any animal with which you are familiar - or even the skin of a human. An alien, then, perhaps. The stitching that binds the bulk of the pages is imprecise, perhaps even amateurish.

 

Psyniscience Test: 39 (PASS)

 

When you open your other-senses, it seems as your hands - or the tome within them - is wreathed in smoke. You taste ash in your mouth; you hear the distant but unmistakable scream of women and in your heart, your true heart, you feel nothing but unextinguishable, unending sorrow. It is a force enough to force your transhuman physiology a step back, as though struck by a blow. Your eyes open, and you see psychic hoarfrost crawling across the ceramite surface of your armour.

 

The pages themselves seem random and mismatched, as though taken from different texts and brought together. On some, you read common daily prayers exhorting the Emperor; on others you see starcharts, or geometric symbols, drawings of cubes, or cubes-within-cubes, astrological symbols and sketches of saints bowed in prayer. On one page, love poetry scratched through, whilst on others a heavily-rendered sketch of a naval vessel caught within a spider's web.

 

All your instincts and your training within the Libraria of the Crimson Fists tell you that this book is not tainted - not in any conventional way. It is warp-touched, or bound with some form of psychic power, but nothing that you would connect to the Dark Gods or their unwitting pawns. And yet this is a text of meaningless riddles. It seems something that a child would have created.

Edited June 27, 2019 by Commissar Molotov

[Noctus Cornix]

Can Guillermo make out anything from the sketch of the naval vessel? Tyber had mentioned the painting of the Dark Lantern being of an Imperial ship. In that same vein, is the psychic resonance familiar to presence he felt on the Rogue Trader's ship?

[Steel Company]

Tyber looked at the outpost with a slight tilt to his helm, over the link he spoke to Vorr, +Can you do a loop around the fire base? The front looks undamaged, but we maybe we are missing something…+

 

He gripped the side of the hatch, wondering if they might have been raided from below, but first they needed to see the whole exterior of the facility before attempting a forced entry.

[Commissar Molotov]

Akkad, Tyber, Yeng, Vorr, Teralil

 

The firebase is on a raised promontory, but Vorr is able to bring the Chimera around its outskirts, the armoured treads pulping arable crops into the churned earth. There are no visible breaches in the base's walls; it all seems inviolate.

 

 

Montesa:

 

The psychic resonance is distinctly different to that aboard Desiato's vessel, you know that much. If colours could have taste, or if there were words enough to describe what you have experienced beyond the veil as a Librarian, you might perhaps be able to explain how or why. The screams seem to resound within your skull, as though lodged there.

 

The vessel itself is of a standard, if ancient, Imperial pattern, with a crenellated prow, heavy clusters of engines at the rear and broadside weapons. The inkwork is blotchy in places, as though the illustration was drawn quickly. The strands of the web wrap around the vessel, as though drawing tighter and tighter. The spider rears up, forelimbs bristling with hair and jewelled eyes seeming to glow in firelight as though about to devour the ship whole.

[Steel Company]

Tyber eyes the structure closely, looking for a blind spot in the defenses that would allow him access to the roof top landing pad. +Ahu, can you pass me an entrenching tool? I want to see if the defenses are automated looking for motion.+ he asked of his brother by choice.

 

With the 9-70 entrenching tool in hand, he gave it a solid toss towards the structure, waiting to see if the mounted weapons open fire on it.

[Commissar Molotov]

As the entrenching tool clangs dully against the rockcrete walls of the firebase, there is no response, no sign that any weapons are automated or triggered by any motion or movement.

[Slips]

++Status, Brothers?++ Solastion pings over the vox as the locator beacons of the demi-squad indicate that they have arrived at their destination.