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

[Mazer Rackham]

He held position, acknowledging Atratus' subtle signal.  He kept Cadence away from Atratus' angle of movement, covering his advance.

 

Akkad will go onto Overwatch 45 degrees directly in front.

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: The rest of the Kill-Team would be able to see what Atratus and Akkad are witnessing, and will be able to formulate strategies accordingly. The waist-high liquid will slow movement and this is a consideration for you.

 

 

 

Montesa:

 

As you turn from the Red Talon, you think back to your preparations aboard the Xenocide.

 

Psychic Power - Augury

 

Focus Power Test

Int Test 64 = 64

1d100: 28. Pass, 3 DoS

 

PR 4

Question = "What awaits us in the bowels of the Beast?"

 

The Imperial Tarot sat before you upon a swathe of blue velvet, the same colour as the armour of your Chapter. You knew, of course, that the Tarot is vague and imprecise, swathed in metaphorical symbolism and requiring interpretation. Indeed, many Librarians choose to consult the Tarot alongside a peer so that they may commune upon potential meanings.

 

Another reminder, if one were needed, of your solitude.

 

But you still welcomed the clarity the Tarot might provide. Moving almost automatically through ritualised movements taught to you by the Senior Librarians of the Crimson Fists, you placed seven cards face-down. Seven, the Legion-numeral of the Imperial Fists and your gene-father, the mighty Rogal Dorn. Thus it has been ever since the formation of the Librarius itself.

 

The liquid-crystal cards seemed to vibrate, slightly, with the thrum of possibilities.

 

As you turned the first card you saw a castle, pennants snapping in the wind of an approaching storm. At the drawbridge, a stern-faced king with his arm outstretched, finger pointed. On the road away from the keep, a mounted knight, his horse laden down with satchels and equipment. The warrior's face was dark, downturned. The Dishonoured Scion.

 

The second card: the Hulk, inverted. Your training and experience with the Tarot told you that the second card is meant to be a signifier, bringing clarity to the preceding card. But here you see the aberrant agglomeration of vessels fused into one another, shrouded in shadow and malevolent promise. Inverted, though - such a meaning is problematic.

 

Third, the Beast. A card that was easy to understand and interpret - an obstacle to be overcome by bolt and blade. The flashing claws, glinting eyes and churning drool all seemed to gleam in the candlelight of your chamber, bringing memories to the fore of the last time you set foot aboard the Hive Ship.

 

The fourth card: As it turned, you saw the High Gothic banner at the bottom: ASTARTES. The Space Marine. You saw the bloody-handed banner of your Chapter lifted high, triumphant, above the piled corpses of your brethren. Those that had fought and died to even as your brothers lay down their lives to protect it.

 

The fifth card: the Great Host. A farmer on his knees, as a plague of locusts darkened the skies.

 

The sixth: the Silver Doorway. Two robed and cloaked figures desperately holding a set of exquisitely artificed double doors shut. Lightning crackled around the doorway's edges, pushing forward. As the doors bulged outward, you caught a glimpse of... something... beyond.

 

The seventh: the Inquisitor, reversed. The thrice-barred and haloed rosette of the Inquisitorial ordos. It stood tall over pyres that crackled as the psycho-reactive lattices within the card cycled. You saw the burning men and women looking skyward for a salvation that could never come.

 

It was at that moment that Solastion had summoned you to the Strategium for the mission briefing.

Edited June 8, 2020 by Commissar Molotov

[apologist]

Suppressing the urge to protest directly, Yeng slowly walked over to Vorr and Guillermo, the spongy floor leaving great pools of liquid in his bootsteps. Sensing some dissipating tension, he nodded respectfully to the librarian, and addressed the Red Talon. 

"With your permission, Vorr?" his boltgun holstered, he proferred a hand holding a hypo-counterbiotic solution. The marine gave a curt nod, and Yeng turned to his work.

 

Medicae test

Int 54 +10 (Medicae +10) + 20 (Narthecium) = 84

Roll is: 26 – Success

Intelligence bonus = 5; doubled by Narthecium to 10.

 

As he straightened up, he spoke. His tone was conversational, light, as though merely airing idle thoughts.

 

"Place in a brotherhood: a thing of honour. A great thing." He paused. Stepping back, and rinsing his gauntlets with a cleanser, he tilted his head towards Guillermo, who was warily scanning the chamber."Comradeship; understanding... That is sometimes a greater thing."

 

The Gatebreaker patted the Red Talon gently on the pauldron as he turned away. He cut into the squad's vox-network, his voice clearer, louder.

 

"Your Codex has large section on non-visual warfare. The Tenets, too, remark on them. Both are useful, but best is experience, I think? Hm. As the Sage Pend says, a blindworm cannot sense danger with his eyes; and therefore turns to the earth about him."

 

He paused for a moment, as though thinking.

 

"Not one of Pend's better aphorisms, perhaps." He drew his boltgun and switched it to single shot. "Still, useful when fighting saharduin in their black-gel corridors. Daon, Atratus, when I find myself in that, I increase my plate's tactile and proprioceptive sensors to maximum. Lots of feedback from liquid pressure, but also better sense of movement and angle in fluid."

Edited June 9, 2020 by apologist

[Slips]

++Brother Akkad, Brother Atratus, report, what have you located?++ He querried the forward operatives as he waited poised to wade through the substance.

[Mazer Rackham]

++We stand in a long chamber, Iazu, the passage through the fluid is short.  I am in a defensive position, Atratus scouts ahead, he is maybe better placed to report, but your egress is anchored.  You may come through.  I stand on Overwatch.++

 

++Brother Yeng's advice is sound, even if the writhing of this beast makes swimming through the guts...unpleasant.++

 

MR.

Edited June 11, 2020 by Mazer Rackham

[Slips]

++Yes, worth keeping under consideration if we're ever unsuspectingly submerged in the future - a fate all too likely in such a massive organic structure.++

 

++Understood, then, Brother Akkad, we will start making our way to your beachhead while we wait for Atratus to complete his summary investigations.++ He said, as he began to move forward, motioning for Varvost to be his second.

[A.T.]

++No hostile contact at this time. Possible target of opportunity. Recommend the squad advances.++ Atratus kept his answers brief as he advanced up the chamber, watching the far entrance for reinforcements.

[Commissar Molotov]

The rest of you are able to access vid-feeds from the helm-captors of Atratus and Akkad, showing the spore flumes' chamber. From the Raptor's elevated position, there appears to be little in the way of aggressive Tyranid involvement. For now, you have not attracted the attention of the swarm.

 

GM: A.T.: If you wish to lead the Kill-Team through the flume chamber, make consecutive Silent Move tests until you have reached twelve Degrees of Success (one for each member of the group) - the number of tests will determine how long it takes you to get the Kill-Team through the chamber. Feel free to add any narrative or description you wish.

Edited June 14, 2020 by Commissar Molotov

[A.T.]

As the others began their approach Atratus turned his attention to the chamber itself, noting the position of protrusions beneath the flesh through his auspex. Shifting patterns of electrical energy indicated nerve ganglion or perhaps hidden defenses, woven amongst a lattice of a more dense material. Bone or chitin perhaps, less likely to detect the passage of his battle brothers should they wish to retain the element of surprise.

15 successes in 3 rolls

https://orokos.com/roll/815603    3 degrees
https://orokos.com/roll/815604    5 degrees
https://orokos.com/roll/815605    7 degrees

[Commissar Molotov]

Under the keen eyes of the Raptor, the Kill-Team passes through the Spore Flume chamber, the twelve of you wading through the waist-deep milky liquid. The flumes expand and contract, giving you the impression you are within a giant lung - and in a sense, you are. But, as yet, you still have yet to enter combat against the Tyranid swarm. Perhaps avoiding the flumes was the right decision in affording you a direct and unmolested path toward the Hive Ship's Synapse Chamber.

 

Following Akkad's auspex, the Apothecaries' medical expertise and the ethereal senses of the Librarian, you continue as best you can through the capillary corridors of the Hive Ship. The passageways you take are different now - ridged, cartilaginous and broader, wide enough for two of you to travel side-by-side.

 

As you progress, warning runes begin to chime on the Narthecia worn by Solastion and Yeng. The atmosphere is growing increasingly toxic and acidic, to such a degree that it is beginning to corrode your Power Armour. You can already see the lacquered black paint beginning to bubble and blister away from the ceramite in sections; you know that the softer joints and seals of your armour are at far greater risk.

 

 

GM:

 

Roll 1D10 for each of the five sections of your armour. If you roll under or equal to your Armour Value, the armour has not been compromised. If you roll over your armour value (a 10 is always over), then you will lose one point of armour from that location. Feel free to add any narrative you wish - after all, your armour is a revered relic!

 

Acidic Assault

CHARACTER	HEAD	BODY	LEFT ARM	RIGHT ARM	LEFT LEG	RIGHT LEG

Akkad8108888

Atratus897788

Ghent898888

Greysight898888

Montesa797777

Sabaan8108888

Solastion8108888

Teralil9109999

Tyber8108888

Varvost898888

Vorr898888

Yeng9109999

 

EDIT: Table formatting is a little weird but hopefully it's clear enough for you to work out what you need to roll.

Edited June 15, 2020 by Commissar Molotov

[Commissar Molotov]

GM:

I will roll for those who've said they're absent - so Ghent and Sabaan. If posters are absent after a few days (I will email out today) then I will also roll for them.

 

Varvost:

HEAD: 3

BODY: 10 (DEGRADED)

LEFT ARM: 3

RIGHT ARM: 10 (DEGRADED)

LEFT LEG: 5

RIGHT LEG: 10 (DEGRADED)

 

Ghent:

HEAD: 8

BODY: 10 (DEGRADED)

LEFT ARM: 1

RIGHT ARM: 9 (DEGRADED)

LEFT LEG: 1

RIGHT LEG: 4

 

Sabaan:

HEAD: 3

BODY: 1

LEFT ARM: 1

RIGHT ARM: 4

LEFT LEG: 4

RIGHT LEG: 7

(Praise the Omnissiah!)

[apologist]

[Placeholder]

HEAD: 4
BODY: 8
LEFT ARM: 4
RIGHT ARM: 3
LEFT LEG: 1
RIGHT LEG: 1

Thank goodness for void-hardened mark III, eh?

[Steel Company]

OOC:

 

Place Holder, will craft something later today

Tyber:

 

HEAD: 6 (armour damage roll: 1d10 6)
BODY: 7 (armour damage roll: 1d10 7)
LEFT ARM: 6 (armour damage roll: 1d10 6)
RIGHT ARM: 9 (armour damage roll: 1d10 9) (DEGRADED)
LEFT LEG: 7 (armour damage roll: 1d10 7)
RIGHT LEG: 1 (armour damage roll: 1d10 1)

 

Not too bad, only took damage to the right arm, everything else was under the armour values.

 

Tyber followed the Raptor’s lead through the area, the milky substance had been bad enough, but this new area seemed even worse. Just as he wiped the milky fluid off of his right arm, a rune appeared on his display, altering him to a reaction between the material that the soft parts of his armour and the acidic compounds in the air, weakening the soft joints. With a sigh, he took some of the milky fluid that was starting to make its way from him and rubbed in onto the soft parts of his armour, while he reported to Sabban, +Brother it would seem there is something wrong with the material that this loaned armour is made from. The current environment is causing it to break down the soft joint armour when exposed, can you look at the armour after we are done?+

Edited June 15, 2020 by Steel Company

[Slips]

Solastion:

Head: 8

Body: 1

Left Arm: 6

Right Arm: 1

Left Leg: 8

Right Leg: 5

 

As his sensory equipment began to warn of atmospheric corrosion, Solastion double checked the integrity his armor's void-seal and while a few of the older parts of his Mk VII armor came perilously close to succumbing to the new, invisible threat, the relatively newer construction of his suit - compared to some of the veritable relics in his presence, due primarily to the youth of his Chapter as a whole - was suffiently resistant.

Edited June 15, 2020 by Slips

[Commissar Molotov]

GM:

 

Nineswords' rolls for Greysight:

 

HEAD: 10 (DEGRADED)

BODY: 6

LEFT ARM: 8

RIGHT ARM: 10 (DEGRADED)

LEFT LEG: 10 (DEGRADED)

RIGHT LEG: 9 (DEGRADED)

Edited June 15, 2020 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

AKKAD:

 

HEAD: 6
BODY: 3
LEFT ARM: 1
RIGHT ARM: 3
LEFT LEG: 6
RIGHT LEG: 4

 

Akkad sneered at the acidic slime coating and beading on the skin of his armour.  It sought caustic purchase upon the already vexed hide.  How it underestimated the determination of Mankind.  His warplate withstood the Maelstrom's rage.  The saliva of a beast was mere inconvenience and ignored.

 

MR.

[Nineswords]

+++

 

IF THERE IS one constant in the galaxy, whether or not the natural laws of the observable universe, or the boiling madness of the Realm Beyond; it is that life exists in orders of magnitude. From the physical hierarchy of the hain, all to the subatomic processes of human biology, magnitude is the basic unit from which all life derives.

In the alien atmosphere of the hive ship, watching the black lacquer of his armour slew off in corrosive drips, Greysight considered magnitude. The Great Devourer was a predictable beast, all said and done; nothing more than an intelligence controlling trillions of individual microorganisms geared towards consumption and hyper evolution.

Wading through the stomach acid of the hive ship, Greysight reached one, inescapable conclusion: if they were foreign bodies in a carefully balanced biological system, how long would it be before the antibodies roused to attack them?

 

+++

Edited June 16, 2020 by Nineswords

[Reyner]

#placeholder#

 

Head: 5

 

Body: 8

 

Left Arm: 3

 

Right Arm: 2

 

Left Leg: 7

 

Right Leg: 9 (!!!)

[Morovir]

<<PLACEHOLDER>>

 

HEAD: 9

BODY: 6

LEFT ARM: 1

LEFT LEG: 10

RIGHT ARM: 10

RIGHT LEG: 6

 

That could have gone better...

[A.T.]

Warning indicators lit up in Atratus' helm as his power armour indicated damage, the modifications made by the chapters techmarines to enhance agility clearly came at unintended cost in such an environment. Around him he could see paint and ceramite flaking from his brothers, though by some fortunate chance the ancient gauntlets he had been tasked and honoured to carry into battle remained unblemished, perhaps by quirk of artifice since lost to the Imperium or perhaps the stubborness of the machine spirit that had travelled beyond the edge of the Imperium itself in the Emperors name.

 

The armour shuddered slightly as its backup systems kicked in, the breach not yet sufficient to warrant repair but stealth would have to give way to haste should the conditions worsen.

 

7/9/2/2/5/9 (right leg corroded)

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: Awesome stuff, everyone except Montesa has rolled or been rolled for.

 

 

Acidic Assault

CHARACTER	HEAD	BODY	LEFT ARM	RIGHT ARM	LEFT LEG	RIGHT LEG

Akkad8108888

Atratus897788 (7)

Ghent89 (8)88 (7)88

Greysight8 (7)988 (7)8 (7)8 (7)

Montesa797777

Sabaan8108888

Solastion8108888

Teralil91099 (8)9 (8)9

Tyber81088 (7)88

Varvost89 (8)88 (7)88 (7)

Vorr898888 (7)

Yeng9109999

Edited June 15, 2020 by Commissar Molotov

[Commissar Molotov]

GM: In the interests of expediency, Montesa's rolls:

 

HEAD: 6

BODY: 6

LEFT ARM: 4

RIGHT ARM: 5

LEFT LEG: 1

RIGHT LEG: 10 (DEGRADED)

 

The Iron Hand grunts his assent to Tyber's words; the sound is like the grinding of gears. His unspoken words carry further - that the Kill-Team must get out of this acidic environment swiftly, before their armour corrodes to the point that its protection is compromised.

 

As you move onward, you emerge into a truly massive chamber, so large you can scarcely see the ceiling above, and so wide that the far side is lost in a thick acidic haze. It appears to be some kind of gargantuan stomach or digestive tract. The floor is deep in bubbling fluids. What catches your eyes, however, is not the vile fleshy cavern but rather its contents; a partially digested Imperial cruiser! The vessel rises up before you, half sunken into the bile. You can make out in the distance the horrors crawling over its hull as it is devoured by the Hive Ship.

 

Those of you in Blackthorn recognise this craft.

 

It is an ignominious end for a noble ship; a ship that died so that you might live.

 

It will soon be the end for the Voice of Thunder.

[apologist]

'Ottsblutt!' cries out Yeng, involuntarily, slipping into cant. The scale is horrifying. Such a chamber shouldn't – couldn't – exist, except in the cold vastness of space. For such a region to be fleshed, why, it felt blasphemous.

 

His left hand twitched with palsy; and he stiffened it into a fist to stem the shaking. The tension ran through his body; the tensing and clenching of his muscles being echoed by heavy clanks of his armour as pistons shunted and restricted auto-reactive plates. The movement sheared off more of the damaged black paint, the enamelled grass green and sun yellow beneath appearing at points of friction.

 

From the reaction of his colleagues, he could see some recognised the craft. It was an ignominious end. A craft could not cry out for vengeance – but the small gods of the warlike vessel deserved better. 

 

He shook his head. Turning to the servants of the machine – his inner voice still rebelled at the idea of techmarines – and spoke, his voice low and thick.

 

"This is monstrous. Is there a way to weaponise this? To turn its star-heart into a bomb? That would gut this abomination more surely than even the sickness we bear it." 

[Commissar Molotov]

The expansiveness of the Iron Hand's shrug may be limited by his bulky warplate, but the servo-arm mounted behind his back serves to convey some of his uncertainty.

 

++If the plasma drives have not grown too cold, it could be possible to ignite them. It would require us to inspect the vessel.++

 

Vârvost points at the slowly corroding hulk, chain-axe in hand. His patchwork armour - ugly even before this - has suffered greatly from the acidic atmosphere.

 

"At the very least, it might offer us some shelter."

Edited June 16, 2020 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

++I sang the burial dirge for this vessel, not a recital over vittles,++ he didn't quite growl.

 

His fingers itched, and his heart burned with anger at the sacrilege meted out on the brave ship and her crew.  Only death would sate the desire for vengeance, and his hand tightened on the grips of Cadence.  The black paint was sloughing off all his comrades in this foul gullet, and as his true colours surfaced, the steel-shod Astral Claw knew only one thing.

 

Big Guns Never Tire.

 

MR.