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

[Commissar Molotov]

Ballistic Skill Test:

BS 60 (+10 Aim) = 70 : 22 (5 DoS?)

 

Agility: (Dodge)

45: 53 (0 DoF?)

 

Fellowship Test:

47: 23 = (2 DoS)

 

GM: A Degree of Success (DoS) is passing your test by a full 10; a Degree of Failure (DoF) is failing it by a whole 10. 

 

In your case: 

 

Your roll of 22 beat 70 by 48 (so 4DoS) 

Your roll of 53 failed by 8 (so 0DoF) 

Your roll of 23 beat 47 by 25 (so 2DoS) 

 

Edited February 22, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[adesro18]

Ballistics skill test: 49+10 (full aim): 10 Pass 4 DOS

 

Chanting the canticle of focus, Atreus takes careful aim with his bolter aiming down range, precisely landing each shot on the target servitors. Each round sang, like a prayer to the Omnissiah as it streaked down range on tails of fire dispatching the combat servitors with a cold machine like precision. After expending his ammunition, he changed magazines calmly, re racking the bolter with a satisfying metallic thunk.
 

Toughness test: 69:72 Failure

 

A test of endurance, to push himself to the limits of the Astartes physiology. To withstand the heat of the forge was a normal occurance for a techmarine, no less so for a son of Vulkan, but the punishing heat of the training chamber proved too much before Atreus had to exit before he was overcome with exhaustion.

 

Intelligence test (tech use +10)= 67:30 3 DOS

 

Observing his fellow kill team members train, and the strain placed on their holy wargear, Atreus began to offer repairs and fine adjustments to bring out weapons most destructive capabilities, embolden the machine spirits of armor and other tasks to benefit his brother's wargear. Bolters fired truer, blades pierced and slashed fiercer, autosenses reacted miliseconds faster.

 

[ApostleRP]

[ballistic skill check - Semi auto: 72+10 (half aim) +10 (sig wargear Master)= target 92. R: 36 (5 DoS)]

 

True to his practiced nature, and the marksman honours that decorate his armour and weapon, Lycus landed all shots with an almost effortless precision. His brothers in the Star Phantoms, a chapter that traditionally favoured overwhelming firepower, often praised his accuracy. Some even claimed that he had such familiarity with his chosen weapon that he had long ago matched his twin-heartbeat to the rhythm is a burst firing bolt gun.

As he lowers the weapon to the idle position, he looks around to his other brothers, eager to assess their methods.

[Weapon Skill check - 51+10 for aim], target 61 R:16 (4 DoS)]

 

Lycus is by no means inadequate when it comes to the gruelling realities of melee combat. However, compared to the precision he demonstrates with his bolter drills, his attacks are much more rehearsed, almost as if he was mentally going through the parries and ripostes in his head as he swings. His training bout is a success but as ever he feels there is room for improvement. 

 

[Fellowship test- 41+10 (Mk 5 armour), target 51. R 59. Failure]

 

Despite making some basic introductions with Pallan, Lycus still feels distinctly separate from the other squad mates. He feels an especially unpleasant attention from the marine known as Tyber. He thinks he will have to keep an eye on him.

Edited February 23, 2021 by ApostleRP

[Deadass]

Boros knelt within the confines of his training cage, sweating, fighting for breath and surrounded by the components of that final combat servitor. Bisecting the mindless cyborg had cost the Revenant far more effort than it should have, far more that it would have if it were not for that accursed thing ticking away in his chest. As much as he wanted to, Boros could not fault the medicae’s work for the searing pain he felt. Bionic hearts were complex devices and needed time to adapt to a body’s circulatory system.

 

He wore his armour now, made whole again by the ministrations of Morthas Teralil. That helped. Still, his weakness reeked far too much of his attempts to stand in the apothecarion. The memory was mere hours old, too fresh not to feed his anger further, and that gave him the strength to rise far quicker than one in his condition should.

Swordhand’s Taskmaster believed otherwise.

Where he likened a psychic intrusion by Montesa to a brief electric shock, the feeling of Achillion’s un-voice was more akin to a barbed needle raking the insides of his brain - a touch of minds that, no matter how delicate, would always carry an air of aggression.

|Onwards, Brother! Your duties remain undone!|

I am painfully aware, he thought snittily. Part of Boros felt like the Codicier was overstepping his authority by hounding the Kill-Team as he did. On blessed Libethra, Librarians guided the Captains of the Angels Revenant through divination of the God-Emperor’s will. They were sages, advisors and naysmiths; never commanders. Montesa had led Swordhand by right of succession - this man did not unless his squadmates decided so. At this moment, Achillion of the Angels Encarmine was not making an ally of him.

He exhaled loudly. In truth, the Codicier was right. Only time and exercise could mend his ailments, and the psyker was simply ensuring he had an ample supply of both before he took to the field again. Boros clenched the digits of his augmetic hand hard, letting the burn of its sensory feedback drown out the aftershock of the witch-mind’s words. Next was a ballistic exercise, and after three months of suspended animation his fingers yearned for the trigger of a heavy bolter.

He had a good feeling about this one.

Hidden Content

The Rolls

• Ballistic Skill Test [Full-Auto Burst]: BS 67 (+20 for FAB) = Rolled a 42 - Success, 4 DoS.
• Toughness Test: T 54 (+10 for Unnatural Strength x2) = Rolled a 92 - Fail, 2 DoF.
• Weapon Skill Test [Charge]: WS 50 (+10 for Charge) = Rolled a 55 - Success, 0 DoS.

Edited March 5, 2021 by AHorriblePerson

[A.T.]

A disquiet had settled over Blackthorn with no clear candidate for leadership. Tyber appeared reluctant to step forward, Incariel spoke at length without clear purpose when he was inclined to speak at all, and the cloud of events in orbit of Syndalla followed Artemios.

Through all of this Helgrim remained inscrutable to Atratus, demanding demonstration of martial skill without clear favour to any candidate. Perhaps the matter would be settled in a contest of arms, or would the sons of Guilliman and Dorn step forward?

 

Still the formation of the kill team had drawn the Raptor from his recent recluse and he set about honing techniques that were sorely missed in the battle against the xenos. Slowly but surely he refined a new combat stance intended to fight amongst overwhelming odds, using the numbers of the horde against them and turning his armour to weaken the blows of lesser opponents to an ineffectual level without slowing to more fully evade their attacks.

 

At the suggestion of brother Solza, more experienced with the armouries of the Deathwatch than the Raptor, Atratus had requisitioned a compact hesh-pattern boltgun to replace his side-arm. Even with mag-locks the weapon felt cumbersome in its size and weight, impractical for close quarters fighting and lacking the range of a full sized bolt rifle. Despite his reservations and unfamiliarity the weapon had proven surprisingly accurate at intermediate ranges and carried enough ammunition for sustained engagements - properties that would have proven invaluable within the hive ship and which would likely prove similarly valuable in future engagements.

 

(Dice)

Perception (scrutiny) target 27, roll 72

Weapon skill (parry at +10) target 73, roll 65 - pass vs magnitude 6 or less

Ballistic skill (half-aimed shot, hesh bolter) target 62, roll 54

[ashlander47]

"... half-truths and riddles."

 

Four times. That was the fourth time someone on this Watch-Station had sought to touch him without permission. The first was unavoidable and could be overlooked, for Chaplain Helgrim was affixing seals of purity, the honour of which they represented coupled with his admittedly distracted mind all but ameliorating the disgust he often felt from being touched. 

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

The second? When that Fenrisian mutt placed his paw upon his shoulder pads, leaving his dirty prints upon the heraldry of his fine chapter? Just recalling the memory incited Incariel to anger. He knew the wolf's face and he would track him down when free time allowed, for there was a long standing matter of honour to be resolved. Likely the Dragon of Caliban had overlooked his sworn duty to uphold the honour of the ritual duel of The Lion and The Wolf -- yet another dereliction of duty from this young drakeling. Do not expect a lizard to do a lion's duty.  No matter. It fell to Incariel to act as loyal son once more.

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

The third. Now that was a strange one, for he had believed he half imagined the thump of ceramite fist against his shoulders at the firing range. A banging of a gauntlet and a snidely muttered comment from the Death Knight. Permissible, given the circumstances of the event. Incariel had been deep in the throes of a delusion and in clawing his way out of it, had allowed his anger to boil over for all to see. Embarrassing, but Pyke had defused it with humour. Clever.

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

And now the drakeling hissed at him through his teeth and dared lay a hand on the winged, haloed flame? He mused what exact aura he seemed to radiate here upon Azurea that compelled fellow Astartes to get handsy, watching the drakeling step away towards the training area and letting his gaze linger at the figure who, like delusions are wont to do, seemed to emerge from its own shadow.

 

"I think you have made a friend." Turuzim japed, his broken body leaking heartsblood in thick gouts from open wounds. "What exactly do you hope to gain from teasing him?"

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

Shut up, Zim. For a dead man you certainly lack peacefulness.

 

In truth, Incariel wasn't sure what was to be gained. He hadn't decided yet. But he knew it was important to press. Like any weakness it was to pressed until it either buckled or proved strong enough to withstand assault, whereupon the Consecrator would store such information and move to a different tack.

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

Time sluiced onwards as the training regime went on. The Kill-Team was a sight to behold, even here in the early, disjointed hours of its initial practices. Simulated assaults were ran as theory and practical conjoined together in the halls of Blackthorn. Servitors were reduced to mulch beneath bolt, blade and a bellicosity one could find nowhere else but in the hearts of Astartes. 

 

Ballistic Skill (Heavy Bolter):

BS74 (+20 Full Auto Burst) = BS94: 12 (Pass, 8 DoS)

 

To be a born killer is something many within the Imperium promulgate over. Some men seem predisposed to murder most foul. Others, more noble, are drawn to the act out of love for others. Incariel was a born killer who, as the chapter had plucked him from a world lost to all but the most robust of memories, was then schooled and gifted with the means to become an even greater instrument of death. His mind reeled as the bolts banged and barked. In the scout company he earned much admiration and ire for his skills as a marksman, and his name had been chosen from the Ledger of Personae Historis Consecratus to reflect this aptitude upon his ascension.

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

Even during his time serving as an Assault Marine it would seem, from first blush, that he was averse to the glorious clash and rattle of melee combat, when in reality, many of his targets found a bolt-shell placed into their chest long before he could close the gap -- his aim was simply that vicious. The members of his assault squad had at first come to loathe what seemed like a habit of stealing glory and kills from afar with his bolt-pistol, but the sergeant had cleverly turned a brewing sense of resentment into a blossoming rivalry as the squad was instead pressed to simply out-pace the speed of Incariel's exacting aim. Move faster than a bolt-shell if you want to earn the right to slay in close-quarters, were his words.

 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

 

Tactics (Defensive Doctrine):

INT54: 43 (Pass, 1 DoS)

 

Following up his conversation with Pyke, Incariel ran through several of the standard stratagems and tactical scenarios during the training with him, trying best to assess and then incorporate their added quirk of the Frag Cannon. It was a brutal and magnificent weapon, but as the Consecrator had said, such power often comes with compromises. Range was a problem, yet once the gap was closed there was nothing that could be done to save the enemy from Pyke -- he was so close it was hard to miss!

 

Still, Incariel's Devastator role would have to bend and shoulder more of a burden to support this brand of lethality. It would be an on-going development to see just how far he would have to bend, and how much more weight his shoulders would bear. In the Ravenwing, riding saddle on Turuzim's steed, it had been the inverse, and the bike squadron would have to account for and compensate for the slower but more heavily armed Attack Bike. His experience, however markedly different in its peculiars, served to help Incariel adjust to the slowly blooming flower of Blackthorn.

 

Bang. Bang. Bang. Ka-ching! Munitions harness depleted. Reporting 98.74% accuracy ratio. Appending new record to memory spools.

 

Inquiry:

Fel42 (+10 Mk. V Power Armour) = Fel52: 27 (Pass, 2 DoS)

 

Politics was an on-going dance that never stopped, only switched in its timbre to the tune of the music. Now that he had put forward his faux-intent to lead, others would likely be thinking about exactly what it meant. The young drakeling, for all his barely-veiled distrust, had been honest with Incariel in his choices for sergeant. During the gruelling training regime, as positions switched, scenarios were formed, and marines went about their holy business of battle, Incariel would spare a word for each member of Blackthorn. Nothing more than a testing strike against the mind-fortress. A probing attack. A question, perhaps, or an off-hand statement.

 

Who would they feel best to lead? Blackthorn's sergeant would have to emerge sooner or later.

 

In the specific case of the Star Phantom he extended an olive branch. When the opportunity presented itself, while both Incariel and Lycus found themselves within earshot of one-another, the Consecrator caught the eye of the Phantom and spoke.

 

"Though many wouldst see thine arrival as foul portent, brother, I do not. Thou art a slayer of tyrants, and for that thee hath mine respect and support. Loyalty is important. Thou hast mine, Lycus, should thee wish to bid for command of Blackthorn."

 

The tempo of the music changed, and Incariel flowed with it.

Edited February 23, 2021 by ashlander47

[ApostleRP]

Lycus turns to respond to Incariel, with a slight introductory nod. 

 

"You're welcome is a breath of fresh air, Incariel." 

 

He looks aside from the marine at the mention of the squad politics currently taking place. "I appreciate the offer, Incariel. I am somewhat apprehensive to throw my name into the ring for squad lead so soon. My only concern is for keeping the ... ambitions... of the other marines in check. Keeping them focused on our purpose here. Although it is reassuring to have an ally here."

 

Lycus inclines his head for a moment as a thought springs to mind. "Well, perhaps 'another ally' would be a more accurate statement. Pallan has also approached me, having also picked up on some of the negative feelings towards my arrival." Artemios reaches out and rests a hand on Incariel's shoulder, "It is reassuring, nonetheless, to have you both by my side "I look forward to killing in the Emperor's name beside you".

Edited February 24, 2021 by ApostleRP

[apologist]

AGILITY test – 44 – Fail; 0 DoF.
TOUGHNESS test – 96; Fail 5 DoF (or is this against the doubled T owing to armour? In which case it's still a fail, but only by 1 DoF).
WILLPOWER test – 31; Success 2 DoS.

+++

Placement.

Placement.

Twist – duck; lead through.

Yeng's mental processes during the drill were instinctual. He was breathing hard. His second heart had thumped into action, but even that wasn't enough to shunt oxygen to his muscles. They burned. He burned.

Placement. Patience.

Lunge.

He misplaced his foot, and came crashing down. It was the second mistake, and the Gnostic – the Librarian, his swimming head reminded him – was on him in an instant.

"On your feet!" Yeng's face was painted with a snarl of frustration; sheeted in sweat. They were all exhausted; all tired. Achillion hauled him up, yelling all the while "Up! Up!"

Yeng drove himself onwards. After another hour, his vision was tunnelling. He had already surreptitiously adjusted the narthecium's deployment of mild stimms to counteract exhaustion, but dialled it a little further.

Another hour of unrelenting drills – across firing lines, combat, obstacles – and Yeng slipped again. This time, he sprawled. His hearts were hammering; throat dry. His multilung was gasping and his vision was greying in and out. This was more than even an Astartes could bear – and, he thought with an unfamiliar bitterness, far more than a Gatebreaker.

No.

If his body were failing, then he would have to rely on his mind. As Achillion leapt on him once more, grabbing him under the pauldrons, Yeng grasped his bracer. The Librarian paused; just for an instant – and not knowing whether Achillion could read his thoughts, he hoped the Gnostic would heed a Gentle’s advice.

‘These... individual drills,’ he gasped, heaving in dry lungfuls of air, ‘run counter to your aim.’ He paused again, almost retching with fatigue. ‘You are not binding this squad. You are harrowing it.’ Edited February 24, 2021 by apologist

[That Beyond the Light]

Solza entered the briefing room, summoned by his data feed, requesting his presence for important order. Solza travels the twisting corridors, the subtle sound of servos engaging his hasty foot steps, armour and astartes as one, unified like the brother hood that Ekieo wishes his fellow watch can be, will be. The thud of the positive placement of tread slows and softens as Ekieo reaches the briefing room door. Its already ajar and theres some quiet chatter. Ekieo pushes the door further and enters the room. There are a few marines stood around, 3 seem to be discussing something, but Ekieo resists the temptation to listen in and stills true to his discipline. He finds a sturdy ornate stone pillar and rests his hulking armour against it, confident in its impressive structural prowess. More marines enter in moments after and Ekieo recognises them all from the initiation service, Veterans and new Watch alike.

Helgrim the Chaplin enter sthe room. Every Marine Stands to attention, the understanding of authority and want for honour pull them straight and true to their full stature. Helgrim speaks

Welcome Brothers. You have been summoned here as you are to become Kill Team Blackthorn. You have all be selected because eof your specialist areas in combat. Learn each of your new Brothers skills and traits and use them to become the efficient killing force that the Emperor knows you to be. In his name we will rid the galaxy of the Xenos threat.

With this he turns and paces out of the door. The marines look about at one another, this is now there brother hood till either duty ends or death takes them to the emperor’s embrace.
Ekieo scans the team that he will have to work with, bond with and trust. His awareness sharpens as people realise that there is one who may not fit the mold. The Brother Star Phanton, whispers travel fast in the shadows that spill through out the station. Ekieo has no concern of the Star Phantom, but is that misplaced. Ekieo will keep his mind open but as he always is, aware and cautious.

 

Now the marines distaste turns confusion… who should lead this Team of troubled pasts and glory seeking units of war. This will be decided by the Chaplin Helgrim. His task is heavy and he must make it with wise eyes and a soul of truth…Ekieo does not envy his task.

Ekieo now begins his daily Training exercises.

 

FellowShip – 53 +10 command Skill = 63 - rolled 21 (4 DOS)

Ekieo heads towards the combat range, whishing to run through some combat scenarios. The range is large and can be made to look and feel like different fields of battle, from stealthy covert Hive streets to covering no mans land in vein attempts to advance quickly. EKieo choses to practice moving between cover in order to advance on a gun placement. It will involve laying down covering fire, working loosely but in unison with other in order to spread the enemy thin rather than concentrate their fire. Ekieo is interested in clear communications with his team in order to advance and destroy the enemy,

Moving swiftly between cover the unit spread themselves out far enough that the enemy can’t pinpoint one section but close enough that they can visually see orders. Ekieo pops up mounting his bolter on the tank trap he is hiding behind. Opening fire in short controlled bursts, taking out a few of the heretics that are trying to re target their fire. A group of marines advance quickly  whilst they are not being observed. Then they take the on the suppression. Ekieo leaps over the wall rushing to the next part of cover while the enemies fire is redirected once more. Sliding into position whilst his group open fire once more. Shots becoming more precise the closer they get. Now in range they storm the placement with little resistance. Opening fire as they burst through the roof. Dropping to the floor and taking out the last of Enemy with control and accuracy.

 

Intelligence – 46 +10 Tactic (drop pod) skill = 56 - rolled 34 (2 DOS)

Ekieos chapter specialism is Drop Ship Tactics. Dropping in the middle of combat, using the shock and awe of the immediate thunderous boom of the pod crashing into the earth. The pods massive doors falling open and mounted chain cannon fire obliterates the close by stunned and floored enemy. Assault and Tactical marines bursting out aggressively to further confuse and misdirect, before hacking with chainswords and laying down covering fire to further push closer to the enemies lines or key positions. All of this in unison, striking like a surgeons scalpel, no free for all, only coordinated and precise. Ekieos words and actions are inspiring and the other marines listen with intent and cause. Mimicking his actions and executing his words as if they were of the Black Consuls.

 

Ballistic – 49 +10 aim skill = 59 - rolled 42 (1 DOS) (combat training)
In the Combat range Ekieo is alone. He decides that his time well spent here would be to test his aim and target acquisition. He programmes the range into a shoot house scenario, with twisting corridors and dark shadows. What Xenos he will encounter is down to the computer and its twisted AI. Ekieo readies his bolter, checking the mag, unclipping his pistol side arm in case he is unarmed in the carnage and checking his faithful combat dagger.

Ekieo readies himself and passes the start gate. His senses now heighted, his reactions tightened turns the first corner into the shadow. He hears a scuttle behind him, pivoting round to see a gene stealer lunging at him. He has already brought his weapon round and is opening fire at the foul creature before its even got off the floor. A round cleanly strikes it in the head, Xenos blood spraying over the wall behind it. He continued to advance through the maze of pipes and corridors, slaying Xenos with controlled accuracy, never feeling overwhelmed or in fear.

 

Sensing he was near the end of the programme, the corridor came to a sealed door. Ekieo overrides the console and gained access. The door clawed to a stop only a fraction from its start. Ekieo used all the strength he had to prise it the rest of the way, screeching and grinding till it was big enough for him squeeze through. Upon entering the large room his visor sensors illuminated the darkness in a green hue. He could now see that it was a dead end. The back wall covered in claw marks and stained with a dark liquid. As he neared the familiar sound of Genestealers claws tapping on the metal grating rang through out the room. This time though it wasn’t just one, it was a hoard. Quick single bolter shots hammered out through out he corridors. Xenos bodies pilling up as Ekieo released he was trapped. Still unleashing fury upon the ever coming Genestealers Ekieo was aware his clip was running low. Upon the final click of an empty chamber and no time to reload, ekieos right grip shifts to his pistol whilst his left draws his combat knife, ready for all occasions.

Pistol fire just as accurate as his bolters shots, he fells more of the foul beings. The Genestealers growing closer and no end in sight Ekieo prepares for the final act, that fatal sounds rings loud, click, click. He drops his pistol and stands true with his knife, ready for the force of a charging Xenos. As the Stealer nears close the program ends! Although Ekieo was cornered, although he was committed to death, he never backed down, never gave up and was willing to take as many Xenos scum down with him! Killing as many Xenos till the end in the is better than letting one more live in the Imperium

Edited February 24, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[Brother Argent]

As the new Brother's of Blackthorn trained together Pallan trained alongside them.

 

Medicae (Intelligence) 66 +10% vs Roll 30 (5DoS)

Despite his misgivings of working upon brothers of various gene lines and Chapters Pallan quickly proved his worth to his battle brothers, professionally and expertly tending to any wounds, minor or otherwise, that occurred during their training.  Indeed Pallan's success gave him some small hope that perhaps he indeed had hope to keep these new brother's alive.

 

Willpower 64 vs Roll 20 (4 DoS)

The training regime was punishing and designed to push even the toughest marines to their limits.  Driven by his own self hatred and stubborn desire to prove himself as much to himself as others Pallan pushed himself as far as he could go, enduring as much punishment as could be dished out.

 

Fellowship 46 vs Roll 27 (2 DoS)

Resigned to in may ways stand apart from his brothers Pallan instead attempted to befriend the serfs of the station.  His Chapter, the Star Leopards, have a reputation that seemed to have even reached this far as being relatively humanitarian and Pallan was able to form some comeradery with the mortals of Azurea.  Either that or it was his nature as an Apothecary.  Either way Pallan found a few friends in the serfs and was able to find out some information of his new brothers, but many other's were simply uninterested in the marines advances.

Edited March 17, 2021 by Brother Argent

[Necronaut]

Helgrim spent the better part of day fighting alongside his sworn-brothers of Blackthorn in numerous training scenarios. Though he had been a squad sergeant in his past life, he did not command them or lead them, at least not directly, preferring to observe and focus their actions. In the lulls between battle, Helgrim would frequently reorganize demi-squads in an ad hoc manner, complete with a leader drawn by straws. As the day unfolded, he began to gain a better sense of those who might best bring the Kill-Team together as a cohesive fighting unit (see previous Perception: Scrutiny test?).

 

He looked on with mild annoyance at the Consecrator's incessant politicking; how such behaviour grated upon Helgrim's fatalism and sense of duty. However, the thrust of his... questioning... was not without merit. Blackthorn needed a leader.

 

Tyber. Solza. Artemios.

 

Those three names stood out amidst the noise.

 

Tyber was a hardened veteran of Blackthorn, one whom the other veterans already knew and respected. A known quantity. That was worth its weight in gold. However, it seemed he would avoid command, at least outwardly.

 

Duty cares not for the whims of men. He will serve one way or another.

 

Solza was also a hardened veteran of the Deathwatch, but he came from elsewhere, a different Watch Station. An unknown quantity, this one, whose chapter faced extinction, which had to weigh heavily on one who did not share the beliefs of the Doom Eagles.

 

Can he embrace such duty in the face of the doom of his gene-brethren? Will he accept death and charge ahead into the fires? He shows great promise thus far.

 

Artemios was the newcomer, a veteran not of the Deathwatch but of the Badab War. He had looked Heresy in the eye and faced it down with righteous fury. But there was still the issue of Akkad, who had been part of the surviving core of Blackthorn.

 

This one is a double-edged sword. Select him and curry political favor with the Star Phantoms; select him and those who knew Akkad might reject him entirely. Might. Diocles has given Achillion and myself free reign to select or assist in the selection of a Watch Sergeant. Perhaps the unwise option is the best?

 

Helgrim mused on the subject, continuing to watch his charges in the manner of his chapter's namesake. He could not delay the selection, for it would be perceived as weakness.

 

Why not test them, physically and spiritually? And further test their abilities to command under duress. I will test them as prospective Doom Eagles are tested...

 

Helgrim devised a number of deliberately unwinnable scenarios that would test the resolve of those in command, and those under them. He then split the Kill-Team up into three demi-squads and rotated the prospective sergeants amongst them. The Chaplain then withdrew to an observation room, and ordered data and camera feeds from the attendant serfs and tech-priests. He continued to watch and judge as the assessments flowed in.

 

The tests were psychologically brutal, and physically grueling, much like the trials of his home world. To accept death and fight in defiance of it was the only way to pass the gauntlet. 

 

The Emperor will decide who is most worthy.

 

+OOC: I have run this by CM, and I'm going to request Strength (Athletics) and Toughness checks for the physical component of Helgrim's tests, followed by Fellowship (Command) and Willpower tests for everyone interested (or not) in being sergeant of Blackthorn! I'll tally up total successes and nominate a Sergeant for the Kill-Team based upon those metrics. If you have already performed one of the above, then I will count those results for the purpose of Helgrim's tests (unless you want to roll more dice, in which case shoot me a DM).+

Edited February 24, 2021 by Necronaut

[ApostleRP]

Strength: Target: 58, Rolled 8 (5 DoS +2 DoS from Unnatural Strength)

Toughness: Target 43, Rolled 14 (2 DoS, +2 DoS from Unnatural Toughness)

 

Fellowship: Target 51 (base 41 +10 for Mk 5 bonus to interacting with Astartes), Rolled 27 (3 DoS)

Willpower: Target 43, Rolled 39 (0 DoS)

 

The concept of impending death is far from a stranger to Lycus. The Star Phantoms embrace death, they honour and revere death. In their eyes, the embrace of death is their natural pursuit. These challenges that Helgrim has set are indeed gruelling, but Lycus is simply encouraged by them. His muscles burn, but he welcomes the pain. 

 

With every scenario, he learns more of his new squad mates. Their strengths, their vulnerabilities. Every shot fired, ever blade unleashed from their scabberds brought the brothers of Blackthorn closer together. Lycus was by no means what some would describe as personable, but he could very easily see why each of the marines he acted alongside had been chosen to join the Deathwatch. Each of them, in their own ways, are superlative killing machines. 

 

Angels of Death indeed, Lycus thinks to himself, Imperator Mortifex be praised.

 

He would await Helgrim's judgement, whilst also hoping that sharing the field of battle, albeit in a training environment, would help to ease the tension between him and the others.

Edited February 25, 2021 by ApostleRP

[Steel Company]

STR, Athletics.

 

Strength (Athletics): 1d100 9

 

If TN is just STR (53), pass with 6 DoS (pass with 4 DoS +2 DoS from Unnatural STR X2)

If TN is with PA (73), pass with 8 DoS ( Pass with 6 DoS +2 DoS from Unnatural STR X2)

 

Toughness Test:

 

TN: 46

 

Toughness test: 1d100 16 Pass with 5 DoS (3 base DoS with 2 extra DoS from Unnatural Toughness X2)

 

 

Fellowship Test:

 

TN:48

 

Fellowship test: 1d100 12 pass with 3 DoS

 

 

Willpower test:

 

TN: 45

 

Willpower test: 1d100 14 Pass with 3 DoS

 

 

 

Tyber gave a wide berth to the chaplain, curious as to why he was being asked to take part in these tests. But he would do as asked; perhaps giving the chaplain what he wants would get him his audience with the Watch Captain. The physical tests leaned well into his strengths and he refused to simply give ground to the spawn of the Dreadwing.

 

Tyber knew of the long history of his host, physical tests both of strength and toughness were both key to gaining entry, one had to be strong to crush the foes in single combat and tough enough to shrug off the most devastating returning blows, as sometimes you had to take a hit, to give a killing hit.

 

Yet it was when the task of attempting to lead, that was his weakest area, he knew this. The first deployment with Blackthorn had taught him such, yet he was thankful to have brothers that trusted him enough to follow his lead, rather his suggestions on what to do, a trust he did not want to betray.

 

And lastly, the test of the mind, Tyber this one had proven difficult, many of the questions being asked of him had their answers found in the codex, a tome he was not well versed in, yet his own tome, the twenty lessons of twenty sons had gifted him with much of the knowledge he needed, that which was missing, the bellicosa provided the rest.

Edited February 24, 2021 by Steel Company

[That Beyond the Light]

Strength 63 - 28 r = 3 dos
Toughness 40 - 48 r = 1 dof (is it 1 dof or 0??)
Fellowship 63 - 21 r = 4 dos
Willpower 42 - 10 r = 3 dos

Helgrim’s task was heavy and with Ekieo Stand 2 more called and another who wishes to also face the challenges set to become Sergeant. Agility, toughness, fellowship and willpower are the qualities that Helgrim believes are those that a Warrior who leads others requires. Ekieo knows he has what it takes, he has proven that with his home chapter, a Sergeant of the 3rd company 1st Tactical squad. A company that are well respected, a squad that was as fierce and feared as the creatures they fought! But for some reason this felt different to Ekieo, he felt as if he had more to prove now, more to give, more to lose.
 

As Ekieo embraced the challenges set he observed his fellow competitors, for this was a skill Ekieo honed. Even concentrating  on giving more than his enhanced form could give he could still observe and assess his surroundings, making detailed notes in order to give him the edge in battle.
 

He noticed the Star Phantom, a Marine that seemed to draw a lot of negative attention from the veterans of the Station. Ekieo had an idea of why but was still unsure, but it did not concern him. The Phantom pressed hard into the challenges giving more than he required, proving his worth beyond measure. This was a marine worthy of the title on offer, but would this also be a downfall, would he press to hard in battle to prove himself to people it should not matter too.
The Dragons of Caliban, Tyber was a beast of a marine, a giant of immense power. He crushed the physical ability like it was a game. Ekieo also new he was a Veteran to this station and had earnt a great deal of respect here. It appeared as if he was already the Sergeant of this team and this was just formalities. Ekieo did not mean this in disrespect of jadedness, it was just the facts. He had been here longer than most and formed bonds that were stronger than the metal he was clad in.
 

Incariel of the Consecrators was a marine that had not been called but had come forward. Ekieo recognised him, recognised his domineer. This was the marine that slipped into the firing range and obliterated his target with the sound of thunder! At that time Ekieo remembers thinking that this marine seemed to be holding onto something within, unable to let go. He still fought with power and strength, overcame the challenges put before him with honour and face. But would his internal conflict be too much for him in a position of leadership? Ekieo trust still did not waiver with this marine. If he was willing to step forward amongst already established veterans of the watch and leaders in their own right, he must have more to give and a sense of duty beyond.
 

In a moment of these thoughts Ekieo falters momentary and he is put to the floor but in stead of rising instantly he pauses, flashes of that moment so many moons ago in training where he did the same and it cost him a small part of his face. He vowed for that never to happen again, his toughness questioned, what feel like an eternity passes, Ekieo composes and then attacks with all the force of every brother lost, in that eternity which is a matter of seconds, all is lost for his command in this challenge.
 

What will be now for Ekieo and his challenge for Leadership? All he knows is that he will follow who ever is in charge because it will be the divine sanction and will of the Emperor and he is our saviour.

Edited February 25, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[ashlander47]

The bid for leadership, as he had engineered with that most iniquitous of beasts, had quickly winnowed itself down to the few truly suitable candidates amongst Blackthorn, and a chaplain of all people would be the one to ordain the elevation, sealing the decision as sacrosanct. All he had to do was stand back and let it play out, and either way his gambit would pay off. Should the Drakeling seize the stripes, it would offer an interesting dynamic between he and the Consecrator, but his experience and respected station in the Kill-Team would be to the benefit of every marine.

 

Should the Black Consul prove more suitable in the eyes of Helgrim then it too would fit the needs of the squad. Solza was extremely capable in his own right, a veteran of the Deathwatch, and more importantly, a neutral face in the quickly crystalising factionalism that Blackthorn found itself broiled in, and thus he was an embodiment of reason -- Guilliman would be proud. If he found himself in a position of leadership his task would be first to straighten out the grievances, break then re-forge Blackthorn as a tool under his command. A heavy burden, but not outside the means of the Consul.

 

Though would it be that the Star Phantom proved best for the task, then that would be a thorny rose indeed. For the hardcore veterans of the Kill-Team, he represented a bitter moment and the betrayal of a brother. They would be slow to trust him if they ever truly did at all. For the rest, the new-bloods, he was a stalwart defender of the Imperium and a slayer of tyrants, yet every marine on Azurea lived under the inscrutable shadow of the Clepsydra. Incariel had already made himself a known element to Artemios, and was in a position of much needed support that would service his own needs.

 

But... You fire the bolt, you shoulder the recoil. The words echoed in his mind. Pride goeth before the fall, he countered in vain. His opener had succeeded, the board was set for a victory by any three names, yet even so Incariel felt that old lion's vice grip at his hearts. Pride. He had petitioned first, before any of the disparate bodies in this training hall had thought or even sought to. None challenged him, but then again none backed him. He had nothing to prove. His zeal had been more than adequately displayed in the regimen. His bold temperament proven to the squad by his venture for sergeantcy. His insightful nature gleaned by those of insightfulness in kind.

 

Yet even so.

 

Was it pride? Or ambition? The chaplain's gauntlet was to be endured. Even failure would mark him as one who does not shirk from duty. That was important. The Drakeling? The Consul? The Phantom? Each would see him trying, in spite of the lack of favour Helgrim had shown him. An Astartes does his duty, even if it wounds his pride. Duty is what matters, above all else.

 

Strength (Athletics):

S43 (+20 Power Armour) = S63: 20 (Pass, 4 base DoS, +2 from Unnatural Strength: 6 DoS)

 

Toughness:

T40: 12 (Pass, 2 base DoS, +2 from Unnatural Toughness: 4 DoS)

 

Fellowship (Command):

Fel42 (+10 Mark V. Power Armour, -10 Hero's Shame) = Fel42: 64 (Fail, 2 DoF)

 

Willpower:

WP43: 46 (Fail, 0 DoF)

 

Duty had gotten Turuzim killed. Duty is what saw Vincindrael torn to pieces. Would duty have such a fate in store for Incariel?

Edited February 25, 2021 by ashlander47

[Commissar Molotov]

Brothers of Swordhand (Vorr, Boros, Embe, Titus, Thire, Kol, Maladon, Argus): What is your reaction to Codicier Achillion's punishing training regime (and Apothecary Yeng's criticism of it)?

 

Particularly Boros and Embe - how do you feel, so soon after rising from Sus-An sleep? Are you glad to be using your body to its fullest again, or struggling under the pressures?

 

Argus and Thire - both of you are from chapters that venerate and look up to Librarians. How do you feel about Achillion? How does he differ from the Prognosticars of the Silver Skulls, or the Librarians of the Blood Ravens? 

Edited February 25, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Lysimachus]

As the first day of training drew on into evening, with no sign of the Codicier letting up in his furious regimen, Titus admitted to himself his growing concern. The Apothecary Yeng, and others among the less than fully fit, were clearly beginning to struggle. While the Stormbringer understood the intended purpose of the gruelling exercises, the actual result was ineffective, inefficient.

 

If you kill our medic before we even leave the Watch-Station, you will cripple our chances of success in whatever mission we are assigned.

 

However, the Librarian seemed to be unwilling or unable to stop. Whether its source was inherited or indoctrinated, his obsession with action was obvious. Titus could understand those feelings and could see their value in a warrior. But in a commander, one who had to know the value of occasional inaction, the desire to do must be controlled. If they could not, they would prove a serious liability, to themselves and the Kill-Team. Whoever became Watch-Sergeant would need to listen to Achillion's advice, but be strong enough to rein him in if his humours became imbalanced.

 

And the sooner, the better.

 

That said, it was reassuring to have seen his new squad brothers in action and to work beside them. Their skill and more than this, their determination, had been shown, that they would give their all to fulfil their objectives. Titus watched as Vorkys paused in his advance to support Boros in taking down a particularly tough combat servitor that was threatening his position. They were all certainly working better as a team.

 

Up ahead, Thorvald and Chaka punched through the final line of defence and secured the objective, ending the combined arms simulation. Titus took a deep breath, and nodded to himself under his helm. It was time. Before Achillion could order another trial immediately begun, he opened his link to the squad level vox and spoke.

 

"Brothers, I suggest Vorkys Kol as Watch-Sergeant. Will any second his nomination?"

[adesro18]

The training regime laid out before them was gruelling and punishing but no less could be expected of an Astartes. The training must be hard to prepare them for the rigours of battle, it also builds trust between battlebrothers over shared experience and learning each others abilities. Although punishing, Atreus understood what the Codicier was doing to them and why, and therefore he approved. There can be no weak links.

The vox crackles to life, Titus' voice carries over to Atreus over the noise of the training hall, suggesting Vorkys Kol as watch seargent. Atreus thinks this over for a moment, he has no feelings against vorkys kol as watch-sergent but considers the merits of the other members of the kill team who had all showed valour, and fortitutde during training.

"Brother Titus, for what grounds do you support brother Vorkys as watch-sergeant?" he asks back over the vox.

[Komrade_Atomic]

While Gideon knows that to face the enemies of Mankind, you must train to hone your skills, Gideon found himself torn. With their apothecary showing signs of strain, he knew that there were limits, and if Swordhand lost their Apothecary, their combat effectiveness would decrease. But this was the will of a librarian, a great and wise warrior, gifted with powers which they used to bring ruin to the enemies of Mankind. His loyalty was torn, his mind clouded. Stand by what he was raised to believe, but possibly cause a rift? Or did he side with his squadmates, and go with his heart?

 

Thankfully, Titus' voice over the Vox brought him a momentary distraction of the thoughts which had clouded his mind, and upon hearing Vorkys' name, waited for Titus to finish, and mulled upon the thought. Vorkys had led them through the Delvis Rifts, and while there would no doubt be resistance to the suggestion, Gideon sided with Vorkys. 

 

"I will second his nomination." He spoke over the vox, before his mind went back to that of the training.

Edited February 25, 2021 by Komrade_Atomic

[Petragor]

The Codex Astartes warns against imbalance. Too much strength in one area, may cause weakness in another. Specialization in one area is a useful and necessary endeavour, but it should not be pursued at the expense of all others. If a specialized battle-brother falls or is injured, another should be able to oversee his duties with a reasonable degree of aptitude until a replacement specialist can be found. Versatility and balance is important, both in mind and body.

 

Chaka wasn't feeling very balanced, in the figurative, or even the literal sense.

 

Being an assault specialist, his duty during the training exercise was to claim the objective, charging ahead while his brothers suppressed the enemy. However, Chakas steps were not as swift or precise as they usually were. Fire from the servitors pounded into him, and though his endurance was not lacking, Chaka felt that he could have evaded most of the shots if he were in a better physical condition. As it were, it took most of his effort not to lose balance and fall over under the extensive barrage, as he rushed towards the capture area.

 

Supporting him in his weakness was the other assault specialist, Thorvald Hammerhand, also possessing the titles “Jarl” and “Thrice-Sworn”. Chaka had spoken with him some, and gathered that he too had been incapacitated for an extensive period of time. He is also of the Space Wolves, a chapter that does not comply to the codex, and yet he used to act as a Devastator before being assigned the assault role out of necessity, and handled the transition better than you would expect. Clearly an experienced warrior, and living proof that acceptance of those brothers whose thinking differs from your own is a valuable thing, particularly in the melting pot that is the Deathwatch. 

 

And a valuable ally he was during the training, staying by Chakas side when he slowed down to help absorb the enemy fire, dividing it amongst the both of them rather than rushing ahead and letting it concentrate on himself. Slow and steady, rather than fast and risky. A cunning strategy from the old wolf, and one that worked. Together they breached the final defensive line, planting their feet on the objective and ending the exercise in victory. Chaka presses the rune on the Lightning Bolt, and the Power Field goes silent, patiently awaiting the next battle, be it real or training. 

 

“You are most used to boarding actions yes?” Thorvald comments “Explains why your poor technique, charging across open ground. Can’t argue with the results however. A little more training and a lot more experience and you will be able to achieve even better.”

 

Still exhausted, Chaka has energy to do little but nod in response, as he follows the rest of the squad.

Edited February 25, 2021 by Petragor

[Mojake]

‘These... individual drills,’ Yeng gasped, ‘run counter to your aim.’ The man could barely keep his eyes on the ad hoc drill-sergeant. ‘You are not binding this squad. You are harrowing it.’

 

Achillion’s gaze searched the bionic eye of the Gatebreaker for any signs of weakness. Satisfied that the apothecary was showing true concern for his brothers, he hauled him fully to his feet before nodding in acknowledgement. The Codicier marched back to his servo-skull displays and examined the state of the men under his watch. As he watched the struggle, he thought back to his time in Task Force Kaerus before he swore the oath. The training had been gruelling, claiming the lives of two neophytes before they even saw action.

 

A necessary sacrifice, the Angels Encarmine are forged in the fires of war, and we are stronger for it.

 

The feed showed the Lion and the Wolf breaking through a mock bastion and claiming an objective in the name of Swordhand.

 

"Brothers, I suggest Vorkys Kol as Watch-Sergeant. Will any second his nomination?" The Stormbringer’s voice crackled through his vox-bead, interrupting the Librarian's assessment.

 

Achillion’s hand flicked over the cogitator at his side, and all training simulations shut down at once. Holograms blinked out of existence, servitors terminated their attacks and lumen bars fitted along the walls and arched ceiling slowly fuzzed into life.

 

| At ease, Swordhand. Assemble at the main entrance. |

 

He took one last look at the video feeds of the Astartes catching their breaths, in some cases leaning on equipment or each other. Even the grainy pict-recorder could make out the sweat glistening and dripping from their forms. Achillion dismissed the servo-skulls and made to head to the main entrance. Once again, he caught the eye of Oto Yeng as he turned, the Apothecary performing a quick check on one of his brothers who had been nicked by the blade of a servitor. Achillion half-bowed and signed the Aquila to the Gatebreaker before heading to the assembly point.

 

That one is wise, it is a curious thing that his Primogenitor remains a mystery.

 

"I will second his nomination." The Silver Skull chimed in.

 

"Brother Titus, for what grounds do you support brother Vorkys as watch-sergeant?" The voice was that of the Techmarine in his ear.

 

| Patience, brothers. We will address the bid for leadership shortly. |

 

Achillion made great effort to control the release of his warp powers. His broadcasts would likely not penetrate the thick ferrocrete walls of the Watch-Station, but he could not risk utilising more energy to focus his messages to Swordhand specifically, lest he lose control. It was imperative to him that the leadership vote remained fair and deliberate, and to let exhausted nominations begin to snowball out of control would run contrary to that.

 

Once he made it to the main entrance, he gave the Astartes several minutes to collect themselves. As he waited, he took out several spare decks of Emperor’s Tarot and began to sort them into smaller groups. Once the Kill-Team had assembled in full, he addressed them this time in his rough, strained speech.

 

“You fought hard today, my brothers. The endurance and tenacity that you displayed puts me at ease knowing that it is by your hand that this squad will execute the will of the Emperor. I would die proudly with any one of you at my side.”

 

In less than 5 minutes, the marines assembled before him had completely recovered from twenty hours of rigorous physical and mental exercise.

 

They truly are the best that their chapters could offer.

 

Achillion then went on to explain how the voting process would work, going through the identifiers for the tarot cards that he dealt out to each man. It was interesting to the Librarian the reactions of some of the Astartes before him when they took the card from him, those from more superstitious chapters seemed to treat the arcane foci with a sense of reverence.

 

“I have decided that Brother Vorkys of the Revilers, Brother Gideon of the Silver Skulls, Brother Titus of the Stormbringers and Brother Argus of the Blood Ravens have shown the greatest tactical acumen and proclivity for command.” The Codicier proclaimed proudly, meeting the eyes of the four men as he stated their names.

 

“If you wish for Vorkys to ascend to Brother-Sergeant, you will present The Knight.” Achillion held up the card for all to see.

 

“For Gideon, you will present Guilliman’s Wrath.” Again presenting a card to the group.

 

“For Titus, you will present The Assassin.” The Codicier almost appeared to growl as spoke the name of the card in his hand, not for distaste of the man, but for the style of warfare that the card represented.

 

“For Argus, you will present the Harlequin.” Achillion ensured with a hard stare that each man before him understood the information he was presenting.

 

“The brother that you select will lead Kill-Team Secundus to greatness the likes of which it has never seen before – a tall order given recent assignments. May the Emperor’s hand guide your choice.”

 

The Librarian stepped back and observed. He saw conflict on the faces of some of the men as they fought between ties of loyalty and personal experience. Expressions on the others' faces became resolute immediately, their decision almost instinctual. Once he was satisfied that each warrior had internalised his choice, he projected his now familiar psychic voice into their minds for the final time this day.

 

| Swordhand, present your choice. |

Edited February 25, 2021 by Mojake

[Reyner]

++I will not choose I will let others choose in my stead. Put me back on the training regimes Librarian purge my lungs of this filth. I have never fought in battle alongside these outsiders I will be distrustful until we are in the thick of it against real enemies. ++

 

A hacking cough followed Vorrs statement he was getting close to breaking things in his frustration.

[Petragor]

Chaka considers the choice of leadership before him. It is a big decision, a squad is little better than the one who leads it. His first gut instinct is to vote for Vorkys, whom he knows best, but it would be unwise to not consider the others first.

 

Titus, of the Stormbringers. Precise, efficient, and quite cold. He certainly has ambition to gain a leadership position, but the thin, pale marine doesn’t quite fit Chakas idea of an inspiring sergeant, no matter his tactical ability, or other skills.

 

Gideon, of the Silver Skulls. Chaka has spoken with him some. He seems charismatic, and not too uptight. He would be a rather charismatic sergeant, though charisma isn’t everything. Tactical ability is also important however, and though Chaka certainly hasn’t seen proof of an absence of it, he hasn’t had time to confirm the presence of it either.

 

Argus, of the Blood Ravens. Another good option, as Chaka hears he has had experience plenty of experience commanding before. A sharp mind, curious, and yet a bit cautious. Skilled with both Sword and Bolter. Definitely as good as Vorkys’ trained tactical mind, perhaps even more so, though it can be hard to tell without seeing them in a proper battle. 

 

In summary:

Titus is not to Chaka's liking.

Gideon is strong in charisma though his tactical ability is unknown, making him a risky choice.

And Argus’ commanding experience is tied with Vorkys’ tactical aptitude. 

 

It was not an easy choice, with good arguments for Argus, Vorkys, even Titus and Gideon. In the end, Chaka decides to go with his gut feeling and presents the Knight card, voting for Vorkys to become Squad Leader.

Edited February 25, 2021 by Petragor

[Mojake]

"No man who stands beside you bears an opinion worth more than your own, Red Talon. Now, cast your vote for Watch-Sergeant and you will be dismissed." The Angel's command came out close to a snarl at the disobedience displayed by the coughing Devastator. The selection of a Watch-Sergeant wasn't a mere insignificance to be ignored.

 

Still, Achillion couldn't help but admire Vorr's eagerness to return to combat and felt his own lust for the fight rise to the surface at his words.

[Lysimachus]

Rather than openly disrupt the Codicier's command any further, Titus replied to Atreus via a private vox link.

 

"Simple efficiency, Brother Techmarine. As our Librarian has ascertained, logic dictates that one of the Tactical Marines present takes command. Of those, I would discount myself and Brother Argus. The Blood Raven, while obviously capable as both a warrior and a leader, is new to the Watch. I believe my abilities and temperament are better suited to another role. I have served for many months with brothers Vorkys and Gideon, and both have strengths that would serve us well as Sargeant. Brother Gideon is a better comrade, able to inspire and motivate."

 

Titus paused, thinking of Thire's efforts during Gallowbane's missions to smile and encourage, even when Titus knew the Silver Skull was struggling himself. Such camaraderie was a powerful tool.

 

"But Brother Kol is a better commander. He is a skilled tactician, if sometimes unorthodox. He has experience of command within the Watch, even if only of a Demi-squad. Furthermore, he is known and respected by members of the original Swordhand as well as by Gallowbane, giving him a better chance of bringing these remnants together as an effective unit. Therefore my vote will be with Kol."

 

Titus did not give his final, more personal, reason, not wanting to cause potential division amongst the squad or negativity towards Achillion. His impression throughout the day had been that the Angel did not approve of the Stormbringers' way of making war. Some archaic notion of honour, he suspected. Given the Silver Skulls' beliefs, Gideon might be prone to following the psyker's preferences without question, denying the team the advantages of a more pragmatic outlook. But from experience he knew that the Revilers clung to no such follies. When the time came, Kol would be willing to make the hard choices, to give the difficult orders, and Titus would be ready to execute them.

 

With no further words to the squad at large, Titus calmly presented Achillion with the Knight.