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

[Komrk]

Vorkys was glad for the break from training, but the new task assigned to them was in its own way unpleasant. Vorkys had no ambition for power, but he was also well aware of his natural aptitude for tactics and leadership. The faith his fellow Gallowbane brothers placed in him only furthered his opinion on the matter. His long service to the Deathwatch had seen many leaders come and go from the greatest strategic minds the sector had ever seen to the down and dirty tactical masterminds who could worm their way out of the deadliest ambushes. The  weight of leading a squad weighed heavily on his mind, but it is the same pressure that ensures the mission is completed in the best manner possible.

 

"Brothers, normally I would not seek rank, but I believe that I have the knowledge, experience, and aptitude to lead the squad forward in the name of the Watch and the Emperor. I have served the Watch for many years and I have proven my worth to the brothers of Gallowbane among others. I will allow my experience to speak for itself."

 

With that said, Vorkys shows the Knight to Achillion. With that, the discomfort passed having shown his hand and voting for himself. Now he must simply wait and see what the squad's decision is.

[apologist]

Cartomancy? Votes for command? Yeng's disbelief was well-hidden.

 

I hadn't realised the Core could be so civilised.

 

After receiving the cards with a polite nod, he gave them an idle shuffle. He looked around for a sooth-table, but nothing seemed suitable. The Gatebreaker placed the cards face-up beside him on the bench.

 

As he would have before any Gnostic-reading, he removed his helm – better for Six-Winged Apta – and gauntlet. In a low rumble, he began murmuring the ey-qing charms as he surreptitiously disconnected the aural magnifier in his ear decorations. Next, he disconnected his bionic eye by looking to the left and deftly slipping a finger between the socket and eyeball; rummaging behind it for the switch. Thus prepared and fortified against Zamaz and Adad, he turned, crossed his legs on the bench and sank his chin onto his hand, in thought.

 

Intelligence test – 39: Success: 2DoS

 

The cards were old, but not heavily-used. They seemed to have been mass-manufactured, which surprised Yeng. What wonders this Imperium holds, he thought. The figures – garishly painted on the thick plastercard with magentas and cyans, were all unfamiliar to him. Their meanings took a little while to come to him, but seemed to have fairly clear antecedents in the decks he knew. The Imperial Tarot was not unknown in the Endworlds, though it was seen as rather an archaic method of divination; not nearly so reliable as qaballic extispicy or the ever-familiar ey-qing.

 

Continuing his low murmuring, and with eyes fixed on the cards, he reached behind him and drew out a delicately-scribed scroll from his belt. Licking his bare thumb, he unfurled it and ran his finger from right to left along each line, holding it up so he could keep both the script and cards in his line of vision. At the finish, he idly drew a deywos-stick and lit it with the cauterisation tool on his reductor.

 

Perception test – 26: Success: 1DoS

 

The yellow, spicy smoke curled around him as he pondered. Furrowing his brows in consternation, he tapped lightly on the still gold and yellow-quartered bracer of his suit in thought. Wanting to check the result, he carefully replaced the scroll and drew out a pouch of yarrow stalks. Closing his natural eye, he lightly threw three in the air, then mused at their positioning. At length, he raised his eyebrows and, chin still in hand, shrugged.

 

"Hm," he grunted, amused. Reactivating his augmetics, he swung his legs back over the side of the bench. Before replacing his gauntlet, he leaned forward, and ran his ungloved hand through his hair, scratching his scalp.

 

"Traditions of baratu are not forgotten amongst the Gatebreakers, Codicier. That familiarities are remembered is good omen." Still harbouring his doubts, he proffered his card to Achillion, face-down as tradition demanded. "As the Odes say: The universe should not know the judgement before the judge."

 

Turning it over, Achillion sees Yeng has presented The Knight.

Edited February 25, 2021 by apologist

[Reyner]

++As you wish Librarian I vote for the son of Guilliman.++

 

Vorr had fought alongside sons of the Thirteenth before they were good dependable soldiers.

[adesro18]

The private link between Titus and Atreus crackled to life in his ear. Titus spoke to him of prior experience and having served before. Atreus did not doubt the veracity behind these words, and had seen Vorkys train with his own eyes. All here were truly the best of the best that the chapters had to offer, but with a word of reference, and the faith of the honored codicier Vorkys was put to the fore in Atreus' mind.

Atreus responds to titus via their private link, "Very well brother Titus. If you can attest to his ability as a leader I will hold you to your word." Clicking the vox link closed he steps forward to present the knight to the codicier casting his vote for Vorkys.

Atreus turns to look at Vorkys after casting his vote and gives a quick nod in his direction.

[Deadass]

At Achillion’s rebuke, Boros could not but return to his thoughts about the Librarian’s authoritarian behaviour. If Vorr decided to trust in his squadmates to make a sound decision, it should have been his right to do so. Curiously, the Red Talon took it better than himself, voting for the Skull instead of crossing the witch again. No matter, then. He foresaw that there would be more disputes in the future regardless.

 

The fact that none of the contenders were of the original Swordhanders did not sit well with him, but again, the Revenant could not disagree. Vorr was too brash for sergeantship while Embe was not brash enough. Yeng gave excellent counsel but would preface his every order with nebulous allegory, a concern that was only halfway rooted in jest. Boros did not even consider himself - there was a reason he had never achieved squad command in sixty-three years of service.

 

It would be one of the new blood. He had not warmed up to any of the new arrivals, the sigils on their armour as foreign as the men that wore them. They had trained together for the better part of a Terran day, but a bond of fraternity had not yet been formed. Boros could only trust in what he knew, and that was the instinct of his brethren.

 

Without a word, he presented the Knight to Codicier Achillion. He had trusted Chaka Embe’s judgement with his life before - it would not fail him now.

Edited February 25, 2021 by AHorriblePerson

[Necronaut]

The added trials on top of the already demanding training from earlier in the day were no laughing matter, but the three, no four, individuals who stepped up to the task of leading the demi-squads had all exceeded expectations. Each of the demi-squads had been pitted against seemingly endless waves of gene-stealers and orks, and it was against such unwinnable odds that the Chaplain had wanted to see the true mettle of these men. The ability to continue to lead, and to will yourself onward under tremendous physical strain was no mean feat.

 

With the trials for the position of Watch Sergeant complete, Helgrim descended back into the training arena. He had been surprised that Incariel had volunteered for the additional abuse, and found his tenacity to be admirable.

 

Keep an eye on that one.

 

"Kill-Team Blackthorn, training is finished for today! Be at ease, brothers!"

 

Helgrim surveyed the assembled battle-brothers arrayed in a semi-circle before him, their right pauldrons a riot of color against the uniform black and silver of the Deathwatch.

 

"You have all done well this day, brothers. Now comes the time for the selection of a Sergeant, a first among equals, to lead you. Tyber, Solza, Artemios, Incariel, step forward!"

 

At the barked order of the chaplain, the four battle-brothers stepped forward.

 

"Brothers, you four have answered my challenges with fire and faith, but Blackthorn can only have one Watch Sergeant. I am pleased that none of the four of you broke under my trials, and you are all, including those in the demi-squads, testaments to the strengths of your parent chapters!”

 

The chaplain’s oratory rose to a crescendo, “However, one among you truly distinguished himself. Brother Tyber, I would nominate you to lead Blackthorn into battle!”

 

Turning to the rest of those assembled and pointing at each in turn with his crozius arcanum, Helgrim continued, “If any of those assembled here questions my judgement, then speak now! I will not have Blackthorn go into the fires of battle a broken and disjointed weapon, riven by internal strife!”

 

Helgrim turned back to Tyber, “Will you accept this honor, brother?”

[Steel Company]

The chaplain turned his helm on Tyber and spoke, +Will you accept this honor, brother?+

 

Tyber looked to his squadmates, both new and old alike, he wasn’t sure if he should accept this offer. Taking a moment to remove his helm, and look at each in turn before looking back to his helm he spoke, “When I first came to the watch, I came for the wrong reasons. I came out of blind jealousy of another, one that had been marked for command, while I had been marked for the honor of becoming a life ward to a commanding Astartes and an honor duelist.”

 

He paused to look up as he continued, “I learned in that first deployment where my path is meant to go. I do not seek command, but if my brothers would have me, then I will accept their trust and do what I can to honor our first Sargent, Vaidan as well as our second, Solastion.”

 

Pausing to look at his brothers again, he added, “I will not beat around the bush brothers, I am young, inexperienced, and likely to make an error or two, but if you wish for me to lead you all, I will. What say you, brothers of Blackthorn?”

[Commissar Molotov]

Kill-Team Swordhand

Vorr votes for Gideon Thire; Yeng, Boros, Embe, Titus, Kol and Maladon have voted for Kol (Six out of ten, so a majority. Just Jeremy and Komrade_Atomic to vote.)

 

Thorvald nods to himself, handing the Codicier the card depicting the knight.

 

"A knife in the dark is worth a thousand swords at dawn. Isn't that what the Codex says?"

 

He runs his gauntleted fingers through the tangled thatch of flame-red beard.

 

"Perhaps it was Yeng, then. Either way, I vote for the Reviler."

Edited February 25, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Nineswords]

[Placeholder]

[ApostleRP]

The chaplain turned his helm on Tyber and spoke, +Will you accept this honor, brother?+

 

Tyber looked to his squadmates, both new and old alike, he wasn’t sure if he should accept this offer. Taking a moment to remove his helm, and look at each in turn before looking back to his helm he spoke, “When I first came to the watch, I came for the wrong reasons. I came out of blind jealousy of another, one that had been marked for command, while I had been marked for the honor of becoming a life ward to a commanding Astartes and an honor duelist.”

 

He paused to look up as he continued, “I learned in that first deployment where my path is meant to go. I do not seek command, but if my brothers would have me, then I will accept their trust and do what I can to honor our first Sargent, Vaidan as well as our second, Solastion.”

 

Pausing to look at his brothers again, he added, “I will not beat around the bush brothers, I am young, inexperienced, and likely to make an error or two, but if you wish for me to lead you all, I will. What say you, brothers of Blackthorn?”

 

Artremios looks over the Sergeant-elect, his weapon still held at idle in front of him. "Experience is not earned by stepping aside. I have no issue with following you, Tyber. If I believe you to be leading us in the wrong direction I will check you."

 

His armour growls slight.

 

"If you lead us astray, I will right the squads course as necessary" 

[Brother Argent]

Place holder - Pallan thinks to express dissent on the sarge choice but ends up doubting himself and bites his tongue.

[That Beyond the Light]

The chaplain’s oratory rose to a crescendo, “However, one among you truly distinguished himself. Brother Tyber, I would nominate you to lead Blackthorn into battle!”
In a split-second moment Ekieo’s hearts sank, his thoughts rushed to the faltering moment, was that truly his undoing. But it was only a split of a second, he soon returned to the moment and his standards as a gene son of Guilliman did too. He continued to listen with intent to Chaplin Helgrim.

 

“If any of those assembled here questions my judgement, then speak now! I will not have Blackthorn go into the fires of battle a broken and disjointed weapon, riven by internal strife!”

 

Ekieo did not question the Judgment of a Chaplin, regardless of his Chapter. If this was the truth then he would stand by it and his new Sergeant, for it must be the divine right of the Emperor.

 

Helgrim turned back to Tyber, “Will you accept this honour, brother?”

 

Tyber accepted this great honour and Ekieo was one of the first to congratulate him. He approached the mountain of a marine and extended his arm out to invite Tyber for a warrior’s grip. Tyber extended his and they locked forearms and gripped hard, Ekieos arm only reaching a fraction onto Tybers. Staring at each other Ekieo spoke…

 

“Tyber, I do not know much of you, but seeing how you completed these arduous tasks presented to us, I know that you will honour your position, lead us to victories and do right your men. I will stand by your side and do as you ask, with respect and as a brother. You have proven yourself not just to me but to the team, unite them, inspire them and respect them”.

 

With this Ekieo released his grip and so did Tyber. Ekieo turned and re-joined the rest of the team. His thoughts returning to his continued question that plagues him so….

 

- Why did I get orders to transfer here?? What is my purpose amongst these men -

Edited February 26, 2021 by That Beyond the Light

[ashlander47]

As the chaplain decreed his choice of squad sergeant and the Dragon of Caliban spoke his acceptance a dozen and a dozen more calculations rang out within the mind-fortress of Incariel like the tolling of a chapel bell.  The chaplain had chosen continuity and to assuage the soul of Blackthorn with an established and well-respected member. He had also chosen a son of the First, even if the Drakeling spurned such an honour as his own lineage, he could no more deny it than a bird could deny flight. A sense of vicarious pride ringed through the halls of Incariel's mind, casting a faint undertone of expectations and also doubt to the chorus of scenario, resolution, scenario, resolution, that played behind his eyes.

 

+++

 

"Doth thou covet command, Incariel?" Vincindrael's words cut harder than the scourge he struck with. The memory flooded into the fore-view and he let it wash over him for a spell.

 

"Nay! the Consecrator responded, stoic and stalwart under the intensive care of an Interrogator-Chaplain.

 

"Doth thou covet command, Incariel?" asked the ghost of the Admission's Gaoler again.

 

"Nay!" cried Incariel once more, the lashings of the scourge already sealing up as his genhanced biology fought against the barbs.

 

Vincindrael's arm rose and fell a half-dozen times more, the Interrogator-Chaplain's questioning fell silent leaving only the sound of scourge cracking to flesh, and the faint wailings of the angry ghosts of the Admission. The memory fizzled however as a sombre, argi-worlder's brogue rattled out from across the room.

 

+++

 

"Passed over again, friend?" Turuzim's words cut out the memory and reality came rushing back. He stood there, body broken, heartsblood gushing, perched behind the Drakeling with a coquettish stature. "He reminds me of someone. Fresh into the 2nd, you yourself weren't so different to him."

 

"We are nothing alike." he hissed through gritted teeth. He hadn't realised he had spoken it out loud until hew recognised the shift of attention to him from his fellow Astartes. Adjust. Assess. Advance. Clearing his throat he spoke louder.

 

"Indeed, though we doth share a common ancestry, Consecrator and Dragon share few bonds yet," the Consecrator stepped towards Tyber, hoping his recovery was quick and his hissed admonition lost to memory. "I do surely agree with thine assessment chaplain Helgrim. The Drakeling showeth great promise, and a hunger for the posting to be sure despite his humility."

 

He reached deep into the folds of his billowing robe and retrieved a hilt hidden so well the mere shape of the blade it bore was not even hinted at beneath the fabric. Casting a glance to Helgrim before looking back to Tyber, Incariel drew the blade with a curiously harrowing rasp and presented it before him. It was a rather plain looking sword, instantly recognisable as a more ceremonial piece, though the edge was keen. The winged, haloed flame of the Consecrators sat above the fuller, and a single black feather wafted faintly from a string that dangled from the pommel.

 

"Thou art christenèd as mine sergeant and I swear to thee as I hath sworn to Primarch and Emperor, eternal loyalty and utmost devotion. I swear now upon mine blade once more to all thee, brothers of Blackthorn, and I bid thee join me. Hark! Upon mine humble sword, upon my oaths and upon my honour as a Consecrator; I hail to thee Watch-Sergeant Tyber."

 

That should be enough. It was mostly theatrics but the sentiment was important, no less so than when it came to the kind of display Incariel was attempting to make here. He must show grace in defeat. He must display his sense of duty. Above all else he must show loyalty. Loyalty was important.

 

"Though in mine role as Devastator, should I find immediate need of mine blade, perhaps thee would forgive a questioning of thine grasp of squad-level tactics." he said with a smile, holding the blade out in a ritualistic gesture. Always use humour to disarm. He wondered for just how long he would have to hover there before someone, anyone, joined in the touching of swords. Did these uncouth, unmannered reprobates even observe the old knightly rituals? Surely the Drakeling did -- even if he refused the mane and instead cloaked himself in scales. A knight is a knight, and the Drakeling had the bearing of one, make no mistake.

 

"You speak of inexperience yet thee of Blackthorn hath faced great trials and horror in this sector. I bid thee regale us with such things, that we might all better understand the righteous path that we newly-sworn brothers now walk upon."

Edited February 26, 2021 by ashlander47

[Komrade_Atomic]

Gideon hid a small smile. To be nominated by a descendant of an Iron Hand was certainly a new experience. But despite what the Red Talon thought of Gideon as a leader, Gideon knew that Vorkys was a much better choice. He spoke:

"Brother Vorr, I'm honoured by the nomination, and I give you thanks. But I believe that Brother Kol would be a more worthier Watch Sergeant."

 

After smiling and nodding thanks to Vorr, Gideon drew the card of the Knight, and displayed it.

[Mojake]

As the cards were offered, the favourite for Watch-Sergeant quickly became apparent. The Kill-Team had voted overwhelmingly in favour of the Reviler.

 

A good choice. Kol had proven himself today, and his record was exemplary.

 

Achillion’s unfurled his palm, showing his own card to the group. This card was archaic and losing its colour, picturing a grey-armoured knight battling a many-headed dragon. The high gothic script along the borders of the card appeared to shimmer in the Librarian’s hand despite the lack of lighting cast upon it.

 

“Brother Vorkys Kol, step forward.” Achillion spoke deliberately and as clearly as his scarred face could allow.

 

As the pale-skinned Astartes came to meet the Codicier at the fore of the assembly, Achillion took his arm in a warrior’s handshake.

 

“I declare you Kill-Team Secundus Watch-Sergeant,” Achillion proclaimed, “and at the request of Watch-Captain Diocles, I shall be your second.” The Angel followed up with a short psychic message meant for the Reviler alone, the clear and unmistakable words forming in Kol’s mind contrary to those that fell upon his ears.

 

| With formalities almost done, I wouldn’t tarry, Vorr looks fit to explode if he doesn’t get back to the cages soon. |

 

Achillion’s twisted mouth curled into a grin, and he stepped back amongst the members of the Kill-Team, giving the new Watch-Sergeant opportunity to address them as he saw fit.

[Komrk]

Vorkys stepped forward at Achillion's command and took his arm in return. The sudden intrusion of the Codicier's voice into his mind was unwelcome, but a clear display of his psychic might. He took a second to recover before addressing the Kill-Team.

 

"Thank you Brother-Codicier, I look forward to working with each and every one of you. I have but one expectation of each and every one of you... that you will complete the mission no matter the cost. Personal initiative shall be looked upon favorably here. Now then, let's get back to work brothers. Individual training, work on what you need to."

 

He motioned to the Angel Encarmine and took him aside.

 

"I have two matters to enquire after if you don't mind. The first being the full extent of your... powers, and the second being what I need to know about the veterans of Swordhand. I have seen their strengths well enough, but what of their weaknesses or blind spots?"

[Mojake]

As the Reviler pulled him aside and requested a full capability report of Swordhand, Achillion slid the dataslate from his person and handed it over.

 

"You will find everything that you need on there. I am sure you are well acquainted with some of the brothers under your command, but my honesty and assessment is yours in its entirety. Chaka is an excellent example of a shock troop, and as consequence may struggle at long range engagements. Boros is in the unique position of being a fire support specialist who does not shy from short to medium range warfare, and yet his reliance on the Creed may cause strife or middling chemistry within the Kill-Team." The Codicier struggled for a brief moment with his speech and trailed off before wiping spittle from his cheek that had slipped through the gaps in his face.

 

Putting a hand to his scars, he flexed his jaw, "As I said, I won't bore you with repeated information - you'll find all you need on there."

 

"As for my own abilities, I prefer a personal approach to murder." Achillion's thumb stroked across the axe at his side, sliding over the side of the blade engraved with 'BAAL' in high gothic script.

 

| As you are aware, I am a gifted telepath. I can sense and read a subject's projection into the Warp, determining their emotions, mental imbalances, psychic potential - and in some cases, Chaos taint. This ability can be helpful in determining the strength of an enemy force within a locale. I can also broadcast messages using my powers, including to specific individuals, to distances of several hundred kilometers. Finally, as a son of Sanguinius gifted with witch-blood, I bear great skill as a battle-psyker. |

 

Achillion noted the discomfort in the Watch-Sergeants demeanour.

 

"You will have to adjust and become comfortable with my intrusions, they are more efficient and reliable than vox." The Librarian growled through his disfigured lips before they turned into a mockery of a grin.

 

++

 

Achillion spent the remainder of the day alongside Vorkys watching Primus, Secundus and Tertius undergoing an exercise against a race that he had read about previously, but had no direct experience with.

 

As he watched the three teams effectively performing their tasks with unparalleled coordination despite their lack of communication, he leaned over to the Reviler.

 

"They perform well, as expected. Perhaps another surprise for them to outmanoeuvre, Watch-Sergeant?" With a tap of his finger, the Angel flashed a series of images onto one of the many servo-skull displays in front of them, each depicting a lithe and deadly illustration of a xenos battlesuit.

Edited March 1, 2021 by Mojake

[Steel Company]

Tyber looked to the Firewing, bowing his head slightly as he thought to himself, The Firewing is failing his host if he does not already know.

 

Taking a moment to think about his accomplishments, as few as there are he spoke, “There have been very few. Aside from facing the foe of the Tyranids on this last deployment, the only other claim for action was out on campaign in the halo stars, against a foe I have since learned are called the Necrons.”

 

He shifted a little as he thought about the campaign to bring that world into compliance, how it had gone so badly so quickly, as he said, “My squad’s razorback was destroyed out from under us, only me and my master managed to get out of it.”

 

He paused to place a hand on his oath blade as he continued, “He fell against two of the automaton skeletons as we had to charge up a hill at two of them that had been dug in. After I put them down and they vanished into thin air, I moved to support the company captain and act as his life ward.”

 

His hand moved to the red wax seal on his right paldron as he said, “I was gifted this as a mark for my actions and granted the right to carry our company banner when we faced their overlord in his underground complex.”

 

Looking to his squad he shrugged and added, “That is all I have accomplished outside of the view of my brothers of Blackthorn. Within their view, I have faced a fight against two genesteelers, abominations, and warrior strains all in close quarters.”

 

Feeling rather exposed at hearing how little he’s accomplished compared to others of the squad he added, “It is why I am open to suggestions on actions that we will undertake.”

 

He paused for a moment as he thought and said, "Some training I think would be best, alow me an hour or two to come up with suitable scenarios for you all."

Edited February 28, 2021 by Steel Company

[A.T.]

Atratus tilted his head at Incariels feigned agreeance. He had heard of but not witnessed the duels of honour for which the sons of the Lion were know and as steel was drawn wondered if the Concecrator sought to settle such differences.

 

Shifting his weight he prepared to give the two space but the Consecrator held his sword supplicant rather than in salute. Long moments passed, none but Tyber familiar with this ritual, challenge, offering or whatever it may be between brothers of the thirteenth... but the Raptor recalled Tyber drew his own blade before in acknowledgement of Vaidans position.

 

Lifting a hand he rested down on the hilt of one of his swords. Near imperceptibly Incariel turned his head but did not tense, a rising of blades rather than a clash it would seem. Levelling his own blade to match Atratus repeated the formal oath as he had before "As our bodies are armoured with adamantium, our souls are protected with loyalty. As our bolters are charged with death for the Emperors enemies, our thoughts are charged with wisdom. As our ranks advance, so does our devotion, for we are Space Marines. We are the chosen of the Emperor, his loyal servants unto death."

 

Not for the first time he wondered at the origin, the words of another lost to time.

 

Scrutiny

Roll of 8 vs target 27 = pass

(will have to pick up the scrutiny advanced at some point...)

[Jeremy.Phillips]

‘The scion of the Raven should prove satisfactory as the new Watch-Sergeant’ Argus thought to himself as he returned to the shooting range for more practice. He knew of his chapter through reputation alone, having never fought beside them. They preferred stealth and ambush tactics if he recalled correctly. That suited Argus just fine. He preferred the cautious approach, though at times brutal directness was necessary to achieve victory. Would this Vorkys know when to put aside stealth and charge headfirst into enemy fire?

 

The Codicier had nominated Vorkys, Argus reminded himself. That was reassuring. Of course, he had been nominated himself. Looking at those cards he had wanted to vote with the Harlequin. Argus knew he would be an adequate Watch-Sergeant, but he was too new to the Deathwatch. He did not know enough yet to lead. So, he had abstained from the vote. His short time in training with his new squad did not provide him with enough information to make an informed decision. He had trusted to the Codicier and his new squad to choose the best leader for now. There would be a time however, when Argus would seek a commanding role. For now though he would observe, learn, and fight for the Emperor.

[Noctus Cornix]

The Crimson Fist had remained silent, a stoic statue of Dorn's legacy cast in black and silver. The livery of the gore-stained fist clenched to the sky stood proudly on his right pauldron, devoid of the damage that had so brutally marred it the belly of the hive-beast. His helm was removed, or at least part of it. The sloped vox-grill of his MK IV helm still covered the codicier's face, obscuring his nose and mouth from view beneath the black ceramite while his crystal eyes moved between his Captain and the others of the Watch Fortress command. His black hair was combed back in its usual fashion, thin braids brushing against his shoulders with the most subtle of movements.

 

It seemed that his tenure with Swordhand was at an end, for now, returning to his sacred and tedious responsibilities as Codicier of the Watch Librarium. It was.... a bitter pill to swallow, he admitted, and he secretly wondered if his brothers would be in good hands. Achillion was like him, a Codicier of some considerable skill in the psychic arts, but one lacking in in the arts of nuance and social grace. From his limited experience with the warrior, Achillion seemed more akin to a blunted blade that relied on blunt-force trauma rather than a killing edge. The Angel Encarmine was far more eager for blooshed and often ill at ease with the monotony of the Librarium's work. He was a battle psyker. That much was certain. 

 

A quiet sigh escaped him, the smallest hint of a weight being lifted from his shoulders, but still it left a void in his soul as his Astartes blood singed for brotherhood and battle. Syndalla had been a temporary reprieve , if nothing else. His place in the Chapter called now, returning to his solitude among ancient tombs and the long-slumbering heroes. 

 

His melancholic musings, however, were cut short as his Captain's eyes turned to him. 

 

"An... advocate, my Captain?..." he repeated the word without really meaning to form it as a question, tasting the sound of it on his tongue.

 

Shortly enough, the Codicier nodded, head bowed in deference as he offered the sign of the aquilla to Watch Captain Diocles. "It will be done, my lord. I will make the preparations and depart for the Clepsydra to meet with the Chief Librarian." 

 

 

Before the assembled officers before, Montesa offered a curt nod to a Achillion and returned the gestured salute to Chaplain Helgrim. "And my thoughts will be to you as well, brother Chaplain. Give my regards to Blackthorn and Swordhand." 

 

He liked the old Doom Eagle immensely. 

[Komrk]

After two hours of individual training time, Vorkys recalled the Kill-team for an exercise. The scenario at hand was the assault on a Tau headquarters in order to eliminate the Cadre Commander and anyone who got in the way. The squad would be split into three individual teams to approach the target from multiple angles. Upon reaching their staging areas the three teams would initiate their assault simultaneously. 

 

Team Primus:

Boros

Titus

Thorvald

 

Team Secundus:

Vorr

Maladon

Thire

 

Team Tertius:

Yeng

Embe

Argus

 

"This test will not be easy, you will be pushed to your limits but you must succeed for there is no room for failure," Vorkys said sternly as he finished the mission briefing. He had left himself and Achillion out of this test for a reason, he would need to see the team's reactions. Understanding who reacts how would be important when it came to operating in the field. As he set the simulation in motion, he couldn't help but wonder what he was about to see.

 

As the teams successfully navigated their way through the Tau drone nets into their staging points, the true purpose of the test became apparent.

 

Team Primus' position overlooking the entrance to the base was well chosen, but the intelligence report had missed outlying positions manned by Fire Warriors situated now behind the team. If Primus were to begin the assault without clearing these positions, they could face fire from all directions.

 

Team Secundus' staging point was at the base of the curtain wall guarding the northern edge of the encampment. Their insertion point was supposed to have taken advantage of the large vents on that side, but upon arrival it becomes clear that they are far more reinforced than had been reported.

 

Team Tertius' staging point was by all means exactly as described in the briefing and the eastern approach seemed to match what intelligence had expected with the armor depot exposed from their angle of attack.

 

One final spanner was thrown into the plan as the teams attempted to report their situations, they discovered that their vox signals were being jammed and was limited to local range meaning that they were unable to contact command or the other teams. Vorkys started his chrono as the three teams attempted to call in and looked at the Codicier standing beside him. "Let's see how well they do then."

 

+++

 

As you react to the simulation, I would like each person to give a single roll that ties into what they are doing.

[Petragor]

Weapon Skill Test (Charge against Horde):

 

WS66 (+20 Charge)(+1d10 Horde Magnitude Damage) = WS86: 68, (Pass, 1 DoS, 1 extra hit because of Power Field weapon quality, 2+1d10(rolled a 2)=4 Horde Magnitude damage.)

 

Another day, another training exercise. The Adeptus Astartes aren’t the Imperiums finest out of complacency, and that goes double for the Deathwatch. And perhaps triple for Chaka, who still feels some lingering effects after his injuries.

 

Today's training under the newly appointed sergeant seemed simple on the surface. Eliminate the designated xeno leader, a so-called Cadre Commander of the Tau race. It isn’t a race that Chaka is familiar with, he had never met them in battle while in service aboard the Serenkai, all he knew was that Vorkys’ briefing suggested they greatly preferred ranged combat over close quarters. A weakness that he and the Embani Wezulu would be able to exploit, Chaka thought. 

 

Still, Vorkys clearly had a few surprises in store for them. Deploying with his assigned teammates Yeng and Argus, they found the briefing to be accurate. The xenos storage facility was guarded, but exposed from their angle of attack, taking advantage of a temporary blind spot in their overwatch patterns. It seemed easy, which was extremely suspicious considering the fact that this was an exercise meant to challenge them. Was Vorkys going easy on them after Achillons grueling training? Unlikely. Vorkys would definitely want to test the individual tactical awareness of his squad, and putting them up against an incompetent band of craven xenos wouldn’t accomplish that. Trying to check in on the others, he found his squad-wide frequency jammed, Yeng and Argus had the same problem. Clearly an exercise in acting based on limited information. 

 

If there was a trap for team Tertius it hadn’t been sprung yet, but Argus theorized the other teams may not be so lucky. If the other teams were under attack, the jammed communications would prevent them from requesting support. Chaka thinks it over. If the worst case scenario is true for the other teams, they would be under attack from the bulk of the xeno forces, which would explain the lighter guard along this perimeter. There is a chance there was a trap for them beyond this first line of defense, but if the other teams are already under fire, attacking the depot would be the only way to take pressure off them. Perhaps Vorkys intended this as a test of their initiative?

 

“Even if this is only training, we cannot let our brothers down. We’re the only team without a Devastator Marine, so I suggest we charge into close quarters before they can bring their guns to bear.”

 

Argus and Yeng only took a moment before agreeing, they understood that time was of the essence.

 

“I will perform hit and run strikes by Jump Pack on their massed squads and thin their ranks, I trust you can provide first aid if I am hit, Yeng.”

 

Yeng nodded in confirmation, “I shall. Just take care not to overextend yourself, you are technically still recovering, even if you are mostly combat ready.”

Chaka was again reminded of his past failure, even if that wasn't what Yeng meant. And yet, he felt ready. His brothers were counting on him, and the past would never stand in the way of that.

 

Argus watched and waited for the blind spot to re-emerge before ordering the charge out of their cover and into the enemy. Chaka his Jump-pack and soared skyward, before beginning his rapid descent towards the largest group of xeno infantry he could see, his armor billowing smoke in a dark trail as he landed on one of the hostiles and began cutting through the rest, the Embani Wezulu’s power field knocking attempted parries away like the Serenkai ramming aside a poorly positioned enemy escort.

Edited February 28, 2021 by Petragor

[Lysimachus]

Titus watched as the hated Tau moved in and out of the base entrance like worker bees around a nest. A good illustration. When the assault began, warriors would swarm forth from the base to reinforce their troops under attack. Primus had been put in place to suppress the entrance, bottling up those reinforcements until the other teams could take out the Tau units already outside. Boros' heavy bolter was key to this role. Titus was there to assist in the suppression and perhaps, if the Cadre Commander should be foolish enough to leave the security of his HQ, to take him out. Thorvald was in position to charge forward and further block the entrance, tearing apart in hand-to-hand combat the few 'fortunate' Fire Warriors that managed to evade Boros' fusillade and gain egress from the building. There Primus would hold until the other teams could finish up the other external units and join them to enter the base.

 

But the Tau outliers they had discovered around them would quickly make their own position untenable once they revealed themselves. At that point, the Tau inside would be free to move out from the base in numbers, and firepower, too great to be eliminated by the attacking Marines. The Xenos forward units needed to be removed first.

 

He frowned thoughtfully and spoke quickly to his team mates.

+Brothers, I suggest we stick to the plan? We still need to suppress that point of egress. Brother Boros, can you hold this position alone? Brother Thorvald, your strength will still be needed at the gate, and once the rest of the Kill-Team is ready to enter.+

 

Boros nodded, patting the heavy weapon with his augmetic limb.

+Agreed. But we must deal with those pickets too, or they will turn and we will quickly find that we are the ones being pinned down?+

 

Titus smiled, pleased by the other Marines' immediate understanding of the situation. He holstered his Huntsman in its long sheath and instead drew his combat blade.

+I am not needed here. It was an assignment based on a potential opportunity, to execute the Commander if he made a poor tactical decision. I will attempt to remove the outliers, or at least disrupt them enough that they cannot prevent you from fulfilling your purpose.+

 

Titus looked at his brethren, seeking their approval. After a moment Boros nodded again, decisively. Thorvald just shrugged.

+Good hunting, brother.+

 

Titus ducked into the undergrowth, moving quickly and quietly towards the first picket.

 

 

Silent Move

Ag 50 +10 =60

Roll: 38 (Pass, 2DoS)

[Necronaut]

Helgrim privately voxed Tyber, +I know of your doubt, your misgivings following Syndalla. I am not blind to these things; I took my first command following the death of my sergeant during an assault on a traitor position. I was racked by guilt and doubt, that I would survive where I should have died, but I sense as-yet untapped potential in you, Tyber, and Blackthorn will rally behind you if you let them. I will act as your second for the time being. For now, take your place as sergeant and show your brothers what it means to be a member of Kill-Team Blackthorn!+

 

 

Charm (Inspire special use)

Fellowship (charm +0): 52

Rolled: 2 (5 DoS)

Edited February 28, 2021 by Necronaut