[OW] Die Hards: Eleventh Hour

[Beren]

Stimms grimaces. 

 

"Guess we couldn't take it with us anyway."

 

He clambers back inside.

 

"Alright Wide-eyes, take us in until just out of visual range, then we approach on foot. Civilians, remember?"

[Mazer Rackham]

Stimms:

 

Just as you close the hatch, there comes a voice drifting from the trees. "Hullo?  There in the tank?  Hullo!"

 

Your nerves crackle at the tone.  It's a male voice, which is significantly high-born, carrying the cusp of a lisp at the end of his words.  There is the sound of snapping branches and someone falling over.

[Beren]

Stimms freezes, his mind whirring into overdrive.

 

Nobles. Fething nobles. Grox-swilling high-born wine-heads. On the one hand.

 

On the other hand, a potential opportunity.

 

"Hello? Who's there?"

[Mazer Rackham]

Stimms:

 

"Oh thank the Throne!"  a figure forces its wat through the foliage, deftly dusting himself down.  He is tall, with reasonably broad shoulders, upon which are strapped the rank insignia for Commander.  He wears tall boots, handsome, hand-made leather affairs, polished to a deep brown colour.  There are scuffs on his toecaps and uniform, but it too is tailored to perfection, showing off his frame.  A bolt pistol is trussed into a cross-draw holster at right hip.  He steps down the bank as though he owns it, managing to convey he's doing you a great favour by making you wait.

 

"By jove!  What a rustbucket!"  he casts steady brown eyes over the APC, before adjusting his tunic.  "Could do with a lick of paint and oil, what?"

 

He looks up at you expectantly.

[Steel Company]

Using hand gestures, Scarlett signaled to those with her to flank and eliminate the Xeons weapon system.

 

OOC:

Stealth Check at TN 55 (35 base +20 skill): 1d100 6 Pass with 4 DoS

 

[Beren]

Stimms forces a jovial grin on his face as he makes an overenthusiatically sloppy salute.

 

"Emperor's benediction!"

 

He looks down at the vehicle.

 

"Well, hardly a steed befitting of your august self, good sir, but we make do with what we have out here. The Emperor provides!"

 

He is a little nervous about his loud speaking drawing attention to their attention, but he's more worried making sure WIde-eyes has caught on.

[Mazer Rackham]

Scarlett:

 

Orks roll: [Offscreen]

Halbast and Vorgen keep low, content with following your lead.  Their knees and elbows dig into the soft mud where they have to pass under low-hanging branches, but Halbast is careful with his boxy gun.  He has changed quite a lot since you first met him, and he now moves as carefully as the Commissar.

 

The Orks keep their vigil on the skies, noses wrinkling, but their suppressed excitement is untroubled as you creep closer.  The Boomer Ork uses one hand to hitch up his trousers around his burly thews as the noise from the Valkyries get louder.  He braces his feet wide apart, and a dirty, clawed finger strokes the lever that obviously serves as a trigger for the weapon,

 

Stimms:

 

"Aha, good fellow!" the Commander gives an equally informal salute, "You must be one of those reserve units eh?  Brave lads fighting the good fight?"

 

He unslings an expedition pack slung from his shoulder by a single strap - it is a private purchase affair popular with officers who like to be seen wearing a rucksack, but have very little in it.  He tosses it you and climbs up the side of the tank.

 

"Be a good man and stow that eh?  Who's this other fine fellow in here then?"  he pushes his way into the turret hatch and peers in at Wide-eyes.  "A butler, what?"

 

He chuckles at his own...fine...jest.

Edited December 13, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Steel Company]

Taking a breath in slowly, Scarlett braced herself before squeezing the trigger of the weapon she had been given at the brute.

 

 

Ooc: Shooting the big guy.

 

TN: 80 (40, +10 Size, + 10 weapon quality, -0 semi-auto fire, -10 range, +30 surprise round)

Weapon fired in overload mode

 

BS test: 1d100 38 Pass with 4 DoS

2 hits!

 

Location 83 Right Leg, right leg

 

 

Damage: 1D10+6 (1d10+2, +2 overload, +2 weapon quality) Pen 2

 

Hit #1

Las Gun damage, Overload setting: 1d10+6 11

 

Hit #2

Las Gun damage, Overload setting: 1d10+6 7

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Scarlett:

 

Your ambush is as sudden as it is vicious, and whilst the Boomer Ork is not killed by the shots, his right leg is so savaged, and his centre of gravity imperilled, he collapses with a heavy thud, grunting with the sharp spurt of agony at his knee.

 

His awkward and violent movement causes his poor trigger discipline to literally backfire, as his Rokkit Launcha hammers down to the ground with him, and by reflex, he fires.

 

The bomblet streaks across the clearing , leaving a smoking plume in its wake as it singes and whips at the lush grass.  It ploughs into a knot of three Kommandos opposite, blowing them all to hell in fire and fury, signalling to the pilots above that something nasty lurks below them.  As the Orks reel from the sudden attack, heavy bolters begin to rain down shells along with a punishing jetwash from vectored thrusters, tearing the canopy and thrashing it from side to side above your position.

 

As the aircraft tilts and pitches to give her door gunners a good field of fire, a duo of panicked Orks run straight towards you.

 

Beyond them is Mattock 3, and it's living up to the callsign, because that bird is ploughing down everything around it.

 

You still have the element of surprise, and you may attack the Orks using Vorgen and Halbast as if they were Companions if you so wish.  Your attack will also serve to notify Mattock 3 they didn't waste their fuel.

[Beren]

"Civilians actually. I'm a travelling doctor, though it would be an honour to provide transport to such a servant of the Emperor such as yourself."

 

Stimms graciously accepts the kit. As the officer addresses Wide-Eyes, Stimms glares at the other ex-penal Legionair from behind the highborn.

 

"My driver, and if trouble should occur my bodyguard. This is a dangerous place to practice medecine in I'm afraid, but the Emperor watches over us in all places."

 

He gives a nod to Wide-eyes to get going.

[Mazer Rackham]

Stimms:

 

The Commander claps his hands together, rubs them vigorously as he slithers into the commander seat as Wide Eyes sets off in the right direction for Sawtooth.

 

"Excellent.  Now if you fine fellows don't mind I'm going to have to commandeer your old Rusty Bucket, and you as well!"

 

He wriggles the periscopes into position as he belts himself into the tattered leather padding of the chair, grinning at you as he does so.  "Now I know you lads might be spoiling for a fight, but orders are orders to evacuate, what?"

 

"Commander Ivan Jupine, by the way!" he neglects to extend a manicured hand.

Edited December 14, 2021 by Mazer Rackham

[Steel Company]

Following Scarlett’s lead the Midshipmen and Commisar opened fire on the green skins.

 

The Midshipmen braced himself to as he started to laydown suppressive fire, to limit the possible advance of the orks.

 

Ooc:

 

Suppressive Fire action

 

TN: 50 (40, using Scarlett’s stat, +30 surprise round, -20 Suppresive Fire in full auto)

Supressing Fire: 1d100 39 Hit! With 1 extra DoS

 

All orks must make a pinning test at -20 or be pinned

Location: 93, Left leg, left leg

Damage:  2d10+5 Pen 2

 

Hit #1

Big Shoota dakka damage: 2d10+5 21

Roll for RF:

Roll to confrim RF: 1d100 98 No RF

 

Hit #2

Big Shoota dakka damage: 2d10+5 17

Roll for RF:

Roll to confrim RF: 1d100 16 pass!

RF damage: 1d10 8

 

Following the lead of the Midshipmen the Commisar took aim at the green skins as they dived for cover.

 

OOC:

 

TN:70 (40 using Scarlett’s stat, +30 Surprise round, +0 semi auto)

Bolt Pistol attack: 1d100 22 Hit! With 4 DoS!

 

Location: 07, head! Head!

Damage 1D10+5 Pen 4

 

Bolt Pistol damage: 1d10+5 14

Tearing: tearing: 1d10 1

 

Damage 14 Pen 4

 

Hit #2

Bolt Pistol damage: 1d10+5 7

Tearing: tearing: 1d10 9

Damage: 14 Pen 4

 

 

With the element of surprise now lost, Scarlett could only hope they cleared the LZ fast enough for pick up.

[Beren]

Stimms nods his head obsequiously.

 

"Of course, of coure, it would be an honour! I am Jonas, and our driver... is called Harmen."

[Mazer Rackham]

Scarlett:

 

The Orks fail to rally from the dual assault, eating dirt even as the Valkyrie lowers and the door gunners rake the clearing.  It is obvious that one of them spots you, as he swivels his heavy bolter out of the way and gestures.  Your heart may skip a beat, for these aren't simple Guardsmen, Mattock 3 is crewed by Scions.

 

"You over there, move your bloody arses!"

 

The engines turn and burn as the pilot makes a deft pedal turn and swings the broad, inviting hold to face you.  The arterial lamp-light inside is red and raw as an Ork's bellowing gob, but it looks exceptionally inviting.

 

Stimms:

 

Jupine is a conversational type, and as Wide-eyes trundles the chimera along, he makes several hand gestures to accompany the tale he regales you with.

 

"And we were like that see," his hands are lined up in tandem, "when the blighters ambushed us.  Of course, I led from the front, sword drawn!  They didn't follow me - but they gave those rotten Orks a good pasting with lasguns!"

 

For nearly twenty minutes, he continues to account for several tales of derring-do, before Wide-eyes begins to slow down.  "Er...St - Jonas," he looks back at you, half-smile of apology already on his face, "we're here."

 

Peeking out of the periscopes, you can see a roadblock in very poor repair, and manned by men who've been on-the-go on nothing but recaf and adrenaline.  Grim, red-rimmed eyes and unshaven faces peek from beneath regulation Guard helmets.  There is no-one else around, and it is obvious these men are a token picket.  Two-hundred metres beyond are streams of men boarding void transports and Valkyries alike.

 

"Papers," comes the gruff voice of the man at the front, a Sergeant.  He stares into the periscopes of the APC.

[Steel Company]

Looking to her companions she nods motions for them to run for it. Hobbling as best as she can, Scarlett pushes herself as hard as she can to make for the Valkyrie as she grips her dog tags and whispers, "I'll try to show more faith in the future."

[Mazer Rackham]

Scarlett:

 

"Makes a few of us," Halbast shouts as his arm slips beneath your shoulder.  Vorgen takes the other, and that not-present smile is definitely not there again as you all clamber into the Valkyrie.  Moments later, you feel the shift of your stomachs as the aircraft claws up into the air, the door left open for the gunner to rip the jungle and swamps to shreds as the bird spreads its wings to fly away, the green carpet of Horon's moon rapidly slipping below.

 

The starboard gunner who covered your hurried boarding stops his fusillade and stares out of the door for a long time before turning to look you all over.  He signals to pull on the hardwired comms-headsets.

 

"Better strap in, we've been ordered to take you up."

[Steel Company]

Strapping herself in Scarlett can't help but keep the smile off of her face as she sighs out, "Emperor on Terra, how I've missed this." Turning her attention to her impromptu squad mates she adds, "Thank you, both of you for the help on getting on board, I doubt I would've made it this far with out you two."

 

Turning her attention to the armored glass on the port door she added to herself, in a small voice, "Even if I don't survive what's coming, thank you Emperor, for letting me ride in a Valkyrie again."

[Mazer Rackham]

Scarlett:

 

The bird saws around, pushing you back into your seat, the harness constricting.  The door gunner operates the automatic ratchet and the hull seals into dim red light.  He straps himself down as the nose of the bird comes around, and you realise you're not headed for Sawtooth.

 

An Imperial Retribution-Class battleship about to rain down Armageddon fills the canopy.  You headset crackles into life, souring the camaraderie your team is enjoying with a cold, precise cant of military precision.

 

+Cathedral 8, Mattock 3, requesting corridor and docking permissions,+ the pilot demands in a clipped, slick rattle.

 

The pause is short.

 

+Mattock 3.  Dock 1.  Repeat, Dock 1.  Ultraviolet.+

 

The pilot cranes his neck and calls over his shoulder.  +What in Fething Granny's name did you do down there?+  he turns back, shakes his head slowly.  Perhaps he doesn't want to know.

 

The Valkyrie climbs hard as the glowing golden light of lance batteries begin warming.

[Steel Company]

Looking off to the side Scarlett says, "Held an outpost from being over run, climbed to save someone from a downed bird, blew up a bridge while standing on it as my squad was being overrun, escaped being held prisoner by green skins after I survived blowing up the bridge, stole a vehicle from said green skins, killed a nob, and managed to survive long enough to get extracted." She pauses to shrug as she adds with a smirk, "All in a days work, really."

[Mazer Rackham]

Scarlett:

 

Vorgen's burst of laughter startles everyone.  At first it sounds like the bark of a misfired executioner's pistol, but it is just as deadly to the glib conversation.

 

In mere minutes, you're in the shadow of the docking bay, and outside, waiting to receive you, are a full squad of armed and armoured Naval Armsmen.

 

The door gunner gets to his feet, grinning wolfishly.  He heaves on the door latch and springs the armoured hold open.  He gestures for you to disembark.  "Day's not over yet, sister."

[Steel Company]

Looking up to will away a few tears she smiled at hearing that name again, spoken by a Scion, "Never is, a scion can sleep when she's dead."

 

​Getting herself undone from the straps she did her best to carry herself all the pride and dignity she felt in herself again, something that had been missing since her assignment to the One-Oh-One having been returned to her.

[Mazer Rackham]

Scarlett:

 

The Serjeant-at-Arms is trussed into battle harness, as are his men.  This is only to be expected inside a ship of war.  He takes three very smart and firm steps forward in his grey carapace armour, his helm under his arm, a power maul hung from his belt his badge of office, and a practical weapon.  The others are faceless behind blast-glass visors, but they are obviously disciplined - and from the nicks and notches on their boarding shotguns, not parade-gloss amateurs either.

 

"Stand still," his voice is raised only to be heard over the noise of the brimming deck.  In ancient days, this kind of voice would drive battle galleys into ramming speed.

 

Armaments carriages are being pulled by teams of Ratings, crates of supplies ferried on small auto-trams.  The Retribution class ship is a monstrosity, and this is only exacerbated by the hollow thump and echo within the cavernous docking bay.  Orders come over the ship-wide vox, and none are hurried.  They could be ordering lunch, but instead they are delivering death.  The whole ship shudders as the first of the planetary bombardment rounds is fired.

 

Below, the carnage will be terrible, the devastation colossal - so much so the human mind could barely perceive it, but the back blast of heat from the discharge drenches the open docking bay with actinic ozone lash, catching the back of your throat.

 

"Disarm.  Immediately.  Then, you will follow us."

[Steel Company]

Handing over the weapon that the Commissar had given her first, her hand went to her knife and she found it hard to hand it over. Taking a moment to center herself before handing it too over as she said, "Aye, Sargent."

 

Falling in step, as much has her hip would allow, she held her chin high, no matter how this went, she would hold herself as she should, a scion of the Tempestus.

[Mazer Rackham]

Good work Steel - we'll pause you there to allow Beren to catch up.  Fear not, we'll roll again soon. ;)

[Beren]

Stimms, who has been attentaively nodding for the past hour to the point where his neck is beginning to feel rther sore, let's Wide-eyes' near slip-up pass without any further reaction. Instead he cears his throat lightly.

 

"Ah, Commander Jupine," he begins almost apologetically.

 

"I think you had better handle this. Seems rather like you might be the seniormost officer left down here by the look of things."

Edited December 15, 2021 by Beren