To Plunder The Stars Themselves, Episode III

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Round 2 Cont:

 

[x] Traveller: Charge Sister C.

Dodge: 69, SoF: 17, Fail. 18 Wounds suffered. Sister C dies.

 

[x] Svelk: Charge Sister D

Hit on (50=05) Head

Dodge used, SoF: 56, Fail.

Dam1d10, Roll:5 +2 +10(StrB) - AV5(7-2) -TB4 = 8 Wounds suffered. Sister D dies.

 

[ ] Decimus:

[ ] Odysseus:

[ ] Mortifier:

[ ] Draak:

[ ] Ithan:

[Black Cohort]

Decimus stands his ground, unloading another volley into the dreadnought, scouring across both its arm and torso.  Multiple rounds finding weak points and detonating within the monstrosity.

 

BS 52+10 half range +10 half action aim +20 full auto =92  roll = 26, hit location 62 therefore 6 hits

 

body righteous fury, extra d10 = 10, extra d10 = 6 total damage 40 Pen 5

body damage 22 Pen 5

Arm righteous fury, extra d10 = 10, extra d10 = 2 total damage 36 Pen 5

Head righteous fury, extra d10 = 5 total damage 29 Pen 5

Arm damage 21 Pen 5

Body damage 17 Pen 5

[A.T.]

Whatever the cause of its measured advance, perhaps the lingering will of the pilot or haste of her internment, the penitent walker had wasted its best opportunity as damage began to mount.

 

A cautious approach it would be then as Odysseus stepped back to realign the kine-shield as others of the battlegroup rushed forward beyond its protection.

 

Half action sustain

Half action move - Odysseus will move back and adjust his shield to protect those behind as closely as possible to reduce the chance of the walker advancing inside of the radius. Half move is up to 6m.

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Round 2 Cont:

 

[x] Decimus:

SI Damage:

4 to Sarcophagus

18 to Right Arm. Right Arm is Disabled!

3 to Left Arm.

 

[x] Odysseus:

Sustain Force Dome

Move west.

 

The pain-fuelled machine roars in frustration as the Kill-Team breaks left and right out of its reach. With a blast of his jump pack, Svelk soars over its head and the war engine turns to track the sudden noise and movement. Then it sees him join the group of Astartes fighting Sororitas on the stairs.

 

With an amplified bellow of rage, it swings the rest of the way around and hobbles forward in a graceless, brutal charge. Decimus' stream of heavy shells smash into the rear, ruining the already damaged arm and even causing some small damage to the back of the power plant, but they cannot prevent the beast from reaching its target.

 

Though the saw blade now hangs silently from the limp right arm, the left whips its chains with their spiked metal weights through the air with vicious speed and strength.

 

[x] Mortifier: Charge at Traveller and Svelk.

WS40(Frenzy) +20(Berserk Charge) +10(Flail) = 70, Roll: 36, Hit with 3 DoS, 2 Hits on (36=63) Body.

Dam 1d10+12 Pen4

Flexible: cannot be Parried

Snare: If hit, make Ag test to avoid being immobilized. If immobilized, can take no other actions until freed using a Str or Ag test on their Turn.

 

Hit 1 on Traveller:

5+12 = 17 -AV5(9-Pen4) - TB8 = 4 Wounds suffered assuming no Dodge.

 

Hit 2 on Svelk:

9+12 = 21 -AV7(11-Pen4) - TB8 = 6 Wounds suffered assuming no Dodge.

 

Please make Dodge roll and, if failed, a second Ag test to avoid being immobilised.

[Commissar Molotov]

The Traveller: Dodge Test

AG54: 89 (FAIL)

4 Wounds suffered (Now at 19/23)

Immobilised

 

As the Traveller's alien blade cleaves through the Battle-Sister, he feels rather than sees the penitent dreadnought shifting its position away from the bulk of the Kill-Team. He brings up the sword almost instinctively - but parrying is futile, and the shock-flails wrap around its hissing blade, threatening to pull it from his iron grip.

Edited December 14, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Beren]

Squad Alpha

 

 

Dodge Test (Ag 44)

d100: 26

 

 

Svelk saw the Battle Sister swivel in a desperate attempt to bring her Bolter to bear as he plummeted towards her. Too slow. Far too slow.

 

He didn't land in front of her. He lands beside her, kneeling, as the pick-head of his axe-rake arcs into her helm and his mometum carries the blow forwards until the Sororitas' head is yanked back at a neck-breaking speed to crash into the floor. 

 

The air is slpit by the sound of a furious bellow. The thunder of mechanical footfalls lumbering towards him. He twists his torso to look, then wheels around to duck under the arc of as the flail whirls just over his head.

[Machine God]

Squad Alpha

 

(Free Action) Draak holstered his Bolt Pistol and mag-locked Grendel to the top of his backpack.

 

(Full Action) Draak made the sign of the cog with both hands, he then bent down and retrieved the Control Pad for the Mortifier from the belt of the dead Sister Superior.

 

Draak grips the controls in his right hand whilst his more dexterous left hand examines it. Drank remembers his tutelage at the hands of the Techmarines and once at the will of the Iron-Father of his Clan. Draak bends his head towards the device reverently as if he is praying.

 

"All things are the creation of the Omnissiah of Mars from the humble candle to the Battleships of the Imperial Navy! You must guide and seek to control that spark of the Omnissiah's essence in its wanderings through the galaxy. It is powerful and yet it is a fickle thing, if it is not controlled properly it can even think and that is anathema!"

 

"Seek to abide by the sacred dogma of control and operation. For those things that are not created whole or are copies of the Sacred Templates of Construction extra special care must be observed."

 

Draak examined all sides of the pad and he noted the controls in the flowery gothic script used by the Witches of Vandire. He noted the buttons and dials, he knew what it was supposed to control and to what levels and thresholds the Mortifier could be pushed.

 

INT44 + Tech Use+10 + 10 (Exceptional Bionic Hand) = 64. Result: 14, Pass 5DoS

 

Using the control pad Draak switched off the Mortifier.

 

(Edit: typo)

Edited December 14, 2021 by Machine God

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

+++STRUCTURED TIME ENDS+++

 

The effect on the Mortifier's occupant is instantaneous and obvious. The machine rears up in shock at the sudden absence of torturous, excruciating pain. It staggers and its heavily damaged legs finally give way, tipping the torso to lie on its back on the flagstones with the Sarcophagus facing up. The arms twitch in sympathy with the ragged nerve endings of the victim within, but move no more than that.

 

"Ags, Ags!"

 

In the minutes that the combat lasted, Toks had taken shelter beneath the protective wings and sturdy stone plinth of the angelic statue. He can hardly be blamed for this, as bringing a lasgun to a bolter fight seems a sure way to get oneself killed. But while in hiding he has obviously been thinking about the late Sister Carlina's words, and seems to have worked out who was being tortured even as they were forced to try to kill you. He races over to the fallen engine and begins scrabbling for some way to access the interior. After a moment he looks up.

 

"We've got to get her out of here!"

 

No one seems inclined to help.

 

"It wasnt her fault!" he yells. Then he pauses and looks around again, speaking more calmly. "She knows this place better than anyone living, and most dead. If the rest are really on their way back, you'll need her help!"

 

***

[Black Cohort]

+Is there any value left in her life?  Or are we best to simply loot whatever we can of value from this place and destroy the rest?+

[Necronaut]

Squad Alpha

Vesalius lowered his boltgun and watched the human, Toks, claw at the chassis of the Mortifier sarcophagus like a rat in search of a Pavlovian treat. He smiled a bloodless, thin-lipped smile within his helm. The man's wiry muscles worked frantically under his old, leathery skin as he pried ineffectually at the adamantine plating, threatening to tear his finger nails out in the process. Soon, soon... let us see what secrets this pain-engine holds first...

The squad of Astartes had emerged from the brief sortie with only a smattering of light wounds, impressive considering they had been thrust into close-quarters combat with a heavily armed and armored combat walker. In fact, only Vesalius had emerged unscathed from the hail of bolter-fire, burning prometheum and melee weaponry. The life-runes of his injured squad-mates pulsed an angry orange in his HUD, and he keyed the inputs on his narthecium to prepare for his primary task as their medic. A few more scars in the name of the cause, but such was the life of an outlaw, a corsair. Talek Varn certainly had an eye for talent, or perhaps just bloody-minded determination.

+Well done, Draak. I wish to retract my objectionable sentiments from earlier. My... humors were not in balance.+ he drawled over the squad-vox.

He surveyed the scene of carnage that the Kill-Team had wrought in the scant minutes since arriving within the chamber. Then, turning to regard the skull-adorned techmarine, he said mellifluously, +Ithan, shall we open the shell? I'm curious to see the inner-workings of their contraption. There is much we might learn... that and the human can have his precious woman.+

The apothecary tested the fit of his knife in its scabbard. The blade slid out whisper-quiet on the heavily waxed leather before he returned it to its resting place. It was ill-omened to sheathe a blade unbloodied. A chirurgeon should honor his implements, as they were his livelihood. Perhaps it was time for his combat blade to have a name of its own? Something which one of Varn's tech-slaves could etch onto the naked steel in High Gothic letters.

'Scalpel,' I should think. Or perhaps 'Lancet?'

His smile deepened as he emerged from his place of cover and nonchalantly sauntered over towards the pain-engine for a closer inspection. And to attend to the wounds of his charges.

Soon enough...

Because I'm a masochist and love rolling LOTS of dice & copy/pasting in LOTS of bbcode, here are the Medicae tests to apply first-aid to wounded squad-mates:

Medicae (First-Aid)
Int52 + 20 (Narthecium) + 10 (Diagnostor Helm) + 10 (Talented: Medicae) = Int92
Traveller:
Medicae (first aid): 1d100 73
73 -- success, 1 DoS
First Aid: 2x(Int Mod = 5) + 1D5 (Enhanced Healing)
Enhanced Healing: 1d5 3
2x5 + 3 = 13 wounds healed

Svelk:
Medicae (first aid): 1d100 73
73 -- success, 1 DoS
First Aid: 2x(Int Mod = 5) + 1D5 (Enhanced Healing)
Enhanced Healing: 1d5 5
2x5 + 5 = 15 wounds healed

Decimus:
Medicae (first aid): 1d100 77
77 -- success, 1 DoS
First Aid: 2x(Int Mod = 5) + 1D5 (Enhanced Healing)
Enhanced Healing: 1d5 2
2x5 + 2 = 12 wounds healed

Odysseus:
Medicae (first aid): 1d100 20
20 -- success, 8 DoS
First Aid: 2x(Int Mod = 5) + 1D5 (Enhanced Healing)
Enhanced Healing: 1d5 3
2x5 + 3 = 13 wounds healed

Draak:
Medicae (first aid): 1d100 63
63 -- success, 2 DoS
First Aid: 2x(Int Mod = 5) + 1D5 (Enhanced Healing)
Enhanced Healing: 1d5 3
2x5 + 3 = 13 wounds healed

Ithan:
Medicae (first aid): 1d100 19
19 -- success, 8 DoS
First Aid: 2x(Int Mod = 5) + 1D5 (Enhanced Healing)
Enhanced Healing: 1d5 4
2x5 + 4 = 14 wounds healed

Yes, the healing rolls were probably unnecessary on account of Vesalius's int modifier plus the 2x healing from his narthecium. No, I don't care. This should take 6 "rounds" of elapsed time to treat the entire squad.

Edit: thanks for the name suggestion, Machine God!

Edited December 20, 2021 by Necronaut

[Machine God]

Squad Alpha

 

+Well done, Draak. I wish to retract my objectional sentiments from earlier. My... humors were not in balance.+ Draak heard Vesalius state over the vox.

 

+No apologies are needed Vesalius+ replied Draak whilst he passed the control pad to Ithan +You can have this honoured Techmarine, better to be safe than sorry+ he joked.

 

+Brother Decimus, would you care to assist me in providing overwatch whilst we wait for Vesalius and Ithan to do their deeds and relevant questioning from The Traveller?+ said Draak as he took up a firing stance and watched over the exit doorway.

 

+We should after all stay on high alert, no doubt this place is full of augur skulls telling the Sisters that we are still alive. Also the Tech-Thralls that herded the Mortifier ran out to fetch reinforcements+

 

A little while later after he had been healed by Vesalius, Draak said +Thanks to your superlative medicae skills I am now in optimum health+

 

 

 

Edited December 20, 2022 by Machine God
Tidy up

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

Ithan nods affably as Vesalius tends his wounds.

 

"My thanks, brother Healer. And yes, I'm sure it should be simple enough to unlock, now it isn't trying to kill us, that is."

 

With a grin he walks over to the Mortifier, stopping on the way to accept the control device from Draak and then looming over Toks.

 

"Stand aside, mortal."

 

The Techmarine carefully looks over the sarcophagus, in particular examining the hidden joints where the casket and the lid are fixed together. He frowns, whistling tunelessly, then talks quietly with his skulls for a moment. Finally he nods. The servo arm that carries his shearhook moves closer and closer, whirring and flexing like a living thing. A high pitched whine escapes from it, then a seemingly unimportant section along the edge of the lid buckles outward, manipulated by unseen but powerful gravitic forces. The hook moves to another location, with a similar result, then another, then a fourth.

 

"That ought to do it," Ithan asserts smugly. He inserts the butt end of his long handled chain axe into one of the ragged holes he has created, then leans almost casually against the makeshift lever. With a loud creak, the sarcophagus lid is pushed up and out.

 

Within the narrow case a barely conscious woman lies, held in place by several chains. She wears a ribbed leotard that covers her thin, athletic form from neck to toes - such as one might wear beneath power armour - but her head is covered by an archaic looking visor. Ithan reaches down and easily tears out the chains and removes the mask. With remarkable care he lifts Agnatha out and lays her before Toks. She is an older woman, hard-faced and stern even in repose. Not beautiful by any means, but perhaps handsome? To an Astartes, such things matter not at all. Toks seems thrilled, however, gently pulling a strand of gray-white hair from where it lies across Agnatha's face.

 

"You are both fortunate they were in a hurry to get her in, mortal," Ithan intones solemnly. "It seems to me based on these fittings that the normal procedure would be to implant the subject surgically. Much harder to remove, and most likely kill them doing it. What think you, brother Healer?"

 

Before Vesalius can approach to give a medical opinion, from Draak's position at the top of the stairs, closest to being above ground level once more, the squad vox link flares to intermittent life.

 

+++..oks.. co.. in, To… Answ… oody… vox! They… oming!+++

 

***

[Machine God]

Squad Alpha

 

Draak boosts the signal that he hears over the vox so that the rest of the squad can hear +++..oks.. co.. in, To… Answ… oody… vox! They… oming!+++

 

+It appears that Bobs has incoming+ stated Draak nonchalantly.

 

+++Bobs can you gives us numbers? Is it the Sisters from Rolling Rocks?+++

[Beren]

Svelk watches the war-engine topple and fall, and then sees why. n uncommon burst of lauhter is heard across the vox.

 

+++That was a well-chosen tactic Devestator.+++

 

Without any further words, he crouches as he begins to inspect the fallen sisters for salvagable equipment, keeping his ears aware. As the vox crackles, he straightens up.

 

+++No time to linger. We loot when they're dead. All of them.+++

[Lysimachus]

Squad Alpha:

 

+++Where is Toks? I've been trying to get through to you for a half hour or more!+++

 

The Ratling's voice is surprisingly gruff for such a small frame.

 

+++Aye, it's them. Five, repeat five, black Rhino hulls. Looks like they left one behind to clean up at Rolling Rocks... or maybe it got knocked out by the explosions? Anyway, they're coming up fast, I reckon you've got twenty minutes max before they're coming back through their front door.+++

 

***

[Trokair]

Beta

 

Brynjarr nodded in acknowledgment as he got up.

 

“Your actions were not your own.”

 

Lingering weariness encumbering his movements, as the others examined the charred remains of the interrogator Brynjarr hang back, put his helmet back on and surveing the other prisoners.

 

 

Perception Test – Lang might be our quarry, but that is no reason to dismiss the others, just in case.

Per: 60

D100: 63, Fail, 0 DoF – I guess Brynjarr is still too weary.

[Mazer Rackham]

Beta:

 

Brynjarr shook off his lingering lethargy as Radago stood over the corpse.  Orphiel merely gave a deferential nod in acceptance of the apology, even though no Absolution was necessary.  He carefully reloaded Charybdis before holstering the pistol, stooping, snatching up the Inferno pistol and admiring it.

 

He laid his right hand on Brynjarr's pauldron as his left hand gripped the weapon.  +Well met.  We will speak more of this later.+

 

He stretched out his arm, and fired at the main hasp-lock of the door, reducing it to boiling, white-metal and ceramic slurry.  He wordlessly handed the weapon to the Breacher, before yanking on the prison bars, shearing the remaining bolts he knew would be there.

 

+Prisoner.  Stand and approach the door.  Present yourself for inspection.  Name and Number.+

 

The shaking, gaunt man stepped forward, his reek of ordure blissfully rebuffed by Orphiel's sealed armour.

 

"Lang sir, 244423."

 

+Good.+

 

Orphiel's head slammed forward, robbed of any real power but enough to crunch down onto Lang's forehead.  A crack of cartilage and splat of battered flesh smeared Orphiel's casque.  The man dropped like a felled doe, and Orphiel siezed the prison fatigues, hauling Lang around like a sack of meat.

 

Let that be your lesson mortal.  Secrets are worthless when they are revealed.

 

He dragged the prisoner behind him.  He would leave the other prisoners for Radago - if he wished to take out his frustration, that was not Orphiel's concern.

 

Time to leave.

[Trokair]

Beta
 

Accepting the Pistol Brynjarr scrutinized it for a moment before stowing it securely.

 

Orphiel's subduing of Lang caused a moment of concern, while effective, a less risky method could surly have worked, a concussion would be unfortunate.

 

++Holger, time to bring in the shuttle, area and prize secured.++

 

Bolter raised, covering the other cells, least one of the other prisoners got any idea, he followed behind.

Edited December 15, 2021 by Trokair

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

As you drag the recumbent Lieutenant back past the cells and through the stockade, Holger appears. He looks at Lang with a raised eyebrow, but does not question his condition any further.

 

"The shuttle is waiting on the pad, my lords."

 

Then the little man steps quickly into the holding area and raises his voice so all the occupants can hear.

 

"I am going to open the rest of these doors in a moment. The Arbitrators will be sending someone to investigate their compatriots' silence very soon, and I suspect that anyone found here when they arrive will not be treated kindly. I suggest your best chance is in getting as far away from here as you can, as quickly as you can."

 

With that he pulls a lever by the entrance and from each cell door there is a loud click as locking mechanisms are released. Then he turns and hurries to catch up with you. He speaks again, his voice returning to a near whisper.

 

"I doubt any of them will make it more than a few miles. But it is better for us if all the prisoners are gone. No witnesses to interview and an empty prison muddies the waters as to who attacked and who they took away. I have already taken the liberty of erasing all footage from the security picter logs." He grins. "The storm is beginning to blow itself out, but there should still be cover enough to get us back to Dex's landing pad without anyone knowing we left."

 

***

[Machine God]

Squad Alpha

 

Draak eventually located the Strategium cogitators. Using his recordings of Cannoness Theodora held within Eisen he commanded and controlled it.

 

 

INT44 + Tech Use +10 + 10 (Exceptional Bionic Hand) + 64. Result: 12, Pass 5DoS

 

"I Cannoness Theodora do at this time hence forth change all my passwords to (Draak / Theodora's voice changes to Medusan) Telstarax. Telstarax - I now turn off all Anti-Air Defences and Automated Defences" commanded Draak.

 

 

Edited December 20, 2022 by Machine God

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

The flight back to Hive Tertius is uneventful compared to the harrowing journey out. Though there is still an abundance of metallic ash in the air, the wind has died and so the snowlike flakes are falling gently back towards the surface.

 

The shuttle touches down lightly on the landing pad and it does not take long for the crewmen from the Dagger Thrust to return, having enjoyed a few hours of 'shore leave' hosted by Dex. They bring with them a large pile of crates and boxes 'gifted' by Dex's suppliers. Ostensibly this is to tie in with the cover story concocted earlier for the shuttle to come planetside. More likely, the pilots saw an opportunity to actually gain some favour with the rest of the Dagger's crew, but such ingenuity is largely beneath your concern.

 

What would concern you however, if you had seen it, is what happens while the cases are being transferred into the hold. A small shadowy shape detaches itself from the pipework that runs into the Hive and resolves into a figure that casually joins the crew of dockers doing the loading. The figure climbs aboard the shuttle with a heavy box in its arms... but does not come out again.

 

***

[Mazer Rackham]

Beta:

 

As the crewmen loaded their newfound 'booty' Orphiel made for a quiet spot to make temporary repairs on his plate.  He'd suffered a few wounds in the weak spots, and wanted to make sure that he was properly sealed in case of void rupture, or Throne forbid a ditch into the ash waste.

 

He was annoyed at Lang, but more at himself for the headbutt. Brynjarr had noticed it, the cant of his helm and roll of his shoulder, followed by peering at the Lieutenant was silence enough to speak volumes.  Even if that wretched fool had it coming.

 

That the imbecile had caused the deaths of innocent men and women was an excuse - and as unworthy as it was puerile.  Perhaps it was more the frustration of the position Orphiel was in, the decision he must face.  Some good came of this operation though, recruiting Dex and resolving a power struggle was done well.  Just as the repair cement was smeared onto the armour to cure and harden, Beta had patched that up too, although only time would tell if that repair would set properly.

 

There was also some small compensation to be had from his outburst.  For a man with too loose a mouth, battering Lang insensate would slow down his interrogation.

 

He pouted in thought, he was loathe to handle that - possibly leave it to Holger.  Maybe even Radago S'ynek.  A swipe with a rag cloth cleared the grit, blood and snot from the Maximus helm.

 

No, Orphiel would recuse himself, use the bloody encounter as an excuse to think, plan.  He took the precious time to top off his magazines, save for the special ammunition, and realised that despite his superhuman physique he was mentally exhausted.  Just as ragged as Brynjarr or Radago perhaps.  He sent a locator ping to them so they would know he was aboard, and locked his armour, magboots thumping onto the metal deck.

 

Settled, he cycled his catalepsean node, dropping into rumination and half-sleep.

[Lysimachus]

Squad Beta:

 

The shuttle powers up through the atmosphere towards the blackness of space. Two members of your team stand with Holger among the crates in the hold. Orphiel is close by, maglocked and resting in the half-doze offered by his Astartes enhancements. As you rise past the highest levels of the Hive spire, a vox link is connected from the Dagger Thrust still far above you. It is Achard.

 

"Shuttle Beta, it is good to see you returning so quickly. Have you been able to secure what we needed?"

 

Holger looks down at where Lang lies chained to a plasteel cargo ring. He is still comatose, but seems to be breathing passably well through his broken nose.

 

"Indeed, Captain," he smiles. "A successful trip all round. We should be in orbit in a few minutes, and ready to come aboard soon after. Please begin making preparations to get under way as soon as possible."

 

As the shuttle continues to rise, the sky outside darkens. Finally the vessel breaks free of the confining atmosphere. As gravity fails, Holger begins to float upwards from the deck. Without conscious thought, he calmly reaches out to anchor himself on a handrail. But from a shadowed corner of the hold, there is a sudden, stifled yelp and the sound of something scrabbling against one of the large crates.

 

***

 

Please feel free to roll an Awareness Test or just react narratively!

[Trokair]

Beta
 

Back in the shadow of the Hive the shuttle’s door opened with a clunk as it hit the decking. Across the way the door was open and the shuttle crew stood waiting amongst their own spoils of the day.

 

Stepping out onto the platform Brynjarr stayed close to the shuttle, it would be bad enough if their activity was observed, but worse if any observer spotted an Astartes Power Armour. It was a risk he had to take however, as the shuttle had taken a battering during their earlier flight, and any issue or damage could turn nasty once in orbit.

 

Two crewman had also started to inspect the shuttle, the regular pilot was just as cautious, the more eyes the better. Several minutes later, as the last of the crates where loaded Brynjar stepped back into the shuttle, satisfied that the damage was largely cosmetic and in any case not critical. Taking a position in a recess overlooking the doors he awaited take off.

 

With the shuttle’s door closing, and the landing pads entrance likewise Brynjarr just caught sight of some onlooker inside the hive. Some of Dex’s men no doubt, they had probably helped carry the supplies. Had they seen him? It would be a security risk, but on the other hand, if they were Dex’s men they might keep quiet so as to not annoy Dex, and association with Astartes should raise Dex standing within the underworld community. Too late to do anything about it now.

 

 

Awarness Test

Per:60

D100: 22, Pass, 3 DoS

 

The lessening of Viorda Prime’s pull as they ascended was a welcome prospect. Planets disagreed with Brynjarr and while he knew that the majority of humanity lived in such a bound environment it still seemed folly to the Voidborn.

 

He had already habitually engaged the maglock when he noticed the crew bracing and anchoring themselves as they finally escaped the planets clutches. All that is apart from one, judging by the startled scramble. Fresh blood on the crew? Or had they drunk a bit too much at Dex’s expense? Either way and with bolter raised Brynjarr moved in to investigate.

Edited December 16, 2021 by Trokair

[Commissar Molotov]

As the Penitent Machine collapses into lifelessness, the Traveller gropes about himself, removing the tight embrace of the sinuous shock-flails and re-sheathing the hissing alien blade.

 

As the Techmarine and the mortals deal with the former Palatine, the snout of the Traveller's corvus-pattern helm hides his sneer. He has fought arco-flagellants before and knows that the wretches consigned to such a fate are usually mind-wiped and reduced to drooling idiots.

 

As the Ratling announces the imminent arrival of the Battle-Sisters, the Traveller stands, ready to fight once more against these zealots.