[OW/X - Tau]: Operation Fireknife (IC Thread)

[Beren]

Targykex briefly returns the gesture. Kroot are kroot, regardless of the Tau's interference. He breaks eye contact, turning his head back again to the Shas'O.

 

"The planet's ecosphere, what is known of it? What else other than the flat-faces live there?"

[Machine God]

'Flat-Faces indeed you stupid Bird' thought Tony Keys, whilst he scratched his nose. The Tau are the flat-

 

< Shock > "Ow! All hail The Greater Good, for the Tau'Va!" yelped Tony as his psycho conditioning kicked in.

 

"Oorah, for the Tau'Va!" sang Tony. "So here we are magnificent viewers, just getting ready to head off on this noble rescue mission to rescue a fair maiden from the savages of the Gue'La! A sure thing, guaranteed by our sponsor Brightsun Pulse Rifles for all your firepower needs. This is Tony Keys signing off, remember always walk softly, but carry a big stick!"

 

"I'll see you at the Bird, after I've been to the Armoury" said Tony. "For the Tau'Va!"

[Mazer Rackham]

"The planet's ecosphere, what is known of it? What else other than the flat-faces live there?"

 

O'Mal'Caor looks up, not fazed at all by the disparaging term.  "There are species of land-dwelling animals adapted for the different terrains.  The Northern Hemisphere is hot, given over to barren tracts.  Here are found beasts Gue'La call Mukaali.  It is suspected some are tame, but our reports indicate wild herds roam the wastes, where storms plague the traveller with boiling rain."

 

He points to another zone.  "Towards the equatorial zone are tropical forests, large arboreal mammals and a fresher wind."

 

"In the ramshackle cities," he moves hand through the holographic world, fingers stabbing a zone not 20 Tor'kan from the crash site.  "There is animal husbandry, so creatures called Grox."

 

"To the south, more temperate climes and the only large bodies of water, where the land blends to the southern polar cap."

 

"Other than that - wild dogs in the desert, wild cats in the forest, dangerous carnivore in the icelands."

 

++++++++++++

 

The Shas'O looks at the Gue'Vesa'Ui, his face unsettled in a quizzical expression, holding it until everyone cleared the briefing room. He slowly shook his head at what had been done to the human.  Unnecessary.

 

The Greater Good called for such things.  The duty and purpose were his only solace in a galaxy of madness and loss.

Edited January 18, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

The Orca sits with thick umbilical cables tumbling down from the ceiling of the launch bay.  Slender Kor personnel move lithely across the deck in loose groups, their shoulder flashes marking them as crews for the dropships and support craft.  The Barracuda pilots are apart, solo profiles in their flying suits, complete with lightweight combat armour.  the hiss of pressure seals rasping closed are rapidly replaced by clarion calls across the wide berths holding the vessels.

 

"Kor'kokuu Bo'kan - prepare for deployment of mission craft."

 

Drones zoom by with attached crates of weapons, the small arming pennants fluttering as the Seeker Missiles are hurried into position under the fuselages of the Barracudas.  The Fire Warrior support team are close by, lurking at the back of the hangar, watching you all carefully - especially the Kroot.  Glances are exchanged before the Shas'Ui in charge of the detail approaches the assembled team.

 

"Who has the honour of command in this...team?"

 

The Shas'vre identifies himself, and the Shas'ui bows in respect as he passes across a datacube and holotablet.  Both glow with red light, suggesting to those in the know, this is a secured, classified information packet.  The two warriors stride off a small distance, their hurried dialogue camoflaged by the noise of the flight deck, before the Shas'ui returns, ushering you onwards.

 

"Load up," he urges.

 

Behind him, the Barracudas lurch forward on the gravitic catapults, before igniting their drives, burning cool blue ion trails as their engines dart out into the blackness above Perdition.

 

The marble of the world seems far away, but as the Orca's gimballed thrusters swivel, you know it will not take long to get there.

 

Once you are all inside, the hatch closes, and the bright white light of the inner cabin gives way to Gue'la arterial red.  Each of you are shadows cast in red and black, staring across the troop bay.  Beneath you the odd vertigo as the gravity catapult bumps you upwards in your restraints, before your harnesses grip and pinch your chests and shoulders, hurtling you onward as the noise of the plasma engines rattles up to full burn, a gentle shake the only tell-tale sign you are under the sway of the void, and the artificial gravity generators of the dropship keeping you upright.

 

The blast windows are closed for the whole trip, maintaining the integrity of the vessel should it come under attack.

 

Long moments pass, outside on the hull you can just hear the rattle and tap of debris, perhaps ancient space dust, or maybe debris from the ambushed Emissary craft.

 

Then the terrible thump, as though the Orca has punched through something presages the sudden swell of heated air filling the cabin.  The Orca shakes violently, rattling from side to side, with equipment in the stowage boxes breaking free as the vessel lifts and drops, twisting and turning enough to make even the most hardened battlesuit pilot ready to vomit through their monoteeth, harnesses or not.

 

The pilot's voice comes through the microbeads in your helms, ears or jewelled fetishes.

 

"Just turbulence," he says, a smirk wrapping the words, "gear down in ten Rai'kor."

 

He's as good as his word, although the air continues to buffet the ship, you can hear the engine intakes meant to suck in atmospheric gases and convert it into additional thrust choking on something.  Long experience of life on your different worlds suggests thick clods of sand are being churned by the drive engines, and with the altitude rapidly dwindling, you are forced to ignore the strike of bigger particles, slamming off the cowling like bullets.

 

Then suddenly, there's a lift, hauling you up as though yanked into the air.  A grind of hydraulics are met with the crunch of grit and gravel beneath the landing gear and the harnesses break open, freeing you to greet the crack of yellow-brown light and the swirl of dusty air now entering the troop bay.

 

Welcome to Perdtion.

 

The players are free to take over form here for a bit, with free reign over what they can see and detect, as well as how they suffered - or didn't during the descent.  The area you've landed in is a sand-clogged hole in the desert wastes of northern Perdition, one full Tor'kan (kilometre) south from the emergency transponder signal origin.  All your tech gear would let you know this.  Above you, reach the foothills of a mountain range designated Albor Tholum in the gue'la tongue.  The White Mountains.

Edited January 23, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Beren]

Inside the Orca hull, Targykex waits for another member of their party to step out first. Seeing them do so, and not immediately get shot to bits or devoured by something lurking in the sand, he immediately scampers out, clawed feet kicking up sand. The fluerescent markings on his hide, which had been glaring in the darkness of the Orca's hold, have already faded away and in moments the hide has taken on a mottled colour matching the sand.

 

"Securing perimeter," he croaks as he scuttles away, eyes on the horizon as he sniffs at the air.

[Mazer Rackham]

Targykex:

 

The scents on the dry, arid air are mix of many things.  Burned metal, animal dung and stale mammalian sweat.  The hot sand beneath your feet barely covers the rocky scarp that the Orca squats upon, and the small detail that accompanied your strange brood has spilled out into the waste to form a perimeter around the deployment hatch.  You can see them sweep the horizon, sealed helmets full of the Tau technology rendering them oblivious to the scents talking to you.

 

Otherwise, there is nothing much to be observed, beyond the miles of wastes being scoured by sandblasting winds, and the majestic white peaks of the mountains.

 

Monat:

 

You will need a pilot test (Ag) due to weather conditions, but since your Stealthsuit is chunki, you will get a +10.  Fail by 4 or more DoF results in +100m off target per DoF.  You do not take fall damage, as your jetpack will prevent this.

Edited January 23, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Pilot Test

AG: 49 + 10 = 59

D100: 39, Pass, 2 DoS

 

 

"Just turbulence," The Orca pilot informs them over the ship intercom, "gear down in ten Rai'kor."

 

“Preparing for scouting drop” Monat advised the cockpit as she released the safety restraints holding her suit in place. As the suits own jump pack came online, even at low power, it helped to compensate for the turbulence, acting to stabilize the suit as she walk over to the hatch.

 

Linking into the ships system she kept a careful eye on their altitude, it was still too high to safely deploy, but at the rate they where descending it would not be long.

 

The hatches opening let in the howl of the storm outside, accompanied by grit, dust and other particulates wiped up by the wind. The same were responsible for the half light of the false twilight that is all too common under such atmospheric disturbance.

 

Once the suit systems confirmed full readiness Monat stepped out, thrusters engaged. As the Orca fell away below her she angled the suit away from the expected landing zone, so that on touchdown she be several hundred meters away ready to scout and secure the area, protecting one flank.

 

By the time Monat’s fee touched the ground the Orca was already unloading it’s cargo. She could not see them deploy but the positional markers of the squad was dispersing from the transport.

 

Surveying the desert around her Monat found nothing much yet bejond the expected, sand and hardy local flora growing here and there.

 

Signaling the squad coms ones to acknowledge her position and status she engaged the suits stealth field and headed out.

Edited January 25, 2022 by Trokair

[Machine God]

Tony had gotten inside the Orca, strapped himself and his gear up tight in preparation for the 'Fun.'

 

"For the Tau'Va! My excellent viewers, here we are in an Orca about to make insertion or planetfall. Going Down to meet the natives, from space in free fall and then into the gravity well of the planet that wants to give us a big hug. Insertion is like when you drop a stone into a pond, although of course the Orca has got control avionics and big jet engines to enable us to survive the fall. This broadcast is brought to you courtesy of Omnicron Jewelery for all your home fashion needs! I will keep the feed open all the way down."

 

Tony Keys mumbled some prayers to the Omnissiah to guide the Orca safely.

 

Once you are all inside, the hatch closes, and the bright white light of the inner cabin gives way to Gue'la arterial red.  Each of you are shadows cast in red and black, staring across the troop bay.  Beneath you the odd vertigo as the gravity catapult bumps you upwards in your restraints, before your harnesses grip and pinch your chests and shoulders, hurtling you onward as the noise of the plasma engines rattles up to full burn, a gentle shake the only tell-tale sign you are under the sway of the void, and the artificial gravity generators of the dropship keeping you upright.

 

The blast windows are closed for the whole trip, maintaining the integrity of the vessel should it come under attack.

 

Long moments pass, outside on the hull you can just hear the rattle and tap of debris, perhaps ancient space dust, or maybe debris from the ambushed Emissary craft.

 

Tony's voice begins to rise in expectation, "Here we go viewers, Express Elevator, Going Down!"

 

Then the terrible thump, as though the Orca has punched through something presages the sudden swell of heated air filling the cabin.  The Orca shakes violently, rattling from side to side, with equipment in the stowage boxes breaking free as the vessel lifts and drops, twisting and turning enough to make even the most hardened battlesuit pilot ready to vomit through their monoteeth, harnesses or not.

 

"Woooooooooooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Tony yells with insane glee.

 

The pilot's voice comes through the microbead in Tony's helm and then into the broadcast.

 

"Just turbulence," he says, a smirk wrapping the words, "gear down in ten Rai'kor."

 

He's as good as his word, although the air continues to buffet the ship, you can hear the engine intakes meant to suck in atmospheric gases and convert it into additional thrust choking on something.  Long experience of life on your different worlds suggests thick clods of sand are being churned by the drive engines, and with the altitude rapidly dwindling, you are forced to ignore the strike of bigger particles, slamming off the cowling like bullets.

 

Then suddenly, there's a lift, hauling you up as though yanked into the air.  A grind of hydraulics are met with the crunch of grit and gravel beneath the landing gear and the harnesses break open, freeing you to greet the crack of yellow-brown light and the swirl of dusty air now entering the troop bay.

 

Welcome to Perdtion.

 

"Again, again, let's go again! Excuse me viewer's what a rush that is. Now the Firewarrior squad will leave and establish a perimeter and our Kroot friends will have a scout around for breakfast."

 

The firewarriors left by an exterior hatch as did one of the Kroot, Tony watched him jump down onto the sands outside as Tony strapped a scarf about his mouth.

 

"See there the big male Kroot, he's leaving. Notice how his bright green markings are fading as he adapts to the terrain."

 

'Urgh' Tony grimaces unconsciously, remembering his past lives.

 

"Securing perimeter," squawked Targykex.

 

Tony began to unstrap himself and wait for further intel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited March 18, 2023 by Machine God
Typo

[BadgersinHills]

The descent to the planet, even the chaos, would have been tolerable to the huntress had it not been for Tony's exclamations and commentary. Her quills bristled with quiet irritation. Whether the human's mind had been altered or he was simply the way he was, Jaq'Arn found it deeply annoying.

 

Ah, but this was the way with humans. Peculiar creatures, but strong and intelligent nonetheless.

 

"Very edible", she thought, though she had learned the humans did not think that their status as the food of the Kroot was the compliment she meant it as. Yet another oddity that Jaq'Arn had learned about in her travels.

 

Stepping out of the Orca, Jaq'Arn smelled the dry air, noting the mixture of scents. Watching the Fire Warriors secure the perimeter, she moved to join them in establishing a secure perimeter.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Shas'la perform as expected, taking up positions behind low outcrops, pressing their bodies flat into the hot sands as the wind scours the desert surface.  Similar to the dust on Tau, or her sister planets in the Communion, the matt, dusky colour is an ochre cloud, depositing and whisking away layers of fine grit with every gust.  Truly, the desert understands the nature of transience, of change.  Perhaps you dwell on what could lie buried out here, long forgotten.

 

As strongly as the winds blew, they cease, changing speed and direction, carrying your own scents downwind - burned, alchemical fumes.  The entry of an unnatural beast to this place.

 

"Shas'Ui!" the pilot calls from the cockpit, his voice a sibilant echo across the comm-beads.

 

Evan as he speaks, two of the Kor Caste are busy, carrying a long roll of material that shifts and shimmers, adapting splotches and sinuous lines mimicking the nearest dunes.  They spread the cameoloid fabric over the dropship, pegging the flap edges down into the bedrock, where the staves will hold.  The metal-on-metal clink and ping of the rods striking true are joined as the Drones that flew down with you power up with a soft pulse, and float out into the desert sun, solar chargers absorbing the plentiful power.

 

The Pilot speaks again.  "We have a friendly signal, but it is intermittent."

 

The Shas'Ui beckons to Kyosha and her attendant drones, whilst handling a infantry multi-tracker.  He looks up at the Kroot-kin.

 

"How do you want to handle this?" his question is open, falling to the team.

[Machine God]

"Can't you use your drones to triangulate the position of the signal source?" asked Tony Keys.

[Mazer Rackham]

Tony Keys:

 

The Shas'Ui of the support unit nods once, his knotted brow pinching the olfactory chasm at the centre of his forehead.

 

"You speak true Gue'Vesa Kais.  We could quickly find lock the signal by networking our Kor'Vesa, but it will increase their electronic signature," he gives the Kroot and Pathfinder a glance.

 

"Normal tracking will be slower, but less obtrusive."

[Trokair]

A scuttling sound to the right gave Monat a moment’s pause, but then, as it moved again, she could see it. Some local fauna, adapted to the desert, all but hidden when still but betrayed by its silhouette as it moved. A reptilian of some sort maybe, as it had been basking in the meager sun that the lessening storm had unveiled. Now aware of its presence Monat keep an eye on it, in case there were more, alone it posed no apparent threat given its small size.  

 

In the distance the desert merged into the foothills of a mountain chain, and several hills in particular looked like they would provide excellent vantage points. Orbital scans were all good and useful, but not always the most practical once on the ground, transmitting the positional map reference back to the squad she added:

 

++Heading here.++ indicating one of the hills she thought was promising.

 

++Also, in case it is of interest to our Pech'vesa comrades, spotted some local fauna with chameleon properties, I know your species often hunt local fauna to help you adapt to a world.++   

[Mazer Rackham]

Monat

 

As you blast off the small creature licks the air with a long, sinuous tongue, blinking at the sudden flash from your jetpack.  It shies away, then cranes it's neck up at the bulky intruder flying away.  It does a strange dance on the sand, tapping alternate feet this way and that.

 

Beside it, a small head burst from the sand - in size it is similar to the other lizard.  It shrugs off the clutches of sand from its back before it joins it lizard-kin in the ritual.

 

Another head lifts, then another...

[Beren]

Targykex hisses in response to Monat's report.

 

This place was too open, too exposed. He didn't like it, and intended to keep well away from the easily noticabe portion of their group.

 

This however, was useful. New crypsis prey. A poor subsitute for the denizens of the gloomworld in all likelyhood, but a reprive nontheless. He s bounds towards the point where the Tau marked her sighting. Sees one of the lizards. Then another... and antoher. A true bounty then... though it wouldn't hurt to avoid getting too close.

 

The Kroot Hunter unslings his Krootbow from his back, sighting it across the cluster of posturing lizards. A moment later a buzzing hail of metal poisoned darts sprays its way towards the prey creatures.

[Mazer Rackham]

Targykex:

 

The creatures all look up at the predator suddenly on the horizon.  From their perspective, a giant colour-shifting chameleon maybe.  They taste the air, in the same manner as you do, sniffing, licking, then suddenly exploding into grey-red splatter as the arrows take a brace of them.  It is then you see the pack is substantial, at least two-dozen of the creatures begin to yip and hiss, running from the whispering terror you have unleashed upon them.

 

Not understanding how they are being killed instils a preternatural fear, and they scurry off, their camouflage almost making the hot sand a skittering uneven carpet.

 

Several corpses remain, some headless, others missing limbs or taken through the heart by your unerring archery.  You stand amid some rocks,  a goodly distance from the Tau combat team.  It wouldn't be too difficult to...explore the Path of Improvement at your leisure.

 

At least it will give you a full stomach for the trek ahead.  When the Tau decide on how they wish to proceed, that is.

 

Monat:

 

Your jetpack carries you up to the horizon in a tall leap.  The foothills face you on equal terms for a moment as the thrust in your back and shoulders draws you up.

 

Visibility is reasonable, and a carrion bird, peering down on the sandy carpet looking for prey, calls out to you in some manner of strange kinship, or perhaps challenge.  Maybe the Kroot-kin would understand it?

 

No matter.  Job first, sightseeing later.  Your HUD reels with yaw and pitch, giving you plenty of details to report to the team below.

 

Perception Test please Tro, 1 DoS = 1 tidbit of information.

 

Regards proceeding: It's up to you lads/ladies - you can vote on it, or discuss it in the OOC - Use Drones or Snort Pheromones?

Edited January 26, 2022 by Mazer Rackham

[Trokair]

Perception Test

Per 39:

D100: 09, Pass, 3 DoS

 

As Monat descended from the expletory leap onto solid ground, she begun replaying sensor data on the suits HUD, trying to pick up any additional details on the terrain ahead that might have escaped her notice during the leap. Collating it all into a report she sent it back to the squad in a short burst. The closer they got to the distress signal the more carful they should be not to give themselves away, electronically as well as physically.

 

The local fauna also needed an eye keeping on; the avian specimen might just have been disturbed by Monats passage and the turbulence in the air that she would have caucused, but it had been very focused on her actual position, as if it could see through the stealth field.  

 

For now it seemed best to continue on foot for a while, cycling down the jump thruster to minimal readiness she cautiously continued.

[Mazer Rackham]

Monat:

 

Your quick eyes and powerful sensors pick up the following:

• To the north in the mountains, a flash of sunlight on steel, or maybe glass
• To the west, in the swirling mist and sand, 12 Tor'Kan from your landing spot, is a small, walled town
• To the east, there seems to be an animal herd wandering the desert in column.  Flags and silks announce it some kind of nomadic tribe.  They are several Decs from intercepting any kind of tracking expedition heading into the mountains.

[Machine God]

+So what can we see out there?+ grumbled Tony Keys. +It's time to rescue the Princess and we're burning daylight!+

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited March 18, 2023 by Machine God
Tidy up

[Beren]

Targykex approaches the corpses cautiously, then slowly collects them and strings them from his belt.

[Machine God]

"So my magnificent viewers back in your luxury homes in the glorious Tau Empire, please be patient as we should be off soon on our rescue" said Tony Keys, hopefully he added mentally.

 

"This lull is colloquially known in military terms as 'Hurry up and wait' so in the meantime please be entertained by my humerous narration of the Gue'Vesa Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, that has been updated by the Ethereals. For the Tau'Va!"

 

"The Tau have a manifest destiny to bring enlightenment to the galaxy. Orks are stupid, brittle boned and feeble. Eldar are cowardly, cynical and sport archaic and ineffective weaponry. Tyranids are mindless, half blind and confused by sudden movements."

 

 

[Trokair]

According to the positional data the distress signal should be coming from just beyond the next ridge over.  Between there and Monat’ss position in the shadow of some rocks a little below the crest of the hill was a small valley and either a seasonal or dried up river bed winding its way along, extending east and westwards.

 

 

Checking the coms system as to the progress of the others she noticed positional markers of the others had barely moved beyond the landing site. What is going on back there?

 

++Shas’vre, closing in on target site, should I hold and wait for the rest of the team?++

[Machine God]

Boring, bored, bored, bored, Tony Keys thought. Join the Tau'Va they said it will be fun and you will see the glories of the Tau. Ha, it's just like being in the Imperial Guard! < Shock! >

 

"Ow!" said Tony, jumping off his seat. You're Recon, go scout! Tony's ego said.

 

+Monat what have you got for us? Report my excellent friend, the sooner we get this princess rescued the quicker we can go back for cakes and medals+ asked Tony excitedly, with Tau'Va slogans bouncing around his subconscious.

 

+How many dec's and in which direction? ETA for us GROPO's to get to your position?+ Tony asked urgently, as he exited the Orca and put away his flensing knife.

[Mazer Rackham]

The Shas'Vre presses a finger to his ear and suddenly looks up.

 

"We hear you, Shas'Ui Monat. Hold position and be our eyes and ears," he turned to the team.  "Network the drones.  The scout has the prey."

 

The team hurriedly stacks their gear and prepares to move out into the desert, assuming a loose column formation, pulse weapons pointing left and right, the small clutch of drones circling and whirling ahead, lights blinking and comms-chatter blurts in their wake.

 

As you wander forth into the shifting sands, the blurred shape of the Orca begins to merge into the background environment, the Shas'Ui guarding the landing zone gives you a wave as you set off.

[Trokair]

++Acknowledged++ Monat replied to the Shas’vre.

 

 

The human’s com discipline however seemed lax to Monat, did he not read the data she had sent back already? A horrible thought crept into her mind, was the human not able to read the tactical display or tau script? Surely if that was the case he would not have been selected to accompany then, surely. Thinking about it further the worry abated a bit, he was reporter for civilian media, and he was attached to a special operations mission, he must possess relevant and essential skills, surely.

 

How does the Gue’vesa saying go? ‘A picture is worth a thousand words.’ Well then some pictures it would be. Going back over the sensor data she had captured so far while planet side Monat selected some still frames, the town to the west, the nomads herd in the east, as well as and two short video clips showing the terrain she covered in her jump and a 180° pan of her current position.

 

 

Opening the coms again she transmitted the files for the human to see, adding:

 

++Lots of sand is what we have Tony Kais, a lot of sand.++

 

 

With the others now on the move Monat settled into a overwatch position, shifting occasionally to keep an eye on all directions.

 

Perception Test to remain vigilant

Per 39:

D100: 37, Pass, 0 DoS

Edited January 29, 2022 by Trokair