Deathwatch: Murderers in Black (IC Thread)

[Urauloth]

Váfri

 

Listening to the others discuss the matter of the Orks, Váfri realised two things. One was that he was still uncharacteristically quiet - the new knowledge in his head felt like it was still in motion, running like meltwater through rocks to settle into new rivers. It had kept him quite preoccupied. The second was that the situation was very straightforward, and there was an obvious course of action ahead of them. It appeared the Templar had seen it too.

 

"Seems simple," he said bluntly. "We have to wait for the Orks to hit the mines anyway. Nothing to do but train until then."

 

A smile crossed his face like a fracture spreading through an ice sheet. "But, once they're in closer... Watch-Captain, you want to test our new skills? See how well we hunt as a team? There's live prey at our door."

 

His case stated, he made for the training area again. He had picked up a chainblade from the practice cages, and he planned to put it through its paces. It was a simple model, with none of the craftsmanship or decoration of the blade he had once owned, but it still felt good to gun the motor and hear the chain snarl.  Perhaps, he thought, the Watch might issue him a sword when the Kill-team embarked for Dorgha. He would ask the Captain about it.

[Lysimachus]

Scene 5. A Not Unexpected Guest.

 

It is almost a day later. Even as you continue your training exercises - willingly or not - Skaayn has also given you access to Alucar IV's augur reports so that you can observe the Orkoid flotilla advancing. There are perhaps a half dozen ships of cruiser weight or above, some looted Imperial vessels and other, more crude efforts. They approach with all the pugnacious arrogance of their species, boldly sweeping towards the fourth planet.

 

However, despite the warning beacons at the Mandeville Point, it seems that they have not fully understand whose world it is that they are attacking. The Ork assault is soon stalled, effectively blunted by the world's highly advanced defences… just as Inquisitor Kine predicted. Ship after ship is either caught and obliterated outright by the hidden mines, or funnelled into kill-zones where the mighty guns of the orbital platforms can quickly finish them off.

 

Twenty-three hours and twelve minutes after the Orks first entered the Alucar system, a second alert interrupts your training. The Raptor pauses again to speak - somewhat irritably - with the Lord Inquisitor, but this time when he returns he seems much more relaxed. Grimly satisfied, even.

 

“One of the larger Ork ships - a Grand Cruiser, heavily reinforced with layers of ablative armour - managed to penetrate the minefield and reach high orbit for a few minutes before being destroyed. Our augurs detected several bulk landers that attempted to escape the wreck before it burned. Most were destroyed by our Skyspear and Icarus arrays before they could enter the atmosphere, but it appears that one made it through… scans suggest it took heavy fire and crash-landed in the mountains approximately 60 kloms southwest of our location. It is most likely that anything aboard was killed during the impact… but Lord Kine agrees that we must have confirmation. As you know, when it comes to the greenskins we cannot afford to make assumptions."

 

The Watch-Captain spits contemptuously on the cavern floor, and there is a brief hiss as the acidic saliva eats away at the bare rock.

 

“Damn foolishness that they were allowed to get through at all…”

 

Then he grins suddenly, an odd expression on his cold, pale features.

 

“... but it looks like your prayers have been answered and your training is about to get interesting. Gather what you need from the Armoury. You have a Seek & Destroy mission to complete.”

 

 

 

OOC: So, feel free to respond as you wish to this news. Then we will move on to Requisition for a first mission: investigating the crash and (possibly) dealing with any survivors. Each player will receive 15 Req to spend, and please remember you are at Renown: Initiated. As always, you can share the total amount of 135 Req between you if there is a more expensive item you wish to take. I will set up a Req spreadsheet in the Drive folder so everyone can see where we are on team spending. The items you select will be available from the Armoury/Forge area, which Zidemi can open up to the team.

 

Edited March 29 by Lysimachus

[Trokair]

Alda Ulfurbur

 

Alda caught herself daydreaming of open skies and shook her head to shake of the weariness. She would climb the tower later for some respite from the darkness stale air, but for now she should try and focus.

 

The hololith had been flickering to life again, another scene from the internal security system no doubt. Indeed, as the resolution dialled in and stabilised the scene resolved a gathering of the Einherjar, with Jarl Skaayn speaking. The Uruks had breached the outer defences and some of their number may have made landfall.

 

Upon her arrival some months ago Huskarl Aykawa had shown here to these quarters deep in the foundation of the Bulwark. A small chamber outfitted for clerical work, and an adjoining alcove for her to sleep, pray and live in when not at the sturdy wooden desk that took up the entire long wall.  

 

Here she had been left, told to wait until summoned, that the Lord Inquisitor Kine, her new master would call on her when needed. So far she remained unsummoned.  She had not been idle however, there had been a supply of books, dataslates and even parchment scrolls that she had worked through, the intent obvious form the content.  While this chamber might have once served an archaist, copyist or some other clerical pursuit it was now a place for her to learn. Treatise on xenos, reports of past Inquisitorial investigations, essays and all manner of material.

 

Servitors brought meals twice a day, and for the first week she had not dared to leave, but by the second, with everything read she had gotten bold, or board, and set out to explore the fortress. The serfs paid her no head, expect when she approached those areas not meant for her, where guardian thralls would politely turn her away. It was on one of these early excursions that she had found the long winding staircase that led to the tower roof that had become her favourite place to come and escape the oppression of the deep place.

 

New books and slates appeared from time to time, and those two she read. Then some weeks ago the hololith had been installed. It would flicker to life of its own accord, showing scenes from within the fortress, the subject always the same, the newly arrived einherjar. The most recent works had also changed in subject, to that of Astartes biology, training, history, equipment, and much more related to the einherjar.     

[Lord_Ikka]

Moridyn

 

While the team was requisitioning gear from the armory, Moridyn moved to talk the Salamander Tech-marine. He explained what was needed in quiet terms.

 

The Salamander nodded and took the small honor badge. Moving to a plasma forge, Zidemi placed the badge into the crucible and slowly increased the heat. The skull badge turned red, then yellow, then white. Finally, the metal itself began to melt and then burn. As the metal burnt and smoked, Moridyn took out his hourglass and unscrewed its top. Zidemi removed the crucible and poured the burnt metal remnants into a mortar. Taking up the pestle, Moridyn ground the remaining metal fragments into a fine ash and divided the ash into two piles. One pile was gingerly placed into the hourglass to give honor to the fallen brother who had served so greatly in life.

 

Moridyn took his leave of the armory, thanking Zidemi for his assistance, and went to his cell. What came next was not for those outside the chapter. Moridyn gathered the last of the ash and took some water from his cell. He mixed them together to create a thin paste. His helmet came off and he somberly lifted his fingers to his pale face- eyes were outlined, cheekbones were drawn, teeth were made above his lips. When he was finished a skull-face looked back at him from the chamber's mirror. The final application of ash-paste was a handprint on his bare chest.

 

"Brother Bellephon, veteran of the Star Phantoms, member of the Deathwatch, hear my plea-

In life, you serve

In death, you guide

Give me your eyes, show me hidden paths and unknown dangers

Give me your mind, teach me the skills to defeat the foe

Give me your heart, steel me against all that seek to bring down the Imperium

In life, I serve

Your death, my guide."

 

The funerary rites of his chapter done, Moridyn armored himself again. He removed the boltgun and shotgun from the rack, loaded his magazines and mag-locked his pistol and knife to his armored bulk. He was ready for battle, the memory of the death of his battle-brother filling him with strength and purpose. 

[Mike Zulu]

Zidemi:

Though it was not ideal, Zidemi was quite content with the passage of events as explained by Watch-Captain Skaayn. The Orks forces had indeed been thinned by Alucar IV's defences, and the stragglers that had made it past had made themselves easy prey for the newly formed Kill-Team. In addition, the Supremacy's repairs were not affected, so the Dorghra mission was not likely to be delayed as a result. Once the short briefing has concluded, Zidemi took his leave and marched to the Bulwark's Forge with many of his new Battle-Brothers in tow, all eager to partake in their newly assigned mission.

 

+++

 

Zidemi arrived at the Forge's entrance: a gothic-style arched door of thick plasteel, emblazoned with a giant brass Opus Machina. He presented himself and his credentials to the Forge's security serf, a lean and heavily-augmented figure in red robe, to whom he spoke in binary: "Identity: Marax Zidemi, Techmarine of the Deathwatch. Exloading credentials now. I seek access to the Forge. Kill-Team Lucifer arms itself for battle." He concluded with meshing his fingers together over his chest, forming his own Opus Machina, and completing it with a respectful nod at the serf.

 

The serf stared back at Zidemi with its emotionless face and bionic eyes and replied promptly, also in binary: "Credentials accepted. Welcome, Marax Zidemi, Techmarine. May the Omnissiah guide you on your path." With hissing pistons and screeching metal the Opus Machina parted in the centre and arched door retracted, revealing the Forge to Zidemi and the Kill-Team. Zidemi took a few steps inside and reviewed the facility. 

 

The Bulwark's Forge was... modest in size, with its stereotypcial baroque architecture and appropriately adorned with skull-and-cog icons. He will need to properly familarise himself with the facility - it was nothing like the gargantuan and labyrithine Armoury of his chapter, laid deep within the bedrock of Prometheus. He turned back to the serf, with another binary instruction: "I request access to the Forge's inventory datasphere; I require a complete list of wargear, staff and facilites. Prepare to task all serfs and servitors to supply Kill-Team Lucifer with their Requisitions."

 

OOC: I don't require a "detailed" list, but I would like a brief overview of the wargear, facilities, vehicles, and servitors within the Forge, along with anything important Zidemi should know about (*cough* Relics *cough*cough*). I would also like to know the names and roles of any key serfs/servitors (unless you are happy for me to take care of that on my own, which I can do).

 

+++

 

Zidemi had not forgotten Moridyn's request, and Moridyn had indeed sought his help whilst in the Forge. Following the Star Phantom's instructions, Zidemi operated the small plasma forge to melt and oxidise the item handed to him within a fused-silica crucible. Moridyn completed the process by pulverising the hot residue into a fine powder using a mortar and pestle. It was a curious exercise that reminded him of the metallurgical assays he practiced on Mars, commonly used to quantify precious metals. Zidemi fought back the desire to inquire about the process; he knew full well that he was helping Moridyn honour his fallen brother.

 

The Star Phantom offered his thanks to Zidemi. "I am honoured to assist, Brother," he replied solemnly. As Moridyn walked away, Zidemi was suddenly reminded he had his own ritual that he need to conduct before they left...

 

Edited March 30 by Mike Zulu
Grammar, deleted section

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

Tactics Check: Recon & Stealth

Spoiler

Int 48 + (0) = 48

D100: 13

 

'Lord Captain, it grieves me to hear of this infestation,' Azadth said, evenly. 'But you know the mountains may offer the Ork-kine many avenues of retreat. They may even be widely dispersed. Perhaps an advance reconnaissance team would be beneficial.'

 

Not just that. An advance party could infiltrate the mountain passes, rig them with dire traps to either draw the beasts in, like on Katarakt, or use it to block a retreat, and nail the coffin shut. Either was fine. He offered the superior officer an apologetic smile, knew the Captain was keener on this business than he, but still, vying for First Blade was not to be understated.

 

Already he could feel the call of the howling wind, the law of the jungle, the peaks, the veldt. A blade in the dark, a whispering, snicker-shot in the dusk, pasting the look of confusion across the brutish features of these idiot Ork trespassers.

Edited March 30 by Mazer Rackham

[A.T.]

Omoc

 

The wisdom of the codex was again proven, now the xenos had made the surface it was likely that generations of guardians would be finding the spawn of the greenskins scattered upon the surface if this infestation was not burnt away here and now.

 

"Any landings beyond the outer marker of this watch post should be cleansed from orbit. If the orks saw this place from orbit they will be heading here, if not then likely towards the closest ground emplacement to turn them against our own orbital assets".

 

Earlier while retrieving weaponry for training he had regarded a number of heavy bolters affixed with underslung flame weapons, perhaps a legacy of the stations previous Salamander or simply a pattern not common in the wider Imperium. Such a combi-weapon might perhaps one day find place amongst the armouries of the Scorpions and this the ideal circumstance to test its effectiveness in combat.

[Urauloth]

Váfri

 

There were going to be Orks to fight after all. The Grey Hunter greeted this news with a wordless shout of enthusiasm and made his way to the armoury at once.

 

It had been his intention to simply select a chainsword from the armoury to complement his loadout, but upon arriving he saw Zidemi and, his mood still jubilant, changed his mind, approaching the Salamander with the most comradely smile his scarred face and sharp teeth allowed.

 

"Ah, brother!" He said in greeting. "I have need of a chainblade for the coming fight. I know the Salamanders' reputation for discerning quality in arms and armour is well deserved. Reccommend one, and it would do me an honour."

 

If his bonhomie was delaying the Techmarine from seeing to his own rituals, that possibility hadn't occured to him.

[Mike Zulu]

Zidemi:

Zidemi had returned to the Armoury after an exhausting exchange with the Chapel serfs, who were without the brander-priest he sought. The serfs present accomplished the deed, but it was... unsatisfactory. The brand was crude in design and noticably different to the others on his body. This warranted further discussion with the serfdom once he returned from the mission.

 

+++

 

Zidemi has been in the Locus Operatus, the "control room" of the Forge, connected to the main cogitator terminal through his electrograft. He was five minutes into his current task when he was approached by Vafri, the Space Wolf. Zidemi was blindsighted by the request, as he had been preoccupied with his own rituals and review of the Forge's systems. His reputation as a Salamander had preceded him, and despite his unpreparedness he intended to live up to it. He also saw an opportunity to evaluate the capabilities of the Forge's current staff.

 

"You honour me, Vafri,' Zidemi replied. "Alas, I am still familiarising myself with the Forge and its operations. I shall have my artificers find what you need." Via his electrograft, Zidemi announciated over the Forge's laud hailers. "Artificer Boeckner, report to Operatus." 

 

Ten seconds later, a muscular and grizzly serf emerged from the side passage. His hands were covered in unguents and his overalls stained black with grease. The serf approached the two Astartes, and spoke in a somewhat indifferent tone. "You beseeched me, my lord?"

 

Zidemi ignored the tone and proceeded to speak organically. "Boeckner. My Battle-Brother Vafri", he gestured to the Space Wolf, "has requisitioned a chainblade. Supply him with your best."

 

Boeckner looked upon the Space Wolf for several seconds, with a mix of consideration and amusement. "One moment, my lords," he said, before returning back through the same passage. About two minutes later, Boeckner returned, carrying a small munitions crate, emblazoned with the Imperial aquila. He took the crate to a nearby workbench and opened it, revealing a well-maintained chainblade. "Here, my lords," said Boeckner, "Take care not to scratch the finish."

 

Zidemi disconnected himself from the terminal to inspect the weapon. The chainblade's body was polished to a brilliant silvery lustre, but otherwise unembellished except for the brass skull-and-barred-I icon on the cowling that concealed the chain mechanism. The teeth had been recently sharpened, judging by the tarnish that had been mostly filed away. Zidemi gently took the chainblade and held it up toward the ceiling light for his inspection, immediately spotting the maker's mark. "Mezoa-pattern chainblade," he stated. "The teeth spacing of this pattern is two percent higher than standard, allowing entrained material to fall free more easily as the chain track revolves without diminishing its overall lethality."

 

Zidemi handed the weapon to Vakri for his own inspection...

 

OOC: I wasn't sure if by "chainblade" you meant "melee attachment (chain)" for your bolter, or a "chain knife", so I left that ambiguous.

 

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

Asterius his berserk somewhat sated had retired from the training ranges and had returned to the Chapel to offer his peace to his [Redacted]. 

 

Stabs of pain from his psycho-conditioning were his reward whenever he tried to think of them.

 

Wracked with pain, gradually his mind steered itself onto the correct channels. He generally tried to be alone when he prayed, penitent he did not want others to hear his shame.

 

A shame that came with pain and a harsh worded soundtrack uttered from a speaker grill on his armour.

 

 

"You are alone. You serve the Emperor. Your [Redacted - Chapter] does not exist. The [Redacted - Chapter] never existed. By order of the High Lords of Terra!"

 

 

It was just him, the Deathwatch and The Emperor.

 

Several hours of pain and prayer later he found himself in the Armourium. A place of frenetic activity, he handed in his brace of chainswords for cleaning and repair.

 

He pulled down two more from a rack and made his way over to the requisitions serf, when he noticed a familiar shape.

 

"Lord Asterius, we have managed to repair your Jet Pack. If you will come this way we will affix it to you" an Amourium Serf said.

 

Gratefully he walked over and was reunited with his jet pack.

 

"By the Omnissiah, you have done well!" Asterius said as he interface with the pack and idled the jets. "I shall put in a good word for your work with Brother Zidemi."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Scene 6. Hunting Party.

 

When you have finished equipping yourselves, Skaayn directs you to the small motor pool attached to the Armoury. Within you find several vehicles undergoing final checks. There are a handful of Astartes Bikes in Deathwatch colours, and a red and black Land Speeder Storm hovering in place, though its turbines are already revving, cycling up towards full power. The pilot is a mortal, a woman in heavy Inquisitorial robes. At this point it is hard to identify anything more about her beneath the rebreather and pilot's goggles she wears.

 

The Watch-Captain quietly gives his orders.

 

“Time is of the essence. If any Orkoids have survived, they must be prevented from spreading out and soiling this world with their filthy spores. This is Inquisitorial Adept Alda Ulfurbur. She will act as… observer… and Liaison between the Ordo Xenos and Kill-Team Lucifer. She can convey you to the crash site much faster than you can reach it on foot. Between the Storm and the Bikes, there is just enough space for your entire Kill-Team.”

 

Aarval shrugs.

 

“There is another related matter I want to look into, anyway, so for now you're on your own. Choose someone to act as Watch-Sergeant, or I'll pick for you if I must.”

 

He then smiles bleakly.

 

“Let's see how well you've learned your lessons.”

 

OOC: So, following directly on from Requisition, it's time to select a Squad Leader, and for them to choose their Oath. Feel free to discuss who is the right Marine for the job in the OOC.

 

Then you can also decide who is taking what transport. Alda is the only one with Drive: Hover, so she will pilot the LS Storm. Logically, Gerhardt and Asterius are wearing Jump Packs, so it makes sense for them to be standing in the Storm's troop compartment. That leaves two more spaces in the troop bay, one person in the gunner's seat, and three of you mounted on the Bikes. Call shotgun as you wish!

 

Once you are all mounted up, a tiny square of daylight slowly becomes visible at the far end of a long, ramped tunnel that exits the motor pool and rises up towards ground level.

 

“Go,” Skaayn intones, “and may the Emperor be with you.”

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

The proclamation delivered by the Khan-Captain, Azadth carried his bundle of kit to one of the sable-liveried Space marine bikes, quickly opening the panniers and stuffing the cameleoline tarpaulin into one, maglocking the short-barrelled tube of the Armourbane to the gear, flush along the portside flank.

 

Drop harness already cinched about his waist, he arranged the rest of the climbing kit and hard-cased telescopic sight into the other bag, slipping his modified boltgun into the rigid holster on the starboard side of the engine. The Mantis Warriors normally eschewed machines like this as almost traitorous things which belched mechanical smoke and discord into the organic noise of the tropical jungle zones, the bulk of a vehicle more signature for heat, for the tell tale routes of supply to feed it.

 

In the desert it was a different story. Rapid strike teams vanishing into the shimmer, the air boiling in heat-haze, making it look like they impossibly rode on water, jade armour painted dusky yellow with deep green sprigs of cacti blade. The slow prowl of moving at night, one vehicle following the other, the stars as companions, taking the same trail to hide the number of their vehicles as they made for the enemy's vulnerable flanks.

 

Here would be a blend of both. Carried on a swift steed, into the clean mountains to wash it free of filth, then unleashed to the hard leg-work of the infantryman, where boulders precluded speed, and rewarded the nimble, narrower foot. The genetic ghosts stalking his geneseed were pleased at this amalgamation. It was a good omen. His spirit began to whet the edge, the battle hungry killer lurking, glowering in the darkness of the Ulu, the deepest, haunted jungle.

 

That which lurked in every soul.

 

He gave the bike the once-over, peering across to see the others loading aboard the Land Speeder Storm, with the frail mortal pilot at the helm. She looked bookish, this Ulfurbur, yet the chill of Fenris hardened around the eyes. Her ability to pilot a Space marine vehicle put the lie to her chief attributes involving a quill. An Observer, the Captain said.

 

Yet, the Inquisitor Prince was nowhere to be seen. How wonderfully balanced. Such things were important.

 

Azadth stood waiting, to see if any of the assembled company would volunteer for the burden of leadership, one hand already on the bike's handlebars.

[A.T.]

Omoc

 

"In the action of vanguard, command should fall to him that would stand at the tip of the spear, as it is written". The codex defined well the place of a leader in each action be it directing fire, co-ordinating movement, or leading the charge. In an action such as this the honour of first contact was that of the senior officer, the first in the line.

 

As devastator his place was aboard the speeder providing support fire. He turned his eyes towards those who approached the bikes expectant that the Wolf and the Templar would be first to declare their position.

[Machine God]

Asterius:

 

+Well obviously it cannot be me+ answered Asterius as took his place.

 

+Vafri or Gerhardt are obvious for the role. Seniority rules, First and Second Founding respectively.+

 

 

 

 

[Urauloth]

Váfri

 

"Ulfurbur?" The Grey Hunter glanced at the robed pilot as the speeder's turbines whined up. "A good name. A strong name. I like her already."

 

He had no particular liking for Storm-pattern speeders, though. They were designed to be quiet, and the idea of quiet engines - as much tactical value as they might offer - would never sit right with those who walked the road of the Stormwolf.

 

Instead, he strode directly to one of the bikes. This was far more to his liking. His pack had never had a permanent assignation as Swiftclaws, but almost every Blood Claw in Harek's Great Company was given the mantle at some point, so great was the Wolf Lord's love of the roaring charge. He remembered very well how to use one.

He took a moment to stow Gylthir in the holster on the side of the vehicle, pleased to see that the weapon fitted despite its adornments. He kept the chainsword at his belt. He hadn't named the blade yet, but he liked it. Of course, it was still very plain, but there would be time to amend that after it had seen battle.

 

Fixing his plumed helm into place, he swung himself into the saddle, eager to start the engine. There was still the matter of who would lead them. Naturally, as a son of Russ, he was the most qualified. It hadn't really occured to him that it might fall to anyone else. What the Scorpion said was interesting though. The tip of the spear. With that jump pack, the Templar might just be the first to reach the foe.

 

He grinned as the engine growled to life and a cloud of acrid smoke coughed from the exhausts. He was going to be the first out of the Bastion; the others would follow him, one way or another.

[Mike Zulu]

Zidemi:

 

Zidemi gave his final instructions to the Forge's serfs, as the Kill-Team departed for the vehicle bay, where the Watch-Captain had been waiting to brief them.

Overall, Zidemi was content with how the artificer-serfs and servitors handled their duties, despite the limited facilities in the Bulwark. Once he was finished, he joined his other Battle-Brothers, with his bolter slung, auspex in hand and an Armourbane Missile Launcher in his servo-arm's grip.

 

+++

Zidemi was perplexed by the various responses to the call of leadership after the briefing. Asterius had invoked Codex convention that considered Assault Marines less experienced than Tactical Marines, even though his experience with the Deathwatch until now would have granted him "seniority". Similarly, Omoc had recited the Codex Astartes many times now; Zidemi quickly inferred his position on the issue.

 

Asterius' suggestions, Vafri and Gerhardt, were both eager to engage the Orks and seemed likely to stand for the role. Vafri, however, had already decided to take off on his Bike down the exit tunnel. Azadth had demonstrated a level of tactical thinking that Zidemi had not seen from the others so far, but appeared to have no interest, looking ready to follow Vafri’s example. Amaras likely would not nominate himself being the Apothecary. Only Gerhardt and Moridyn had yet to make their intentions clear.

 

Zidemi, knowing his true utility in the Kill-Team, instead drew his attention to the red-and-sable Land Speeder, with the hooded human female at the helm. He approached the craft and introduced himself to Alda, as Omoc approached the weapon cupola on the starboard side.

 

“Greetings, Agent Ulfurbur. I am Zidemi. I can provide assistance with the augur arrays and navigation en-route to the target location.”

 

 

Edited April 6 by Mike Zulu

[Necronaut]

Gerhardt

 

The Black Templar stepped forward at the mention of his name, now bearing the massive mantle of a jump-pack across his frame, looking every bit a crusading knight from the early Imperium with his polished Mk IV war plate and Mk II helm. He regarded the others in turn, having come to know some measure of each of these warriors during the preceding few days in intensive training deep beneath the citadel. 

 

“You speak true, Brother Omoc. We Black Templars also believe the vanguard is where a commander should be, leading from the thick of battle. I intend to join Brother Asterius there, and I would nominate myself to lead Kill-Team Lucifer.”

 

He felt he could scarcely contain his desire to be off, to close the distance with the xenos wretches that defiled the planet with their presence and spill their stinking blood as an offering to the Emperor. He had to stem the unending tide of filth washing upon the Imperium's shores. The enormity of that tide was overwhelming, all-consuming, utterly maddening in its magnitude.

 

He had heard The Voice again while in prayer before joining the kill-team in the vehicle depot. His purpose was clear: he alone had the vision of purpose to lead these warriors, to put the hated xenos to the sword and end the pervasive menace.

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

It was simple enough thing. The Templar had sought him out, had watched him approach the fortress. Why not? He spoke well.

 

Azadth banged his plastron in warrior applause, and smiling under his helm, he vaulted into the saddle, wrenching the throttle of his bike to get Váfri's attention. The Wolf was ready to launch, straining at the leash of patience.

 

+Race you,+ Azadth called over the violence of engines and snarling throttle, sparing enough time to offer the challenge to Amaras as well.

 

He was far from Chogoris, blood and bone raised elsewhere, but the burr under his saddle was forged in Quan Zhou.

Edited April 6 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Moridyn

 

Moridyn grimaced at the posturing of both the Wolf and Templar. Good thing he didn't care who led, just that the team would engage the Xenos as ordered. 

 

"Make your choice, I care not for who leads. Our target awaits."

 

He strode to the Storm, swung aboard. He kept his shotgun held loose in his hand, the bolter mag-locked to his hip across from his pistol and knife. The chain-bayonet was on his belt, quicker to grab and lock in place than his knife was to unsheathe. Moridyn was ready for battle, ash-paint staining his helmeted face. 

Edited April 6 by Lord_Ikka

[Trokair]

Alda Ulfurbur

 

The condensed briefing she had gotten while en route to the hanger had left her with many a question. Though few as to the imminent now, perhaps she would meet Lord Kine on their return, Huskarl Aykawa had been mute on the subject.

 

Serfs had already prepared the Speeder, probably even before the Uruks had broken through, preparedness was just one side of the dice of vigilance, and they would not be coming up short.

 

Familiarising herself with the controls she was slow to notice the einherjars arrival, a small laps but perhaps one unnoticed. At Jarl Skaayn’s introduction she set the comms unit to link into the Kill teams net.

 

“Greetings my Lords, at your service.”

 

She watched as the team disbursed across the hanger, three heading for the bikes and the rest heading her way.

 

 “My father’s name alas is greater than the man, einherjar of the sixth, however my gratitude for the honour of the compliment.”  

 

Turning her head to see which of them had approached the Speeders other cockpit station.

 

“Then so it shall be, drake of the eighteenth.”

Edited April 6 by Trokair

[Necronaut]

Gerhardt

 

“It may not matter to you, Star Phantom, but there are still rites to be observed and a kill-team cannot go headless into the crucible of battle." 

 

Gerhardt drew a length of dense black chain from a belt pouch and solemnly clasped first the larger of the pair of manacles about his wrist, followed by the other around the haft of Drachenhauer, which he drew and held aloft for all to see.

 

"If none will answer my challenge of leadership, then I will swear an oath to all present in this moment! With this chain I bind myself to my duty, with this chain I swear I will not rest until my mission has been prosecuted and my foes have been defeated. I will not sheathe this blade until my task is done. I will not remove this chain on pain of death. Let this chain be a constant reminder and symbol of my devotion to these new brothers of mine and to the Emperor. We will have no pity for the xenos! We will harbor no remorse in our hearts! We will know NO FEAR! This I solemnly vow to Kill-Team Lucifer and the Deathwatch.”

 

He surveyed the rest a final time before turning to face Watch-Captain Skaayn. He inclined his head, touching the length of naked adamantine steel to his forehead in salute.

 

“With your leave, Watch-Captain, we have orks to hunt.”

 

Gerhardt pushed his antique crusader helm down over his head, waiting for the familiar hiss of atmospheric and environmental seals to engage. 

 

+Kill-Team Lucifer, mount up! Show me the meaning of wrath!" 

 

 

OOC: I have taken the liberty of swearing something approximating the Oath of the Endless Crusade (Honor the Chapter, p.16) which will grant each member of the Kill-Team the Brutal Charge trait, plus an additional point of Renown for each primary and secondary objective completed, so long as it is done in a manner by which the Black Templars would approve (head-on assault and the brutal extermination of their enemies). If a different oath is more to your liking, let's discuss it in the OOC thread.

Edited April 8 by Necronaut

[Urauloth]

Váfri

 

He should have expected Gerhardt's to put himself forward as leader, but it was still a surprise on some level. Everyone knew the Vlka Fenryka were masters of the hunt - could a son of Dorn really think himself a better candidate to lead? Immediately he felt conflicting instincts: To contest the leadership, to challenge for it at once - he knew many of his pack brothers would do so without a second thought. But that would delay them, wouldn't it? It would hold them back to clash with a warrior from an infamously stubborn bloodline, when they were right on the threshold of being unleashed against the foe. And there was the rival instinct: To disregard everything except the importance of the hunt. To get to grips with the enemy as swiftly as possible.

 

It was pragmatism. It wasn't lack of ambition on his part. He knew that was something others had said about him - That's his flaw, Bloodsong, he lacks ambition. He's a good sword-hand, but he'll never lead. He'll never make Vaerangai. It wasn't true. His thirst for glory was an unquenchable as anyone's. He just didn't see the sense in quibbling too much over who was the hand on the hilt and who was the point of the sword, that was all. Not when there was fighting to be done. If they were led well, he'd be content enough.

 

If any shadow of rumination threatened to fall over him, he shook it off immediately. The prospect of racing the Mantis Warrior to the Orks appealed greatly. Azadth's people were, at great remove, kindred to the Khan. Was some of that ancient warrior-king's fabled riding skill present in them too? He hoped so.

 

+Aye+ he replied, +We'll see who gets to them first!+

 

While the Templar might have laboured the point a little for Váfri's liking, his oath was a good one. It augured well for the hunt. He opened the throttle, even more determined than before to be the first out.

[Lysimachus]

Scene 6b. Seek and Destroy.

 

You follow ridgelines and ravines to the southwest, at several points hurtling along beside the rushing, tumbling rapids of a mountain river that descends from the heights around the Bulwark. Even being slowed by the uneven, treacherous terrain, it takes less than two hours to cover the 60 kloms to where the Orks are estimated to have landed.

 

At around 40 kloms, you can see the first signs of the crash, twisting pillars of black smoke just visible between distant hills. At 50, you begin to hear a racket that breaks the stillness of Alucar's wilderness, echoing from peak to peak. It is clear that something has survived. At 55, you are able to look out and see the source of the ruckus. On a slightly wider plateau, the mountain river has widened into a long open lake before continuing away via an outlet stream. The pilots of the Ork craft obviously hoped that the water would provide them with a softer landing, and it seems that they were at least partly correct. The bulk lander, brightly painted in lurid red, has come to rest in the shallows with several large sections of its hull still intact. Tiny dots are just visible moving back and forth through the water between the superstructure and the other pieces that have been strewn further afield.

 

Your vehicles will be far less effective in the flowing water, so when you are only a klom or so from the wreck you are forced to dismount and approach the rest of the way on foot. Perhaps this is for the best, as it may give you a better chance to see exactly what you are dealing with, without being seen in return.

 

 

 OOC: This extra post is really just for anyone who wishes to describe anything about your journey narratively, but it's not required if you don't have time/inclination! 

 

As mentioned, I don't want to bring in too many extra variables rules-wise for our first structured fight Scene of the game, hence leaving the vehicles behind at the end of the journey. I suppose if you really wanted to use your vehicle weapons, as part of your narrative you could include destroying any small mobs or lone Orks/Grots that might have left the main group and headed towards the Bulwark? (But there wouldn't be many of them, and this would be very much not the ‘main event’!)

 

Alternatively, if you want to include trying to use the terrain to sneak up on the main force of Orks at the crash site, anyone who wishes can roll a Silent Move Test. Although you may have to allow for the -30 to this test due to wearing Power Armour, the test will also be Simple (+40) due to the fact of the rugged terrain providing lots of cover and the Orks being… well, Orks! If you succeed, you will gain a bonus in later weeks’ updates. If you fail badly, it seems the Orks may have a few more scouts out and about who spot you approaching and give warning…!

 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Azadth:

 

On continued contact with the machine, it took perhaps half a heartbeat for the bike's nav-logister to adjust the suspension sag for his weight to provide a stable raiding platform. Further tweaks became available where auto-senses and machine spirit of the war engine harmonised. Not quite a Scout bike, but there were a few inches to be had by firming the pre-load on the ferrofluid suspension system.

 

His saddle lifted by three whole inches of clearance, structural integrity alerts flickered in amber at the corner of his eye. A blink-click dismissed the annoying rule, and in their place, compass, fuel gauge and the general hale and heart of the bike listed in elegant borders around his visor, leaving plenty of room for targeting reticules from the sympathetic bolter mounts on the front cowling.

 

His foot dropped the clutch, and a flick of his wrist rowelled the iron steed into throaty action.

 

The snows were fresh where the sun hadn't scooped into the ravine shade, to blast the chilly ice into mist, and the cross-hatching of blue, salt rich and shadow-haunted powder contrasted into a wild scatter of lozenges against the brown-grey granite of the lower slopes. Slush and grit slashed up the sable flanks of the warhorse, Azadth leaning the bike into turns, shifting the weight of the bike into the yellow zone of adherence to the poorly maintained paths which were nought more than rocky pilgrim trails.

 

Noise bounced around the slopes, the blinding light of reflection from snow making his lenses harden with reflective crystals, the way they would when subjected to photon bursts, or sudden flares. The autosenses of this suit were keen - indeed, everything about this borrowed harness was agreeable. Two spirits into one purpose. And so, fate was revealed. Like being on this road, smearing dirt over himself along with unfortunate insects as they descended into the life-supporting atmosphere.

 

The Kloms - not a measure used by the tribal warriors, but accepted as Standard High Gothic - were swiftly eaten by friendly competition on this downhill slalom. Only once did Azadth have to put his foot out and wrench the handbrake, and that was a hairpin that was about as wide as Azadth was tall. The extra suspension flexed as the bike juddered and bounced in a sudden dip, the trail surface slipping away from under him.

 

No choice but to ride it out, he dropped the bike into low gear, shifted his feet to half-crouch in the saddle, maglocking his bootsoles to the robust exhaust tubes. He bottomed out and and hit shale hard, pulverised flint shards spat out behind him in a rocketing, golden scatter even as his backside slammed into the saddle. The combined effects slowed him down, keeping him upright. Recovering from the rocky slope, he got the bike back on track. Literally.

 

A small balance from the Sky-Khan for his earlier hubris, perhaps.

 

Almost abreast until the turn, now in the best line, the Wolf, of course, swept by.

 

Azadth waved in brief salute and signal he was unharmed, before opening up the engine, thankful for all the crusted mess and dirt on his armour, dulling the shine for when he moved in - a lot more cautiously - for the killing. He quickly looked over to the bulk lander. Fate decreed that time would be soon.

 

OOC: I'll narrate the approach to the killzone later.

[Trokair]

Alda

 

While the three bikers had already speed out of the hunger Alda carefully manoeuvred the speeder to the doors, taking the time to get a feel for the changed balance of the added weight of the passengers and their disposition within the graft. In theory the hover tech would auto balance the speeder at all times, but that meant giving up some of the finer controls to the cogitator buried deep inside somewhere. Such constant adjustments were also more power hungry, so for the most part Alda had relegated them to only kick in if she was overly slow to correct any balance.  

 

As she passed the doors she increased their sped slightly, a brisk walking pace perhaps, and glance round the speeder one last time to make sure all of them were in position and secure.  With well over 20 meters out form the door she pushed on the throttle, at that distance there should be little blowback of the snow into the hanger. The engine purred as expect and she pushed further.

 

The bikers where still ahead, racing each other from the look of it, like children eager to be first. She should not let them roam so far too long, in case the danger was closer than supposed and they need the support of those aboard.

 

Rousing the engines to full power catching up was trivial, even in these none ideal conditions, compared to the baseline performance parameters she had learned for these crafts, the speeder would always outstrip bikes by a very significant margin. Indeed there they were already coming into sight again, and she was past.

 

Behind her she could hear the engines of the bike roar as the three pushed their mounts further, none willing to be last. There were a few yells and cheers from those aboard; and perhaps sounds of disappointment when she reduced the throttle again, allowing the bikes to catch up in short order.

 

This was not a race, and the bikers where her outriders, and the speeder their support, one cohesive force eating the distance.