[BC] The Blackest Heart (IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

Sirensong:

 

The wailing and chilling echo of the tumultuous, knee-height cavalcade of warped, daemonic children cry out in unholy joy as the battle is joined. The clamour resolves into half-heard words amongst the shrieking and laughter.

 

'Playmates, playmates! Playtime, playtime!'

 

Blood and chaos washes over them, making them bark with hollow excitement. As Eska rushes in, even as her teeth rend and tear at their purplish, almost  non-corporeal flesh, they are adoring in their own horrid way, almost ignorant of the bolter fire from the upright Alpha Legion blowing big holes in the aetheric agglomeration.

 

Alphas inflict 7 Mag Dam.

Eska inflicts 3 Mag Dam

 

'A puppy! A Puppy!'

 

They they lunge for her - and everyone else as they coagulate into the mixed melee.

 

Sirensong - Horde:

Horde attacks everything in melee range:

Eska: 99 Miss (in their excitement no doubt)

Terminators (Group): 2 hits, 005, 010 Dam: Wow, ok holy hell, yeah lots of tens. First TDA PR Fail, 2nd TDA PR Fail. They KILL both (already wounded) Terminators.

 

Even the dread power and protection of tactical dreadnought armour is not proof against the terrible gifts of that from beyond the mortal veil. The density of the manifested waif-things is a deceptive one as they leap and cheerfully gouge through plasteel as though it wasn't even there.

 

End of Round 1.

Edited September 24 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

++ ROUND 2 ++

 

Initiative Order:

 

 

Delphynie: 22
Ukalegon: 15
Kraggan: 14
Hagga: 13
Tarh: 12 (AG 4)
Crux'As: 12 (AG3)
Xerxes: 11 (PC takes priority)
Huron Blackheart: 11
Alpha Legionnaires: 11 (Act as group)
Cowering Rabble: 11
Terminators: 1 Alive
Eska: 5
Sirensong: 4

 

Delphynie:

 

Battered and rocked by the terrible damage, the bodily manifestation of the Mistress of Torment shimmers and fluxes with almost lascivious abandon. It becomes apparent that denying her any sensory input such as vision or hearing as as nothing compared to the utter pleasure she derives from the sensation of being hurt. Her pink-purple hued flesh ripples at the caress of the bolts and fury, and her shocking sighs elicit the deepest revulsion, even that provoked by the headiest hedonistic cocktail. Power flows around her, the deck quaking as she literally reshapes and reforms, binding herself together from being hewn to pieces.

 

 

Toughness Test for Stunning:
TG: 62
D100: 42, Unnat adds DoS.
Infamy remaining: 6
Delly spends the lot, to pull all the effects of ZH.
As per BC Core: P305
Slaanesh Alignment Infamy Bonuses:

At Tier 2, when suffering a Critical Hit, the Heretic may immediately spend 1 Infamy Point to ignore any effects generated by that hit, except for permanent limb or appendage loss, death, and becoming Stunned.

 

The shuddering ceases as her wounds close, and her piercing eyes alight on the Lamenter once more. Even so, her perfect form is barely holding together - it is apparent that this is her last, spiteful gasp of revenge on the mortal plane. Delphynie's face is contorted with a incomprehensible mix of immortal rage and unfettered lust.

 

'My wonderful suitor! How can I repay you? Let us share our dying breath, my beloved - let us be together forever!' She abandons her whip and squares up, that powerful tail snaking up and round.

 

Actions:

 

Half Action: Half-Aim
Half Action:
Lightning Attacks: Claws (Ukalegon)
WS 71 (-10 LA) - 10 Multiple/2 x attacks) +10 (Aim) = 61
D100: 002, 6 DoS (Arm, Arm, Body, Head, Body, Arm)
Damage: 28, 24, 28 (ZH Body, D5 = 5), 29 (ZH Head, D5 = 5), 25, 27 (ZH Arm, D5=2) (All Pen 0) 
 

Off-hand:
WS 71 (-10 2 x attack) = 61
D100: 41, 2 DoS (Arm - Pick)
Dam: 26 (Pen 0)

 

Her form is a majestic, entrancing blur of supple curves and glimmering talons - even to your genhanced senses - where they scythe through the hell-light of the torrent pouring from the summoning circle, even as is waxes and wanes with violent fury to hold her unnatural, incomprehensible and exquisite corporeal form.

 

The fury of the Daemon Princess is nothing to be sneered at.

 

GM Information: Delphynie has suffered significant damage, and with the pummelling she's taken, Daemonic Instability is kicking in. We'll resolve what happens with Necro's Reaction, and then re-assess. Suffice to say when this turn is over, she should no longer be standing. One the Round ends and the Sirensong complete their Actions, they too will dematerialise.

 

Edited September 24 by Mazer Rackham
Waxing lyrical, as Delly deserves

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

As he plummeted towards the daemonic priestess, Ukalegon felt like his long-dead gene-father, descending from on high to deliver justice and bloody retribution to the daemon Ka’Bandha during the Horus Heresy. The form of the keeper of secrets flashed in his vision, for an instant becoming superimposed with the genetic memory of that other, mightier daemon lord. The words of a sermon by the wizened and scarred Brother-Chaplain Zakiel, before he had been tithed to the Deathwatch, came to mind, “On bloody wings of vengeance, the Angel descended upon the daemon lord, and smote him into oblivion…”

 

“DIE, ABOMINATION!" 

 

The Lamenter ploughed into the towering daemon like a meteor, his roaring chainsword held inverted in a two-handed grip, and he tore a mighty rent into the unborn’s lascivious form. A torrent of otherwordly blood and ichor gushed out, drenching him as he used his momentum to drag his chainsword down, further opening the gaping wound. His features, hidden behind his battered Mark VII helm, were twisted into a rictus of unfettered malice. He felt the chainsword chew through flesh and bone and sinew, its teeth snarling and grinding away at any resistance they encountered.

 

Ukalegon was screaming incoherently when he finally reached the deck again and wrenched his mighty blade free with an immense spray of daemonic vitae, suddenly overwhelmed by a terrifying rage and inhuman bloodlust that had lain dormant in him until now. The weight of a dark fury some ten millennia old crashed into his psyche without warning, causing him to lose all focus and reason for a few seconds. But that was all the grievously wounded daemon required, and she returned the favour in kind, all but dismantling the hapless astartes.

 

Dodge Test: Ag51 + 10 = 61

D100: 80; failure with 1 DoF

 

Ukalegon suffers more wounds than I can be bothered to tally up.

 

Burning an Infamy Point to survive the encounter, removed from combat.

Edited September 29 by Necronaut
Updating placeholder with fluff

[Mazer Rackham]

Ukalegon:

 

GM: Ukalegon's Armour has now absorbed over three times it's value in damage, which results in the following:

• Helmet, destroyed
• Plastron, destroyed
• Pauldron (Left), destroyed
• Pauldron (Right), destroyed

Having taken so much punishment, the armour of this, hollow knight, finally succumbs, pushed to the boundaries of its construction and the limits of the machine spirit. Envisioned as the fiery wings of even a now broken angel, the power plant and lift harness, ceramic casing still red-hot from the daring manoeuvre can resist no more. Even Astartes grade equipment has it's limits.

 

Ruptured and beyond redemption or castigation of the safety-spirits, the jump pack detonates, sending a cloud of shrapnel and super-heated filament across a blast radius predicted in the cold calculus of the machine when it was first forged.

 

GM: All Characters within 1D10 (D10 = 8) Metres suffer (2d10+2 (I have rolled 15 points total, which includes the +2) Pen 0, Explosive) of Damage as though struck by a Frag Grenade. Dodges may be attempted as usual. Ukalegon is immune (due to Infamy Point Burn).

 

Edited September 24 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

ROUND 2 ENVIRONMENTAL OBJECTS:

 

The following players/characters are struck with a 1D10+2, Pen 0 Impact flying object (Total Damage 6):

• Tarh Teshub @Trokair
• Crux'as The Smiler @Lord_Ikka

Play continues. Struck Characters may narrate what hit them (if Dodge failed): Paint can, box etc.

 

Edited September 24 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Hagga ducked instinctively as Ukalegon's jump pack exploded.

 

No!

 

The Lamenter had proved himself an honourable comrade and his heroic actions had likely saved them all. The daemon-witch was heavily wounded. Huron and his last Terminator bodyguard had been given time to regain their feet, as had Valex and his troopers. Rakash and the other sorcerer were also being assisted back to wakefulness - though Hagga wasn't about to put any trust in their ability to end the daemonic incursion.

 

The Executioner wasn't sure whether to continue his ranged attack against Delphynie, or turn his attention towards the lesser warp creatures that surrounded her. But surely, as long as their mistress was here, clinging on to physical existence, she must be the greatest threat and should therefore be his target...?

 

Then what was left of Ukalegon's blackened and burning armour slumped to the deck, disappearing beneath a sea of dancing daemonic flesh and chitin, and Hagga's decision was made. He didn't know whether the Lamenter still lived or not, but either way he would not allow his body to be further harmed or desecrated by the filthy little things. The great and mighty Huron Blackheart would have to handle the witch himself.

 

He holstered his still-hot pistol, took a two handed grip on his greatsword, and hurled himself forward into the cavorting throng. The burning blade left a brilliant after-image as it swung in massive arcs through the childlike horde, followed by audible pops and smaller flashes of multi-hued light as individual daemons were hacked apart, losing their hold on reality.

 

As he slashed his way forward, intent on reaching the last spot he had seen the Lamenter's body, Hagga roared savage Stygian battle cries and yelled to his beast companion to redouble her own brutal efforts.

 

“Eska, caedo! Kill, kill, kill!”

 

(After Kraggan)

Hagga: Charge Sirensong.
WS52 +20(Charge) +30(Mag Bonus) +10(Inspire Wrath) -20(Size:Puny) = 92, Roll: 40, Hit!
6DoS = 3 additional Hits
1 additional Hit for Power Field
5 Hits in total.
All hits auto-cause Damage, 5 Mag Dam suffered.

 

(Whenever it's her Turn)
Eska: All-Out Attack Sirensong.
WS10 +10(Frenzy) +10(Inspire Wrath) +30(All-Out) +30(Mag Bonus) -20(Size:Puny) = 70, roll: 54, Hit!
2DoS = 1 additional Hit vs Horde.
2 Hits in total.
All hits auto-cause Damage, 2 Mag Dam suffered.

 

 

 

Edited September 24 by Lysimachus

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

Whirling debris slammed into the Smiler. Luckily, the former Arbitrator-Senoris' cloak absorbed the impact of the tools that had hit him.

Dodge Test 

Target - 38

Roll - 67

Result = Fail, 2 DoF.

Damage taken - 6 damage - 4(TB) - 4(armor) = 0 (unless it hits his head, then he will take 2 damage

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: Anyone struck by flying debris can assume the Location is the Body (As per BC:Core, any Damage that does not hit a specific location is always resolved against the body).

[Xin Ceithan]

Cyrandras

 

Astartesian physiology meant that Space Marines didn’t returned to consciousness in the way most humans did. There were no moments  of gradual awakening or a need for brief re-orientation. In simple terms, they were either “on” or “off”.

 

Thus, one moment Cyrandras was under the  crystal-flex headlights of the opera domes of lost Badab, a riot of music, laughter and colours around  him as he made his way through ranks of spire nobility. Up here, beyond the chemical fogs, his genhanced senses could make out the shapes of the orbital bastions surrounding the planet.  

In the distance an Angel fell from the heavens, wings burning. 

Rakash shrugged. 

Most Astartes did no longer dream in the way mortals did.  But to those of his calling, prophecies and omens were woven so often into their dream cycle, that the Sorcerer merely filed it away for some later time. He turned, searching for the origin of the song,the source of that mercurial laughter…

 

In the next moment, Cyrandras found himself lying on the flight deck of the Avenger.  Genhanced focus and hypno-conditioned meant that situational combat awareness was near,y instant. The Sorcerer was almost instantly aware of where his body had been thrown after the binding ritual failed and of the ongoing combat around him. The laughter was still there, still melodic, still musical,  it much more maniacal now. Much more physical also.

 

Pixelated warning runes told him of the desolate state of his Armor  and his body.  A sharp sting in his back was followed by a feeling of extreme, cold spreading through his body. He grunted as Bhael-Four retracted the medical mechanodendrite. More warning runes. Even within the transhumance physiology of a Space Marine, Rakash knew that he was running on fumes. Well, in this case, liquids, mostly. 

 

Such details were important. 

 

With more attention to details, he might have seen through the hastily thrown together mess that was. Khardon’s attempt at summoning so dangerous as the thing now rampaging across the deck and might have decided not to have any part in it. With more attention to detail, either Khardon or Cyrandras might have been more aware that the Neverborn had left something on him at Khymara, something that had enabled it to easily slip the binding.

 

Two details stood out to Rakash at present - if you ignored the towering Daemon and their entourage for a moment. 

 

One was the ruin of the Lamenter, smoke and fire billowing from the jumppack lying across from him on the landing deck.

 

Though Rakash found the  prophetic analogy of his dream state somewhat painfully unsubtle here … and the image as a disturbingly familiar and wholly unwelcome reminder of a similar scene on the embarkation deckS of the Badab Citadel…

 

Luckily, a heady dosage of metopiods and Noveauphentamin flushed the memory away, focussing his mind on the present.

 

The damage the Lamenter had inflicted was still visible on the strangely captivating shape of the daemon and even a third rate psionic hive rat would have sensed that this was destabilizing the Neverborn’s grip on reality.

 

The falling Angel.  Cheap omens or not - there certainly was an opportunity here. 

 

The smart move - and the tactical sound choice- would have been to use this moment to get away from the hangar deck. To recover and live to fight another day.  

 

If not for  the another detail that Rakash’s mind zeroed in sharply almost instantly:

 

The Blood Reaver! 

 

Huron Blackheart was here. 

 

On this ship. On the flight deck. In person. The bloody Tyrant of Badab was here, in the unholy wreckage of what remained of his flesh and if Cyrandras Rakash was hoping for any sort of recognition and the faintest chance  being reinstated in any meaningful capacity, that meant staying around and getting a grip on the situation.

 

The Sorcerer started to  laugh. The odd feeling and crackling sensation from his rib casing quickly made him think otherwise.

 

Now. If only he could…

 

Rakash’s gaze fell on Khardon ‘s staff. This might just be…

 

The Sorcerer grunted, then opened his vox. 

 

+++ Brothers. I have an idea… ++++

Edited September 25 by Xin Ceithan
Placeholder replaced

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

 

Environmental Object hit

6 Damage – 4TB – 5 Armour = 0

 

A thump from some fast flying debris distracted Tarh. He had been seeking another opening to attack, the Utukku still stood and one of the Chosen had all but exploded under its strikes. Steadying himself he glanced down at what had stuck him. A book, the storm in the chamber riffling it’s pages. He picked it up, perhaps it was one of the tomes needed by the priest to banish the daemon again.

 

No! He dropped it, and made to kick it away. Embossed on the front had been the two headed carrion bird of the enemy. The thought of how The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer had found its way here had barely arisen when Tarh dismissed it, there was more immediate tings to deal with.

 

The Priest and some of the others had gathered at what had clearly been a devotional site. Perhaps they were summoning Utukkus bound to serve Lord Huron to combat the rogue one, or send this one back into the inmaterium. Either way he hastened toward them and away from the melee. He was no prist or acolyte, but he knew from his service that the priest of the legion always need to concentrate on the ritual and interruptions could prove disastrous. Had that happen here already?  

 

As he crossed the ground he sent one more las shot at the manifestation head.  

 

 

Full Action, Full Move (8m away from the big melee and towards those at the ritual site) and single shot (called Shot Head) as per Hip Shooting

BS: 44 – 20 (In Combat) – 10 (Deadeye Shot, Called Shot) + 20 (Enormous)  +10 (Short Range) = 44

D100: 59, Miss, 2DoF

 

Edit: forgot this earlier.

The Painful Majesty of The Perfect Form: Willpower Test

WP: 28 +20 (Easy)= 48

D100: 09, Pass

Edited September 26 by Trokair

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

On wings of flame the Hag was attacked by one of the Astartes, with a clang like two tanks crashing into each other. 

 

Then the Hag retaliated and smote the Raptor from the sky. The doomed Astartes exploded the damage was too great for his war-gear to withstand. 

 

Shoddy workmanship of the False Omnissiah! 

 

An explosion radiated outwards from the doomed reactor and jet engine housing. Kraggan was hit by the blast that he could not dodge, he was having too much fun anyway. 

 

 

 

Blast: 15 -9 (AV) -4 (TGH) = 2 Damage

 

 

 

 

Kraggan still faced the Hag, although he could hear drums of war.  "My Lord!" 

 

 

 

Resist Stunning Beauty

WIL32 +20 (Easy) +10 (Radiant Presence) - 5 (Sirensong) = 57. Result: 41, Pass 1DoS

 

 

 

 

He could hear the chanting and make out the words now. He swung his Power Axe at the Hag with all of his ability and rage. 

 

"Blood for the Blood God. A skull for his Throne!" 

 

 

(Free Action) Spend an Infamy Point for a Degree of Success. 

(Full Action) All Out Attack vs Delphynie

WS41 +30 (All Out Attack) +20 (Size) +10 (Wrathful Ire - Hatred of Daemons) = 101. Result: 11, Pass 9DoS.

Fallen Magos Power Axe, Damage: 2D10+4, Pen 6, Cursed Metal, Power. 

Damage: 10 (ZH not applicable) +8 +4 +3 = 25.

 

Cursed Metal test: TGH42 = 42. Result: 38, Pass

 

 

 

 

 

"Stitch that!" 

 

 

 

 

 

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

The decision to remain distant from the battle had proven wise as more of the astartes fell. How things faired beyond that he was unsure as he kept his sight averted and his focus upon his task.

 

Tome in hand he watched as the one who had been accused crawled towards the sorcerers staff and wondered if it would be prudent to end him lest his intentions were to aid the daemon. At his back Ephialtes plucked a grenade from the fallen one and hid it amongst their robes, his works of ministration limited without the correct tools.

 

The staff and the circle... perhaps they would make some sense if he were closer.

 

Xerxes will hold a defensive stance allowing the Smiler to move seeking the book / words from the sorcerer

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

It seemed that the blood-mad tech and the Space Marines had the daemons, if not exactly well in hand then at least distracted. Crux'as moved towards the other tech-priest and the sorcerers. 

 

"Is there any way to get rid of the Youngest's spawn?'

 

Full Action - Move to the ritual circle/sorcerers

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

Another witch, or simply a desperate fool? Either way perhaps one more versed in such things.

 

Indicating the grimoire "the Sorcerer spoke of Unrelenting Tides and his stave, though I am unconvinced further meddling will improve the situation". The tech-adepts gaze did not leave the crawling Rakash as he spoke.

[Xin Ceithan]

Cyrandras 

 

The Sorcerer  slowly dragged himself towards the center of summoning circle. He probably could have achieved something more dignified, given the amount of combat stimms that currently circled through his system, but then he was deliberately trying to literally keep a low profile.
 Bhael-Four bobbled around him,  keeping low and the armoured frame of his master between him and the carnage on the flight deck, like some carrion bird trailing a wounded beast.

 

The Neverborn were occupied at the moment and their grip on realspace fading. Yet that dangerous in its own , since there was no telling what they would do to get the most of every moment  they remained on the mortal plane.  And especially to someone who was trying to cut this experience short…

 

Also, he was busy with things more delicate than walking. 
 

Using the feed of what Bhael-Four had retained from the abattoir on Khymara and the glitching tactical overlay from his auto-senses, Rakash blink-clicked through the images,  accompanied by  short grunts of instructions In an attempt  to convey enough information for the remaining  defenders to assist in the preparations. 
 

His focus was mainly on the remaining members of the Circle of Seers - and the  Bloodreaver ! - but there might be others among the defenders with enough  grasp of the occult to see what he was attempting to do.  

The others were  certainly making every effort to put the Neverborn down,  but Cyrandras also wanted to make sure to keep the Warpspawn out  following that.
And to make sure to he was seen doing that. Well, heard doing that, mostly.

 

He grunted another set of instructions.

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM OOC: Alright gents, taking a cue from AT, I'll pull us all together here so we can start the dance.

 

READ THESE INSTRUCTIONS CAREFULLY.

 

Ritual Information and Conditions:

• The Ritual, in it's most basic terms is psychically throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
• Once the Ritual is begun, it must not be stopped. If the Ritual is interrupted, psychic backlash will begin to build up, and affect the Manifestation Difficulty.
• Once the Ritual is begun, no-one may move outside (voluntarily or otherwise, including Dodging) the Manifestation Circle (assume 5m radius of the Locus)
• The Ritual will require an Extended Test across Three 'Narrative Rounds' by all parties:
  • One Player must contribute by chanting Rote Refrains. These incantations must be given in order, with one Per Round.
    • Refrain of Refute: Challenging (+0) Willpower OR Intelligence
    • Refrain of Castigation: Difficult (-10) Willpower OR Intelligence
    • Refrain of Abolition: Hard (-20) Willpower ONLY. (Will drives the Daemon out...etc)
  • One Player (a Psyker) must serve as the Locus Conductii. The task of the Locus is to control the ebb and flow of the psychic power. This is very dangerous, because if a Perils of The Warp occurs, they count as the target/centre for any effects. Whilst the Staff of Khardon is possessed, Manifestation Tests are Difficult (-10) as opposed to Very Hard (-30). The Locus must make three Psychic Power Manifestation Tests, in order of difficulty, with one instance per 'Narrative Round':
    • Summoning of Force: Challenging (+0)
    • Control of Immortal Power: Difficult (-10)
    • Unleashing the Unrelenting Tide: Hard (-20)
  • Any other two players may conduct Rites of Empowerment. These are simple Actions which involve the burning of incense, alteration or eradication of glyphs as they appear, or the mere turning of pages. As previously, these are conducted in sequence, once per Round.
    • Alteration of the Binding Word: Challenging (+0) Intelligence OR Agility Tests. The Player is free to choose which.
    • Reformation of the Warp Vortex: Difficult (-10) Intelligence OR Agility Tests. The Player is free to choose which.
    • Closure of the Eternal Seal: Hard (-20) Intelligence OR Agility Tests. The Player is free to choose which.
• Delphynie, and the natural, hostile properties of the warp will fight you. You must accumulate Six Degrees of Success (between you) in order to win the Round.
• If you lose a Round, Delphynie interrupts immediately, with a Round of Combat, with 1 temporary Infamy Point.
• Rhythm is everything. If you post in the proper Cadence (Order of Rites - who posts first, who posts second, who posts third) you will gain +1 DoS. Conversely, should you be 'out of sync' you will gain +1 DoF. The Locus may attempt to discern the correct Cadence by a Very Hard (-30) Forbidden Lore Test. He may receive assistance. You should discuss in the OOC what order you are going to post in.
• Expect dirty tricks.

You may have one Narrative Round to prepare however you wish. Once the parties are committed to the circle, their influence outside it ends. It becomes, for all intents and purposes, a self-contained bubble for these Talents and Traits. Physical matter can pass between, so watch for bullets.

 

GM: Comments, queries and Screaming in the OOC as usual.

 

Edited September 25 by Mazer Rackham
Quality control..! Amendments to tidy and clarify.

[Mazer Rackham]

Round 2 Continues:

 

Delphynie:

Reaction: Dodge (Kraggan) Ag 81

D100: 71, PASS, one DoS

 

NPC Actions:

 

Huron:

With a gutteral roar, the Red Corsair In Person lets fly his rage.

 

Multiple Attacks: Power Axe, Power Fist
Axe: Hits, after all rolls inflict 10 Wounds
PF: 99, MISS,  Inf Re-roll, Misses HARDER ON 100. 

 

 

Alpha Legion:

Open fire SAB with bolters at the Sirensong

 

BS: 6 x Hit, 1 x Miss by 3 DoF, 1 x JAM.
Dam: 6 Mag Dam Breaks a Mag Scale

Misses go into the melee (D6 Rando x3)

 

• 1: Huron
• 2: TDA
• 3: Hagga
• 4: Kraggan
• 5: Eska
• 6: Delly

 

D6: 4 (Kraggan)
D6: 2 (TDA)
D6: 4 (Re-roll) 5 (Eska)
Dam: 1d10 (2D10 Tearing) +9 = 16, Pen 4 (Dodges available)
TDA ignores.

 

Cowering Rabble:

Seeing the summoning circle being once more attended, and the memory of their number being butchered and killed with slit throats, the corpses still slowly dissolving into puddles of gore all over the flight deck, they go berserk and begin to use the scattered tools to try and free themselves. Some do. The Cowering Rabble form 3 x Hordes and now become Adversaries.

 

Actions:

Full Action: Break Free and Regroup.

 

TDA:

Recovering his wits, he piles in beside his Lord, striking at the abomination who tried to bring down his ward - and who caused the deaths of his kin.

 

Full Action: All Out Attack (PF)

WS: 80 (with AOA etc), gets 83. Whoof!
 

 

Sirensong:

Some of them leap up on Eska's back, shouting they want a ride, even as they torment her. Others lap around Hagga's legs, clinging as though he's the father, long lost and gone. More swoop around Kraggan, asking for sweets and treats but promising only tricks. Delphynie laughs gaily at the playful tykes, their sport and adoration as they sing their bloodcurdling nursery rhymes and seek her approval. They smother Huron and the Terminator Clad Bodyguard.

 

Actions: Bonk.

WS: 20 one attack per enemy in contact:

D100 per Target:

• Huron: MISS
• TDA: HIT, Dam: 19, Pen 3
• Hagga: MISS
• Kraggan: HIT, 14 Pen 3 (Dodge Available if not used)
• 5: Eska HIT, 17, Pen 3 (No Dodge, unless I am mistaken?

 

The Sirensong suddenly begin to fade, their shadows binding to the crazy flickers coming from Delphynie's chitinous-covered feet.

•  

Edited September 25 by Mazer Rackham
Wierd spoiler tag interactions. Post is sound, format is b0rk.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga/Eska:

 

As per below, Hagga intervenes and takes both Hits.

 

Alphas' Bolter Hit:

Dam 16 - TB8 - AV6(10 - Pen4) = 2 Wounds suffered, now on 18/20.

 

Sirensong Hit:

Dam 17 - TB8 - AV7(10 - Pen3) = 2 Wounds suffered, now on 16/20.

 

The Alpha Legionnaires opened fire, with what in Hagga's opinion was staggering lack of proper bolter discipline. Or aiming. If they survived, he planned to have words.

 

He ducked instinctively as the thunderous chattering of the Astartes weapons filled the air. They both avoided being caught in the worst of the fusillade, barely, but Hagga could see that Eska's attention had been drawn away from the vicious little creatures swarming around them. One of the daemons was about to plunge its wicked talons into the hound’s unarmoured side.

 

It was utterly foolish, but Hagga moved without thinking, stepping forward and taking the blow himself. He felt a moment of sudden pain as the blade-like fingers pierced his side, but the wound began to clot almost immediately. He looked down at the vile little warpspawn and grinned with battle fury and bloodlust.

 

 

Edited September 25 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: Yes, that's fine @Lysimachus Please resolve any Damage from both Hits.

 

EDIT: WP Test to resist Delly luscious hips, lips and whip:

Huron: Auto Pass

TDA: WP 45 + 20 = 65

D100: 69! Hahahah LOL . Stunned.

 

Edited September 25 by Mazer Rackham

[Machine God]

Kraggan:

 

One of the Alpha Legion had fired at the Hag with a Bolter but had missed, one of angry hornets had his name on it. 

 

 

 

AGL44 +0 (Dodge) = 44. Result: 35, Pass

 

 

 

 

It seemed like he still was blessed by his rage, he sidestepped and batted the bolt away with his Power Axe. 

 

 

 

Next he was assailed by the hell children who demanded sweets and gifts with menaces. 

 

"Ouch!" 

 

 

 

Damage: 17 - 6 (9AV - Pen 3) - 4 (TGH) = 7 Wounds

 

 

 

 

One of the Sirensong had bitten him on the bum. 

 

 

 

 

 

[Xin Ceithan]

Cyrandras

 

There are those who  claim that humanity has been touched by the Immaterium since it’s ancient forebears first walked upon the plains of Old Earth.  From there its  influence might have waxed and waned as the species spread first across  its ancient home, and later across  the galaxy. Its influence has always been there, these savants suggest, from campfire tales to dedicated studies, from nursery rhymes to dirges, from  crude etchings to elaborate works of art. But wherever humanity has spread, it has taken this ancient connection with it, unknowingly or not. Across human space, it is there in nursery rhymes and curses, gestures of warding and tales of things beyond the torchlight, electrified or otherwise. At its core, it is whispered, all of humanity has always been touched by the Warp.

 

Crawling across the flight deck of the Avenger, Cyrandras Rakash hast no time for such academic reflections. But he can only hope that is is true in some way, for that is the only way that this crazy scheme is going to work. 

 

Despite the claims of Heretek and the self styled true Mechanikum, Daemonology is an art, not a science.

An art that calls on a primordial  source using a universal set of essential elements. Words and shapes involved might differ, but the essence involved remains the same.

 

The naming of things. Some things that ward. Some that appraise.  Some that hurt. Something to catch the attention. Something that distracts. And most of all, a sacrifice.

 

Always a sacrifice…

 

And so, from these things Cyrandras Rakash sought to bind the disparate strands and arts of the remaining gifted individuals around him to into a impromptu communion,  an amalgam of the otherworldly arts that might, just might, fall into place to become something greater than the whole, something strong enough to hold back the primordial forces flooding the flight deck.

 

 

It was, the Sorcerer knew, an act of desperation. And, if nothing else, of defiance.

 

A spark in the hope that it might light a fire to fight the inferno.

 

His eyes narrowed. Genhanced muscles and myomeric fiber tensed. He had reached the center of the circle. The staff of Khardon still hung there, suspended by unseen forces.

 

 

Cyrandras rose with a whirr of protest from the  servos  of his battered warplate. 

 

The Sorcerer grasped the staff with both hands.  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and opened his mind.

 

It was only a spark. 

 

But the universe was built on an ocean of promethium….

Edited October 3 by Xin Ceithan

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

As the fight raged on others rushed towards the circle of runes to perform some kind of ritual. Opening the tome in the hopes that it would grant some insight into this madness Xerxes found only illiterate scrawlings and diagrams that seemed to contradict one another, though something resembling the circle appeared frequently in different configurations.

 

Hoping that the words of the others might narrow down that path to be taken he set about what tasks he could by brushing and scratching away at the circle to break the pattern that had summoned the daemon while his minion grasped up several of the incense candles from the ground, as ever cautious not to look directly towards the melee or the witch that now sought to add to the chaos.

 

Basic INT test, assistance from minion

Target 55, roll 36 - pass with three extra DoS (one from the roll, one from the cortex implant, one from assistance)

[Mazer Rackham]

The Ritual Circle:

 

The skill and care observed by the Dark Adept begins...something. For a moment, the pitch and yaw could be forgiven as simple shuddering of the deck beneath you, but no. There is no indication to suggest a differing orientation of the megatonnage mass you inhabit.

 

It is there, faint but true, the pseudo-metallic rasp of ancient god-forged engines, the mechanism built to run the cosmos. Such a noise is known by some who adore such labels as the music of the spheres.

 

A poetic name scribbled by ignorant remembrancers. Doggerel. Their kindness belies the truth - it is merely the gate opening, a bar being raised, allowing the descent into hell. It is now merely a question of how scorched this Icarian band is going to become...

 

The Flight Deck:

 

At this terrible beginning, the panicked sacrificial slaves break into groups and begin moving towards the circle, going for the airlock control blister, or shirking and slinking towards the airlocks on the far side of the flight deck. One or two are felled by the flung debris, the last of which takes a screwdriver buried to the hilt in his eye, and keels over dead. His nameless corpse is footnote in the glory of Delphynie.

 

GM: A loose group of desperate maniacs moves on the Circle. They are yet some good distance away, but will soon prove a threat. They are reticent, still, however - no doubt cowed by primal fear and madness. 1D10 = 6 Assailants (They move as per Init in the Turn Order, but are AB3) They begin 24m from Tarh/Tro. Shouting and query in the OOC.

 

The ritual now begun, inexorably grinds on...

 

GM: According to the Cadence, Ikka is next..?

 

Edited September 29 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

The Smiler

 

The ritual diagrams were down, blood spilled in ways pleasing to the Warp. Candle flames burned, flickering in the wake of bolts and blades.

 

It was time. The words burned in his mind, the language harsh upon his tongue. It was an old language that came from one of the first human tongues.

 

The Smiler's grin bleed as he forced the refrain past his lips.

 

"Hand of the Prince, we call you. Singer of the lost songs, we force the change on you. We call, we change, we refute!"

 

Willpower Test

Target - 45

Roll - 40

Result - Pass, no DoS

[Mazer Rackham]

The Ritual:

 

GM: Players, thankfully you win the Round with the Required 6 x DoS - but barely. We'll let Tro go now, followed immediately by the Panicked Mob (you-go, I-go) so you boys can prepare.

 

Tarh [ ]