[BC] The Blackest Heart (Part II) (IC)

[Trokair]

Toughness Tests

Tarh  -  T:41 – 10 = 31, d100: 52, Fail 3DoF

Mithra  -  T:35 – 10 = 25, d100: 27, Fail, 1DoF

And we are out for the count.  

[Mazer Rackham]

The Wasp:

 

With a herculean effort, the Mantid hauls on the stick, the mechanism buking and buckling in his hands, fit to tear free from the console, and the ratchets, clamps and guide-rods it is bolted, bolstered and buttressed to. The airframe, in its death throes, fights his genhanced body with almost wicked recalcitrance. It is the power of gravity, combined centripetal augmentation, which is proving so difficult to defeat.

 

The Co-pilot begins to flag. She does not have the Lyman's Ear, not the gyroscopic stabilisers in her armoured suit. Barzani has no magboots. The Co-pilot goes slack, as the blood drains from her head, and she finally slumps unconscious, covered in her friend's oily-slick, red, guts. Her arms flap about helplessly even as Barzani's feet begin to shift.

 

Sparks fly as the vessel lurches, the Administratum building filling the forward view - horrifyingly exposed now it has been shorn open. Without his faceplate, Obadiah's eyes would be stung by cinders, debris, grit. They patter off his casque and visor, grim-faced on the outside as the flesh contorted into efforts of will and concentration within.

 

His muscles are fighting a whirlwind. His feet are not secure, until he slides into the fixtures of a crash harness, and, legs splayed, he finds the first bit of purchase. His lips move in mantras, not of prayer, but hypnogogic training. He does not see the pitching building which will be his tombstone, he sees only the small cherub perched atop the altimeter, and her matched twin hovering on the horizon bubble. Deeply, his mind flees from the pain, processing fear as only an Astartes can. His whole body tingles with kill-urge, shame at failure, hatred he is to be robbed of his great chance.

 

Barzani ceases existing. His body is afire. His eyes narrow in the deadly battle haze the Mantis Warriors are whispered to suffer, but they do not succumb. Neither does he. Time slows. Every edge sharpens to painful light, to a dull throb of pulse, and there is a twitch in the gauges he's been holding steady with all his might. They begin to move. They begin to respond to his will, and with an internal scream which would drown the astropathic choir he has come to destroy, his body heaves the aircraft slowly into level flight, and even more, with a spine screaming at him to stop - even that which could take an impact to kill several normal men - he disobeys, and manages to line up the nose on the Tower of Echoes.

 

It is not certain.

 

It is not a given thing he will make it, but with a grim satisfaction, he sees the river rear up at him, the Wasp plunges to her deep and final grave, and with a shudder which would ring the halls of a Titan war machine, Obi is hurled from his feet, cast into the roof of the aircraft as it's belly thunders into a curtain wall at a skipper-angle, and ploughs into the river with a drenching thunder of displaced water and silt as the bullet-vessel nosedives into the bottom.

 

Yet the peril is not finished. He is safe, but his comrades may drown.

 

He must call once more upon his genewrought body, for the landing is finished, but the mission is only just begun.

 

 

 

Edited April 23 by Mazer Rackham

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

The Starhawk left the Razor’s hangar with a careful blast of manoeuvring thrusters and nothing more. The journey to intercept the freighter would be almost an hour slower, but it would render them near enough invisible to the loyalists’ augurs, just another piece of floating orbital debris. Once they reached the bulk hauler, it should be a simple enough matter to put Ressokov aboard, along with everything he needed to wrest control from the automated systems when the time was right.

 

But for now…?

 

Waiting. Useless. Impotent. Hagga hated transit. Nothing to do but think about all the things that might go wrong.

 

They'd lost contact with the Wasp almost a day earlier, barely after it hit atmo. Cyrandras had told them about the crash shortly afterward. Who knew whether the Mantid, or the mortal scout Tarh, had survived? Best to assume not. Plan for the worst.

 

It wouldn't change their current targets; the bastion, and the docks - Varne's Arvus was somewhere in the black a short way ahead of them. But if the Astropaths survived, that would mean the Corsairs would have less time to complete their raid and get the hell out of the Ithyca system. Maybe much less time. If there were any other ships in the area - that patrolling Lunar-class, for example - they might be on the Razor’s heels very quickly.

 

Eska lay quietly, chewing on a bone she'd got from… somewhere? Ukalegon and Mourn stood silently. The former Lamenter seemed at ease, but that tail of his swished and twitched with what appeared to be ill humours. Was he watching Kraggan? Maybe. The mad techpriest either didn't see or didn't care. Ressokov also seemed wrapped in his own thoughts, perhaps of vengeance or retribution. All the occupants, forced together in the confines of the troop bay, but seemingly alone in their own worlds.

 

 

 

Edited April 23 by Lysimachus

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

Crux'as found Tyro in the Jerall manor and 'requisitioned" the warrior to accompany him to Cain. The ground car provided by the Padruks was small, but fast enough to get to the Vale in a timely manner. Along the way the Smiler impressed upon the soldier the need for any potential documents that could get certain parties into the kontors.

 

They pulled into the Vale and were escorted to Cain. 

 

"Good to see you master Cain. I have some good news about a shipment in route."

 

OOC : Crux'as will explain the basic plan for the fighers to Cain. Dividing up the Vale/Plantation fighters into the squads and separating out the "loyalist" elements. Molotovs that are with Atesh will go to all squads, firebombs and explosives on the second Arvus shuttle drop. Explosives handed out to Vale platoons, firebombs to everyone.

    - Loyalist Vale fighters/Plantation squads will provide the bulk of the "Distraction Force". Equipped with Molotovs/firebombs, will stage hit-and-run ambushes on any responders to their fires that are set slightly outside Harville, then ambush anyone attempting to reinforce the responders. Fade away if the response it too large, attack another area. - If we need to, send more Plantation fighters here (guessing that we will have 4 of the 8 Plantation squads on this duty, might move up to 6? 1 or 2 of the Vale fighter squads sent here as well.)

    - Plantation fighters who will become new recruits will head to the kontors and attempt to gain access once military response is sent to deal with Distraction Force. Main job will be to take any rations possible, firebomb the warehouses. Servitor support possible. 

    - The more mercenary Vale fighters (assuming at least 2 of Lysi's platoons) will stage with Crux'as to raid the armory. 

    - Both Stormtrooper squads will be put with the "Special Operators" that are currently in the shuttle at Jerall manor. Special Operators will link up with a stealth squad already in Harville, will follow instructions upon rendezvous (try to take more shuttles?, attack SoB, or whatever Rakash/Obi/Atesh/Tarh want to do)

    - Tyro and Cain will monitor Distraction Force until it is untenable, then evac with the main crew.

Edited April 24 by Lord_Ikka

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

He could taste blood in his mouth, the familiar metallic flavor coating his tongue and olfactory nerves.  He blinked to wash the same red hue from his eyes.  Beyond the darker red of his helmet lenses, everything was the murky bluish-green of the river.  His first instinct -- brutally quashed -- was to offer up a prayer to the Throne that he'd survived.  He blink-clicked the armor systems status icon displayed before him, and smiled grimly to see that his suit hadn't been compromised in the crash; that gave him some time, time that a normal...

 

+Tarh?+ he asked, before realizing the mortal might not be able to answer him even if he was alive.  Pushing off the rended bulkhead, he turned in place just in time for the mortal's giant tortoise companion to rear up before him.  It floated serenely in the water, but behind it sat Tarh, still strapped into his crash couch.  Obi muscled aside the animal, drew forth Silence, and slashed the mortal's harness straps.  He resheathed the blade, grabbed Tarh with one hand and the man's pack with the other, and pushed off and out of the ruined cutter's front end.

 

They shot out of the ship's nose, but Obi didn't have enough buoyancy to get to the surface and he began to drag them both to the bottom.  He released Tarh, watching as the mortal's body began to float to the surface as the Astartes himself began to sink even further.  He did what he could to swim towards the north bank, but his progress was more vertical than horizontal.  The river's current washed him a bit further downstream, but it didn't take long for his feet to touch bottom.  He cut a diagonal path across the riverbed, working against the current and towards the north bank.  It took a fair few minutes to make the bank, and he found himself smiling a bit as his helm broke the surface.

 

He climbed out of the river and immediately pulled the quick-release on his cloak, allowing the cameleoline material to cascade down his back and across his shoulders.  He pulled up the hood as well then clutched Tarh's equipment pack and rifle.  Enhanced by his autosenses, it didn't take long to pick out Tarh's form a hundred meters upriver, recumbent on the bank; his reptilian friend was there, standing over him protectively.  Obadiah made his slow way along the bank, letting the camo cloak shield him from view, until he came up on the man and his...pet?  Mount?  Whatever.

 

"Tarh," he tried to whisper through the vox-mitter, unwilling to surrender the protection or the autosenses on the assumption that an Arbites SAR team was looking for them.  "Tarh, you need to wake up."

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'as:

 

Tyro looks to Cain, who nods at your dispersal and engagement strategy.

 

'It will be done as you say, friend.' Tyro puts his fingers to his lips and whistles to his troops to begin their deployment. 'Jonas, Karol, go to the nearest farm and requisition one of their grain vehicles, start dropping off the lads in position....the rest of you...

 

Cain interrupts as Tyro continues, brandishing some paperwork. 'We scrounged up some travel papers for a PDF officer. Congratulations, Captain. How long they'll remain relevant is anyone's guess, and I'm not sure how legit they are either, but it should get you through the checkpoints outside the city. Inside..?' He shrugs.

 

GM: Feel free to invent this Captain as you please.

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

"Captain Aldos Severin. Hmm. Very well."

 

Crux'as looked to the pair of rebel officers. The smile shown was full of anticipation. 

 

"I'll need to use your vox relay to inform the Syndicate teams. Then we can move on to Harville as a PDF relief force late at night. Once we get inside the perimeter the true fun begins." 

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'as/Atesh/Cyrandras:

 

'Help yourself,' Cain says, wandering outside the tent to finish off what Tyro has started.

 

The men and women of the insurrection keep looking at the space marine among them, his radiance a barely imperceptible shimmer, but it is there. Beside him the mortal psyker, his blessings a thing of both intrigue and concern. Equally as regarded in fear and awe, no suspicion of why these powerful avatars are here, but it puts a bit more urgency to everything.

 

The Marine Sorcerer might seem at peace, but his senses broil with the different emotions, intentions, whispers. He can taste the duplicity on the thoughts, hopes and dreams, the infinite amount of destinies, schemes, and desires. They vary from the simple to profane. Atesh too, cannot help but feel the sweep of Fate - being so closely bound to it. A nexus approaches, when a great work can be completed, although it will require the blood of the faithful.

 

Not yet, a voice croaks across aeons, across time and distance so vast and hollow, that it could have been a whisper of distant wind, but you know better. You know better.

 

Soon.

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

Toughness Tests

Tarh  -  T:41 + 10 = 51, d100: 73, Fail 3DoF, still in the embrace of oblivion.

 

Tarh’s breathing would have been shallow and regular if not the a gurgle interrupting each breath. He reared briefly in a coughing fit, river water and bile splattered before he collapsed again.

 

 

 

OCC: Tarh has a medikit in his equipment, perhaps Obadiah can use it and a untrained medicae test to assist?  

 

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

Dataslates switched to local frequencies, lists of tasks and reports sent to Grenz and by extension himself that would provide adequate cover for his movements. Key demands that met with the dispatch of a servitor or estimation of time lest the missing tech priest attract more attention.

 

Secrecy was the key and so first to address must be the arbites pict relay, equipped as he was now with more suitable tools he could infiltrate the network and prepare bypasses and false vid-feeds and provide blindspots in which to operate on otherwise watched locations.

 

Then work would turn towards access hatches and backups that adequately equipped servitors might have easy access when instructed to cut key connections leaving only those that he controlled fully. Still though the weakening of the civilian infrastucture would do little to slow those defensive forces that held strong within their fortifications and would not accept intrusion unwatched and unscheduled.

 

A crack in the wall must be found, an automated defense that could be approached unseen or conduit through which Ephialtes could slip. Enough that when the abites left their fortress to respond to attack it would be possible to slip inside and turn their sanctuary into a slaughterhouse.

 

Xerxes turned once more to his dataslates as he walked making inventory of those servitors available and those yet to compromise. They would need armaments.

[Mazer Rackham]

++ INTERCAPEDO EXCRUSCIOR ++

 

LOCSIT: VESSEL IDENT [REDACTED]

TIME INDEX: MISSION COMMENCE +52 DAYS (BOUNTY INCUSION UNDERWAY)

AUTH: [REDACTED]

 

It had taken some serious skill, patience and determination to track down the third member of his team. A swift and diminutive Space Marine that was of open countenance and delicate manner, always bowing and spreading his hands. The man walked everywhere he could barefoot, in his simple traveller's robe, and had taken the black not due to some personal failing, but because he was hunting his enemy.

 

He called himself Rak'Tavi, and his prey was only ever described as: 'The Snake'.

 

Whoever this snake was, he would be in for it if the little Marine found him before the bronzed, almost moon-faced warrior was discovered in the burrow. It had been hard enough to find him here, lurking in the hydroponics bay, delicately attending to stems of some flowing plant. It was a whim of the Lord Inquisitor, and it seemed to bring peace to Rak'Tavi as he stood pruning, and spraying water from a mist condenser.

 

Whilst Carraigh watched - as per his usual wont - the smaller brother carefully turned the potted plant into better light, the artificial solar rays bathing the leaves still dry. 'Balance, in all things, noble Sergeant.'

 

Carraigh inclined his head, and the other Blackshield smiled. Alone of all of them, he carried no stain to his honour, but, Carraigh appreciated the mission, the...failing.

 

'I do it so the leaves do not burn. Do you see?'

 

Of course he did. His chisel helm dipped in understanding. +We have found the rest of the ship we discovered where Brimstone should be. It is currently moored deep within an asteroid field, held by pirates.+

 

'Friends, perhaps?'

 

Carraigh smiled inside, but said nothing. There were few secrets on this ship, which pleased him, since their whole existence relied upon a web of them which underpinned those known. Lies within lies, wheels within wheels. An alabaster spider, he could navigate them well, which gave him the reason as to why he was picked. +Prep your gear, Taelor, Ardan and Dravok come with us.+

 

Rak'Tavi frowned, his usually serene, young face crumpling into concern. 'Dravok is a strange man. He has a great sadness about his shoulders. What do you think?'

 

Carraigh waited, in silence. Both of them understood the power of it, the terrible effect. He smiled even as Rak'Tavi did.

 

'He called you Lugal, after you vacated your shooting...lesson. I know not what it means, and I suspect neither did he, but you did not hear it,' the small, silent killer admitted with a shrug.

 

No, but it didn't matter. Wait a moment...+You were at the ranges? I never saw you.+

 

The warrior assumed an apologetic stance, and spread his hands with a fixed, deliberate smile of innocence.

 

He'd have to be a little more....observant. That suited him just fine. +Launch bay two. We make way by Blackstar.+

 

Rak'Tavi bowed deeply, and went.

[Machine God]

Kraggan

 

He'd already assessed and read the micro-nuances given off by the Astartes. Everything was filed away and analysed as had been the combat. 

 

The Mortal side of him, the remnant had underestimated the foe. 

 

They weren't called the Angels of Death for nothing. He would serve and take skulls. 

 

The purge had been painful, yet he'd endured. 

 

As a Heretek of the True Omnissiah he was glad to follow a direct path, if on the way he could learn the secrets 

 

 

The flesh-metal and the Obliterator codes... 

 

 

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: On that bombshell, I will move the timeline on a few hours.

 

Crux'as:

Dusk falls on Bounty, and the function promised by the Padruk sisters is in full swing with officers and ladies attending the Gerhardt townhouse, not far from the main conurbation, but comfortably within the protective walls. In the mean time, the elements of the rebel forces move into position to attack, signalling their readiness via Tyro and Cain.

 

You are relayed by a message from Karelia, that salacious gossip has been known, and that a duel is planned. Unfortunately, the Second of one of the duellists is the man who can open the armoury, and the duel is expected to take place in the morning - 'Grass before Breakfast' - as it is known. Also, a group of the bumpkins who pledged to the Padruks have found a PDF reserve baggage store and plundered all the liquor which they have then imbibed. This has borne a blessing and a curse, in that an Arbites unit has been dispatched to take care of them, but if they get them in for interrogation, it could cause revelations that would prove prickly.

 

Xerxes:

You return to the city's Depot, without too much trouble, being stopped several times by citizens with complaints about plumbing, roofing, building works, maintenance enquiries and a myriad of other annoyances. Thankfully now ensconced in the building, several servitors (D10 = 4) have returned from firefighting and remote duty to allow for...ministrations.

 

GM: Be aware guys, I am trying to tie a lot of loose planning strings together here into a knot. If I miss something minor, I apologise, but hopefully we're going forward with the highlights, and the rest is window dressing.

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

Lords of the Warp, give me patience for these fools.

 

The duel was fine, if the timing was not the greatest, as they would be trying to raid the armory the next night. Hopefully the Commander would get wounded or killed, giving the PDF a worse command situation. If not, perhaps he would still be unnerved and off-balance from his personal issues. Not much that the cell could do to effect the outcome.

 

The drunken fools however... They would have to be dealt with.

 

Crux'as turned to Cain, "Do we have any reliable assets near the drunks? If not, how far away are they from us? We need to remove wagging tongues and delay the Arbites until tomorrow night at the earliest."

 

His face hardened.

"A drunken fight over stolen booze ending in the deaths of all would be the best outcome."

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'as:

 

Cain nods, sniffs. 'I'll see what I can do.'

 

 

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

"Good. Then we can get this operation going."

 

And to any of the Lords who are listening, make our plans go through without fail.

 

Spoiler

OOC- Not that it happened that way, what with our stealthy crew being shot down a few hours later...

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Bounty - Morning:

 

Crux'as:

 

Word filters back that the duel has been a complete fiasco. Both combatants were wounded during the escapade, after which the Arbites deployed a capture section to arrest everyone for duelling during a time of crisis - which is, of course - against the law. A few bells get rung, and the participants are escorted to the Hospital outside of town, to be put under the care of the Sororitas, and although Karelia Pardruk doesn't say it, the inflection is that it is also house arrest.

 

A platoon of the PDF have been deployed, along with an Exaction team, to keep things...moderate.

 

The drunkards have been dealt with, although the Arbites have concluded - according to the gossip elicited by Ursula and her low-cut dress - that the entire mob of drunks appear to have killed themselves after an indulgence of drink and home-brewed narcotics, although the Arbites have closed the case, the Verispexers report they have never seen violence like it, and are at a loss to explain how a blunt, and roughly rusted billhook (the weapon of choice in the murderous brawl) can near-bisect several men.

 

Speaking of nearly bisecting males of the species, Lady Jocelyn has confined 'Lady' Ursula Padruk to her quarters for the crime of being unable to walk, talk or remember in a straight line, commenting that the last straw was belching at a footman, followed by uncouth solicitations for him to "give her trophies a good polishing anytime he likes, handsome" are not appropriate, befitting, behaviour.

 

Atesh/Cyrandras:

GM: Gents, feel free to mingle, chat, ask queries here, as there's not much to do beyond waiting.

 

++++++++++

 

GM: Gents, I'm going to move us on to the 24hour-ish mark, and bring things more into line. We're going to give Obi and Tarh the benefit of this being early evening, just as Crux'as is moving into town. We will assume that the dispersal of your troops has pulled a chunk of the PDF and some Arbites out into the wilderness, but do bear in mind they were dispersed here already due to dealing with the crisis.

 

GM: The bridges are manned by the PDF, mostly on the outskirts, and the Brassers closer to the central hub, on the city's gates. There are no Sororitas patrols as yet, but if you penetrate the city, you will see that there are parties of all branches of the Sisters helping victims of the recent fires at triage stations (armoured and not as befits rank and role). 

 

GM: Crux'as/ @Lord_Ikka: To enter the city, you will have to pass three VCP's (Vehicle Checkpoints), two of which are manned by the PDF, but the third is Arbites. You may call upon your Forked Tongue to become Peer to the PDF (due to your disguise). Your Test difficulties are as follows:

• VCP1 (Road): Routine (+10), NCO, Scrutiny will be low.
• VCP2 (Bridge): Difficult (-10) An Officer is present, Scrutiny average.
• VCP3 (Gate): Hard (-20), Arbites, Peer will not function, Scrutiny will be high.

GM: If you fail any tests you get held up by time x DoF. Obviously 4 + DoF is automatic discovery. You can re-attempt the tests after the time elapses, or almost immediately if you increase the Difficulty by one step. Note that Obi and Tarh are literally about to be shot down, and when that happens the city will seal, so...

 

Obadiah/Tarh/Quardrupanzer:

 

As the sirens wail and slowly shrill to a reasonable hum, you can just discern (GM OOC: Obi) the sound of Thopter thrumming. A search patrol has been dispatched. You have a few minutes at best, before they are on top of you.

 

Edited April 25 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

Crux'as readied himself, settled into the role of Captain Severin, coming into Harville to assist with security duties. His two platoons marched behind him in a good approximation of order.

Spoiler

 

Tests

 

Charm Test - to get Peer: PDF

Target - 62

Roll - 58

Result = Pass, No DoS. Peer: PDF active

 

Decieve Test - VCP1   

Target - 62 + 10 (Peer) + 10 (Routine) = 82

Roll - 48

Result = Pass, 3 DoS

 

Deceive Test - VCP2 

Target - 62 + 10 (peer) - 10 (Difficult) = 62

Roll - 78

Result = Failure, 1 DoF. Instead of waiting 2 hours, re-test at Hard level of difficulty

New Target - 62 + 10 - 20 (Hard) = 52

Roll - 44

Result = Pass, no DoS

 

Deceive Test - VCP3

Target - 62 - 20 (Hard) = 42

Roll - 26

Result = Pass, 1 DoS

 

 

As they marched past the various checkpoints, only once did the Smiler slip up. It wasn't his fault that the lieutenant in charge of the second vehicle section was especially keen-eyed, but a little haughty babble distracted the man from looking too closely at the marching men. 

 

Past the Arbites checkpoint Crux'as directed the platoons to move to the Mercantile district. It was close to the armory but not near enough to either the Arbites citadel or the PDF barracks to draw undue attention. They would wait here until nightfall.

Edited April 25 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

Crux'as:

 

As you billet the men, and begin settling in, the buzzing sound of a high-rate of fire weapon cuts the air. Looking up, a long stream of golden hornets spray out in a pattern to swat a gnat desperately striving to evade the damage. As the vessel bucks and rears, you recognise the Wasp, and it is taking a pasting. A reverberating explosion meets your ears moments after the puff of smoke and flash from the target being struck.

 

Thick smoke billows as the armour plates are peeled off by the punishing salvo, shedding thick debris in the wake of the stricken air-vehicle. It appears - at this distance - that the nose has been completely smashed, but as it spins towards the ground, it seems to rally, and plunges towards the city walls. Another rib-shaking thump later and you hear the churn of something heavy hitting water at speed.

 

The sirens come shortly after, and then the Arbites Precinct lights up like a Sanguinala grotto.

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

Warp curse it all.

 

"Sergeants, let the boys know that there may be a couple of operatives slinking in. If they see anything, let me know. Also, keep everyone quiet and calm, it looks like something fracked up slightly and the Enforcers might start roaming."

 

Crux'as barked quickly to the two "sergeants" that were with him. He switched his vox-beam and sent out a quick message.

 

++Smiler to Stealth One, status? ++

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

OOC: Redoing Toughness Tests in the hope sufficient time has passed to do so, can always undo if not.

T:41 + 10 (Routine) +10 (presuming assist from Obi+ Tarh’s Medikit)= 61

d100: 04, Pass. Hello World

 

He work screaming, or so his lungs intended, but the remnants of swallowed river stifled him. Rolling onto his side and propping himself up with one elbow Tarh coughs and splutters. Eye watering from the pain. Oh the pain, everything hurt. Was this hell?

 

‘...towards Mithra with a spork!"’ someone had said. The remnants of a nightmare, already fading, pushed out by the pain and coughing and cold.

 

Failing to wipe his face clear, for Tarh no realised he was sodden through and through, enough clarity returned that he saw Obadiah crouched there, leaning over him. His Medikit lay open where the Chosen had rummaged in it. Shakily reaching towards it Tarh sought out some painkiller, it was hard to think straight.

 

Rolling back onto his back, suppressing a grown, Tarh took stock. He was alive, though the how was an unknown. He could just see the river and it was not hard to conclude that they had landed in it, though at the speed they must have been going water was no softer then solid ground. Tentatively he tested his limbs, but while they hurt nothing appeared broken, or even sprained. Thought the final test would come when he tried to stand.

 

“Quick release on cargo strap, two, two and a half hand spuns, ” He held up his hand to the Chosen to show. “ up from the floor on the left side by rear ramp door, save her.”

 

Following the Chosen’s gaze Tarh turned his head, there Mithra was chewing on some plants only a few paces away. “thank the Other.” Tarh said quietly with relieve. Turning back to Obadiah “and Thank You as well Chosen.”

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Harville:

 

Crux'as:

 

Your men mostly hold their nerve. An occasional one succumbs to spilling his guts into a drainage grate, but otherwise nothing kicks off as the mighty gates around the city are closed and barred.

 

They look a bit pasty as the city-wide vox cuts into play and a heavy breath shuffles the voxcoder distortion into a low, threatening, growl.

 

+Citizens of Harville, this is Provost Marshal Dannik. Our defences have shot down a vessel containing fugitives from the Law. I call upon all loyal to the Emperor, to report any sightings of suspicious activity. The fugitives are wanted for criminal damage, escaping the Emperor's judgement, weapons violations, fleeing the scene of a crime, failure to confess, witness to, and propagation of, heresy, and worst of all...+

 

There is a distinct pause, pregnant with a controlled, quiet rage.

 

+The murders of a Judge and his deputised Arbites. These convicts are under the sentence of death, and are to be executed on sight. Any who prevent my Arbiters from exercising their duty will be guilty of the crimes I have disclosed, and forfeit their lives to the Emperor. You have been warned.+

 

The vox cuts off.

 

Tarh/Obi/Howdah Howitzer:

 

Dusk is falling, the time to move is now. The Law is almost at your heels.

 

Edited April 25 by Mazer Rackham

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh:

 

Sapik was alone in a hut not far from the sorcerer.  Rakash could probably sense something was going on, but Atesh didn't care.

 

Since he'd been back on world...he remembered the rage he felt on the space station when reaching the xenos.  He'd noticed the pilot of the craft that brought him to the world he'd burned last time.  He remembered his earlier comrades in this life.  The memory of Mukta's head popping off under a geyser of blood at the xenos's quick slice brought a severe emotional response he wasn't quite prepared for.

 

Rage.  It was unfair.  This life burned quick and hot, or slow and cold.....but it always extinguished.  Usually in some sort of nasty manner; decapitation by a giant insect was actually fairly merciful and quick.  To everything below the neck, at least.  Atesh remembered watching a public execution from the crowd before his arrest; the criminal's eyes rolled for moments after it left the body.  Atesh had thought maybe his ties to the ghost realm were weakened; he was undergoing something akin to a crisis of faith at the time.  But then he felt something bubble in the ghost realm when it came for the head's soul.

 

Sapik's worship of the Crow was quiet.  He felt it an intensely personal devotion; probably due to his unexplained ostracism from the rest of his village excepting holidays.  But he had prayed several times that when his moment came, he would not be extinguished.  Atesh wanted to burn away.

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

As they glided towards Bounty on inertia alone, Ukalegon stared out of the cockpit at the dark, looming shape of the bulk hauler, an ugly, but functional slab of a ship trundling through the void on its own mindless journey. Soon it would become their dropship, a meteor that they would hurl down at the unsuspecting city of Harville. Their orbital defences would be all but useless against such a mass.

 

He smiled grimly to himself beneath his beaked bonnet. He could almost swear the Mk VI helm had started to grin as well, with faint dimples forming along its length over the past few days like the impressions of a carnosaur’s teeth. Strange.

 

The bulk hauler was no drop pod, but plummet it would, ideally directly into the Arbites compound. And then the reaping would commence. 

 

The loss of contact with the Mantid and Tarh was troubling, doubly so since the likelihood of sector defences catching wind of their incursion would be all but guaranteed as soon as they made planetfall. 

 

Alas, there was nothing for it. The Blackheart had commanded that Bounty should die, and so it would. 

 

But that was not what truly troubled him. Hagga had spared the red priest’s life, and the crimson-frocked turncoat now sat with them in their cramped transport. He could not argue the logic of it: they were short-handed as it was, and was only permitted to draw breath, or whatever it was that a cyborg did, only so long as he toed the line and did as the Executioner bade. But it grated upon Ukalegon mightily. Again, there was nothing for it. He and Hagga shared a blood-bond now – to renege upon that would leave him truly marooned.

 

Perhaps the problem would sort itself out once bullets started flying and blades commenced swinging. Or it would be just his luck that the wretch would persist.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

The Mantid's lips pursed in exasperation as the loud hailers shut off.

 

"Well, that's a complication," he stated.  He placed Tarh's pack and weapon on the soggy bank next to him.  "We have to move.  Not only are they looking for us, but we're still on a timetable for the rest of the..."  He trailed off, about to say "company."  What were they?  "...the warband," he finished.  He stood and filled his hand with his bolter, letting the camo cloak flow down around him to conceal his form.

 

"And the Arbites will be looking for us.  I suggest we swap to vox, assuming you have an earbud?"  He turned to look at the Astropaths' tower, and without looking back, stepped off towards it.  Things had started off badly, but he had a mission to complete.  A smile tugged at his face behind the stern, uncaring visage of his helmet.