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

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

Sergeant Vix arrived with his troops, riding in several "requisitioned" cargo-8 haulerd. Crux'as watched as his men hauled out boxes of weapons, explosives, and ammunition and loaded up the trucks. He wearily slid into a seat and strapped in, telling Vix to go to the landing area and get everything stored.

 

++All Firebreaks, move to rendezvous. Slash and burn protocols. Loot and run.++

 

The Smiler grinned weakly as the vehicles rumbled off. The plan had worked, not without problems and bloodshed, but it had worked. His eyes closed and head fell back, letting the pain take him.

Edited April 29 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: @A.T. your wide-ranging servitor party identify a small lugger, about the same size as the Starhawk bomber, but fitted for Mechanicum use - agricultural plant, parts, etc. It's an unarmed, rust-bucket of a scow, but it's airworthy. This would serve your purposes well. Load your spoils and get back to the Razor. It will take almost all the time you have.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

The hatch bent and twisted in its frame, and then finally gave up, exploding outwards into a corridor and slamming against the opposite wall. The Astartes were through first, weapons raised.

 

It was a brawl almost immediately.

 

Maybe because of Ukalegon's assault at the top of the bastion, the Arbites were already getting ready for a fight. Though many of the Arbitrators had been out in the countryside when the battle had erupted, they wouldn't ever have been foolish enough to leave their fortress totally undefended - and in addition to the regular troopers still here, there were the various officers and specialists; Investigators, Chasteners, Verispexers, Chaplains and others. All would have spent many years as line Arbitrators, and all wanted their share in the defence. The tower's occupants reacted to the Astartes intrusion exactly as one would expect them to.

 

Hagga slaughtered his way along corridors and up stairwells, Eska just beside him. Heart-Eater reaped a terrible toll amongst the Imperial lawmen. Some of them were skilled, experienced and courageous, well-equipped with shock mauls and suppression shields… but there was nothing here that could match a battle-hardened Astartes warrior.

 

When the mortals tried to mass and charge against him, he hacked them apart. When they tried to hold him back with firepower, to block him at landings or choke points, Eska's fiery breath filled the air and gave him the microseconds he needed to cross the gap and end the obstacle.

 

Up and up he went. His goal, besides finding his blood brother, was to make their way out simpler than their way in.

 

There. He could see the opening of a heavy portal, clear blue skies beyond. He raced out onto a flat, open space. What was left of Harville was visible all around and far below him. The bastion's landing pad.

 

At the far end, a squat, deadly shape rose above the pad. The Hydra flak battery. An Arbites officer - his rank proved by the elaborate steel eagle crest atop his carapace helm, and the powered blade in his fist - and several gunners stood beside it, ready to fire at anything that invaded their airspace. With a furious warcry, Hagga leapt forward, swinging Heart-Eater in brilliant arcs. Eska followed, howling her own terrifying call.

 

It took only moments to cut down the officer and dispatch the gun crew. He smashed and hacked at the control systems, permanently disabling the weapon that had killed the Wasp. At that moment, Maribor's vox message reached him, loud and clear atop the open pad.

 

++Thank you, Mistress Maribor.++ he replied. ++All troops, our time is almost up. Remember our objectives. Plunder whatever you can. Steal landers and shuttles, fill them. Spoil or burn as much as you can of the rest. If we have only three hours, I want everyone - all our brave fighters - aboard a transport and bound for the Razor in two.++

 

He stalked across the roof, tearing apart the stubber and bolter emplacements with his bare hands and hurling the weapons from the roof.

 

++Starhawk, this is Rykaz. The Arbites anti-air capabilities have been destroyed. Collect the Astartes team from the bastion landing pad, immediately. Brothers, finish your work and converge on my position.++

 

 

 

Hagga takes d6(4) Wounds during his battles.

 

 

 

Edited April 29 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

Bounty - Two Kloms Northwest of Harville:

'They are withdrawing.'

 

The second Space Marine stood up from the small stove concealed within a fold in the cliff face. The small outcrop provided good cover and vantage both, a shallow alcove hiding them both from whatever wind and weather beat at them. He picked up a pair of magnoculars, scanned the burning, sodden, wrecked town. 'What a mess.'

 

'Indeed. They are quite a blunt instrument, aren't they?' the first asked.

 

His companion shrugged, the gentle crinkle of his cut-up and sewn-together camouflage tarpaulin cloak easier on the ear than warplate clattering to the humanesque expression. He laid down the magnifier and drew the large anti-materiel rifle to him. 'Our orders?'

 

'No action. We let them go. Send the signal for Operatives Cain and Tyro to evacuate.'

 

With a grunt, the second Marine complied, tapping the communicator once, before he derisively spat over the cliff edge. 'How long is this going to carry on?'

 

'If I know Valex, not long, brother. Not too much longer at all, in fact.'

[Machine God]

Kraggan

 

After moving through the city he had managed to liberate a Chimera from a half squad of PDF, and had taken their skulls. 

 

Of course the Chimera could move through the flooded streets. 

 

++High Magos Xerxes this is Magos Kraggan. I am bringing a wounded Chimera to your position for healing++

 

One never knew who was listening and whether you were on secure net. 

 

 

Eventually he caught up with Xerxes and loaded his Chimera onto the transport off world.

 

 

 

Kraggan takes d6(5) Wounds during his skirmish with the PDF and citizens

 

 

 

 

Also he'd managed to clean up the recording he'd made. 

 

What had he uncovered? 

 

 

 

 

 

[Machine God]

Kraggan

 

After getting back to the Razor he Voxxed Hagga on a Private Channel. 

 

+++I have Intel to pass on to you. If you send me a secret place and time, I will pass it on+++

 

 

 

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

Pre-selection of targets of value had proven disappointing, some buried others too well entrenched to penetrate with so short a timescale. But the landing site still held opportunity of acquiring tools and fabrication materials - the ceramite, adamantium, and more required to repair and replace key components of void capable ships and the precision equipment required to work them... if there was time.

 

And time was not his friend for soon enough more would come seeking a seat. The servitors were expendable but what worth was one man compared to their weight in refined diamantine?

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

“... For the Blackheart, brothers!" A battle cry from Hagga as he took the lead in the assault up the stairs. A cry echoed by several of the chosen in their rush. Tarh just sat in silence, there was no inspiration for him in those words. The Tyrant was his liege lord now, and a monstrously dangerous at that, but Tarh felt no stirring of fidelity or loyalty at the battle cry, just a commander on whose behest he went to war, knowing neither why or to what end, truly a soldiers life.  He urged Mithra forward, it would not do to lag behind and get separated.

 

The push up into the heart of the Arbite Bastion had been swift, and brutal to a degree that Tarh could not really take in. In truth he had done little to contribute, bring up the rear. The Chosen in the mean time where destruction incarnate, and Tarh had to admit to himself begrudgingly that they were indeed chosen warriors of the pantheon, and the awe and terror that was their due was well and truly earned. A stark reminder after some of the recent actions of some that had been less than good soldiery.

 

It was hard to judge how far they had come in the corridors and staircases, but his instinct said that they were above ground level now. Level wise perhaps half way up the outer curtain wall. A group of Arbites had momentarily put down enough fire that even the Chosen took cover, but when they charged out the foe had gone, retreated behind a blast door to the left. As Tarh steered Mithra closer he saw that the door was not only reinforced, but the lockin mecanisem extend into the surround walls. A vault of some kind? He wondered, perhaps an armoury, though would that not have been further down, a treasurer store but these were no merchant hording gold. It did not really matter, the enemy had withdrawn inside and leaving them to emerge later and flank them was foolish.

 

Two of the Chosen had a go at breaking the door, but even their strength could not budge it.

 

“Allow me to knock.” Tarh called out as he signalled Mithra to steady for a moment, reading the Autocannon. He waited a second, and another as everybody else took cover, or at least step out of his firing arc.  

 

The shot thundered loud in the enclosed space, and the vault door stood. But the dent in it belied its sturdiness.

 

One of the Chosen stepped up, holding a reaper variant of the autocannon with its two barrels.

 

“I don’t think they heard us, we should knock again.”

 

This time Tarh went for a triple knock, aiming as best he could for the same spot. The Chosen own weapon barked to a slightly different rhythm.

 

Shouts of panic reached their ears, and of things crushing and falling. They had not only made an opening, but damaged something in the room beyond.  With a breach established the Chosen surged on to carnage. Tortoise and Autocannon holding the rear.  

 

 

 

Wounds taken at some point in the fight through the Bastion as per GM direction

Tarh d6: 4, now at 6 out of 15

Mithra d6: 3, now at 3 out of 15

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

He tucked himself close in behind Hagga and basically followed him as the Executioner went on his killing spree up through the heart of the bastion.  He did not know if Hagga was aware of it, but Obi fell into a curious pattern fighting around the bigger man.  He kept Silence sheathed this time; the storm of heavy blade swings left no real room for him to engage with his blade.  Instead, he relied on Fate's Eye.  When Hagga's strikes carried him to the left side of a corridor, Obi flowed to the right.  When Hagga dodged to the right, Obi slipped left.  And whenever he had a clear line of fire, the bolter coughed and Arbites died.

 

After the first few floors of this, Obi caught on to Hagga's sword-style and began to predict his movements.  He would start moving before Hagga died, side-stepping into position and firing as the Executioner cleared his line.  He could only imagine how odd the dance looked to those behind them.  His pet was a different story, but thankfully the mastiff was short enough that he needed worry too much; his rounds punched the air above Eska.

 

It wasn't a perfect dance, though.  Lasbolts and hard rounds came down the corridor at them at almost every juncture and stairwell.  Hagga caught the most, of course, as Obi was -- completely unintentionally, of course! -- using him as a shield, but "clear lines of fire" go both ways.  Most of the shots that connected rebounded from his plate, of course, though a few did find the seams.  The sting of ants to him, nothing more.

 

When all the killing was done, he stood on the landing pad and watched his brother tearing apart the defenses.  He could feel a light sheen of sweat across his skin, and his respiratory rate was slightly elevated.  They'd been carving their way through the bastion at a near-breakneck pace, after all.  He released the seals and lifted away his helmet.  The cool air on his skin felt good, and the view of the semi-flooded, semi-burning city from this high up was actually quite impressive.  He maglocked the helmet to his belt and stripped the spent magazine from his bolter.  He reloaded the weapon even though the battle seemed over; one could never be too careful, after all.

 

Hearts calm and breathing back to regular, Obi rolled his shoulders a little, then walked over to Hagga.  He gave the other Astartes a playful punch to the pauldron to get his attention, then nodded at the red mess that used to be the anti-aircraft crew.  "I don't think I've ever told you this, Rykaz," he said with a wry grin, "but I'm extremely glad you're on our side."

 

 

Obadiah takes d6(4) Wounds during the battle.

Edited April 30 by Iron Father Ferrum
Forget to add in the wounds.

[Mojake]

Varne

 

He strode through the corridors alone, having split from Hagga's bloodlusted charge to cover other routes through the bastion. Varne was down to his bolter now, he'd detached and stowed the autocannon close to the planned rendezvous point, and so swept through the lower halls of the fortress, primarily executing initiates and the braver clerical workers who took up arms. He'd even had to clear out a penned area for a half-dozen cyber-mastiffs - grim work that was, and it had earned him a few bite marks.

 

His foray into the southern-most rooms opened up into something akin to a garage. Mostly empty, a few riot-control vehicles and bikes equipped for mortal frames stood unused. A dismantled Sentinel leaned against a massive workbench lining one wall, but a quick check confirmed all useful parts were removed. The compound was empty of life, so Varne took his time as he combed through looking for anything worthy of looting. 

 

+If we have only three hours, I want everyone - all our brave fighters - aboard a transport and bound for the Razor in two.+

 

As Varne blink-clicked an affirmation signal to his companions, a set of outlets poking out of a wall at knee height and nearby spools of hose gave him pause. He approached and gave a quarter-turn to one of the valves, freeing a small trickle of dark liquid from the tap. He looked around, letting his autosenses probe into the dim-light offered by the intermittently-placed blue lumen globes, then removed his helm. He allowed some of the liquid to run along his finger, then tasted it. Promethium. 

 

He searched the area for a few more minutes until he found what he was looking for, a small console with a series of readouts. Four buried tanks, one empty, one reading 57% capacity, and two completely full. After sweeping his fingers across the display and selecting several sub-menus, he managed to intuit roughly where the tanks were buried in relation to the garage. He let out a satisfied grunt and set off towards the level below.

 

A pair of Arbites, travelling alone, were the only souls he saw as he made his descent. Two pulls of his trigger and they decorated the corridor in crimson. A mesh fence stood in his way as he rounded a corner, warning notices plastered across the gate. He simply walked through the fence, shearing it from its mount and letting it drape behind him as it snagged on his jump pack like some primitive technobarbarian cloak. He didn't bother with the console this time, stepping past it and unhooking his penultimate charge from the back of his belt. He had used one of his detonators in the dock attack, and had lost the other during his fall from the landing pad, so he got to work improvising a fuse from what little bits he carried on his person. 

 

That should do. Two hours, give or take.

 

+I recommend, Hagga, ninety minutes.+

 

Wounds Taken: 2

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Hagga let out a roar of genuine laughter at the Mantid's words. He'd noticed a few times during his ascent when enemies ahead had suddenly fallen, blasted apart by bolter rounds, though each time it had taken him a moment to register the source of the supporting fire.

 

“Likewise, brother! I've rarely seen such quick and efficient kills.”

 

He smiled and looked outwards over the burning city of Harville. There, their gunship was approaching from the northwest across the wide river. It should be with them in a matter of minutes. His vox crackled, and the Doom Eagle made contact.

 

Hagga laughed again. His blood up, he felt the thrill of battle still burning in his hearts. But more, he was revelling in the sense of unity, of purpose, of accomplishment, with a squad of battle brethren. He hadn’t thought to ever feel that way again.

 

++Brother Varne thinks we don't need two hours, Corsairs! Can you prove him right? Ninety minutes to be off this mudball... then we go hunting for a new battle to fight!++

 

 

 

[Trokair]

Tarh

 

The Chosen had split up to hunt down stragglers, and perhaps sate some residual battle hunger. Tarh did not follow. The smaller side corridors would be problematic for Mithra, even if Tarh himself could have worked them to hunt survivors. 

 

Instead he began to strip some of the dead Arbites of their armour, gear, ammunition and weapons, stowing them on Mithra. Good equipment was always useful. With how much the plan had got awry he did not know if the intended ‘liberation’ at the armour had gone to plan.

 

While he had made it to the landing pad early he had to wait for the other before he boarded,  the autocannon swivelling side to side to provide covering fire if any remaining Arbites tried to storm their exist point.    

 

 

OOC: Not looting for anything specifically or for Tarh, just grabbing things that might be useful for the group and or the general supplies stash.   

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

They were away. The Razor had escaped from Ithyca, a few days gone. Hagga hoped they'd never need to return to the grubby backwater ever again. Now they were at warp, beginning a search for a new base of operations. If he had his way, finding themselves a damn Navigator would be one of their priorities.

 

However, there was another piece of potential unpleasantness to deal with. He suspected he already knew what Kraggan wanted to tell him. If it was what he thought, the situation would have to be dealt with, whether he wanted to or not. Justice and honour had to be served...

 

He arranged to meet the Magos in one of the ship's holds, amongst the shadowed stacks of storage crates full of provender stolen from Bounty. Eska snarled as Kraggan entered, but quickly relented, moving to sit quietly blocking the entrance, as though she knew this conversation was private.

 

“Well, Magos,” he nodded affiably, “what is this ‘intel’ you have for me? How did you come by it? And why such secrecy?”

 

 

 

 

[Machine God]

Kraggan

 

He met up with Hagga in the dark hold. 

 

"The need for secrecy is to mitigate misunderstanding. Truth needs to be imparted when it is pertinent to be told and when it's telling would not to harm the mission. It involves Ukalegon and his actions that he chose to do."

 

He moved about in the space that they were in, until he was happy that the dimensions were right. He was careful to always keep an eye on Hagga, all of his movements were open and in full view of the Heart-eater. 

 

Carefully he brought out of a pocket of his cloak, a small pict-caster. 

 

"The footage that you are about to see was recorded on the Bulk Hauler, when we were on the Star Hawk. Do not be alarmed when you work out how you are seeing it and who is the narrator."

 

As he turned on the device, it broadcast a hologram of the bridge of the Bulk Hauler and Andus Ressokov sat in the pilots chair at the controls. 

 

The view moved towards the pilot and loomed over him, as Ukalegon unsheathed a combat knife. 

 

“Forgive me, Andus Ressokov, that I

will not be joining you at your terminus. And forgive me that I must ask you to defer your revenge upon the Arbites…”

 

Ukalegon’s razor made short work of Rossokov, who gurgled blood and died quickly.

 

"But it is a revenge merely deferred and not denied. I will be your implement of their destruction. The Provost Marshall must see his domain reduced to ruins, and all he cherishes laid to waste before succumbing himself. This vessel, your tomb, has a new target..." 

 

Ukalegon leaned over the pilot’s controls and altered its trajectory to miss the tower entirely, though its landing would still cause apocalyptic damage and mayhem.

 

"Forgive me, Hagga."  

 

As Ukalegon turned, the footage faded to grey and the hologram stopped. 

 

"The truth of what occurred is now told."

 

 

 

Edited April 30 by Machine God
Placeholder filled

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

The short range vox to the scattered servitors faded and died as the vessel returned to the Razor, each set to burn away any traces of his work but not all as soon as others. It would only take one to find their way to any of the automated freighters to throw its next passage off course scattering that which could not be taken against the slim odds that it might survive to be recovered.

 

The arrival of the Imperial vessel may be co-incidence but Xerxes had no trust of such things. The Rogue Trader, talk of the inquisition, astropathic signals no doubt sent of fires and witches and soon enough of this attack, Huron, and this legion of which the heretek had spoken. Sooner or later a storm would come and this would be no safe harbour.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Hagga frowned, then nodded. It was just as he had thought. He sighed.

 

“I thought as much when I saw him boasting atop the bastion. He’s a young warrior, overeager for glory. He went against the wishes of our group, and shall face a penance for it… but…”

 

Hagga looked upwards.

 

“… you have already confessed this betrayal, and accepted whatever punishment your comrades choose… haven't you, brother?”

 

There was a fiery burst and a roar of thrust from the shadows above. Ukalegon dropped from the container stacks, landing lightly on one knee to the Magos’ left. The Lamenter stood and nodded his agreement, glaring icily at the priest.

 

“You know,” Hagga continued softly, “that I am a believer in giving second chances, Magos. I believed it for you. I believe it now for Ukalegon. My concern, though, is how you uncovered this ‘secret’ information?”

 

He paused for a moment, then continued before Kraggan could answer.

 

“Don't worry, Magos. We already know.”

 

Obadiah moved forwards on the priest's right side, his sudden presence somehow even more surprising than Ukalegon's flaming descent.

 

From Hagga's right, Varne stumped grimly forward to join the little group. From his left, Acchiersum Mourn appeared from between more of the storage crates, looking with lazy malevolence at his rival.

 

“You see lad, Brother Obadiah here was picking up all kinds of odd signals from his comm leech whenever he was around Brother Ukalegon. Obadiah asked Magos Xerxes to quietly check out Ukalegon's wargear, who found that his jump pack had been… tampered with. Again. By you. He was kind enough to remove your little listening program a few hours ago, without alerting you.”

 

Before Kraggan could react, Ukalegon and Obadiah reached out to seize his arms. Mourn stepped forward and joined them, and together they began to force the tech-adept to his knees. Few mortals could struggle against the strength of even one Astartes. For a certainty, no-one could match three.

 

 

 

 

OOC: Firstly, to be clear, this post is made with GM approval and other Astartes players’ agreement.

Sorry @Machine God , this is no offence intended to you as a player, but once Hagga found out that Kraggan was still spying on other members of the party (regardless of the justifications for it he might give) there was only going to be one response. The other Astartes support his view.

Realistically, this is fairly self-evidently a no-win situation.

However, as per GM instruction it is PvP again, so if necessary, we will do it by the book and roll with Orokos, etc.

If so, all five (six including Eska!) Characters will Charge and attempt to Grapple Kraggan. He can maybe Dodge the first one (with a bit of luck) but not the rest. Outnumbering will make Hits and successful Grapple extremely likely. Then, between bonuses for UnnStr, Power Armour and multiple Assists, he's very, very unlikely to escape?

Happy to roll Initiative and play all of that through properly if @Machine God wishes, though?

Or we can just continue it narratively and accept he is cornered and caught?

 

 

 

 

 

Edited April 30 by Lysimachus

[Mojake]

Varne

 

Once Kraggan was brought struggling to his knees by the other astartes, Varne stepped up from the priest’s left and drew his bolt pistol. “Hagga is right, betrayal - and putting the lives and plans of all of us into jeopardy - must be met with impartial judgement and measured punishment.” He placed the muzzle of the pistol against the back of Ukalegon’s head and met Hagga’s surprised gaze, “I do not believe, Executioner, that you can be impartial in this matter. Kraggan has proven his duplicity, the results of which have been, thus far, inconsequential. Ukalegon’s hunger for glory, however, saw the deaths of hundreds of Crux’as’ rebels, the loss of vital materiel, and almost got several of us killed.”

 

“Perhaps his punishment should match that of our other traitor,” the Doom Eagle inclined his head to the kneeling magos, “facing you in the cages, Hagga?” He let the challenge hang as an accusation to both of his brothers - Ukalegon’s rash action and Hagga’s favouritism. Varne turned to Obadiah and Mourn, "the three of us are still fresh to the ranks of the Corsairs and do not share such a bond as these two. Would you accept the precedent that is in danger of being set here, that a decree of treachery against one man may be shrugged aside with promise of penance for another? Do not be blind to this seizing of power being veiled as justice."

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

He sighed in exasperation as Varne put a pistol to the Lamenter's head, but he did not relent on the pressure placed on Kraggan to keep the magos kneeling.

 

"Oh, Varne, for Throne's sake," he began, but his voice hitched at the word Throne, as if some part of his body distinctly did not like saying the word.  "Can we finish with Kraggan before you go picking a new fight?"

[Mazer Rackham]

The Murder Room:

 

+What the hell is going on here?+

 

The voice rattles down the corridor, and it carries such a burden of both anger and disappointment, even Eska cows before it. The voice is known to all of you, becasue it is Iscario Seneca, the apothecary. It does not appear he has been running, for so preoccupied were you, that you didn't hear hear him coming. He is resplendant is his autoclaved alabaster wargear, and oddly, is carrying his weapons.

 

He tosses a modified auspex onto the floor, the device pinging and reverberating with a locator signal.

 

+Might as well get it over with. Aleph-Rho-Sigma-Five-Five-Two-Verdant-Execute.+

 

It is impossible to resist. Every Astartes present crashes to their knees, powerless to move. Ukalegon and Hagga fare the worst, dropping prone instantly with surging fire coursing through their veins.

 

+Black Blood has a price, heroes,+ he chuckles. He primes his Narthecium, and administers something to the whole group. +It is supremely beneficial, but combined with the Lamenter's deficiencies, is a curse. A curse I will use if you ever try to thwart me again.+

 

GM: All Players in this scene gain the Cybernetic (Black Blood).

 

Kraggan is not unaffected either. Free of the power of the Astartes seeking to murder him, he falls to the deck, in writhing agony.

 

All are in the healer's power. It is then, his voice changes to one some of you know a little too well.

 

Torun Valex.

 

+I will wager you didn't expect me to be here. Poor old Iscario. How I loved that man as a brother, yet he stood in my way. I dumped his body in the reclamation vats a good while ago. He put up quite the fight, so I saved his geneseed. I think he would appreciate that.+

 

He steps over to the Doom Eagle, and his boot thunders down onto the squirming tentacle.

 

+Your stupid priest was caught stealing when you were away. He told me your intentions. How I wished I could have lingered to see your face, when you came in looking to make me a sacrifice, and yet became one yourself! Iscario and I share the same pleasure of dissection.+

 

He stomps again, resulting in a wet squelch. +You need to stop missing leg day.+

 

Valex takes a tour of his captives, circling.

 

+Idiots! Do you know what you have cost me by your bickering? Well now it is time to cost you. The personnel I have...altered are now in command of this ship. Bulkheads are sealed. No help is coming. I will be taking the Adept,+ he nearly spits the word, +with me. I need to pull him apart and get my locus-seeker out of his leg.+

 

He draws a stave from a scabbard, three feet in length, flickering with arcane, emerald energies. A Necrontyr weapon of some manner. He beats Hagga with impunity, even as the Marine grunts and groans against the pain of the betraying nanites paralysing him. His voice is calm, carrying only the undertone of his raw anger.

 

+I was worried Varne would not believe me when I said my saboteur's brain was jam, but like everything, I was ready. It is a shame you didn't think to inspect the bombs. The same pattern as my men made for the terminals on Brimstone? Quite the needless worry, as it turned out.+

 

He continues circling you all, and as Ukalegon calls upon the power of his ancient blood, Valex plants his boot firmly up the Lamenter's arse, sending him sprawling with a cruel laugh. +Lie down, daemon-bait.+

 

Valex sighs, and it sounds like it comes right up from his boots.

 

+Xerxes' attention was worrying. I will give him credit. If he survives being shot by his own Multilaser trap, that is. The rest of you? No consequence at all, and that shames me. I must really do a better job. Astartes? Thinbloods.+

 

He seizes Eska as she launches, and bats her once with the rod. She lies whimpering, her legs juddering from whatever effects the weapon possesses, she howls and her back legs fouled, she pulls away from the brute who struck her. Whilst he's in position Valex kicks Obadiah in the head, knocking him over, then roundly wallops the Mantid's codpiece with the rod, sending him into paroxysms of agony. 

 

A bounce in his step betrays he's enjoying himself.

 

You all chafe and grind your teeth, yet there is nothing you can do against the hypnogogic command codes a surgeon would know. For all of your strengths and all of your power, the weakness within served a different master. He laughs, grasping Kraggan by the leg and dragging him over the lintels of the bulkhead doors, his head repeatedly smacking them with a bolt-slam metallic ring.

 

+Enjoy your last flight!+ he calls from down the corridor, +In an hour, this ship will soon plunge into Bounty and become the tomb by which your folly was known. Hydra Dominatus, fools!+

 

His laughter is long, powerful and cruel. Maybe you can hear it over the terrible pain coursing through you.

 

GM Note: Xin did a mind scan of all senior officers, but Iscario was the one that resisted. Gee, I wonder why.

 

++ Players may post reactions, but may take no actions. You cannot respond other than snarky comments through gritted teeth. Players outside this conversation/scene may do nothing to interrupt or prevent/intervene. This is how it's going down. ++

 

 

Edited May 1 by Mazer Rackham
GM Beast Mode

[BadgersinHills]

Acchiersum Mourn

 

Acchiersum laughed softly as Varne put his gun to Ukalegon's head, though it hurt him to do so. This was not due to brotherly love, though, but to the wounds he had taken in the assault. 

 

But what a fight! He had split off from Rykaz and Obadiah, who seemed to be enjoying themselves just fine without him, and chosen a path at random to go down. The hall was quiet and empty, the lumens flickering, and he had taken off his helmet so his natural Astartes senses could find any trace of enemies to hunt. 

 

They found him.  In a near instant, he had been surrounded by five black-armoured Arbites, power mauls crackling with captive lightning. They formed a wall around him of ceramite shields, the Emperor's implacable justice made manifest. They didn't make the mistake of being on the defensive and pressed forward, battering and smashing with their shields and weapons pressing down from all sides.

 

A Space Marine was hard to surprise, though, and even as they pressed forward his blade had speared through the armoured glass of one's visor, the man dropping to the floor with a heavy crash. And yet they came on, heedless of the loss of their fellow Arbiter, and a storm of blows hammered him from all sides. A hit to the back of his knee from a maul drove him to his knees, the broken bone sending agony coursing through his body like lightning. His attack went wide, and he cut through the shield of another and wounded the woman behind it in front of him even as he fell to his knees. 

 

They pressed their advantage, shattering the armour on his chest and his sword arm. He dropped the ancient blade from nerveless fingers, and fought with his armoured fists to prevent a hit to the head. An unhelmeted man who had stood behind the proceedings all this time gestured for his squad to pull back and reached for a sidearm. The end had come. 

 

"No speeches," he chuckled as he drew the gun from its holster. It was then that the lumens turned off.

 

Acchiersum Mourn lunged forward like a Terran leopard, crashing into the surprised officer in front of him. The pistol fired, though its owner had not had the time to aim at his head, and it instead spat iron from its maw into his shoulder. The shrapnel tore into his cheek and forehead, blood dripping into his eyes and blinding him for a moment.

 

Without hesitation, he tore the man's throat out with his teeth. The metallic taste of blood was sweet on his tongue, as was the screaming of the man's fellows behind him as they saw their officer savaged. 

 

His nerves burned with sheer pain at this exertion, armour systems chiming warnings of distress and armour compromise. Ignoring all that, Mourn turned around, wiping the blood from his eyes with the back of his gauntlet, and grinned a bloody smile at the survivors.

 

Three shotgun blasts echoed through the fortress, three more notes in the deadly song that had fallen upon the bastion, and then followed a softer sound. The tearing of cloth.

 

Acchiersum limped forward, what remained of the officer's silk cloak draped over him, and smiled apologetically as he bent down to pick up his sword. He activated the power field, the energy burning off the blood on it and bathing his face in soft blue light so at odds with the carnage around him. 

 

He savoured the memory even as he watched with bated breath the confrontation between his other newfound brothers, and then in an instant, was enveloped by darkness. Mourn never felt himself hit the floor, crashing like a felled tree.

 

Edited May 1 by BadgersinHills

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

The Lamenter twitched and limply thrashed about in an apocalyptic, incandescent, but ultimately paralyzed fury.

 

That absolute bastard! 

 

He vowed to himself that if they were able to escape their seeming, imminent doom, that Torun Valex would rue this day. He would flay that smug traitor legionnaire alive and parade around in his skin before torturing the know-it-all to death, or maybe he would keep the mutilated husk alive for his own amusement. He would break these Alpha Legionnaires with hammer and tong.

 

Then darkness took him. Darkness and visions of a giant, scything talon disemboweling him, again and again and again and again…

Edited May 1 by Necronaut

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh

 

Atesh had had a day.  The flight from Harville to the shuttle carrying him back to the ship was uneventful.  

 

He'd survived.  That's about all he could say.  He pulled from his rags a small poppet he had seen on the ground and grabbed by reflex on his way out of town.  It reminded him of the dolls the children in his village used to make.  

 

He carried the poppet with him through the ship.  He'd caught something that might once have been a rat, and was snacking on it as he wandered towards his quarters.

 

Upon reaching the hallway, he slammed his hand on the corridor wall outside his neighbors' quarters, hooted a few times for attention, and left the poppet leaned against the doorway in front of the family's privacy curtain.

 

Exhausted, he staggered a few paces to his own corridor, and collapsed in the pile of promethium-soaked rags that served as bedding.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

The Mantid gritted his teeth so hard he swore he heard a few crack, but his muscles would not respond.  Twice?  In one day?  He tried, he tried oh so hard, pressed every ounce of willpower towards convincing his hand to move to the pistol at his side.  He wished that the tremors he could see and feel were his muscles responding, but it wasn't.  He knew it wasn't.  That was just pain.

 

He could only watch helplessly as not-Iscario disappeared down the corridor.  He couldn't shoot the bastard in the back, but he needed to know who he was to find him again.  So that he could shoot him in the back.

 

He felt his lips peeling back from his teeth as some part of him finally responded to commands.  "Who.  The.   Was.  That?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Edited May 1 by Iron Father Ferrum

[Mojake]

Varne

 

Once the imposter apothecary had departed, he pulled himself to one knee, the tentacle feeling bruised but otherwise fine. He cast a pained look in Ukalegon's direction, seeing the Lamenter bubbling with rage and without an outlet, now that Kraggan had gone. 

 

Varne pulled a demolition charge from his belt and slapped it against the wall, a wall he knew was the only barrier between the astartes and the cold dark of the void. He fumbled his last improvised detonator from a pouch and inverted the input to act as a dead man's switch. He forced his thumb onto it and felt the click.

 

Somewhat assured in his safety, breathing heavily from the assault of the Alpha Legion spy, he looked from under his brow at Hagga and Ukalegon, his arm extended as insurance for his life.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

With a roar that was as much fury as it was pain, Hagga pulled himself up to his knees. Though his vocal cords were taken up with his rage, his mind was already working. He wasn't sorry to have the matter of Kraggan taken out of his hands. But the rest? He'd liked Iscario. He'd gut that bastard Valex, if ever he got the chance.

 

That, of course, depended on getting out of the mess that the Alpha had left behind. He was about to get to his feet, when he saw what Varne had just done, and remembered what had been happening in the moment before Valex had appeared.

 

“Oh, don't be a  idiot, Doom Eagle! First of all, didn't you hear me say Ukalegon would face a penance chosen by all our group? I meant that. You were right that his actions can't go unpunished. My bond with him was never going to prevent it. I knew it. He knows it."

 

He looked at the trigger in the Devastator's hand, and his voice was even more scornful.

 

“Second, how stupid would any of us have to be to turn against you over it now, especially while we have so much bigger problems to deal with? Don't you want vengeance on Valex? Maybe let's focus on that? Now, decide. Try to do that Alpha bastard's work for him early, or put that away and make yourself bloody useful!?”

 

Edited May 1 by Lysimachus