[DW: Solo Play] Operation Hellstrike (IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

THE MAZER RACKHAM DESIGN STUDIO, IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE CABAL OF DEAD INK, AND THE RPG NOOK - PRESENTS:

 

+ DEATHWATCH: SOLO PLAY CAMPAIGN +

 

++ OPERATION HELLSTRIKE ++

 

 

'Don't you be fooled, boy. Here on Selucia, the beast is out there, beyond the lights - and he's hungry every night.'

- Lance Sergeant Antillo Mjolaa, Brimlock Dragoons.

 

OPERATIONAL TASKING:

 

Location: Selucia, Jungle World, Feudal, Tithe-grade Optio Minimis. Local PDF and stationed Imperial Guard Assets. =][= REDACTED =][=

 

Situation:

The Imperial Guard and special Ordo Xenos assets holding this world have become fragmented, with contact lost to many of their installations, autosalvation beacons have been activated, including Transponder [REDACTED]. Enemy strength evaluation: [Failure]

 

Mission:

Extract Personnel, Secure Assets, Terminate Hostiles. PREJUDICIA MAXIMA.

 

Execution:

• Planetary bombardment commences 0230 - 0250Hrs Zulu to cover infiltration forces
• Orbital drop via Adeptus Astartes deployment pods to Insertion Point Alpha, Beta and Gamma. 0300Hrs Zulu.
• Ground Forces to attack Objectives in Mission plan.
• Extraction vessel inserts 0500hrs Zulu
• Planetary bombardment to cover exfil, 0530hrs Zulu

 

Logistics:

Mission Perameters require the issue of special equipment. A trans-interlock noospheric augur (TINA) will be installed into the harness of a Kill Team Operative. This will allow remote Technical Interface where required. (Operative gains Tech Use as a Trained, Advanced Skill, and may use this Skill at a range of 10m, +1m per DoS).

 

Equipment caches will deployed in Support Pods as necessary.

 

Command & Control::

 

Mission Command is handed over to Watch-Captain Procion of the Silver Skulls, Prognosticator Maximal of the Order of Third Watch.

 

 

Strategic Significance: =][= ABSOLUTIO =][=

 

DEATHWATCH KILL-TEAM SHRIKE DEPLOYED

 

 

Edited May 6 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

+ INCIPE +

 

Death. All around them death.

 

If only that were true.

 

The sepulchre of ancients was cold, ice rimes flashed into life between the cleats of Astartes sabatons, only to be murdered, sundered apart upon spawning. Incense did little to heat or spread their humour of communion in this place - besides, apart from the Chaplain all were helmed, and it was doubtful the lobotomised servitors would even grasp the potent religious significance of the eddying smoke.

 

+My Kill Team have need of you, fallen one,+ Captain Procion addressed the blank darkness of the dreadnaught visor. +By the command of the Emperor, I hereby give you unto them, that your adamantine body, and mighty strength may kindle victory in the crucible of battle.+

 

The Forgemaster was also present, for his task was the most holy. Later, that burden would fall to the Chaplain, but now, Boreas of the Iron Lords began his binharic sermon, summoning the great engines of the Omnissiah, careful to show the war spirits his clade-icon, and chapter panoply both. A deluge of recognitive light bathed him, and the machine heeded his recital of scripture, cogs, reactors and gears levering to full speed, pistons shunting and the resounding anvil of torque wrenches the size of a mortal's groundcar.

 

The sarcophagus with the blessed warrior who was wrathful flesh and vengeful machine was given the stimulus of purpose, his lifesigns flaring from a low ebb into the peaks and troughs of consciousness. Adaptive pain responses as synaptic connects were made, conduits and lines snapping into place to ratchet down and draw the cloak of armour about the breast now beating within.

 

+Rise brother! Rise Zvarog Orkros!+ Chaplain Mendoza of the Crimson Fists demanded. +Let the light of him on Terra lead you to service! Heed the cry of war!+

 

A heartbeat, a thought pulse, each a snarl.

 

More enemies to kill.

 

GM: Welocome everyone to our DW:SP! Our current victim is still bieng built and his armaments are being chosen, so the battle can soon be joined, but as always, I invite @Necronaut to make any IC reponses he would like. I will shortly be moving to deployment of the team, and the set up.

[Necronaut]

Zvarog

 

Muffled words and an irregular pounding, metallic drum-beat drifted into the frozen depths of his adamantine tomb, his life-sustaining prison, his dark sarcophagus. Icy warmth flooded his veins and percolated through the remains of his ruined body, in equal parts reviving and torturing him. All that existed was pain, and interminable periods of fitful sleep, the endless and timeless black torpor punctuated by the snippets of dreams too hellish and too real to have actually happened. But they had happened. He had been there, had crossed blades with foes upon a hundred worlds, a thousand battlefields, had been wounded again, and again, and again, had gazed upon alien suns, sworn oaths in dozens of mongrel Low Gothic dialects before as many varieties of planetary governors, generals, inquisitors and line troopers, had spilled the blood of countless xenos and heretics.

 

The words disturbed him again, clearer, less garbled this time, and he groaned in protest and twisted uncomfortably in the amniotic tank where he had slumbered away the decades since he had last been called to war, and he was reminded of the rat’s nest of cables, tubes, plugs and other myriad connectors and augmetic grafts that pierced his flesh, what remained of it. A baleful, glow suddenly assaulted his vision with the Opus Machina rendered in pale green, filling his field of view, firmly driving away the last tendrils of medicinal coma and confronting him with the stark reality of his accursed existence. He experienced a sensation of being lowered in fits and starts, and more external sensory data was fed to him.

 

His pulse quickened with the tide of stimulants and pain suppressants flooding his veins and central nervous system, each heart-beat awakening the deep and abiding rage which kept him alive, refused to let him die and rest.

 

The toothed wheel of the Machine-Cult faded from view, replaced by the bloody talon of vengeance, which he knew had been emblazoned upon the armour he once wore, and was now emblazoned upon his nigh-impenetrable shell alongside the device of the Ordo Xenos. It was time to kill again.

 

He spoke, or would have were a set of nutrient and breathing tubes not permanently rammed down his throat, and the harsh, gutteral roar of his voice filled his mind and body and thundered throughout the chamber around him.

 

+WHO DARES SUMMON ME TO BATTLE?! WHO DARES ROUSE ME FROM MY SLUMBER?! WHO DARES MY WRATH?!+

 

The picter-feeds from the numerous viewing and sensory apparatuses mounted all over the hull of his hulking cybernetic body suddenly sprang to life, and he was confronted by a panoply of warriors in tenebrous black and gleaming quicksilver arrayed before him in compound-view, their dexter shoulder-plates a riot of color and chapter heraldry and runic devices, their mis-matched suits of armour draped with xenos pelts and ossuaries and phylacteries and purity seals and chains and blades and ammunition bandoliers like some ragged band of savage mercenaries.

 

They were his brothers, his Oath-Brothers. He yet served the Long Vigil, the Deathwatch. His estranged blood-brothers had still neither welcomed him back into the fold nor brought him home. No matter.

 

A heavily scarred warrior, the living effigy of the Emperor, the Reaper, exhorted him, called him by name, a clenched, bloody fist upon his pauldron, ordering him to war. Mendoza...? Nearby, a monstrous crab-like creature resolved into the hunched form of Forge-Master Boreas, his gene-cousin, his brother, his… friend?

 

+BOREAS, I SEE YOUR SKILL AT VEXING WHAT REMAINS OF MY FLESH HAS NOT WANED,+ he rumbled cantankerously as his higher faculties restored themselves, and his cybermantle fully reintegrated itself with his massive exoskeleton. +BE GLAD THAT YOU ARE NEITHER HERETIC NOR XENOS, COUSIN. HOW MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED ME BY IN THE DARKNESS? I DO NOT RECOGNIZE THESE WARRIORS…+

Edited May 7 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

All the assembled warriors bow, as the cant vexes twixt binary, high and low gothic, voxcoders in the servitor slaves smoothly meet your diction and metre.

 

+The ancient awakes, wrath unbound, the ancient awakes, his mind righteous....+ It continues without the need to breathe, as supplication to the augurs reporting your robust, if otherworldy health.

 

Boreas offers a vox-crackle grunt, a chuckle in the machine. +Two hundred cycles of Cog and Star, have you slumbered, Honoured Ancient. Mortification of your fractured body seeks only to wed you to the Omnissiah's truth.+

 

Mendoza cants his head at that. +War Spirits must be honoured - but it is the Human spirit that wields the Emperor's Will, Red Priest.+ He unhooks his staff of office, a Crozius, topped with a silver encrused aspergilium and fires it in actinic lightning, shaking the blessed water upon your invincible form. The water which fails to contact your hard shell in holy rain patter is vapourised into steam.

 

Boreas offers you a wry smile - or at least your noospheric glyphs of him shimmer with the Machine Cant equivalent. His myriad arachnid arms flex and point, much the way a courtier offers gesture of introduction. +Here stands our WatchL-Liege Captain Procion of the Skulls SIlver, behind are your new clade-in-war, Kill Team Shrike.+

 

Your HUD fills out the names and iconography, bio-data and specialties.

• Vaalgard of the Space Wolves, (Assault)
• Jocelyn of the White Consuls, (Tactical)
• Yriel of the Consecrators, (Devastator)
• Diemos of the Ultramarines, (Apothecary)
• Ojuka of the Celestial Lions. (Tactical and KT Leader)

 

+Commencing Tactical Inload...+ a servitor says in monotone.

 

Information floods your synaptic mantle, maps, data, friendly forces disposition, weapons selection, mission plans, all you need to know, including deployment and support details. You also notice the extra augur unit (TINA) which allows your senses to commune with more reach. Your locomotive rig is brought up beneath you on a great lift platform, which places the interlink perfectly, and your sarcophagus suddenly feels heavy, untied wth the ground once more.

 

The mechanical lifeblood of your iron body circulates, refreshing hydraulics, self-greasing pinions and linkages. Freedom of movement creeps into your consciousness as an idea, then solidfies as second-nature truth, bound only by the arrestors to prevent accidental destruction of all the personnel clutting your audience chamber.

 

GM: I'll park this for now, whilst we finish off the character's build, no rush to reply Necro. I'll get you deployed as soon as we agree weapons etc, ok?

 

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

++ MISSION COMMENCES ++

 

++ PHASE 1: SELUCIA LOCAL PLANETARY BOMBARDMENT ++

 

It was a mess from the start. The orbital defences possesed by the Great Devourer were swept back by the combined efforts of the Space Marine voidcraft and mighty strike cruisers in their sable heraldry. Imperial Navy assets, mighty battleships to light cruisers turned the skies above Selucia red and white with flame and plasma splash where ichor and insectile chitnous carapace slurried, hard void-proof flesh torn off by invisible teeth in disgusting, meaty chunks. The swarm drew back from the beating, allowing a sole strike cruiser to penetrate the envelope as planned, and as the guns of her allies turned their fury upon the world for brief minutes, the nuclear-ornage plumes beneath beat a pattern in the impenetrable jungles below for the hell which would follow.

 

Kerberos launched her own payloads to plan, but the ground-to-orbital response was dire. Great gouts of bile, torrents of acdic vomit streaked upwards, caressing the hull of the voidship with a silent, burning sizzle. The drop pods containing the Deathwatch Astartes Team were struck, here and there, save two. Both off course, and one of them burning as it tumbled through the atmosphere, they made landfall, ignorant of what transpired above, knowing only that the enemy were around them, and only the solace of duty, revenge, and death in the Emperor's service would be their certain currency, their unyielding weapons.

 

++ PHASE 2: PRIMARY COMBAT TEAM REDUCED - DEPLOYMENT COMMENCING ++

 

Location: Operational Landing Site Beta

(Selucia, Spinward Front, Segmentum Obscura, M41)

KILL TEAM: SHRIKE

STATUS: ACTIVE

 

Zvarog Orkros:

 

The static is annoying, the vox channels marred by all sorts of gutteral xenos doggerel. Runes on your holographic interface report you and one other are the only survivor, all other transponders have been blitzed from existence by xenos trckery, mishap of the machine-spirit, or some other throne-damned nonsesne. It matters not, your weapons mark ready, your power levels and cyberntic mantle resonate to your will, all is ready to extract a payment in blood. Hot lead and furious iron are what this battlefield needs.

 

You will provide it.

 

Speed slowing, the flex in the gyroscopic restraints give you a physical nudge to tally with your instrumentation. The world does not seem so distant now, even through heavy aprons of metal skin and mechanical sensoria. Battle provides feedback, weapons remind you of muscles which feel a bolter's kick. Impatience is countered by auto-injectors allowing rites of clear thought, and then, suddenly, in a mighty clap of thunder, you are down, the doors explosive bolts blow in a tumpet of battle din, and you are groundside in the middle of a struggle between beast and the purity of humanity.

 

You land in a clearing, where a small Imperial patrol have dug in to weather the storm of beasts. They are gamely still firing with a medley of weapons: autguns, lasguns, old shotguns, the lot. It is clear they have just liberated whatever works. Around them are scatterd bodies of civilians, torn and partially digested. There is not ime to remark upon it - the horde is beaten back by your entrance only for a heartbeat, and the humans are stunned to gawp.

 

There are so many Tyranids here, the jungle turns red and purple with thier filthy hides.

 

A ragged, bandaged bundle with a cap on his head - whatever passes for an officer slaps at them. 'Keep shooting fools! Our prayers have been manifest!'

 

It is time to join them.

 

++ STRUCTURED TIME (LIGHT) INITIATED ++

 

Initiative Order:

Cover:Trees/short bluffs/grassy knolls: 4 AP.

Foxholes: 6 AP.

• Zvarog
• Imperial Guard
• Termagaunt Horde 1 (20 Mag)
  • Attached Warrior, Deathspitter.
• Termagaunt Horde 2 (20 Mag)
  • Attached Warrior, Deathspitter.
• Termagaunt Horde 3 (20 Mag)
  • Attached Warrior, Deathspitter.

GM: I'm going to use theatre of mind here, since I don't have maps prepared. The Tyranid hordes shall be 40m away from the Drop pod, with Horde 1 at your 9 o'clock, 2 at your 12 and Horde 3 at your...3 o'clock!

 

GM: I wonder what time it is? Cursing and query in OOC.

[Necronaut]

Revenant Zvarog

 

Planetfall. 

 

Another battle. Another war. Another world.

 

The doors of the drop pod exploded outward with a dull thud and the furious engine, Zvarog, stomped out into a foetid jungle thick with the enemy, the same breed which had laid him low.

 

How he hated them. 

 

The data feed and comms he had been monitoring while plummeting to this accursed planet had been grim, and he had lost contact with most of the strike team. His twin hearts, equal parts cybernetic facsimile and tortured flesh, pumped superheated liquid fury at the thought of his lost brethren.

 

Now was the time for vengeance. 

 

Thanks to the gifts of the Machine God’s priests, he could see in many directions simultaneously, all drenched in layers of infrared, preysight, green-tinted live pict feed and a riot of targeting data. There were simply too many of the bastards to kill. Dozens upon dozens of targeting reticules filled his vision, driving him to the brink of madness.

 

He would slay them all and anoint his chassis with their foul blood.

 

The machine spirit fed him firing vectors before he even had to think it, almost too many to manage. This would be a truly righteous slaughter.

 

With a deafening metallic roar, he let loose a volley of death from his twin-linked heavy bolter and lumbered towards the huddled knot of beleaguered troopers.

 

+I AM THE TALON OF RED VENGEANCE! STAND FIRM, SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF THE EMPEROR!+

 

 

Half Action: Half Move (7m) towards IG position (Auto-Stabilized)

Half Action: FAB vs Gaunt Horde 2
BS51 + 20 (FAB) + 10 (short range) + 20 (Twin-Linked) + 10 (Horde) + 10 (Bolter Mastery) = 121

D100: 61; 6 DoS + 1 Hit (explosive)

Twin-Linked Heavy Bolter: 2d10+10X + 2 (Mighty Shot) + 2 (Bolter Mastery, solo mode), Tearing, Pen 6

Hit 1: (1, 8, 10) 18 + 10 (RF) + 5 (RF) + 10 + 4 = 47X damage, Pen6
Hit 2: (1, 7, 7) 14 + 10 + 4 = 28X damage, Pen6
Hit 3: (7, 8, 9) 17 + 10 + 4 = 31X damage, Pen6
Hit 4: (1, 3, 8) 11 + 10 + 4 = 25X damage, Pen6
Hit 5: (3, 3, 5) 8 + 10 + 4 = 22X damage, Pen6
Hit 6: (1, 4, 5) 9 + 10 + 4 = 23X damage, Pen6
Hit 7: (4, 6, 8) 14 + 10 + 4 = 28X damage, Pen6

Storm of Iron doubles horde magnitude damage. It's a fine day for mulch.

 

20 rounds expended from primary ammo drum. 480/500 remaining.

 

 

 

Edited May 19 by Necronaut
Formatting

[Mazer Rackham]

The detonations of such incredible firepower lay low the wanton beasts. They explode in gory, glorious giblets, and at your urging the defenders cheer, for their anger up to now has been focused into survival, resilience, but now they can leverage spite.

 

'Death! Death and the Emperor!' a ragged throat cries, but the will is there, even though the flesh be weak, nowhere loud enough to be heard in the furious tumult of a massive, war-machine mounted twin-linked heavy bolter.

 

GM: IIRC TL gives you an extra hit per 2 DoS, Necro, so we have at least three more hits.

 

GM: Further, we will make an immediate House Rule:

 

Fury of The Ancient:

Characters with this rule count all rolls scoring Righteous Fury as Devastating (1) against Hordes (essentially it gives you an extra hit per RF, so it actually matters).

 

Horde 2 is effectively destroyed bar the Warrior.

 

The humans turn their attentions wholesale to the next nearest swarm and began plucking away at it with thier medley of guns.

 

Survivors Attack Horde 1:

Spoiler

SAB 1: 3 Hits (3 Mag Dam)

SAB 2: 2 Hits (2 Mag Dam)

Horde 1 reduced to 15 Mag.

 

Horde 1:

Inhuman scrreching and insectile snaps and hiss accompany the shredding of brethren with gnashing of teeth, and springing into response.

 

Spoiler

Half Move (All)

Half Action (SA)

No Hits

 

Warrior Half Action SA: 1 Hit, Explosive Bio Ammunition (2 Mag Dam)

 

Survivors down to 18 mag.

 

Horde 2:

Warrior runs 36m towards Zvarog (no tests nneded, Synapse)

 

Horde 3:

Charge 30m towards Survivors (contact next turn).

 

Zvarog [ ] 

Edited May 19 by Mazer Rackham

[Necronaut]

Revenant Zvarog

 

Spite was all he felt for these disgusting aliens. They existed only to die by his hand, and his was the reaping claw of the Omnissiah wrought from ceramite and steel. The blunt, crushing fingers of his cybernetic fist twitched and Zvarog longed to tear the loathsome creatures limb-from-limb, but in that instant he realized the Imperial Guard position was about to be overrun. Making a split second decision, he lurched forward with earth-shaking force and his heavy bolter roared again, sending a storm of massive bolt rounds scything into the advancing swarm of aliens, cutting them down as much as apart into gobbets of meaty viscera. 

 

Momentarily satisfied, he turned his attention back to the true object of his ire, and continued his thunderous charge into battle with the lone advancing tyranid warrior. Such a beast, while less than a mighty dreadnought, was still a threat that would not be ignored, and his claw thirsted for alien blood.

 

+DIE, ALIEN!+

 

 

 

This turn is going to be a doozy…

Free Action: Enter Squad Mode (Kill-Marine)
Command Test(?): Fel51
D100: 09
Cohesion: FB5 + 1 (Rank 4+) = 6

Free Action: Bolter Assault (-3 Cohesion) Free Action: Charge Vs Tyranid Warrior #2

Free Action: FAB vs Gaunt Horde #3 (Rank 4+ Bolter Assault)
BS51 + 20 (FAB) + 10 (short range) + 20 (Twin-Linked) + 10 (Horde) = 111
D100: 50; 6 DoS + 3 (Twin-Linked) + 1 (explosive)

Twin-Linked Heavy Bolter: 2d10+10X + 2 (Mighty Shot), Tearing, Twin-Linked, Pen 6

Hit 1: (8, 1, 7) 15 + 10 + 2 = 27X damage, Pen6
Hit 2: (8, 1, 2) 10 + 10 + 2 = 22X damage, Pen6
Hit 3: (8, 2, 5) 13 + 10 + 2 = 25X damage, Pen6
Hit 4: (7, 3, 3) 10 + 10 + 2 = 22X damage, Pen6
Hit 5: (4, 8, 2) 12 + 10 + 2 = 24X damage, Pen6
Hit 6: (3, 9, 2) 12 + 10 + 2 = 24X damage, Pen6
Hit 7: (1, 2, 7) 9 + 10 + 2 = 21X damage, Pen6
Hit 8: (6, 3, 3) 9 + 10 + 2 = 21X damage, Pen6
Hit 9: (1, 7, 5) 12 + 10 + 2 = 24X damage, Pen6
Hit 10: (8, 9, 10) 19 + 9 (RF) + 10 + 2 = 40X damage, Pen6
Hit 11 (RF Bonus): (5, 9, 8) 17 +10 + 2 = 29X damage, Pen6

Storm of Iron doubles horde magnitude damage

 

20 rounds expended

460/500 round remaining in primary amm drum

Cohesion 3/6

Full Action: Charge vs Tyranid Warrior #2

Step 1: Thunder Charge (Dreadnought Basic Attack + Knock-Down)
Basic/Unarmed Attack: WS63 + 10 (Hatred) + 10 (Hunter of Aliens) + 20 (Berserk Charge? Unsure if it applies on initial attack) = 83 or 103
D100: 24; 6 DoS-ish
Hit Location: Body

Basic Attack Damage: 1d10+14I, Pen 0
Hit: 4 + 14 = 18 damage, Pen 0

Knock-Down Test: S70 + 10 (prior movement/charge) = 80
D100: 94; 1 DoF - lol

Step 2: Charge Attack
WS63 + 10 (Hatred) + 10 (Hunter of Aliens) + 20 (Berserk Charge) = 103
D100: 30; 7 DoS
Hit Location: Head (bonk!)

Dreadnought CCW: 2d10+24E + 2 (Crushing Blow) + 2 (Hunter of Aliens), Pen 6, Power Field
Hit: (10, 8) 18 + 7 (RF) + 24 + 4 = 53E damage, Pen 6

 
I think I got all of that right. Let me know if I missed anything or made a mistake in the battle calculus. I re-read the Twin-Linked rule and it's a little ambiguous as to whether it's just 1 bonus hit if the DoS > 2 or if it's 1 bonus hit per 2 DoS. Please advise.

I now have a renewed appreciation for lower level/rank games…

Edited May 19 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

GM OOC: On the TL query, it is indeed a bit...wishy-washy. However, this a power fantasy, so why not? Calcs all look good to me! 

 

The mighty form of iron scythes through the alien filth, and the humans struggle to do their part under the gaze of such a presence. Some of the wounded have expired, but upon their faces is rapture that they have witnessed and taken part in such a moment as the dreadnought smites down the larger organism as though it is a puny gnat.

 

Crushed by Zvarog's belligerence, the Warrior dies, head bursting ina shower of purple gristle and ichor. Horde 2 is completely destroyed.

 

Horde 3 is all but destroyed. Warrior remains.

 

Survivors:

Spoiler

Concentrate fire on Horde 1

SAB: 1 x Hit 

Sergeant deploys Frag grenade: 97 (Grenade jams, goes off in hand and blows the Sergeant and half his men to pieces).

Self-Mag Dam 5

*Golf clap*

 

Horde 1:

Spoiler

Half Move (All)

Half Action (SA): 95, lol. Saw the Sarge kill himself and were like, 'nope!'

Warrior Half Action SA: Miss.

 

Horde 1: 15 Mag

Survivors: 13 Mag

 

Zvarog [ ]

Edited May 19 by Mazer Rackham

[Necronaut]

Revenant Zvarog

 

Every time he was roused from his frigid torpor and sent forth to slay the enemies of mankind, he was rudely reminded of how cruel his existence truly was. Though he was blessed with truly indomitable might and resilience in his present form, no matter the artifice or skill of the red priests, nor the degree of cybernetic integration, bludgeoning a hated foe to death while entombed within the cold chassis of a dreadnought never, never yielded the same degree of satisfaction as he had once derived from cutting one down with his own flesh-and-blood hands.

 

This was an insight that both The Maimed Lord and the Primarch had recognized in their own ways. Alas, it would just have to do.

 

One warrior-strain down, two to go.

 

Wheeling around, the revenant took stock of the humans’ dire situation, watching with mild disinterest as the sergeant blew up himself and some of his squad with a faulty grenade.

 

Karma for some past impiety, or a general lack of faith in the Omnissiah? More likely just another random fatality in an absolute meat-grinder, infinitely smaller in magnitude than any accrued errors in the final tally when this war was finally won.

 

The rest, at any rate, might yet be spared a grisly death. 

 

Tossing the tyranid’s carcass aside like a discarded plaything, the belligerent engine stomped deeper into the fray, sending bodies and gore flying as he scourged the remaining alien horde with his power claw and crushed them underfoot with the sheer mass of his armoured bulk.

 

 

Full Action: Charge vs Horde #1
Thunder Charge: D5+1 Unarmed/Basic attacks vs Horde – 4 (d5) + 1 = 5 attacks
WS63 + 20 (Berserk Charge) + 10 (Hatred) + 10 (HoA) + 10 (Horde) = 113
D100:
Attack 1: 50; hit
Attack 2: 43; hit
Attack 3: 95; hit
Attack 4: 45; hit
Attack 5: 27; hit

Basic Attack Damage: 1d10+14I + 2 (crushing blow) + 2 ( HoA), Pen 0
Hit 1: 8 (d10) + 14 + 4 = 26I damage, Pen 0
Hit 2: 5 (d10) + 14 + 4 = 23I damage, Pen 0
Hit 3: 2 (d10) + 14 + 4 = 20I damage, Pen 0
Hit 4: 2 (d10) + 14 + 4 = 20I damage, Pen 0
Hit 5: 10 (d10) + 2 (RF) + 14 + 4 = 26I damage, Pen 0

Knock Down Test: S70 + 10 (charge) = 80
D100: 100 – machine spirit divides by zero

Charge Attack:
WS63 + 20 (Berserk Charge) + 10 (Hatred) + 10 (HoA) + 10 (Horde) = 113
D100: 71; 4 DoS + 1 (power)

Dreadnought CCW: 2d10+24E + 2 (Crushing Blow) + 2 (Hunter of Aliens), Pen 6, Power Field

I feel reasonably confident Zvarog will auto-wound the horde for every hit with his dreadnought power fist, so I'll save us the trouble.

Whirlwind of Death doubles horde magnitude damage.

Horde magnitude damage (estimated): {5 (thunder charge) + 5 (regular charge)} x 2  (WoD) = 10-20 magnitude damage

 

Edited May 20 by Necronaut
Oops that was meant for Horde #1

[Mazer Rackham]

The rancid miscreants, misbegotten by blasphemies are turn asunder in a murderous flailing of piston-driven arms, and adamantine-shod limbs. The weapons are mere decoration - all is will, all is iron, all is vengeance.

 

The last Warrior is destroyed in the combat along with his pathetic minions, leaving another skirmish won by the Imperium. Whatever remains of the enemy is shot to death by the remaining survivors.

 

When the bloodletting finally ceases, the survivors prostrate themselves in the strange silence that always afterwards settles on the scene of carnage.

 

'Noble lord, we thank thee for our deliverance. Praise the Emperor.'

 

You can see now within the pit, they have salvaged a vox unit with a long range augur probe. Sufficiently powered, it could boost or refine the scattered local intercepts you are receiving. The jungle wind sways the trees, this time with the simple breath of the world, and not the filth trying to steal it.

 

GM: A remote Tech Use test could hook you into the local guard network, and possibly even planetary-to-orbital relays. It is a simple enough task (+20).

[Necronaut]

Revenant Zvarog

 

Turning to survey the scene of destruction he had wrought, his power claw’s stubby digits twitched again menacingly. His work was not finished.

 

+BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO WAGE WAR IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR,+ he intoned to the surrounding humans in a rumbling, tooth-jarring, metallic baritone. +NOW, STAND BACK…+

 

A gout of promethium projected out from the palm of his quicksilver talon and flash-ignited, bathing the carcasses and viscera of the dead xenos and guardsmen alike in a sheet of cleansing flame. Let no trace survive either of the holy slaughter or noble sacrifice that had transpired here.

 

Ashes to ashes…

 

Zvarog barely registered the continued obeisance of the mortals whose lives he had just saved – he had more pressing concerns. The landing zone was secure for now, but he needed to make contact with Brother-Sergeant Ojuka and the rest of Kill-Team Shrike. Time was of the essence.

 

While he incinerated the dead, as much to prevent the propagation of tyranid-borne microorganisms as to re-sanctify the ground, his augurs registered the familiar buzz of nearby noospheric activity. With a bit of concentration, the dreadnought’s machine spirit sought out the source, roused the vox unit's mechanisms to renewed vigour, and bludgeoned its way into the Imperial comms network…

 

 

Tech-Use Test: Int50 + 20 (easy) = 70
D100: 61; 0 DoS

 

Edited May 20 by Necronaut
Formatting

[Mazer Rackham]

As the interlink meets parity with the cipher-djinn of your Deathwatch protocols, a crackling vox line broadcasts. A signal link indicator blinks amber to signify a returning beacon has been successfully retrieved, and a vox line established, albeit thready.

Edited May 20 by Mazer Rackham

[Xin Ceithan]

>>> …. <<<

 

>>> … / ….  <<<

 

>>> ….  / ….  / … <<<

 

>>> … / … / … Incoming Transmission  Burst detected …<<<

 

>>> /verifying source signal cryptomeria …<<<

 

>>> /verifying …<<<

 

>>> /verifying …<<<

 

 

>>> veri..<<<

 

>>> // verifi..<<<

 

>>> ///verifying …<<<

 

>>> verified! /… Signalis cryptomeria = Imperalis.rex = true! +++CAVE: annex:cryptomeria.apocryphica/inqcallideineii+CAVE!+//

 

>>> …<<<

 

>> clavae inquisitoriae =TRUE<<

 

>>> …<<<

 

>>>GLORIA IMPERATORI !! GLORIA OMNISSIAH !!<<<

 

 

>>> … /begin inload…<<<

 

>>> /inloading…<<<

 

>>> signal interrupted! xenomagnetic malignomae detected ! <<<

 

>>> … purging … <<<

 

>>> inloading<<<

 

>> /Inload… completed.//..spooling.///..spooling… 

/begin transcript: <<<

 

+++ Transcript begins +++

 

From: /[CAVE:Inload loss at 7.453Megapuls detected]./

To: All operative units Ordo Inquisitoriales / Deathwatch

Priority Status: Umbra Majoris

Encryption strata: Most High

 

Fratres apocryphii iuramenti! Ave Imperator! Ave Omnissiah!

[noosheric encryption addendum: 75.873 compressed megapulses imbedded./verified]

 

Brothers of the Deathwatch! 

 

If you are receiving this and are in operational range, you are requested  and bound by your Oaths and duty to HIS IMPERIAL DIVINE MAJESTY, HE WHO IS EMPEROR TO ALL MANKIND AND IMMORTAL VESSEL OF THE OMNISSIAH to make your way with utmost haste  to the  the enclosed coordinates, rendezvous with Deathwatch operatives on site and render all available assets to the Operation in progress. 

 

[Enclosed Noospheric locator annex:

 

 

01000110 01001111 01010010 01010100 01001001 01000110 01001001 01000011 01000001 01010100 01001001 01001111 01001110 00100000 01000011 01001111 01001101 01010000 01001100 01000101 01011000 00100000 01001000 01010101 01000010 00100000 01010011 01001001 01000111 01001101 01000001 00101101 01010011 01001001 01011000 00101101 00100000 00110111 00110111 00110100 00110101 00111011 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110011 01101001 01100111 01101110 00101110 01010011 01010100 01010010 01001111 01001110 01000111 01001000 01001111 01001100 01000100 00101101 01010011 01000001 01001001 01001110 01010100 00101101 01000011 01001100 01001001 01001110 01010100 01010101 01010011 00101101 01000100 01000101 00101101 01001111 01000011 01000011 01010101 01001100 01001111 00101101 01000001 01000011 01000011 01001001 01010000 01001001 01010100 01010010 01001001 01010011 00101101 00110011 00110000 00110100 00101101 01000111 01100001 01101101 01101101 01100001 00101100 00100000 00101111 00101111 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101100 01101100 01101111 01110001 00101100 00100000 01100001 01100100 01101110 01100101 01111000 11100010 10000000 10011001 01010010 01001111 01010100 01010100 01000101 01001110 01000010 01001111 01010100 01010100 01001111 01001101 11100010 10000000 10011001 00100000 00101111 00101111 00100000 00100000 00110101 00110101 11000010 10110000 00100000 00110010 00110100 00100111 00100000 00110101 00110111 00101110 00110101 00110101 00100010 00100000 01001110 00101100 00100000 00110011 11000010 10110000 00100000 00110010 00110000 00100111 00100000 00110101 00110111 00101110 00110001 00110010 00100010 00100000 01010111 00101110 00100000 01010010 01100101 01100110 00101110 00100000 01100111 01110010 01101001 01100100 00101110 00100000 01001110 01010100 00110001 00110100 00110110 00110001 00110100 00110100 00101110 11000010 10100000 00001010

 

Spoiler

FORTIFICATION COMPLEX HUB SIGMA-SIX- 7745; design.STRONGHOLD-SAINT-CLINTUS-DE-OCCULO-ACCIPITRIS-304-Gamma, // colloq, adnex’ROTTENBOTTOM’ //  55° 24' 57.55" N, 3° 20' 57.12" W. Ref. grid. NT146144. 

 

 

The Emperor protects!

 

+++ Transcript ends +++

 

+++++

 

+++

 

[Mazer Rackham]

GM OOC: With many thanks to our resident Omnissian Zealot @Xin Ceithan!

 

The coordinates and matrices interlock with an Astra militarium fortress some 1.4 Kloms from your current position. The codecs accompanying the Deathwatch inload and exload ciphers point towards nearly mystical symbols of Omnissian Prognostication. A clarity of the machine that is unknown amongst lesser scholars.

 

Regardless, the beacon for the holdfast ignites in your HUD. The Imperial servants whom you rescued, form a small caravan behind you whilst you consult your tactical maps.

 

There are several old fortifications dotted about the place that would serve as redoubts for you and the humans, shoud you wish it, but the route is also complete with narrow defiles in which an ambush should almost certainly be expected.

 

As you set off, mighty footfalls trampling all petty obstacles, it is not long, approximately 500m further into the jungle, where more resistance lurks. A single, broken open redoubt, cracked in a manner most passing strange. The sentinel bunker seems to be battle-scarred from without, certainly, but that would not explain the odd collapse of an entire glacis. A dip in the groud shows some excavation has ocurred, but long runnels in the earth betray claws and great scything talons.

 

Yet there is no time to brace for anything, as a group of beasts stomp about, in some manner of patrol. More xenos beats lurk with them, and it is clear the area has already been overrun by the slavering filth.

 

Behold the scum which the Emperor demands to die!

 

MAP:

Spoiler

 

Initiative Order:

 

Zvarog (Red Square)

Survivors (Mag 10)

Tyranid Warrior Pod A (3 x Warriors, Deathspitter) (40m)

Tyranid Warrior Pod B (3 x Warriors, Boneswords) (40m)

Hourmagaunt Horde C (Mag 30) (45m)

Hourmagaunt Horde D (Mag 30) (20m)

Hourmagaunt Horde E (Mag 30) (45m)

 

GM NB: Due to Synapse, all members of the Pod move, act and attack at the same time. They do not count as a Horde for attacking, or being attacked.

 

Map Features - There is an aqueduct (pale blue oblongs) that runs across the middle of the map, raised to 40m. The struts can be found under the breaks/lines in the channel.

 

Green blobs = Jungle trees (AV 5).

Grey blocks = Bunkers (AV 12, Firepoints). (20m, closest, 60m, farthest)

Ground is solid, dry, open terrain.

 

GM: Shouts and squealing in the OOC.

 

Edited Sunday at 05:07 PM by Mazer Rackham
Maps and slaps.