[DW/SM] Spectre of Ullanor (IC)

[Mazer Rackham]

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

 

=][= A 'Deathwatch' Roleplaying Game =][=

 

++ THE SPECTRE OF ULLANOR ++

 

 

+ In-Character, Play-by-Post Thread +

 

'Green iz best. Kopta Greenz iz bester.'

- Rozgob Flashdakka

 

 

LOCSIT: Imperial Hive/Industrial World Armageddon

SECTOR: Armageddon Secundus

LOCALE: Hice Acheron, Plains of Acheron

SITUATION: Critical

 

Introduction:

 

The Third War for Armageddon rages. Beset on all sides by the Ork fleet, their numberless troops, their brutish atrocities and callous war-make, the Imperial Defenders are hard pressed to rebuff the onslaught of an age. Not even during the previous Orkicide, are times so desperate. Imperial Guard march to war in Brigades of stoic millions, the Faithful Adepta Sororitas and mighty Legions of the Collegio Titanicus stalk the rubble-strewn, corpse-haunted wastelands the Xenos wretches have brought, giving battle in the name of humanity, of survival, even of spite.

 

Victory is not assured, even though the legendary warriors of the Astartes plunge through the rank muck and foetid air of the embattled planet, Bolters barking, they too are almost detritus, spilled by the terrible conflict. In the depths of Hive Acheron, treachery brews - and although the Emperor has seen fir to deploy Colonel Schaeffer and his last chancers to cull the villainous turncoats, other poisons steal into the well.

 

In the jungles, and the deserts, the war grows hot, bloody. Attrition of the secretive forces employed by the Inquisition steady abrades the careful scalpel-like strokes, but Ghazkhull and top chieftains are no so easily murdered. Blunt force is brought to bear against the threats - with hammer blow strikes from Space Marine Squads across the embroiled sectors...

 

One thing is certain: there can be only Waaaagh!

 

Location:

 

Acheron Hive. The largest and best defended. The best prepared. A bastion of the Imperial resistance, a rallying point for Armageddon's beleaguered defenders. Yet all is not as it seems. Many months ago, the voice of Herman Von Strab, once thought dead, confirmed by the Imperial High Command, rings out across hijacked Vox channels once more:

 

Spoiler

 

 

Perhaps the traitor's fate has been exaggerated, but the intention has not. Loyal courtiers and nobles who cling to the desperate need for position and prestige linger, sending their own House Troops and mutated slaves into the tunnels and alleys, fighting the loyal Armageddon Steel Legion, and myriad pockets of Imperial Guard, the Arbites and whatever other forces are stationed within.

 

This time, Von Strab must not escape. His fate has been evaded many times, and now those with suspicions of his true loyalties suspect a dark hand behind the dubious reprieves...

 

The Green Menace:

 

Ghazgkhull Mag Uruk Thraka has assembled over four million Orks to take Armageddon as his own. The lands, the rivers and skies are polluted by this foul menace, and even as the Imperial defenders swell, with gangs of cutthroats standing shoulder-to-shoulder with regular soldiers, and the mighty Space Marines, the war rages on every bluff, around every poison-stained cloud, and each barricade formed by broken tanks. Bored now wth the stalemate, and possessed of a terrible will to begin his own blasphemous kroosade!, he musters his nearest allies to leave the planet.

 

Imperial Strategos reports the unified tides now ebb and flow, and in the long months before the Season of Fire, the Imperials now have the chance to tip the balance.

 

Acheron Hive is to be one of these lynchpins.

 

Securing the monolithic bastions will provide great boons for the Imperium, and once again give a solid wall against which the righteous can safely place their backs.

 

+++++

Somewhere over the deserts of Armageddon, Five minutes out from Drop:

 

The propellyblades thumped quiet above him. The pilot was good 'un, because ''e was one of Flashdakka's Nobz. Not quite a Chinork, this was a smaller, fasta bird, painted with black and purple cammo, wasn't it? A Black-Ork Kopta. Single penny-farving setup. One of Da Masta Mek's design to Bespork Speccyfikayshun. He didn' know 'ow 'e knew dem wordz, 'e just did. He was grateful for the time an' space to fink. Like really Fink, ya know? The Kopta was enclosed, armoured cabin an all, lucksyooreeus, even. How 'e'd 'ad the idea, 'e'd never know.

 

One of dose Smartboyz, sumwun said, although 'e kronked 'im fer it and took 'is teef. A brainbox, Markari said, and dem Wishy-bones Wierdboyz all cackled like dey was throwing a fit. Below, the hot sands scoured across the lads darn dere, ruffin' up with the Humies. Good scrappin' in dem Browncoats, lots of guts, like his Boyz in 'ere. Surrounded by a Krak team, from his own Parashootaz Reggiement, dey was on a secret mission from the Big Ork, hisself - and not even Da Boss or Da Flashdakka or Da blimmin' Mad Mek was supposed ta know.

 

That Humie Git, Von Strab, or whatever - more like Von Cack-blather! Ha, ha! Wuz goin to leave a big door open fer 'em so's dey could get in the slagheap and cut some throats. Course, dem Humies wouldn' like it and give 'is Paras a duffin', but 'e wasn't too bothered. Nah. Da real trubble, was dem Beaky Bastards out in the wastes, but 'e 'ad a plan see? He was finking proppa snagga, and them Humies, dat blabber-gob and all dem Beakies was gonna be fer it.

 

'E just 'adta get it fixed. Big Ghaz warned 'im. 'Now dun you klunk it, ya git! I's got de Eye of Gork and Mork, and I sees you klunk it, I'z gonna chop ya.'

 

The Black-Ork Flight thundered up, and up, into the Humie's front door.

 

+++++

 

Welcome to Acheron, and Armageddon!

 

[PLACEHOLDER]

 

++ Players, Do Not Post ++

 

++ GAME OPENS 03 NOV 2025* ++

 

Edited 2 hours ago by Mazer Rackham
*=Subject to change