Planetfall: Alcmene - A Legio B&C story

[Aurelius Rex]

As SCC Edited May 24, 2006 by Aurelius Rex

[Aurelius Rex]

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Thirteen hours later

[Ahmato]

More! M-o-r-e.... ^_^

[Brother Captain Achilles]

It looks like Lycurgus's blind rage has bought Golgotha just the time he needed. Edited June 6, 2006 by BrotherCaptainAchilles

[Aurelius Rex]

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Thirteen Hours Later

[Brother Captain Achilles]

OOO Now were left in suspense as to who the conspirators are, maybe there sleeper agents who activate based on a strange code word, or a certain symbol.

 

 

Anyways, this story is awesome please continue to write it.

[Rogue Trader]

Leaving Aurelius' excellent 13 hours ahead flash forward, we return to the current 'now' of the Legio's battle on Alcmene...

 

 

 

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jarrett forced himself into a shambling run across the darkened rooftop. It was ten feet across the alleyway to the next building, maybe a shade less - normally no problem for a warrior of the Adeptus Astartes. But now, every step sent white-hot shards of pain up through his aching joints, and his battered armour's servomotors whined in protest as he build up speed. Reaching the parapet bordering the roof, Jarrett hurled himself from the edge, stretching out to the building on the far side of the alley. He made the distance - barely - and landed badly, his left knee buckling under him. Raising his eyes to the night sky, he could just make out the jump pack flares of the retreating traitors. They were pulling away, leaving him struggling to keep them in sight, but keep them in sight he must, if Cain was to be stopped.

 

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The Raptor leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his twin pistols holstered, his empty hands outstretched. For ten thousand years he had fought the Long War. He had killed servants of the Corpse God on countless worlds, stalked endless battlefields. Yet nothing, nothing in all those years, gave him the same exhilaration that he got from flying. The jerk of the harness as the jump pack kicked, the sudden weightlessness, the rush of the air on his face - he would never wear a helmet, never be denied the cold sting of the air, the tears forced from his eyes...

 

Glancing over his shoulder mid-leap, he caught a glimpse of an armoured shape racing through the streets below, the sunburst of muzzleflash in the darkness. The brief incandescence of the bolt igniting revealed black armour, a claw emblazoned on one red and blue shoulderpad. It was one of those accursed Legionnaires; a brother of the Brazen Claws if he remembered the insignia correctly. He'd be easy enough to lose, there was no chance a marine on foot in the maze of streets below could keep up with a jump-pack equipped Raptor on the rooftops.

 

The important thing right now was the experience - the rush of the air, the flare of the attitude jets as he came in for his landing... the Raptor cursed, that execrable wyrd was standing right in his landing zone staring vacantly into space.

 

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Xamot Hell started violently as one of Cain's minions narrowly missed slamming into him before leaping in to the air towards the next building. The idiot Raptor barely seemed in control of his jump pack, typical of the fools that cretin Cain surrounded himself with.

 

That would certainly change when he became Lord of the 17th Legion of Fear, oh yes... he would pick only the very best warriors from the ranks of the Night Lords to be his Lieutenants. Well... not the very best, of course, that would be foolish, for they would surely covet control of the Legion just as Xamot himself did... No, the very best would be sent out to face the strongest enemies he could find, and hopefully get themselves killed in the process, thus neatly removing two problems with one deft stroke of his masterful intellect. Yes, that was the way - select those bright enough to appreciate how masterful he was, but not so bright that he wouldn't be able to foresee their ill-planned attempts at treachery. Oh no, he wouldn't make the same mistake Noctus had...

 

Xamot sniggered to himself, then glanced round suspiciously. An imbecile dolt Cain might be, but the Lord of the 17th Legion of Fear had spies everywhere. Xamot was good at spotting them though, yes, he could spot them easily. He squinted, carefully surveying every inch of the rooftop, examining every shadow, every piece of architecture, looking for Cain's emissary. There! He'd almost missed it the first time, but yes... yes! He could see it now - it was so obvious once you knew what to look for - every other chimney on the roof was broken or shattered, but this one, oh, that fool Cain had slipped up this time, yes, this one was perfect, intact, untouched by the battle. It doubtless contained vox- and pict-corders, planted there by one of Cain's lackeys in an attempt to catch Xamot out. Xamot pulled a frag grenade from his belt, looked at the chimney then clipped the grenade back in place... No, a frag grenade might leave some of the spy-eyes intact, and that wouldn't do at all. He reached under his robes, pulled out a meltabomb, and stood weighing it in his hand and looking at the chimney with a speculative gaze. Yes, this was better, a meltabomb would do the trick nicely. Xamot sniggered again as he carefully attached the device to the chimney. He paused, and retrieved another meltabomb from the depths of this robes - one would do the trick, but two... yes, two would make sure there was none of Cain's spy-eyes left...

 

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[Aurelius Rex]

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Thirteen Hours Later

[Rogue Trader]

About time to finish this, since we started it back in 2004 :lol: For those of you who can't remember what's happening (all of you, I expect!), there's a handy catch up guide at the start of this post.

 

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Whumpf!

 

The distinctive sound of a meltabomb – the tight, inwardly directed explosion – echoed across the rooftops, followed moments later by a deep, ominous rumble. Jarrett watched in disbelief as the building across the alley disappeared from view, to be replaced by a rapidly expanding cloud of rockcrete dust.

 

Moving cautiously to the edge of the parapet, Jarrett looked down at the pile of rubble, then back up at the fast vanishing Raptor – there was no way he'd be able to keep up now, not by the time he'd made his way to ground level and back up to the rooftops of the Manufactorum the other side of the ruins.

 

The crash of rubble moving drew his attention down again, to see a Chaos Marine pushing his way out from under the fallen masonry. Jarrett glanced round the rooftop, spotting an ancient rusted stair that led to ground level. The Emperor must be smiling on him - he’d be descending hidden from the traitor’s view by the corner of the building, and be in a perfect position to surprise the Night Lord…

 

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Xamot Hell smirked as he pulled himself free of the remains of the building. There was no way Cain’s devices could have survived that! Still, it wouldn’t do to gloat too much – not yet anyway – as the darkened city was still crawling with the accursed Legionnaires and, as indomitable as Xamot knew his own mighty powers to be, he didn’t want to run into any of those black-clad marines right now, no, that wouldn’t do at all.

 

It occurred to the Sorcerer that, whilst demolishing the building was the only certain means to preventing the idiot Cain’s surveillance of him, it might also have attracted attention from any servants of the corpse god that might be in the area. Xamot squinted at the surrounding streets, seeing no sign of life, but that tickling sensation at the back of his skull wouldn’t fade. Closing his eyes, he unleashed his wyrd-sense, searching for any flicker of light in the darkness that would indicate a living soul. The rats scurrying through the sewers below were like miniature torches, spluttering and spitting with the latent psychic energy all living organisms shared. Extending his senses towards the awaiting shuttle he could feel the retreating Night Lords, their soul-lights polluted and oily. There was the bright shining light of the Legionnaire – the Brazen Claw - who had been chasing the Raptor through the streets, turning back now, unable to keep pace with his quarry. There was a squad of Legionnaires, too far to be any problem, and there was…

 

Xamot’s eyes snapped open, his hands grasping at his weapons as the Legionnaire stepped round the corner of the building, his boltgun levelled…

 

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[Rogue Trader]

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Jarrett racked the under-slung grenade launcher attached to his bolter and fired, sending a grenade arcing high over the traitor's head. It struck the base of the only wall still standing and exploded with a sharp crack! He smiled as the already weakened rockcrete groaned in protest, and slowly collapsed inwards.

 

The Chaos Marine crouched, twisting and raising a spread hand towards the falling wall. A blue glow surrounded his outstretched arm and the collapsing wall shuddered and stopped, hovering above the Night Lord's head.

 

A Sorcerer! The traitor was a damned Sorcerer!

 

Swearing under his breath, Jarrett knelt, flicked the selector switch on his boltgun to full-auto, and opened fire.

 

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Xamot stifled a giggle as the Legionnaire sprayed explosive bolts at him. He lived for these moments - the raw energy of the warp flowed through him, arcing across his armour and filling his veins with white hot power. Every nerve in his body was on fire, every sense so sharp it was almost too much to bear. Nothing in the universe could harm him now, most certainly not the feeble weapons this puny servant of the Corpse carried.

 

With a leisurely flick of the wrist Xamot waved the bolts aside, hearing them spatter the rubble behind him. Another gesture sent slabs of rockcrete flying through the air at the Legionnaire, slamming him to the ground, smashing the weapon from his hands and glancing off the weeping eye emblazoned on his shoulder pad.

 

Waving a massive block of rockcrete into the air, Xamot sent it spinning through the air towards the prostrate Grief Bringer. He held it over the Marine for a few moments before releasing his mind's grip and letting it fall, crushing the Marine's outstretched right arm...

 

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Rhadamanthys slowed from his headlong pursuit of the Raptor as a strange feeling washed over him. Kruitzfeldt had mentioned there might be some temporary side effects from the psychic cleansing the Librarian had given him after the mental and spiritual assault in the gardens of the Governor's mansion. He'd been sensing things - things he couldn't quite find the right words to explain. It was almost as though parts of another reality was overlapping with this one - he couldn't quite see or hear them, but they were definitely there and he could feel them somehow...

 

Right now, the hairs on the back of his neck were rising. A sense of building pressure - of murderous intent - was emanating from the direction of the Night Lords' ambush, back the way he had just come.

 

The young Brazen Claw hesitated, torn between pursuing the Raptor and the sense of urgency pulling him back towards the ambush site. He looked up, scanning the sky; there was no sign of the Raptor's trail, so it looked like the decision had been made for him. Carefully slotting a new magazine into his treasured bolt pistol, Rhadamanthys turned and began to retrace his steps.

 

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[Rogue Trader]

I was originally holding this section back until the AoD was finished, but it's become relevant to the onging story line (in particular the intro to Round Four), so here we go...

 

 

 

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Jarrett groaned involuntarily as he futilely tried to shift the huge weight pinning his crushed arm. The Sorcerer