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Blackthorn/Swordhand: A Rallying Cry

Deathwatch Roleplaying Game RPG Play by Post Commissar Molotov Blackthorn Kill-Team Blackthorn Fantasy Flight Games Kill-Team Swordhand Swordhand

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#1276
Steel Company

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"When you pass through the streets, everyone is watching. You are the Emperor's judgment made manifest, and the people look to you to see what you do. Your words carry weight." She said, her helm pulled free finally in the confines of the Rhino.

Tyber chuckled a little as he spoke, “I am a weapon, forged for the conquest of the stars. I am not meant to uphold the laws of the Imperium.”

Leaning back with his head tilting up to face the roof, a smile played on the corners of his mouth, as he continued; “Truly I am a son of the First Legion, a descended of the Six Hosts… If you need an Astartes to uphold the Emperor’s Laws, then I suggest you seek out a son of the 13th, they are a sticklers for their rules after all.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the marshal wrinkle her brow and nose a bit as she said to him, “That may be, but the hand that swings the sword is dispensing justice. And if the Xenos are as bad as some say, death may just be a mercy in and of itself."

Again, he started to chuckle, before countering with; “Marshal, by your own words, would you ask your shock maul about a sentence before dispensing it? As I am the Emperor’s sword, a weapon, nothing more, nothing less…” his smile and laughter died off quickly, “I was not kidding however, we are going to need anyone and everyone, young and old alike to hold this world. Having mortals locked up right now will do nothing but provide the Xenos an easy source of bio-matter that will be unable to fight back. For the duration of this conflict, I would advise to suspend all incarcerations and stay all executions until we have either put down the threat or we are all dead anyways. In the end however, you are the arbiter of justice here, I am not. You can either take my advice or not, be aware that both will likely have consequences… I only ask that you weigh the wrong, right and correct choices.”

With that he closes his eyes, awaiting the next stop.

OOC:

I added in the Marshal's words from below to make one post, rather than one update and a follow up post.

Edited by Steel Company, 18 March 2019 - 10:02 PM.

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The Iron Hands, they are the real emo marines. Seriously. The Dark Angels aren't the ones who sit around cutting off bits of themselves, wearing black, and complaining about weakness and ennui...

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#1277
Noctus Cornix

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As doors swung open, Guillermo peered only momentarily over to his side, catching Ghent's gaze for but a moment to register that he needed his brother's concentration.

 

== Be on your guard. ==

 

He spoke without a word ever leaving his lips, his attention turning back to the Captain before following after the mortal man into the vast dining hall.

 

== I know not what, but something unnatural lurks the halls of this vessel.. Watch the Captain. ==

 

The Codicier offered a curt shrug before lowering his head in cordial formality. An Astartes would never bow before any mortal man, but this was an acceptable response. 

 

"I must decline. It is customary among my vowed order to commit to ritual fasting at the cusp of war."

 

Yet the Codicier paused for a moment, his blue eyes flashing quickly along the grandeur of the dining hall, the cutlery and precious material used for such wasteful consumption of food. He did his best to hide his contempt for such things. He reminded himself that mortals must be held at a.... different standard from one of the Astartes. But that was not a matter of his concern. 

 

"Opportunistic, but understandable. Should the world survive this flood that approaches, I am certain there will be something to gain from what remains.. So you carry nothing from the Howling Stars or the Expanse with you? I understand that we are of different oaths. Ours is to kill and purge xenos threats. Yours is to discover and even trade, if necessary, with such creatures. Such is our place in the Emperor's Will. I've... never seen one, but it is said that some Dynasties carry a Warrant of Trade written signed by the Emperor Himself. I will not judge you for your duties, Captain. I only wish to know if the Death Watch should be aware of anything you carry before the battle comes." 

 

He spoke with that formal fluency born from a childhood amidst Naval Officers, honed by his vocation as one of the Librarium. He even flashed the smallest smile on his scarred lips at the captain. He had no wish to earn the Captain's suspicion, or offend the frailty of his ego. It was a fine line he attempted to tread, seeking not to lose the support of the Rogue Trader's vessel or his men in the coming battle, but nor could he simply ignore that unnatural sense lurking in the back of his skull. 

 

 

Truly, dealing with Humans was an arduous task...

 

 

 

OOC:

Attempted Common Lore (Imperium) Test  - To test if Guillermo has actually heard the legends or Rogue Trader warrants being signed by the Emperor

Roll 1d100 = 23 vs 43 (2DoS)

 

Attempted Charm Test - On Captain Desiato

Roll 1d100 = 50 vs 50 [45+5 for being unhelmed] (0DoS)


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#1278
Chaplain Dosjetka

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Ghent disliked mind-speak. Not only could he not respond, it felt like an intrusion. However, given the circumstances and the fact they had both foolishly removed their helms, he was glad that the Librarian could warn him without arousing the suspicions of the Captain.
As discreetly as he could, the Invader slowly moved his unused arm and hand to grasp Fulmen Mors' grip. After a brief moment Rodrik sensed through a slight vibration feedback that the weapon had accepted his bio-ident and would allow him to fire it if and when necessary.

Hidden Content


The Captain was focussed on the Codicier and his words, and had seemingly not noticed Rodrik's latest movements. He capitalised on this opportunity to take in their surroundings, the vast feasting chamber.

Hidden Content

Edited by Chaplain Dosjetka, 18 March 2019 - 05:35 PM.

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gallery_45765_14340_43444.jpg

 

You carry the Emperor's will as your torch, with it destroy the shadows.

Accept all challenges, no matter the odds.

Suffer not the Heretic to live.

Abhor the Typo.


#1279
Commissar Molotov

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Tyber and Atratus
""That may be," the Enforcer says, "but the hand that swings the sword is dispensing justice. And if the Xenos are as bad as some say, death may just be a mercy in and of itself."




Montesa and Ghent

GM: It's not necessary for you to pass Common Lore - I would judge that the reputation of Rogue Traders precede them - that they are afforded great latitude due to ancient rights and titles that establish them as Peers of the Imperium.

At the Librarian's refusal, Desiato inclines his head in regret.

"A shame. Another time, perhaps."

He raps his knuckles on the wooden table, one ringed finger beating a tattoo absent-mindedly.

"The winds of fortune and fate carry us across this galaxy, and none can truly say where they will end up. We are in service to powers far greater than our own... that much is true indeed." His smile is wistful, though it never loses its warmth. "I imagine both of you are far from the worlds you call home?"
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1280
Noctus Cornix

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Following the Captain's movements, Guillermo will direct his eyes to the Rogue Trader's tattoo, examining it carefully.

 

"Yes. The Crimson Fists hail from the system of Rynn's World, though I would not call it my home. My ancestry returns to the lineage of our Chapter as Crusaders endlessly sailing across the black sea. My home is the proud cerulean vessels that are my Chapter's fleet."

 

OOC:

Do I need to make an awareness check to make out the tattoo?


Edited by Noctus Cornix, 18 March 2019 - 06:56 PM.

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#1281
Commissar Molotov

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Montesa and Ghent

"I know what you mean," the Captain says. "The void welcomes many who ply it, though it is a cold and unforgiving mistress. Spend too much time living in the void, and the void begins to dwell within you."

He turns to Ghent. "And what of your home?"
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1282
Chaplain Dosjetka

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The Invader's attention switched back to the Rogue Trader.

"My home world is no more."

Ghent's face was as emotional as a slab of pale marble.

"And you haven't answered my brother's question."

The hand gripping his boltgun was itching.
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gallery_45765_14340_43444.jpg

 

You carry the Emperor's will as your torch, with it destroy the shadows.

Accept all challenges, no matter the odds.

Suffer not the Heretic to live.

Abhor the Typo.


#1283
Commissar Molotov

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Montesa and Ghent

"There is nothing on this vessel that could interfere with your ability to do your duty to the Emperor - or mine to support Syndalla. All I have seen in the Howling Stars, all I have seen in my years plying the void has shown me just how important it is that this planet holds. To that end, I will pledge the Glory Be in the void-war, and I will be able to contribute several thousand armsmen to the ground defense."
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1284
Chaplain Dosjetka

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The Invader was skeptical regarding the Rogue Trader's claims but kept that to himself. There was little point in escalating the issue further at this point in time.

"I am interested in knowing what this ship's offensive capabilities are, Captain. To better plan the deployment of our defences."

Edited by Chaplain Dosjetka, 20 March 2019 - 04:38 AM.

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gallery_45765_14340_43444.jpg

 

You carry the Emperor's will as your torch, with it destroy the shadows.

Accept all challenges, no matter the odds.

Suffer not the Heretic to live.

Abhor the Typo.


#1285
Apologist

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They had spoken on the shuttle. Just a little at first. It had been a short flight from the Xenocide to the King of Kings; no more than an hour; but the two had come to a decision.

 

The Storm Son emerged onto the Arvus lighter's first, helm in place, his manner martial. The Gatebreaker, similarly helmed, stalked after him. Two files of Naval armsmen came smartly to attention as Greysight's feet hit the deck. The Naval officer stepped out, her salute faltering as it became clear that neither of the Astartes intended to stop.

 

To her credit, the officer barely hesitated. For a moment, Yeng thought he was going to attempt to bar Greysight's way, but she instead turned to fall into step with the Storm Son – at least briefly. Her swift steps failed to match the Space Marine's, and within half a dozen paces Yeng found her instead at his side.

 

Judging by the clamminess of her portly face, she was putting a brave face on things. Her voice gave no sign of wavering or any breathlessness.

"My Lords; you are expected."

 

Yeng greeted this with a grunt. "My brother knows the layout of this vessel. The Fleet-Captain is aboard." It was a statement, not a query.

 

"Indeed. I have orders to escort you to the... to the strategium, sir."

 

"If such is your commander's will, so be it," the Gatebreaker replied with a shrug. "Keep up."

 

Within thirty paces, the officer and the armsmen were marching at the double. Within a hundred, they were running.

 

+++

 

The approach to the Strategium was ornate; even beautiful. A long, low corridor, with recessed statuary depicting officers of the Sector fleet. A carpet – much repaired and more brown than the scarlet Greysight suspected it had been – ran along the centre of the gently curving hall.

 

Across the vox, Greysight and Yeng discussed the ease of defense. Despite their belligerent appearance, the two were in high spirits; pleased to be aboard ship once more. "If the world below offered such easy channels and firing lines, there would be little need of the fleet," Greysight murmured. The Gatebreaker tapped his vox in agreement.

 

Neither he nor the Storm Son lingered on the aesthetics. They were alone now. Yeng mused on whether the officer would be reprimanded; whether she had decided to save face by halting; where they were. He dismissed the thought as the Strategium revealed itself. At the end of the corridor, a small group of Naval armsmen snapped to attention. The large doors were open, revealing a still larger room, at the centre of which stood a raised dais with a hololith. 

 

Armed and armoured identically as the honour guard, an officer's voice barked out, 

"Halt!"

The voidsailors here moved to bar the Astartes way, raising boarding shotguns and slug-throwers. Still a little way back, the two Astartes glanced at one another. Not breaking pace, their hands moved pointedly to their weapons – though neither touched them.

 

The Armsmen stood staunchly as the Astartes closed the distance. "I said halt," repeated the officer; and this time the Astartes drew to a stop. Yeng stood favouring his right hip; Greysight besides him. Up-close, the officer revealed himself to be an old man. Thin to the point of gauntness, his narrow shoulders were nevertheless set firmly. A nasty ragged scar ran from his defiant chin, across his jawline, and up over the space an ear had presumably once sat. His eyes were clear – and furious.

 

"Whatever your rank, Astartes, whatever your customs; let me make this clear. While on this sovereign vessel, you will obey its rules and its laws."

 

Yeng leaned down to look more closely at the officer. There was a pause before he straightened.

 

A single word rumbled out of the Gatebreaker's helm, "Agreed."

 

To his credit, the officer made no immediate response. After a tense moment, Greysight spoke; his voice equally shrouded by vox-distortion. 

 

"Take us to Captain Locke. Quickly." 

 

"Sub-Lieutenant Schmole has already made me aware of your haste, Astartes," replied the officer, chewing the word as though it were a wasp, "and the Fleet-Captain awaits within." Masking his scowl badly, the officer stepped back, making a curt gesture through the door.

 

+++

 

The gathered Naval officers made up a panoply of uniforms and brocade as complex as any Space Marine Chapter, though any colours were lost in the glow of the hololith. Sailors from a dozen or more regions crowded round the table-plotter, their faces made antiseptic and stony in its cold light. They turned to face the Astartes as they approached, showing a mix of respect, half-masked eagerness, and fear.

 

Without waiting, Greysight demanded a report. Hushed, the faces turned to Fleet-Captain Locke. Tall and lean, wearing the stiff-necked collar of the Naval Battlefleet, her greying hair sat atop a face which, if not severe, was certainly . She gave a measured half-bow, which was picked up by the gathered officers. Her eyes take in the armoured forms of Greysight and Yeng. 

 
“I am honoured by your presence,” she said, her formal tones masking any irritation.
 
"And we yours," said Yeng, "but speed is of the essence, Captain." 
 
"Then I suggest you allow us to continue to plan our defence, sir." There was a pause. "If you have anything to add, then..."
 
She was interrupted by Greysight. "It is less what we have to add to your plan, as what we have to suggest of our own." He leaned over the hololith, both hands flat on the surface. Tiny motes of light flickered and resolved around his massive gauntlets.
 
Showing no sign of irritation, Locke demurred gracefully. "As I say; I am happy to hear the advice of the Astartes. Make no mistake, however," she went on, her hard gaze flicking between the Space Marines. "I regard the Xenocide as an honoured – and very welcome – ally; not our commander. I will not allow the Navy's prerogative and duties to be interfered with in this sphere."
 
Yeng outlined the Astartes plan – outlining a strategy of harrying and drawing away smaller ships – with occasional clarifications from Greysight. Helmed, armoured and massive, the two presented a united front; and as they continued, their experience as void-warriors and sub-fleet commanders – each with their own Chapter's hard-won experienced – became clear. Interjections from the naval officers were few, and though Locke's arms remained folded, her tilted head indicated a guarded interest in the Astartes' plan.
 
+++
 
As Yeng came to a close, Greysightleaned in. "We cannot kill them all; but we can thin them out. Breaking the herd apart will divide their attention and slow their deployment."
 
"It is a plan that will spare our forces." remarked Captain Utomo of the Thricebound. His tone was as neutral as his commander's. 
 
"...and place the planet at greater risk," objected Commodore Zheng of Saint Orestes. He avoided Greysight's glowering faceplate, addressing his words to Locke. "Whether they land together or apart is of little benefit if they can simply gather in the plains – and unless we can re-establish orbital dominance, we cannot support the Guard by breaking them up. I maintain, Fleet-Captain, that keeping the xenos in the void is the clearest route to victory. The fewer xenos make landfall, the better the planet's chances."
 
"Perhaps," said Yeng, removing his helm at last. His tone was conciliatory; his face open. The officers looked at him, curious despite themselves. Astartes were exotic. "No-one is in doubt of your prowess or courage. Navy is a strong wall. But as the Odes put it, when the tide rises, better to run than stand"
 
Locke narrowed her eyes. "Proverbs are all very well, sir; but you and your colleague know as well as any here that the Tyranids are not mindless, whatever the ranks are told. Nor – " and here she shot a hard look at a squat officer opposite, who bridled wordlessly, "– are they numberless."
 
Greysight folded his arms. "We cannot prevent planetstrike; but can attempt to direct and control where. More than that: pulling the enemy fleet apart lets us identify the prime-vessels and target them. Disruption of the xenos' command and control weakens the whole. If we can unveil the kingship, we stand a chance of ending effective invasion at a stroke." His whole being bristled with agitation and suppressed threat; as though he longed to be moving and fighting.
 
Locke continued, addressing the group as a whole. "The Astartes are correct in this: that however many they are, they cannot fill the void. Their strategy of winnowing and shepherding the oncoming tyranids may succeed in directing them into planetary gunlanes and strongholds; but Zheng is right. It also spares us at the expense of the planet. Holding back our blows to strike at a target that may never be revealed may doom the defenders below."
 
Yeng's collar clicked at a vox-nudge from Greysight – undetectible to the humans, but Yeng replaced his helm; his conciliatory expression being replaced by the war-mask of his plate.
 
Locke want on, "The enemy fleet outmatches us. By what margin, we do not know; but we can be sure that they have finite resources, and that they can be beaten. I will not sacrifice what few vessels we have for glory; but nor will I shy from my duty to protect this world." She addressed the Astartes once more. "I respect your advice, but the Imperial Navy is not an Astartes fleet. I must seek victory in the time-honoured manner of the Navy itself." 
 
Along with the naval staff, the two Astartes straightened, as the Fleet-captain withdrew to consider. A tense twenty minutes passed, during which time the two Astartes stood, as umoving as statuary. The officers formed tense knots of whispered discussion; both they and the crew darting occasional glances at the Deathwatch marines.
 
+++
 
Locke's briefing, when she emerged, was short. The plan she outlined took elements of Greysight and Yeng's plan; synthesising it with her own. The navy vessels would present a mobile strongpoint; creating a moving and ever-reducing spiral from the mandeville point to the planet. In this way, the Fleet-Captain hoped to bait the tyranids towards the planetary capital while maximising the fleet's full broadsides against vanguard hiveships. Once planetfall was inevitable, the spiral would use their unfired planetside broadside to disrupt landing ships before expanding, drawing away the chaff-hiveships to expose the greater threat of whatever bulk-lander equivalents the aliens possessed to the planetside guns.
 
Dispersing across the battlespace in this way, the Navy aimed to regroup at the equator, cycle back to the mandeville point and enfilade the remaining mass of tyranids. 

Edited by Apologist, 22 March 2019 - 12:39 PM.

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#1286
Xin Ceithan

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Placeholder

Sabaan return to the Metallican District and introduces his fellow Techmarine.
Discussion regarding the thermobarc screen implementation begins
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#1287
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"Death comes to us all, but we are tasked by the Emperor to spend our lives for the betterment of humanity and the Imperium." Looking at the Marshal, "are you concerned that armed and fed the people here might threaten this place after the battle is won, or before it has started?"

 


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#1288
Slips

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"My lord! We are honoured to have you here once more!" 

 

++...And grateful are we for such a warm reception and eager welcome...++ he said glancing over at Varvost as he said so, the look, to the mortals, seeming like nothing more than a glance to indicate both of them as he spoke but, to the Marines, belied an exasperation at the current situation.

 

++Quite the marvel that your faithful have been able to reconstruct much of the Templum in such a short time given the coming storm, it is...impressive...indeed++ But a glaring misuse of ressources that could have been better put to use fortifying the city instead of an edifice that spits on the Imperial Truth. He thought.

++Though personally, I would have much preferred a tribute piece in the image of my Genesire for he is partly the reason any of us are even here today but more directly so the reason why we - Scions Angelus - are here today.++

 

++That is besides the point, however.++ he cut off before the holy man could protest at his critique.

 

++Tell me, Bishop, how can we be of service to the gathered faithful today? Is there anything we can do to bolster the will of the people and prepare them, if not physically, spiritually against the darkness to come?++ he asked of the man who wore nearly as much gold as an Ultramarine in full parade dress.

 

He looked around the looming Gothic edifice that was the Templum, memories of the night they made planetfall superimposing themselves onto his vision as he scanned the building.

I wont say no to such an easy beacon to rally the populace around when for the time comes...


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Posted ImagePosted Image Posted Image

++Part of the ship...Part of the Crew++

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#1289
Noctus Cornix

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OOC:

Guillermo will carefully watch the Captain's response to try and determine if he is an honest man.

 

Attempted Scrutiny Test

Roll 1d100 = 13 vs 23 (Basic Untrained Skill 45/2 rounding up become 23) (Exactly 1DoS)


Edited by Noctus Cornix, 20 March 2019 - 03:32 AM.

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#1290
Commissar Molotov

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Montesa and Ghent

You have spent your long years in the company of your brothers, firstly of the Crimson Fists and now of the Deathwatch. Deceit and falsehood are exceedingly rare among the Astartes, and you have precious limited interactions with the Chapter serfs and non-augmented crews. Yet you see no indication that Desiato is lying to you. He seems earnest in everything he has said - his devotion towards the defense of Syndalla seems just as he asserts.

Seemingly heedless of your scrutiny, Desiato replies to Ghent.

"She's much as you would expect a Dauntless in the service of the Navy. She sports macrocannon on the broadsides, and a lance battery at the prow. She'll serve to support the Navy, or to take the smaller void-creatures. I will wait to hear from Fleet-Captain Locke for her orders, as your Brother Solastion requested."


Tyber and Atratus

Marshal Thrace nods curtly at the Dragon's words.

"I will discuss with the Governor the possibility of forming a Penal unit," she says. Thrace seems impressed with the suggestion.

At the Raptor's words, she replies.

"My concerns are that we reside on a world of plenty, and yet we cannot feed the entire population of this city. Fields and plantations are burning; roads are damaged or destroyed. When the conflict starts and the city walls are closed, the problem will only be exacerbated. Prudence suggests that rationing should start immediately. Harsh, perhaps. But it should be something you support. After all, you were the ones burning the Fallows and killing the weak and infirm."

Solastion and Vârvost

"It would be an honour if you would speak to the people, my Lord," the Bishop says, "but I would speak to you regarding a further matter."

At this, you withdraw within the Templum. The bullet-holes and pock-marks are still evident upon the brickwork; stained-glass windows are still shattered with sandbags and flakboard in their place. But the daylight does cast the edifice in a more favourable light. The noise of the crowd is muted here, and the Bishop is able to speak to you without the people hearing.

"My lord, you may be unaware but this is a special place. The Templum itself holds a reliquary, a holy relic of the Ecclesiarchy from the earliest days of Imperial rule over this sector." He swallows heavily as he contemplates his next words. "I would ask... ask that if this world should fall, you remove the reliquary to ensure it is not desecrated. Such a thing cannot be allowed to occur. Do you understand, my lord?"
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1291
Noctus Cornix

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Montesa sensed no deceit. As he had hoped, Desiato seemed an honest man, true to his word. And yet... 

 

Without thinking, Guillermo's hand slowly rested upon the hilt of Marina, caressing the gripping straps of the handle idly. 

 

"Captain... How much interaction has you had with the local population of Syndalla before and since the discovery of the cult?"

 

Although they looked out to the stars for the enemy that lurks in the darkness of the void, they could not forget the enemy within. Could the cultists have boarded the vessel?


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#1292
Commissar Molotov

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Montesa and Ghent

"I was aware of the planet's existence, though I'd never visited before. I arrived eight days ago, after your Brothers assaulted the planet. The space within the Expanse is becoming harder and harder to navigate thanks to the effect the Tyranids have on the warp, and I took advantage of favourable conditions when I found them."
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1293
Commissar Molotov

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Yeng and Greysight

Make a perception test!

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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1294
Slips

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++Show me this Reliquary, Bishop; if it is indeed as old as you mention, then securing it before the fighting starts would be the best precaution.++ While he was no fan of the Ecclesiarchy, Solastion still, although somewhat begrudgingly, respected them and what the faith could produce in times of need. He also couldn't decline without it complicating things to a degree - at least, not yet.

 

++I understand very well the importance of Relics in our Imperium, each Space Marine chapter has its own score; some dating back to the Great Crusade or even the Unification. So, you have my word at the very least that I will do what I can to safeguard such an item.++ and he gestures with his hand for the Bishop to lead the way.


Edited by Slips, 23 March 2019 - 07:02 PM.

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Posted ImagePosted Image Posted Image

++Part of the ship...Part of the Crew++

+] Use the Report Button! [+


#1295
Noctus Cornix

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Montesa and Ghent

"I was aware of the planet's existence, though I'd never visited before. I arrived eight days ago, after your Brothers assaulted the planet. The space within the Expanse is becoming harder and harder to navigate thanks to the effect the Tyranids have on the warp, and I took advantage of favourable conditions when I found them."

 

Guillermo shook his head slowly. Clearly the answer had not satisfied him. 

 

"You are too vague, Captain. I will be honest with you, for you are as blind to it as my brother. There is something unnatural aboard your vessel. I sense it in the ebb and tide of the warp. It is very possible that someone... or rather, something has boarded your vessel during those eight days. I request records of your landing vessels coming on and off this ship in that span of time... The Tyranids are a tenacious breed of xenos that will fester wherever possible. I would rather avoid any potential cultists or brood to cause havoc aboard your vessel during the coming days or, worse, when the Xenos fleet arrives."

 

 

OOC:

When will I be available opportunity to perform another Psyniscience test?

 

Also, am I able to sense what general direction the unnatural presence is coming from?


Edited by Noctus Cornix, 24 March 2019 - 02:52 AM.


#1296
Nineswords

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+++

 
CALCULATED BELLIGERENCE, GREYSIGHT mused. His manner with non-Astartes had never been described like that before, but, the curious phrasing was apt and not unexpected from the pensive Gatebreaker. In the Utrar Khanates, the Storm Sons of Nakaris held a mythical quality to the general populace, who viewed them as guardians of the ultimate laws of the Imperium, albeit terrifying ones. Better to fear the Khuu Arga, than embrace the outer darkness. Greysight acutely understood the necessity of control and to cultivate selective ignorance, lest the populace unwittingly consorted with the yaksha and doom us all.
 
It was with calculated belligerence that Greysight employed on board the King of Kings. Yeng, he realised, approached any interaction with a certain subtle obliqueness. It was an admirable quality, though in the circumstance, not entirely appropriate in Greysight's view. He did not doubt the resolve, nor the experience of the assembled lords of the Imperial Navy; it was just simply more expedient to cut through the chaff and ceremony in order to proceed with a workable plan. 
 
Protocol and pomp be damned in the face of almost certain doom.
 
The fleet's current estimates put the vanguard Tyranid fleet within Syndalla's system at just over a Terran week's time, though the astropathic choirs' contributions were becoming more erratic, and eventually muted as the shadow of the Great Devourer compromised their ability to communicate with the wider Imperium. Missives and requests for aid had been broadcast to every system in range until the very last possible moment; including a report outlining the current situation on Syndalla and petitioning Watch Captain Diocles at Watch-Station Azurea over an encrypted channel. 
 
There was no response.
 
Captain Locke's departure with her most senior aides had created an unexpected intermission. Greysight's initial gambit of simply enforcing his preferred strategy had been met with a greater degree of hostility than anticipated, even with Yeng's support. As the Storm Son reflected on the the briefing in Locke's absence, he looked at Yeng, trying to ignore the furtive glances and whispers from the mid-ranking officers in their midst. How we must seem like statues come to life, Greysight thought. Like the mythical ancient ceramic statues of the pre-Terran Chin.
 
He voxed Yeng. 'I agree with you, Brother Yeng. About the rising tides. The Khuu Arga are a practical lot. The Khagan teaches us to know when to fight, and to know when to withdraw, lest we sacrifice ourselves in pointless glory. I am uneasy that the only two courses of action presented to us sacrifices the fleet or the planet. It is a false dichotomy in my view. There is always a third option.'
 
'Indeed,' agreed Yeng. 'But, it is an entirely different matter to let our allies come to the conclusion themselves, is it not? Any fool can say “Ah”, it takes intelligence to say "Yes”.'
 
Greysight laughed at Yeng's insight. Within their power-armour, the officers were oblivious to the Storm Sons' brief moment of levity.
 
'The Third Prince teaches us the virtue of a level head, and cautions us against misplaced pride,' continued the apothecary. 'In the Scattered Stars, we lack the resources of other chapters. We live to fight another day, and wasting resources is a sin largely driven by misplaced pride.'
 
'Is it enough?'
 
'We have plenty,' replied the Gatebreaker. 'It is a matter of convincing the fleet to do more with less, but one must not put the dzo's load on the aduu.'
 
Greysight considered Yeng's wisdom. He was right. Both options were viable, but not the most effective use of available resource.
Presently, Locke, along with her senior aides returned to the strategium, her deliberations finished. In the phosphor haze of the hololith, she outlined a plan that combined the most effective elements of both proposals. Satisfied, the Space Marines signalled their joint approval to a clearly relieved Locke, and the briefing came to an end. 
 
Yeng lingered a moment before he signalled his apprehension, after the Naval officers had dispersed.
 
'Something troubles her,' remarked the Gatebreaker.
 
'I have noticed nothing,' said Greysight.
 
'You clearly have not spent enough time with your own kind then, brother,' retorted Yeng. He clapped his hands as they marched out of the strategium. 'She's intelligent though, that one.'
 
'How so?' asked Greysight, instantly regretting his poor choice of wording.
 
'She said yes, just as I planned, did she not?' Yeng replied, his laughter rippling down the corridor
 
+++

Edited by Nineswords, 24 March 2019 - 09:38 AM.

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+++

'We are the sword of Jaghatai. Had you not created great sins, the Emperor would not have sent a punishment like us upon you.'

 Index Astartes: Storm Sons
+++

‘We estrange our fathers and forsake false brotherhoods. The War God cares not from whence we came, only that we fight.’
The Unbroken: A Renegade Cult of Obliteration

+++


#1297
Commissar Molotov

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Tyber and Atratus
The awkward silence after the Marshal's words is not given much opportunity to fester, as the Rhino grinds to a halt once more. The rear ramp lowers once more and you exit into the light, finding yourselves once more in one of the Guild Houses of Syndalla, now given over to survivors of the Astral Claw's purge of the Fallows. This was once a Administratum counting-house, and the floor is littered with faded paper slips that once held balances and debts. Tents of plastic sheeting have been erected, and your auto-senses can easily discern the cries of women and children.

"Shields!" Marshal Thrace shouts, "Shields!"

Around you, the Magistratum Enforcers raise their suppression shields, erecting a ring of steel around you. Near immediately you see the crowd transferring their attention to you, pressing forwards and jostling. You see their emaciated forms through their ragged clothes, see as one woman claws at the shields only for one of the Enforcers to raise his shock-maul threateningly. You hear another rack the slide of his combat shotgun. The shouts for mercy and relief become a clamour, a single chorus-like voice.

"Help us, please! Help us!" you hear.

"Back, damn you!" the Marshal shouts in warning.


Solastion and Vârvost

The Bishop nods, eagerly. He heads towards a passageway within the Templum leading to several steps down. The under-passageways are cramped, particularly so for an Astartes in full warplate. Your occulobe is easily able to discern the forms within the crypts; walls inlaid with the ossuaries of particularly notable landowners or worthies on Syndalla. Ahead of you, surrounded by stone statues of angels bearing skulls and hourglasses, you see a dark wooden chest, inlaid with brazen metals and jewels. It bears the symbols of the Imperium and the Ecclesiarchy.

"It is said to be the bones and relics of Saint Oliander, a great Man of the God-Emperor who gave his life in the earliest days of the Dalthus Sector. He was one of the first to bring the Emperor's light to this Expanse, and so we justly honour him for his sacrifices."

The Bishop's face seems to take on some of the golden light as he approaches the reliquary, as though infused with its radiance.


Montesa and Ghent

GM:
Ghent: PER41 (+10, Heightened Senses): 43 (PASS)
Montesa: PER40 (+10, Heightened Senses): 94 (FAIL)
Montesa: Psyniscience Test: WP64: 02 (PASS, 6DoS)


You watch as the Rogue Trader's face darkens at Montesa's words.

"Codicier, you have outstayed your welcome here. I have entertained you here, and done what I could to answer your questions. But there is nothing unnatural in my preventing you from overstepping your boundaries. I would ask you to leave, and immediately."

Desiato gestures to the doorway of his chamber. His manner is not impolite, but it is insistent. His anger is clear to see, and the contrast from his earlier jocularity and openness is striking.

To the Librarian, the sense that there is an unnatural presence aboard the Glory Be is only heightened. It is impossible for you to divine any direction or heading.
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1298
Steel Company

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"Back, damn you!" the Marshal shouted out, causing Tyber to look to her direction, while setting up a targeting solution on the mortal that had cycled their weapon.

 

Sending a message to Raptor that was with them, Tyber speaks over the vox network to his brother; +Do you recall reading anything about wild life of this world? Even animals that are kept as live stock will need to be slaughtered and used here, even if just to deny them to what is coming.+

 

Not waiting for the reply he spoke to the marshal, +Why do you bring us to this place?+

 

 

Within the safety of his own head, he found he was able to express a level of thoughts that were his own; If these mortals are too weak to defend themselves, they are a waste of resources and should be culled… the healthiest of them perhaps should be spared and move to the space port for the possibility of them becoming serfs to the Death Watch.

 

With that train of thought he found himself on some level wondering how much of it was his own thinking, the teachings of the Legion or what he had learned from his current brother hood.


To all you Space Wolf Players... Its called a Razor and the Soap isn't a Daemon.
--Dremen


The Iron Hands, they are the real emo marines. Seriously. The Dark Angels aren't the ones who sit around cutting off bits of themselves, wearing black, and complaining about weakness and ennui...

--Octavulg

#1299
Commissar Molotov

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Tyber and Atratus

"You asked to accompany us," the Marshal says. "We are patrolling these new citizens. Get back!" The last is shouted again at the crowd, her voice made louder by built-in vox-amplifiers in her armour.

You spy a woman pressing herself against the shield-wall of the Enforcers, a swaddled bundle of cloth in her hands upraised like an offering at a temple.

"My baby!" she wails. "My baby! Please, my lords, take my baby!"
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM) 
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1300
Steel Company

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Tyber tilts his head to the right, in an almost quizzical way, his mind trying to process what this bundle of cloth could do at this moment, other than being an infant, his words came harsh, removed and cold +If you cannot care for it, take it to the temple. They have a program to care for the young. There is nothing I can do for it at the moment, it would be better served to have it’s mother though.+


To all you Space Wolf Players... Its called a Razor and the Soap isn't a Daemon.
--Dremen


The Iron Hands, they are the real emo marines. Seriously. The Dark Angels aren't the ones who sit around cutting off bits of themselves, wearing black, and complaining about weakness and ennui...

--Octavulg





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