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Blackthorn/Swordhand: FIREBREAK / A DYING WORLD

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

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#26
Steel Company

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ooc:

 

Roll for Common Lore (Adeptus Astartes) Eradicators, target number: (49+10)-20 = 39

Common Lore (Adeptus Astartes) Eradicators: 1d100 7

3 DoS

 

Sure looks like the dice really like Tyber for these rolls.... I have a bad feeling when it comes to combat I'll be flunking a lot

 

Tyber visibly stiffens at the presence of Vârvost, as if a little unsettled by his mere presence, rather than his appearance.


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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

#27
Mazer Rackham

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The Novamarine had just made a joke.  The big Marine, Tyber of the Dragons of Caliban, bade Brother Vaidan continue.  Akkad was grateful he was not the only one to have nearly uttered the word Cousin.  Perhaps his worry of politics was not his alone.  At this thought and at the suggestion of a bout of combat in the Strategium, Akkad's face remained stone but for a second, in the dramatic pause his eyes crinkled, not in mockery, but in welcome relief.

 

"I am Vârvost, of the Eradicators."

 

Common Lore Check "Eradicators"  1D100: 19 - Pass.

 

The words he paused to speak died in his throat.  He had heard of the Eradicators before and knew well their reputation.  The warmth, like a sputtering candle being coaxed into heat but a few moments ago seemed to leech out of the room and the veiled threat of the murderer in their midst clouded his face.  All doubt was gone, warriors all to his left, now this battlefield of a man was dominating the room with his presence and total lack of care to etiquette or morals.

 

Tyber was obvious as he stiffened and Daon couldn't blame him.  This one's humours were dark with red and black, the nobility of the Sons of Baal gone out of him to leave a living tool of death.  As the armour of the other growled, Akkad's own machine war-spirit sensed the other predator in the room and hummed as he watched.  This newcomer might have a different face, a different name, but Akkad had met hundreds of men just like him, in humans it was pathetic, in Astartes it could be terrible.  He was reminded of Centurions he had served under - Commodus sprang to mind - a merciless killer of anything that lived, exploiter of opportunities and of his subordinates.  Varvost was not Commodus, but something around the eyes would not let Akkad's thoughts stray far from that hated officer.

 

At least Sumatris had honour.  Of a kind.

 

Perhaps this too was another test, as everything up to now had been.  Was not a Marine's life nought but challenge?

 

He had stared into the mouth of Hell.  Varvost looked like he had just stepped out of it.  The lion on Akkad's shoulder gleamed as he turned slowly.  He spoke carefully, ceding no ground, yet claiming no authority, like the Veteran Sergeant he had been, he dropped into habit, his voice formal - but his fingers itched for Cadence.

 

"Welcome Brother."

 

MR.


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 20 February 2018 - 06:24 PM.

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#28
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Watching Akkad, seeing how he responded to Vârvost, Tyber began to give Vârvost and his armour a quick visual inspection, looking for any indication of rank. With in the Dragons, the eyes of the dragon head on their shoulder would indicate rank, Tyber's being devoid of colour indicating that he was still freshly minted as far as Astartes went, yet vastly senior to any mortal.


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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

#29
Dosjetka

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Vaidan snarls at the new arrival, his anticipation at coaxing words and the first strands of a strong bond out of the rest of his Kill-team disappearing like water dropping onto a heated stove. Vârvost's presence was threatening and had increased the very tension the Novamarine was attempting to defuse. He took stock of this monster, picking out various details such as his mismatched armour, the heavy scarring, the chainaxe at his belt, the Chapter symbol that he does not recognise, the blue eyes that are unnervingly similar to the Crimson Knights'.

 

"Welcome, brother."

 

Brother? It dawned on the Novamarine that this brute would no doubt be a part of the Kill-team and they would all need to treat him as a brother if they were to succeed. The mere of thought of showing any sign of comeradeship disgusted Vaidan but now was not the time to express his distaste for the inclusion of Vârvost.

 

"Indeed. Welcome, Vârvost of the Eradicators."

 

His voice was impassive as he made the sign of the Aquila to accompany his greeting.


Edited by Chaplain Dosjetka, 21 February 2018 - 07:31 AM.

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


#30
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His split second of hesitation for introducing himself being interrupted by the new comer, Solastion gets a quick look at him and, once he introduces himself as being from the Eradicators, perks up slightly. Whilst they were most likely representative of an Aspect similar to the 2nd Founding Flesh Tearers, they were still sons of the Angel all the same. This does mean I'll have to be watchful for signs of the rage in him...

 

"Greetings, Brother Vârvost." and Solastion takes a quick look around the room to take this chance to introduce himself "I am Solastion, Sanguinary Priest of the Crimson Knights and," he takes another look around the room at those assembled "this Kill-Teams Apothecary."


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#31
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GREYSIGHT V
Killers
 
THE ATTEMPT AT conviviality by the Novamarine Vaidan was extinguished by a new arrival, presumably the Watch-Captain. Effective leaders, in Greysight's considered experience, were pragmatists first and foremost, followed by some attribute of themselves that defined their leadership qualities. Some had charisma, others had a fine grasp of the intricacies of war, others still cultivated respect by example.
 
The warrior that stood before the assembled company had none of these qualities. This one was a stone killer and led through that most base quality of dominion, gained through sheer terror. From the grinding armour joints to the riveted metal plates grafted to his ruined head, it wouldn't have surprised Greysight to find out if the skull and long bone device on his pauldron were crafted from the real thing. The killer pointed to it without ceremony.
 
'I am Vârvost, of the Eradicators,' he barked, by way of introduction. 
 
If the tension in the room was uncomfortable before the killer's arrival, it was now intolerable. Greysight noted the subtle changes of posture in the assembled company when confronted with an alpha predator, as they made their own greetings to the newcomer. The Angel, in particular, appeared disturbed.
 
Greysight barely heard the preamble, as he gazed at the killer in silent wonder. If the sons of the Great Khan, or even the Wolves of Fenris were assumed to be savages by the Imperium at large, then they would be utterly wrong. A savage reputation was a mask one wore to good effect. In the case of the Wolves, it was an aspect of their tribal culture embodied in their battle-craft. The Storm Sons considered savagery as a carefully constructed persona, that was employed as a form of psychological warfare. The war-god of the Eternal Enemy bred psychotic killers who had little control over their impulses and therefore were unworthy of the epithet. Greysight's fascination lay in the fact that the Eradicator was a pure distillation of savagery, embodied in every aspect of his appearance and demeanour.
 
The Storm Son bowed once more, in deference to the killer that stalked amongst them.
 
OOC:
 
Spoiler

Edited by Nineswords, 12 March 2018 - 01:33 PM.

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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

+++


#32
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Unsure of what to make of the new arrival Atratus paused to take stock, aware of the discomfort of the others around him but finding this new warriors to be a curious mix of unnerving and reassuring - there was not subtlety or illusion here, just brutal honesty as to his purpose.

 

 

"Atratus, of the Raptors"


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#33
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Sabaan remained silent during the Novamarine's bantering. He considered the most likely options and relevant probabilities, then decided that the other Astartes was probably making a humorous attempt at establishing a clade bond. Considering Vaidan's gene lineage, it was probably a behavior suggested by the Codex Astartes for this kind of situation. His armor responded with a derisive snarl at such ineffective verbal exchange. It would indeed be a rather different experience to the exchange of blessed data between forged members of an Iron Hand clade.

Well, leave it to the Sons of the Avenging Angel to attempt to talk someone to Death. The thought seemed to skim just below the surface of his conscience. Sabaan wasn't entirely sure it was his. Still, a chuckle began to bubble up from the depth of his respirator like the stirring of some some submarine beast.
It's bubbling ascent was interrupted as the doors opened to allow another Astartes in. The pitch of Sabaan's plate seemed to switch from an annoyed droning to the angered growl of a primal beast registering another predator entering it's lair. His sensorium registered similar changes in the war plate of the the other Marines already assembled. The probability prediction runes for imminent violence skyrocketed in his lower field of vision. Sabaan tensed. He felt anger rising inside him. Anger about himself. Have you learned nothing from the lessons of Istvaan? The thoughts raced through his mind. Walking into an assembly of our so called Brothers armed only with a blade and your warplate? They are Flesh. They are prone to weakness. To emotional folly. To corruption. And you walk into a room full of potential traitors without an appropriate weapon. He let the asphyxiated chuckle rise and released it into a long, sharp hiss. I am learning from this already.

Indeed, it would have been easy at first to mistake the newly arrived stranger for a traitor to the Imperial cause. The fact that this Astartes wore the quicksilver panoply of the Deathwatch was of little consolation. The motley, mismatched armour. The seeming pride at his debased physical state. Sabaan' visual scanners zoomed over the Eradictor. At least there seemed to be no obvious heretical designators. At least partial benediction by a priest of the Omnissiah. The poor plate was given at least rudimentary care at least. Poor thing. The Name meant nothing him. Another outsider from another obscure lineage. Another uninformative verbal statement. Yet, some of the others seemed to gleam some insight from it. It did not appear to be beneficial. Sabaan could not help but to compare the newcomer to himself. The air of brutality, a common adjective related to the Iron Hands battlefield operations by organic auxiliaries. But where the other's plate seemed to revel in it's disunity, his own armour was carefully patched. Battle scarred, yes, but it had been blessed and strove to achieve a communion of holy machine spirits to surpass it's fractured past. His own Flesh had likewise been scarred, burned and regrafted, but he had cast aside his defunct parts and begun to purge his body of it's weaknesses. He had excised them, replaced them and encased his remaining organics in ceramite. The Eradictor on the other hand, seemed to take a perverse pride in displaying his deformity. This one was dangerous, Sabaan decided. Yet his danger would most likely be posed by uncontrolled, emotion triggered violence. This one would need to be watched.

[spoiler] continuing our disdain for obscure chapters, I failed my roll on Common Lore. Again. And with high honors: 96 http://orokos.com/roll/596262# [\spoiler]
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#34
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With each of the assembled brothers having spoken, the double doors to this strategium open inwards, revealing a group of individuals. Three are Astartes; none of you, however, can mistake which of the warriors is in command. The Watch-Captain of Azurea stands tall as he descends the steps to join you. 
 
His face is regal and patrician, his hair grey and belying his wisdom. His armour bears the insignia of the Inquisition upon his breastplate, and gilded saints can be seen praying and exhorting the Emperor in alcoves along his gorget. It is quickly becoming customary for you to look for the shoulder armour of your brothers in order to discern their origin, their gene-history and some aspect of their temperament. The Captain's is no common armorial depiction, but a mural of intricate artistry that you all recognise viscerally. It bears the image of a skeletal figure, haloed, astride a golden throne. A stylised image of the Emperor of Mankind. Beneath, a scroll bears the Imperial gothic 'SERVI AUTEM'.
 
After the dark and overt brutality of Vârvost, the Captain seems like a beacon of considered calm. His eyes flicker each of you, just for a moment, and you feel as though you have been quickly and instinctually appraised. 
 
"Greetings, brothers," a voice accustomed to command swells to fill the strategium  around you. "Welcome to the Watch-Station, and to the service of the Deathwatch. I am Diocles, Captain of the Watch. I have been acquainted with each of your exploits as related by the venerable Chapters from which you hail. We are strengthened by your service, just as service strengthens you."
 
Diocles gestures back to the other Space Marine, the contrast between them stark. 
 
Your short service on this Station has exposed you to a dizzying variety of Space Marines. This warrior wears detailed armour that you recognise as Maximus armour, an ancient suit of armour edged in gold and draped in animal skins. He stands shorter than the Captain - shorter perhaps than nearly all of you, but squat, barrel-chested. His flame-red hair seems to form a mane and as he sees all of you his lips part to form an earnest grin that reveals pointed canines. 
 
"This is Brother Thorvald, of the Space Wolves." The Captain says. The Space Wolf nods at you as Diocles continues. "I am sure you will have ample opportunity to gain the measure of one another as you serve. For now, though, we must attend to the matter at hand. You are to be dispatched on a mission of some import."
 
Captain Diocles steps forward into your circle, keying an activation rune on the strategium table. There is a flicker before the hololithic display resolves into clarity, showing a amber-tinged representation of a planet.  
 
"The world of Syndalla. An agri-world on the far frontier of the Expanse."
 
"A backwater." One of the non-astartes figures interjects. He wears a robe that you might think of as belonging to a scribe, inscribed with wards and runes that exhort the Emperor and decry the alien. At his neck he wears a golden medallion of the Imperial Inquisition. 
 
"You speak out of turn." The Space Wolf grumbles, a bass sound like a truncated volcano churning its way towards eruption.
 
"I speak with the authority of my mistress, the Lady Lythea," the figure replies. He stands a head shorter than the Astartes, and yet seems more than willing to defy them. "That gives me the authority. I have spent days here petitioning for your services. If you will not heed my voice, heed hers." 
 
The Captain raises a hand, a curt chopping motion, and all falls silent. 
 
"As Interrogator Ryken mentions, Inquisitrix Lythea of the Ordo Xenos has petitioned us for aid as part of her investigation on Syndalla." The Captain raises a data-slate, though it appears he doesn't need it to recall the details he has committed to memory. "Certain irregularities have brought the planet to the attention to the Inquisition. A rise in the reported rates of children still-born not tallying with the statistics for burials. Reports of riots against the planetary governance. Preachers pronouncing the Emperor's imminent return in a rain of fire and blood. A decline in Imperial tithes. Perhaps each of those on its own is not a cause for concern. The sort of thing that might be resolved by the Adeptus Arbites, or the Astra Militarum. And yet the Inquisitrix's last communication to her agents indicated her belief that the world had fallen under the influence of the xenoform codified as the gene-stealer."
 
The Captain pauses a second - not for dramatic effect, but rather to let the import of that sink in for a second. 
 
"All of you assembled here will form a Kill-Team and make for Syndalla aboard the Imperial Navy vessel Voice of Thunder. You are to rendezvous with Inquisitrix Lythea and render any aid necessary to root out any xenos influence and clease the planet. You will depart within the hour; if you have any questions I suggest you raise them now."

Edited by Commissar Molotov, 22 February 2018 - 08:46 PM.

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

#35
Steel Company

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Tyber mulls the phrase gene-stealer over in his mind, running through all the various aliens he's heard of or fought, finding nothing, he braces himself for the ridicule of his new brothers before asking. "Captain, I am unfamiliar with that species... is there any wisdom you can impart to me?"


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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

#36
Mazer Rackham

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"Captain, I am unfamiliar with that species... is there any wisdom you can impart to me?"

 

What a question, Akkad thought sourly. It was not for it's obvious nature or hints of naivety but for the stark blistering horror it presaged.  He looked over the Watch-Captain and Brother Torvald, grateful for some direction after the stilted conversation beforehand and was glad it had been asked of such warriors.  Where to start?  The claws, the chattering of bone and hoof and living plates, the ominous dripping of saliva from jaws he himself had seen saw up and down the helm of Terminator battle-plate, trying to chew their way in?

 

What about the dizzying speed when they scuttled, ran or leaped from the darkness?  A hide sticky with repellent smelling ooze and chitinous armour that could deflect a Bolt shell or rebound a Chainsword?  How many times had he boarded a hulk or derelict ship Melindra Orduul claimed as a prize and how could he tell all this to another Marine who had not heard their guttural calls in the gloom..?

 

Staring into the middle-distance as his memory replayed the encounters, his face showed his thoughts plainly, disgust, both at the weakness of the Imperial authorities planet-side that they should let a thing go unchecked and for the xeno beasts he - no, they - were to face.  The impact of the moment passed and his face resumed it's stern countenance.  He resolved to speak last - after all the others may have more knowledge of this menace than he.  Returning to the moment, he looked to Tyber and nodded in encouragement.

 

They were going to need every scrap of wisdom they could get.

 

MR


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 22 February 2018 - 10:46 PM.

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#37
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GREYSIGHT VI
Devourer
 
THE IMPERIUM IS impossible to comprehend in size and scale. We claim a million worlds in the name of the Emperor of All, and even the enhanced lifespan afforded to the Adeptus Astartes allow us to only see merely a fraction of a fraction of the wonders – and horrors – that encompass humanity's dominion. 
 
There was no shame in ignorance, and the Giant's simple question could not begin to describe the horror of the tyranid. We of the Storm Sons know them as sul adguus, the void beasts, a plague upon the Imperium that would eventually consume us, if the green-skin or the Enemy of All did not destroy us first. 
 
Silence once more permeated the room, as the company contemplated the import of Watch-Captain Dioclese's briefing.
 
'The Great Devourer,' Greysight whispered, looking directly at the Giant. All looked to him now, and his whisper became a quiet voice, emboldened by the Watch-Captain's small nod of acknowledgement. 'Alien filth from beyond the outer dark. Like locusts that destroy crops, the Great Devourer's appetite is without limit. The genestealers are their outriders, infecting our populace with their abominable cult of worship, before signalling their unending bio-fleets to strip Imperial worlds of all organic life. If you take your oaths to our new brotherhood seriously, no species is more worthy of putting to the sword.'
 
The Giant grimaced, his hand unconsciously gripping the sword at his side. To Greysight's left, the Eradicator grunted in stoic agreement, whilst the red-maned Wolf bared his teeth in disgust.

Edited by Nineswords, 12 March 2018 - 01:33 PM.

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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

+++


#38
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Tyber lowered his head in deference to Greysight as he whispered, "Thank you brother, I have much to learn."
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

#39
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"The Great Devourer..."

 

To that, Solastion nodded grimly, him personally having suffered at the hands of Genestealers during a Space Hulk mission gone awry. "Aye, I have personally had experience with Genestealers prior to my secondment..." Solastions gaze unfocusing for a but a moment as he recalled the event, his hand tightening its grip on the pommel of his Chainsword "And even though they're outriders, they're no less deadly. I've seen the wounds they inflict on fellow Battle-Brothers first hand, do not underestimate this foe." He says gazing intently at Tyber as he finishes.

 

"Brother-Captain, beyond what equipment we personally possess, will we be equipping ourselves at the Armorium present on the station, prior to departure, or once we arrive on-site so that we may better tailor our equipment to mission parameters?" Solastion inquires.


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#40
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Genestealers... Atratus had only heard of the name once before.

 

Amongst the lists of those enemies marked Excommunicate Traitoris for destruction on contact by the chapter, not the xenos themselves but those formerly of the 4th chapter of the Sons of Guilliman, turned from the Emperor under the pretence of purging these genestealers. All records of the event were sealed but Atratus wondered what hand the xenos may have had in it.

 

But it seemed imprudent to raise such a matter, especially in the presence of another son of Guilliman. The alien was the only foe here until evidence to the contrary.



#41
Commissar Molotov

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 "Hunh." Vârvost's chuckle is entirely without warmth as he turns to Tyber. "They breed in our bosom, like a worm devouring a fruit. They turn our own to their creed, and then strike, a silent blade in the ribs. They fight without concern for themselves. Fell one, and two more take their place." As he speaks the chainaxe seems to gleam wickedly in the light. "You'll get familiar with them soon enough." 
 
(GM: I'd like Tyber to roll a Willpower test at (-22) to resist Vârvost's attempt to unnerve him.)
 
 
 
++++++
 
The Captain nods at Solastion's question. 
 
"This is not the largest of the Deathwatch's facilities, but its resources should prove adequate for your needs. You shall resupply here before you depart. The Voice of Thunder is not a Deathwatch craft and as such does not have the same resources."  

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

#42
Steel Company

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Spoiler

 

Tyber looks to Vârvost, while giving an involuntary gulp and sinking to a slightly lowered stature his shoulders slumping slightly. He closes his blue-grey eyes, takes a deep breath to steel himself in the eyes of his new brothers while silently saying to himself I am a decedent of the First Primarch, my ancestors stood with Emperor and did not fail, I will not fail, I cannot fail.

 

"Thank you brother Vârvost, and to all of my new brothers, for giving what information you can, so that I can be better prepared to face this foe."

 

Tyber tries to regain his composure, yet grips the pommel of his arming sword tighter none the less.


Edited by Steel Company, 23 February 2018 - 06:04 PM.

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

#43
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”Do not be too worried, Brother Tyber, quite a few of us are apparently experienced in dealing with a threat such as this and we should be able to train and inform you adequately as we make our warp voyage.” Solastion states in an effort to calm the marines nerves, glancing sidelong at his gene-brother for his attempt to rattle Tyber.

”Understood, Brother-Captain.”
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#44
Commissar Molotov

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GM: Tyber has been rattled by Vârvost's comments and a seed of doubt has been planted within him that he will have to struggle to overcome. I'd like you to try to bear this in mind as you continue to roleplay. 

 

Vârvost's catches Solastion's gaze and turns away. He does not seem chastised in the least; rather, you are somewhat put in mind of a predator biding its time before attacking from an unexpected quarter. 


Edited by Commissar Molotov, 23 February 2018 - 06:43 PM.

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

#45
Xin Ceithan

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"The Iron Hands have faced xenobiological infestations centered around the so called Genestealers before" Sabaan's voice rolled out from his respirator. A blink click brought up a pictlink in his lower field of his Autosenses' view. Combat Data scrolled down. Frantic memories filled with teeth and claws crossed his mind.. The Great Devourer. He mentally rolled his eyes at the flowery description. "It is indeed a close combat optimized combat form, believed to be some form of vanguard for the swarm species designated as the Tyranid Hives fleets".
There was something refreshingly repulsive to those creatures. In a way, the entire species seemed anathema to the beliefs of the Iron Hands and their Mechanicus allies. An entire species linked in the singular purpose of optimizing their prior forms. Yet they knew nothing of the glory of the machine and the superiority of knowledge and logic. Their very existence was an insult to the Imperium of Man as represented by the Union if the Emperor and the Omnissiah. A festering horde of Organics that corrupted and consumed the flesh of Man. Nycax felt a familiar hatred rising in him at the thought of this perversity. It had a caustic, contraseptic purity to it.

"Brother Varvost's summary is not entirely correct, however."
Sabaan turned his head towards the Eviscerator. He countered the brilliant blue glare with his own bionic crimson.
"The Genestealer Strang does indeed seem to fulfill a role of infiltration and subversion, creating cult activities, aiming at insurrection and destabilizing their host environment. It does, however, not breed in your upper body cavities. Actually, I do not believe it's reproduction cycle is reliant on a transhuman host in any capacity. It introduces an exogenic transcriptum in a victim, changing the genetic makeup of the host species offspring, which will cause the invasive xenos gene set up to breed true over the course of several generations, thus creating a spread of mutant and xenos descendants. It is not an enemy to respected. It is a disease and has be cut from the host and cauterized."
Sabaan held the gaze of the other Astartes for a while longer. Then he turned to the Watch Captain.
"With respect, Brother-Captain, the logical intervention should be naval quarantine followed by Exterminatus. Given sheer statistical deviatation and taking into account often sub par Administratum record keeping, one has to assume an already considerable xenos contamination among the population to even register and alert the local authorities. Containing such an infection by our limited numbers alone seems inadequate and ineffective use of Astartes Resources. Or are we acting on advanced intelligence uncovered by the Inquisition? Is there some further objective to consider?
At any rate, I would welcome a more comprehensive overview of our area of operations. While I am assuming we are to be briefed further on the matter during our transfer to the system, are there be technical or supply issues we should be aware of before boarding? A navy vessel will most commonly not be equipped to support an Astartes Ground campaign. Should we prepare equipment or vehicles for ground operations, for example?"
Sabaan sighed. The respirator made the sound reminiscent of a last breath of oxygen escaping an airlock. "I have not have time to review DeathWatch operation protocols to their full extent. Verbal exchange is rather time consuming and I find it frustratingly limited." He turned his head, letting his gaze travel over the others. "I would also welcome including a way to establish some form of training environment on our transfer vessel to begin synergetic squad simulations."

Edited by Xin Ceithan, 23 February 2018 - 11:14 PM.

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#46
Dosjetka

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"While consigning the planet and its population to oblivion would be the most expedient manner of dealing with this threat, I do not believe it is the best course of action, brother. First of all we must consider that if this Inquisitrix requested a pinpoint strike in the form of a Deathwatch Kill-team and not a thunder hammer blow to the planet, there must be some objective to fulfill first. Perhaps some vital data, relic, person, or even some genetic sample needs extracting?"

He lets the question hang for a few moments before continuing.

"Secondly I would find it distasteful to sacrifice the lives of men and women who have no doubt valiently fought against this insidious taint when there are, for the moment at least, other feasible options."

Vaidan locks eyes with the Eradicator, his hazel green eyes staring intently at his cold blue ones.

"Do not misunderstand me though; if the taint was too deeply ingrained and the chances of recovering anything useful were nil, I would not hesitate for one second to request that a few cyclonic torpedoes be launched."

He holds the Vârvost's cold gaze for a few moments more before breaking eye contact and letting the others express themselves.

Edited by Chaplain Dosjetka, 24 February 2018 - 05:00 AM.

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


#47
Nineswords

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GREYSIGHT VII
Continuous
 

 

GRESIGHT WATCHED WITH detached interest as the kill-team debated the best course of action. Whereas many Astartes chapters considered themselves aloof and beyond Imperial military structure, the ordus of the Storm Sons worked with any ranking Imperial office they deemed competent to uphold the Emperor of All's sacred laws. Thus, in Gresight's opinion, it was for Watch-Captain Dioclese to outline the strike action up to the rendezvous with Inquisitrix Lythea, after which, she would command the kill team to achieve any and all objectives. Whilst he tacitly disagreed with the Iron Hand's inhuman condemnation of an entire planet, genestealers were a cancer that needed to be excised, and quickly. On this, they could agree, though not the means. If we mean to cut out and cauterise the rot, then why kill the host? 

Edited by Nineswords, 24 February 2018 - 12:13 AM.

+++

'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
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The Unbroken: A Renegade Cult of Obliteration

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#48
Mazer Rackham

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Akkad had wanted to wait until everyone had plied their questions, hoping that he would only need to plug a few gaps, but things were becoming warmly debated.  He watched them carefully as the arguments flew back and forth.  He had already played them in his own mind.

 

Sabaan's suggestion was solid, dependable - it was cold, logical certainty.  The ruthless Calculus of War.  Daon could admire that, especially after the problems the Maelstrom Warders had suffered - how many times had redeployment of a Space Marine ally cause extended operations to cease in the mouth of hell, preventing them from tearing the root out of pirate enclaves, barbarous tribes of orks and the damned Chaos worshippers?

 

Solastion's practicality.  A useful question, although a predictable answer.  Naval assets were best employed as transport for ground teams and Cent - he stopped his thought, corrected himself - Brother-Captain Diocles was making it plain - once you are on board that vessel, you are on your own

 

Vaidan's heated words for the humans weak enough to allow an infestation and not take care of it themselves.  He was not wrong though - an Inquisitor would not have asked, nor would the Deathwatch have considered a Kill-Team if there was to be a wholesale slaughter from orbit.  A surgical strike would excise the problem and give the Imperial defenders a chance to reclaim control.

 

The Storm Son had said nothing, trying to keep his face inscrutable - but he had taken more notice of Vaidan than he had Sabaan.  Akkad would place a good wager he was favouring the surgical strike as well.  This was not wrong.

 

Varvost did not seem to care - and why should he?  A weapon does not question the hand that chooses to slay with it.  Again, this too was not wrong, but his derision of Tyber had been unnecessary - his advice was true, but couched in obscure terms, that suggested he paid scant heed to his foes.  Overconfidence perhaps.  Speaking of Tyber...the young Marine had been diminished in the eyes of those he probably wished to prove himself to.  He had recovered well though in front of the Eradicator.  His question wasn't wrong either.

 

But something was wrong though - and Daon knew he had it.  The debate over the fate of Syndalla was pointless at this juncture, before the situation had been assessed on the ground and the team were debating ideals where they should have been gaining intelligence.  He decided they had aired enough of their views for him to interject safely.  He met eyes with Captain Diocles and coughed politely.

 

"My Captain, brethren, this is not the time to discuss actions we might take, nor to indulge in differences of opinion on the best execution of our duty."  He let the words hang in the air, speaking evenly and without rancour, looking at each Marine in turn.  When the pause had lasted for a moment, he straightened a little, then addressed Interrogator Ryken directly.

"When was the last time you heard from your mistress?  How many were in her entourage and who have you investigated?" Akkad fought to keep his voice even still, but the man in front of him was an Inquisitorial Agent and the ease of trust and language did not come easily.  He lapsed into silence again and carefully masked his thoughts.  Never trust the Inquisition.

 

MR.


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 24 February 2018 - 01:34 AM.

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#49
Commissar Molotov

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Captain Diocles nods at Sabaan's words. 
 
"Your strategy has some merit, Brother Sabaan. But as Watch-Captain I must be a pragmatist. We have limited resources at our disposal, and a great many competing claims upon those resources. The Greenskins infest the Delvis Rifts; the Aeldar of Kuraan-Bal raid from the safety of the Howling Stars; the Fade-Kind prey on the pilgrim routes - all of these ensure that Battlefleet Taurelius is spread wide patrolling the frontier. The earnest truth is that we cannot spare anything more than the nine of you. But you are more than simply nine Astartes - you are a Kill-Team of the Deathwatch. Your combined wisdom, knowledge and experience is a weapon to be forged and one that will prove to be formidable. This is not the Company-level deployment you may be used to. But these are not the battlefields you may be used to, the mire of blood and mud and behemoth engines. This is an enemy that hides behind the mask of humanity. Your actions are to determine whether Syndalla can be saved, and what must be done to see this happen. And should the final sanction be necessary, you will make that determination."
 
 
As Akkad speaks, Ryken straightens up. It is perhaps still remarkable that he seems so comfortable around the Astartes, with challenging you openly, disagreeing with the Watch-Captain and ordering you around. Foolhardiness, or confidence in the offices of the Inquisition to protect him? 
 
"The Lady Lythea has been on Syndalla for nine standard months with a small retinue of trusted agents and acolytes - I can provide you with their details via data-slate for you to familiarise yourselves during transit. Her astropathic communications indicated that she had begun her search in the rural farmlands and uncovered evidence that genestealers were certainly on-planet. Her investigation was conducted secretly as she suspected the Planetary Governor may be compromised. She reasoned that a decapitating strike - killing the Broodlord xenoform - would throw the enemy into disarray. Hence her astropathic requests for aid from the Deathwatch. I have not heard from her for two weeks now."

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

#50
A.T.

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"And if the inquisitor herself has been compromised?" Atratus did not raise whether such might have occurred before or after the request.

 

In truth his thoughts turned more to the governor and the fate of the 4th company. He let his eyes wander across his brothers wondering if is possible such dark events might repeat themselves.


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