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[DW] Blackthorn and Swordhand

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

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#151
Steel Company

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”I do wonder what Vaidan has been doing during all these training sessions. He certainly hasnt been participating with us, thats for certain.”

 

“Our Sargent has determined to run us in squads best suited to our talents, perhaps he feels more comfortable with the heavy weapon squad over our more mobile strike team.” Tyber says as he finishes cleaning his blade before he placed it back in his scabbard.

 

Looking over the rest of his squad, Tyber ponders out loud, “Perhaps we should seek another training simulation with Servitors that behave less like Necrons and more like that which we are being dispatched to face…”


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#152
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He inspected the damage to his armour first, at least visually, then, holstering his Bolt Pistol he spoke the Litany of Release and doffed his helmet, maglocking it to his side.  Another impulse unlocked his armour from bracing.  He looked into the ammunition feed belt and saw it immediately.  He plucked an awkward looking lump of metal, slick with oils and blood.  It was an ocular implant - possibly from the head of the Servitor he had sent to oblivion with his double-tap.  At this kind of range it was not unheard of.

 

The feed shoved the rounds back into order and Akkad locked the mechanism off, working the Heavy Bolter's actions to clear the misfed rounds and make it safe.  He eased the firing pin carrier forward and spoke the Litany of Fastness, the weapon closing up immediately and locking down.  He would tend to it later, clean and soothe the frustration of the belligerent weapon.  He heaved it behind him, locking it to the ammunition hoppers that sat arrayed upon his back, out of the way.

 

It had only taken half a minute, but these drudges had been scoured with less efficiency than he would have preferred - but that error was his as well.  The teams had been training for a little while now and they were only just beginning to blend.  He had noticed that they moved appropriately for Marines, no hesitation, reacting to the world changing around them, adapting until they overcame.

 

Greysight had acted exactly as he had anticipated - attacked, he replied with more precision that Daon himself.  Once the Heavy Bolter had jammed, he immediately increased his firing tempo to make up for the loss of suppression.  He was Good.  Akkad emphasised the word in his mind.  Thorvald had also performed well, sporting with the taciturn Storm Son - unleashing his Frag Cannon with good understanding of target priority.  Again, Good.  Sabaan...

 

That had been a surprise.  The Techmarine had literally defied his enemy to death, precisely and efficiently removing skulls and organs with aplomb.  Once he had seen or noticed that Akkad had stopped firing, with or without thinking - Akkad could never be sure with Techmarines -  Sabaan had placed himself to cover Daon, all the time radiating that cold, pure contempt of the enemy he killed.  It was hard not to admire that and he was keen to show his appreciation, for even though the danger was slight, the motivation of the Iron Hand was real.

 

As the team began to head back towards the lift, Akkad scuffed the pile of Heavy Bolter shells out of the car.  He drank in the air with heightened sense of smell - propellant, blood, chipped ceramite and the unmistakable scent of the Astartes at war.  Drawing his combat knife, he selected two shells unblemished from their tumble to the deck.  He held each firmly and sliced down once, cutting the shell neatly back almost to the rim.  He gently scooped the dust and dirt from the deck, soot from scorch marks and some spalled plasteel from where the stub rounds had shriven slivers of the blessed metal they all wore.  He applied a small dot of repair cement to one side and closed the two halves.  Once his work was complete and his weapons sheathed and the "capsule" stowed, he stood and looked up to Sabaan, he cleared his throat and ensured that his words carried the respect he intended.

 

"My thanks, Brother." He inclined his head to the larger Astartes and was about to move towards the door to the bay.

 

The metallic hued voice of the Techmarine stilled him a moment...

 

(Edited post for narrative coherence) 

 

MR.


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 16 March 2018 - 10:03 PM.

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#153
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Atratus joined the conversation, glancing towards the clearly frustrated Varvost as he did, "I doubt the servitors or any other on this ship save for a fellow brother would serve adequately given reports of their speed and strength".

 

"But a more challenging target may aid us in finding the cohesion that we lack"



#154
Slips

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"Sparring would be one of the only options available to us if we wish to engage foes that are going to be able to pose an actual threat to us. That is, however, if we engage these training routines without the use of live amunition and training weapons. No sense in each of us injuring each other and reducing over all squad effectiveness prior to a batlle if we can avoid it.”

As he 'sheathed' his chainsword once again upon his belt, he brings his hands up to his helmet and takes it off, maglocking it to his belt and continues "However, if more lively prey is required, well, this is a rather standard Imperial vessel. How many would you say called it home and how many of those would be undesirables?" He said, letting his question hang before concluding "it is the only thing that springs to my mind for I doubt there to be any genestealer-like indigenous life forms aboard this vessel."

Edited by Slips, 16 March 2018 - 07:53 PM.

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#155
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Tyber gives a deep throaty laugh, "Perhaps the Master at arms could live without a few dozen armsmen then." He says before giving Solastian a friendly clap on his undamaged shoulder plate.

 

After a moment he takes a less playful stance and speaks, “But seriously Brother Solastian, I have been looking over data from Genestealer infestations and it has left me with a… likely none codex compliant thought. Perhaps you could indulge me on this, as I am not sure if it would even be possible.”


Edited by Steel Company, 16 March 2018 - 03:49 PM.

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

--Octavulg

#156
Slips

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”The Codex has always been a set of guidelines; to be updated and modified as is convenient for warfare is an ever-evolving thing and so too must our tactics and methods be ever-evolving. So, speak your mind, Brother Tyber. What do you have in mind?” he responds as he quickly goes over his bolt pistol before holstering it and looking back up to lock gazes with Tyber.
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#157
Xin Ceithan

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18.445 Seconds into the recent training exercise and no hostiles remained. Sabaan kept his bolter up another three seconds, prepared for possible further hostile contact. His Autosenses and Augur Systems only registered his fellow killteam members. Potential Hostile, the runes blinked in unruly orange. His Armour grunted, disappointed , hungering for further glory. He focused on his breathing. The respirator's rhythmic hiss helped calm his senses. The drip of hydraulic fluid from a wrecked servitor nearby. Behind him, the Astral Claw began servicing his jammed weapon.
Uttering a binary benediction, he removed the clip of his Boltgun with a fresh magazine, ensured it's readiness and then maglocked it to his thigh plate. 18 Seconds. The killteam had performed within tolerable levels. Coordination needed to be improved, though. As for himself...Three shots.. His own performance had not been optimal. Given the rather ...basic.. quality of the opposition, he had opted to conserve ammunition in accordance with the Calculus.. [..."More like let the Pride of Vuurgan ride you to rub it under the nostrils of the Outsiders"... a metallic vox ghost seemed to whisper at the back of his head...] ...which had delayed the kill and needlessly endangered the mission. Ineffective. Without an Iron Father, he would have to chose a proper form of censure himself.
While reviewing the exercise data, Sabaan began inspecting the damage to his cybernetic right arm. Mostly superficial. Minor repairs needed. He retrieved a deformed bullet from where it had struck between his augmented ulnar and radius with his bionic left hand. The bullet -Void Adapted Port Maw Pattern Naval Cartridge, Mass produced at local manufactorum, probably even onboard, basic Seqmentum Issue, he noted absently- was still registering as hot. He watched it spin as the fingers of his bionic hand formed it into a perfect sphere. In the fires of battle, let us be reforged.

His attention returned to the Devastator as Akkad began performing some sort of post combat ritual behind him. It reminded him of the kill tallying of the Vuurgan, a thought which brought with it an unfamiliar and unwelcome kind of ...longing..for the company of his Clan Brothers. Illogical. He pushed the thought away and added it to his pending censure. Sabaan was still reviewing that phase of the exercise when Akkad rose. He wanted to believe that it had been a pure incentive of the Calculus when he had interposed himself between the Astral Claw and the enemy. A rational, tactical decision to ensure the safety and continued performance of the squad's heavy weapon specialist. The vox ghost in his mind wasn't so sure however. A part of him had relished in the opportunity to demonstrate the superiority of his Medusan nature and his Iron. Sabaan felt a kind of amusement accompanied that thought whose source he could not quite place.

"Thank you, Brother."

The Astral Claws's voice broke through his thoughts. The respectful tone triggered an uneven and uneasy mix of embarrassment and disdain. Not all of which was aimed at Akkad. He blink clicked another item into the pending censure folder.

"Your gratitude is noted, Brother." Nycax's voice was even. "But unnecessary."
On an impulse, he extended his bionic left and offered Akkad the spherical remains of the Stubber shell between two gleaming metal digits.
"The outside force is reflected from the whole body of the Sphere, joined in the calculated Union of it's molecular bonds, not by a single point. It cares not for Gratitude or Ambition. It fulfills it's purpose."
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#158
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Tyber shifts a little under Solastion’s gaze, betraying his youth and nativity before he speaks, “Thank you for indulging me Brother, it is more a series of questions that rely on a positive outcome from the first. After learning what I have about Genestealers and their infestation methods, it levels me wondering if it would be possible to look for a scent marker that would attract humans, not unlike how a hunter uses the scent of a female prey species to attract a male that is a worthy trophy. This brings me to my question, would it be possible to scan for a strong scent that would bring humans to it? If possible, it could give us an advantage for locating someone that could lead us to the nest of our prey.”


Edited by Steel Company, 17 March 2018 - 02:25 AM.

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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

#159
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"Your gratitude is noted, Brother."

"But unnecessary."  The Iron Hand extended his bionic left arm and offered Akkad the spherical remains of the Stubber shell between two gleaming metal digits.
"The outside force is reflected from the whole body of the Sphere, joined in the calculated Union of it's molecular bonds, not by a single point. It cares not for Gratitude or Ambition. It fulfills it's purpose." 

 

Daon fought a smile down as he took the proffered reshaped munition.  It pleased him and he added it to his trinket collection in the pouch at his waist.  He absorbed Nycax's words, nodding.  The Marine had a point - a weapon does not expect thanks - starship hull plating did not accept praise.  Yet...

 

"What you say holds much truth Brother.  A tool thanks not the nut for being tight, but the wielder of the tool gives thanks to the Emperor that the tool was made, that it might hold the Gellar Field generator in place."  He considered the small spherical object again.  That was Sabaan.  A hard shell, a mind balled tight from logic, where emotion had no reign, but even he might learn that there was something of value in simple comradeship.

 

He made another deferential nod.  Then a thought struck him.  Maybe gratitude would be accepted in a more hard currency.

"The war-spirits of my support weapon have been vexed, once back in our barracks, your blessing upon it would honour me, that we might deal more death in the Emperor's name."

 

As he turned and stepped away he spoke to the room at large, his tone a little warmer to them all than it had been before.

"I enjoyed that, it was a good short fight with good company."

 

MR.


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 16 March 2018 - 10:21 PM.

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#160
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Tyber shifts a little under Solastion’s gaze, betraying his youth and nativity before he speaks, “Thank you for indulging me Brother, it is more a series of questions that rely on a positive outcome from the first. After learning what I have about Genestealers and their infestation methods, it levels me wondering if it would be possible to look for a scent marker that would attract humans, not unlike how a hunter uses the scent of a female prey species to attract a male that is a worthy trophy. This brings me to my question, would it be possible to scan for a strong scent that would bring humans to it? If possible, it could give us an advantage for locating someone that could lead us to the nest of our prey.”

"Were it that that was the method Genestealers, and Tyranids in general, controlled and communicated with one another then your suggestion and analogy would be apt." he replied.

 

"However, that is not the case. As far as my Chapters own research, what was made available to us by our Primogenitor and Cousins, the Biologis arm of the Adeptus Mechanicus and what little the Ordo Xenos allowed us to glean, Tyranids, and by extension Genestealers, communicate and control one another with a form of vile Xenos Telepathy which has been dubbed 'Synapse' by the powers that be. Additionally, not all tyranid lifeforms generate or propagate this...psychic web" he says gesticulating the abstract nature of Synapse being a non-psyker "Most of them are receivers and once deprived of this Synapse, it seems that they revert to a more instinctual beast." he continued, stepping out of the lift as they reached their exit level, taking a step to the side to let another of his Brothers lead them to the designated rendez-vous point as he turned slightly to face Tyber as they walked-and-talked.

 

"Therefore, the concept should be relatively similar with a genestealer cult with a singular primary being having overall control of the cult with the rest being essentially mindless drones fulfilling its wishes. How all of this interacts and works alongside Humans that have been infected or, even more vile, the xenos-human hybrids that have been spawned forth isn't truly understood for cult survivors, once a purge is initiated, are nonexistent. Thus, no real research, at least that I have been privy to, has been conducted on them." Solastion elaborated, making sure that he had not lost the young marine with this bombardment of information.

 

"I will add that, this is essentially just a gross overview of how Tyranid lifeforms function out in the field as most of us would have encountered them before our current secondment to the watch. As such, it is entirely possible that these Genestealer cults function in an entirely different manner with the human element being a relatively unknown quantity." he shrugged.

 

"To your main question, which is looking for sort of...scent markers? Our battlefield is to be a Hive World. The amount of chemical waste and general pollutants in the atmosphere would generally be enough to mask any possible pheromone markers or trails unless we had a sample to compare against when searching for them. Additionally, whilst it has not been entirely confirmed, it is generally assumed that Genestealers that arrive to form cults usually hunt and stalk their prey biding their time for extended periods until the perfect moment to strike presents itself at which point it  attacks and ensnares its victim with a form of telepathic hypnotization as well as infecting them through the use of an Ovipositor." He expounds, his speech picking up in pace as he goes ever more into detail. "As such, combined with the previously-mentioned possibility of a 'Synaptic Web' being present, I highly doubt that they would make use of such pheromone-based methods." he concludes, giving Tyber a 'Sorry, man' shrug.


Edited by Slips, 17 March 2018 - 05:17 AM.

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#161
Commissar Molotov

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The doors grind open to reveal a far larger cargo space. 

 

kPpbe2n.png

GM: In this picture, Solastion's team have come from the left, or the west; Sabaan's team have come from the right (east). 

 

You see, on the other side, the other half of the kill-team. And in the centre of the room, you see your new Watch-Sergeant, Vaidan. At his feet is a metal crate, currently closed. He nods at you and beckons you closer... 


Edited by Commissar Molotov, 17 March 2018 - 02:45 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.

#162
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IT WAS A small gesture, but the Iron Hand's unexpected gift to the Lion had forced Greysight to re-assess his opinion on Sabaan, for despite his mask of cold logic and indifference, the exchange was a very human gesture. It was precisely the kind of exchange that forged brotherhood and kinship even in the worst circumstances possible.

 
Greysight sniffed, suddenly alert. The cargo bay reeked of oil, fyceline and the clammy odour of shredded flesh, awash in a film of blood, but the oppressive staleness of the initial conflict began to stir as another hatch rumbled open, exposing a much larger dimly lit cargo hold.
 
'Brothers,' hissed Greysight, already bringing up his bolter. The Wolf, Thorvald, had whipped around quickly at the sound of the door, as did both Akkad and Sabaan, their brief moment of comradeship interrupted.
 
The Storm Son looked through his scope, and smiled. Despite the poor light, Greysight noted watch-sergeant Vaidan standing in the very centre, who up until this point Greysight had assumed had been deployed with the other half of the kill team. Behind him, Greysight could make out the hazy forms of Solastion, Tyber, Atratus and the blunt profile of the Killer, Vârvost. Watch-sergeant Vaidan bade both squads to enter. Almost at once did the assembled party moved to the opened hatch.
 
'Stay alert,' warned Greysight, as he moved with them, his bolt gun trained on the watch-sergeant, looking for unseen threats.

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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
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‘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

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#163
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"Brothers"
The urgent voice of the Storm Son caught Sabaan's attention as much as the sudden movement as Greysight brought up his bolter. The Iron Hand scanned the cargo area they were entering. The Nova Marine, dead center. The scattered cargo boxes. This had indeed the makings of an ambush. As hIs servoarm whirred into readiness, Sabaan brought his own Boltgun up with his bionic left hand while unsheathing his combat knife with his right. A thought impulse triggered his Augur. Sabaan cursed his moment of weakness already. He would not let his guard down again.

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#164
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As the assembled Kill-Team carefully advances towards the centre of the room, Vârvost descends the steps with his arms open wide, chain-axe and bolt pistol held within them. 

 

"Brother-Sergeant! Are you here to provide us with a worthy foe for us to test our skills against?" 


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

#165
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As Tyber cautiously enters the cargo bay, he cycles his HUD through all available vision modes, scanning the cargo bay for any hidden dangers, right hand on the hilt of his arming sword, his left ready to reach for his bolt pistol.

 

"Brother-Sergeant! Are you here to provide us with a worthy foe for us to test our skills against?"

 

Tyber gave an inward sigh at that, after the lecture from Solastion, perhaps it was best for Tyber to keep his thoughts to himself for a while, yet it still left him pondering how the Genestealer cults attract new members if they don’t use a method to attract prey or rather hosts to their cause.


Edited by Steel Company, 19 March 2018 - 02:23 PM.

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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

#166
Mazer Rackham

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As the team whirled to face the suddenly open portal, Greysight muttered his quiet warning and Sabaan took up a bellicose posture, Servo-Arm growling quietly into a position to snip someone's head off, like a great mantis-like pair of mandibles.  Akkad took stock of the situation, noting that Greysight had his bolter actually trained upon Vaidan.  A slight sense of unease passed through the Astral Claw as he stepped forward, not matching the bold swagger of the Eradicator, nor his bombast.

 

"Brother-Sergeant! Are you here to provide us with a worthy foe for us to test our skills against?" 

 

Varvost had been useful though.  As Vaidan's head turned to observe this brash challenge, Akkad moved forward, intending to block the door with his bulk.  Before he did, he leaned over and slipped his hand gently onto Greysight's bolter, exerting enough pressure to tip it a fraction.  He leaned in conspiratorially and speaking subvocally, so that only Greysight may hear spoke his mind - which he assumed the Storm Son would appreciate.  Men of the Khan usually appreciated directness, especially when it came with authority.  Akkad decided to use both.

"Brother, that is our Watch-Sergeant, in deference to him, lower your weapon.  In deference to the fact you're not a fool, keep the safety off."  He allowed a thin smile and a wink, keeping even such a hushed voice free from rancour.  As he stepped out into the main cargo hold, his left hand dropped back below his waist, in plain view of the Brethren behind him.  In Astartes Battle Sign he made a series of gestures, his fingers, thumb and palm reacting to his thoughts with a speed any human would find blurring and incomprehensible.

=Spread Out=5 Metres=Take Cover=Make Ready=Wait?= He added a query for confirmation, thus making it more a suggestion to Sabaan as Demi-Team leader, offering him advice, more than just making it an order.

 

Akkad, smile still fixed to his face, he made his way towards Vaidan, unblocking the doorway, nodding both to the Watch-Sergeant and in greeting to Varvost.  He took a good long sweep of the room first, then looked back at Sabaan expectantly.

 

GM: I'd like to make a Per check for Akkad, to scope the place out for anything unusual, lights, sounds anything like that.

 

MR.


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 18 March 2018 - 03:11 PM.

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#167
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GM: Your honed senses denote nothing particularly untoward regarding this situation, nor the room. Vaidan appears to pose no particular threat, though you have no way of determining what is in the metal box at his feet. 


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

#168
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It was clear both squads had not expected this. As Vaidan looked around, he saw that the Storm Son had his boltgun up and ready, safety off and barrel pointing right at him. Before the Novamarine could react, Vârvost on the opposite spoke up and caught the Watch-Sergeant's attention.

 

"Brother-Sergeant! Are you here to provide us with a worthy foe for us to test our skills against?"

 

Vaidan noticed the Astral Claw tap Greysight's boltgun down a notch before turning to look at the advancing Eradicator. He removed his helm and smiled, relishing their ignorance as to what was about to happen.

 

"Indeed, brother. Though, much to your dismay, I shall not be the target of your chainaxe today."

 

With that, he opened the crate at his feet and with each armoured hand picked up a servo-skull. These were unremarkable with the exception of a blue "x" on one's forehead and a red "x" on the other's. He held them both aloft at chest height so that all could see them.

 

"Brothers, it is time for your ultimate training exercise. I am certain you have had enough of cutting down servitors. Now, you shall have the opportunity to cross blades with other Astartes. Configure both your weapons and your armour to their simulated combat settings and stand ready. This is going to be a fight to remember."


Edited by Chaplain Dosjetka, 19 March 2018 - 04:18 PM.

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#169
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Tyber tilts his helm to one side in a quizzical way, aside from pulling his hits with his arming sword  how would one exactly set a melee weapon to training levels, it was not like they had power weapons that could have the energy disruption field set low. Still he would hang back to see whom did what first, if this was to be squad against squad or, he gulped without support and a truly whirling melee of all against all.


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

#170
Commissar Molotov

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GM: For many reasons, narrative and practical, the next activity is an opportunity for the Kill-Team to fight amongst itself. Vaidan has instituted a codex-approved training activity that some would know by its archaic name, "capture the flag." Some would know that legends say Jaghatai Khan had it added to the Codex Astartes based on a Chogorian game known as 'The Flight of the Falcon' - no doubt Nineswords will expand on that! 

 

Your weapons will be in simulated mode - your HUD will track the trajectory of your shots and will calculate any damage you sustain, cutting off power to "crippled" limbs and such. Melee will be a combination of unpowered weapons and turning blows aside just in time - an element of make-believe. This allows your team to practice combat without suffering damage that cannot be healed or repaired in the time before you arrive at Syndalla.

It also allows us as players to have some experience suffering damage rather than dealing damage - the second part of our tutorial.

 

The servo-skulls will take up a position in the two side rooms, the ones you started. Solastion is "team red", and Sabaan "team blue" - you win by bringing both servo-skulls together in your base. You can carry a servo-skull in a single hand (or throw it, I guess...) 

 

There will be no change for the squad, but you can deploy within the side rooms or within five squares of your room. Decide on your deployment (I highly encourage the teams to strategise in the OOC or via PM) and then I will roll initiative. 


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

#171
Slips

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"Brothers, it is time for your ultimate training exercise. I am certain you have had enough of cutting down servitors. Now, you shall have the opportunity to cross blades with other Astartes. Configure both your weapons and your armour to their simulated combat settings and stand ready. This is going to be a fight to remember."

 

As Brother Vaidan uttered these words Solastion squinted slightly and put on his helmet in a practiced and mechanical fashion all the while staring down the Nova Marine. Whilst his own personal preference would have been to avoid all this, in the end, he wasn't the one in charge and if this and if his Squadmates could prove that they were capable of not maiming one another then maybe these drills were a better usage of their time.

 

Things in spoiler tags for Demi-Squad (and GM) eyes only! :P

Spoiler
he pulled the mag from his Bolt Pistol, clearing the chamber and setting it to Training as well as retracting the teeth of his chainsword back into its cowling; the closest approximation of training mode he could put his weapon in.

 

Turning to the Eradicator, the Sanguinary Priest placed his hand on his cousins armoured shoulder

Spoiler

As a Sanguinary Priest with the Frenzy Talent, I can activate it as a Free action vs a Full action for anybody else AND I can induce this state in other Blood Angels (or successors) if they're within Support Range though I don't think Varvost himself has the talent. Sadly, even if we enter Squad Mode, he won't be able to benefit from my SQMA that grants the Talent due to the Chapter-Based restriction. Oh well, no +10 WS/S/T/WP and -20 BS/INT for Varvost.

 

Solastion will head for the cover to his North East right before combat begins.

 

The Crimson Knight will then attempt to create a vox-link with Sabaan and, should he accept:

Spoiler
Solastion will then raise his Chainsword in salute to the other squad.


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#172
A.T.

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Atratus scanned the room, marking the positions of the others and obstructions to movement as he worked on his equipment deactivating the primary charges in his grenades and adjusting his rifle, though he doubted his demi-squad leader would suggest its use.

 

To match off hand to hand would seem advantageous but he doubted the others would make it so easy, nor did their armament and talents offset an advantage of numbers. He turned to Solastion, "be more specific brother, we cannot afford to cross purpose as we did against the servitors."


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#173
Mazer Rackham

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Akkad's face was stone.  No twinkle lit his eyes, nor excitement betrayed itself on his lips.  With the speed and deliberation of a glacier, he donned his helmet and with a practiced swing, drew Cadence, now in full working order, although soot-soiled from real rounds, into his waiting hands.

 

He ran his eyes over several runes, closing off feed mechanisms, retracting the firing pin, setting all munitions to Battle Practice Mode.  His green-hued crystal lenses played across all assembled, but he selected Vaidan's Vox-link, even whilst uploading all telemetries that his augur-suite and weapon-link painted, to Sabaan's noospheric link.  His voice was devoid of emotion and his posture unreadable.  He accessed the private channels available and spoke to Khyber once.

"By your will, Brother Watch-Sergeant of course."  He switched back to external vox, the harsh bark robbing nothing from his Badabian accented speech.

 

+I reccommend Squad Sabaan now observe internal vox only until the contest is concluded+

 

Astartes raising their hand to other Astartes was useful practice, but there lurked a danger here, a warrant of grudges and pecking order, that could not be excused by being of the same blood.  Further, should such seeds take root, it could provoke enmity which may find itself bearing fruit on the battlefield.  They should be achieving together, not competing, but the die was cast.

 

He turned to consult the Demi-Squad leader.

 

MR.


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 20 March 2018 - 01:54 PM.

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#174
Steel Company

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Tyber sets his Mk VIII Errant armour into training mode, surprised to see various read only texts pop up on his HUD, going over the basic functions of his armour. He sighed, deactivated training mode, and set up practice mode, his old Mk IV Maximus lacked the two separate modes. Setting his chain sword and bolt pistol to ‘practice’ modes, he resolved to use the flat of his arming sword over the edge as needed.

 

At least I do not have to fight Varvost he thought to himself looking over his demi-squad.

 

Over Demi-Squad coms, my team and GM only!

Spoiler

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

--Octavulg

#175
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Aware that the order to begin might be given at any moment Atratus moves purposefully towards cover, watching to not cross the firing lines of his allies. The distance between the two squads was great enough that this would not be settled in a single decisive charge but it could be easily lost through lack of prudence.







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