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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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#1876
Mazer Rackham

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Akkad keeps his counsel as to the Eradicator's heedless charge.  Was he any better?  He moved to the front of the team and ignited the pilot light on Cadence.

 

++Perhaps the carriage of the casualty could be eased by manufacturing a bier from the steel sheets of the vessel?  He could rest and we could move.++

 

MR.


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#1877
Commissar Molotov

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GM:
Yeng removes 7 damage from Varvost, taking him from 30 to 23. (Putting him at 1/24)
Varvost spends a fate point to recover an additional D10 wounds: 8 (Putting him at 9/24)
Varvost's missing eye permanently reduces his Ballistic Skill by 10. (41 --> 31)
In addition, he suffers a -20 penalty to all Skill and Characteristics Tests that rely on sight.


At Akkad's suggestion you hear a wet grinding sound. Perhaps for a moment some of you might wonder if the metallic bones of the Voice of Thunder are collapsing around you, or if the flood of digestive bile is taking the ship faster. But the sound comes from the form of Varvost, as he makes to stand. That the Eradicator is not dead is truly a demonstration of the marvels of the Emperor's gift within each of you - or of Varvost's stubbornness and refusal to die. Yeng and Solastion have truly excelled themselves in the apothecary's art.

"I can fight," is what Varvost says. His patchwork armour, ugly before, has new rents and tears that flake black paint. Servo-motors groan angrily as the machine spirit within expresses its displeasure at its treatment. The Eradicator shares a look with Greysight, who holds Varvost's battered helm. With a pressurised hiss his ruined face is sealed away.

"I can fight," he repeats again.

+ + +

You know your time aboard the Voice of Thunder is limited. The vessel is sinking, slowly but surely - the hive ship's digestive fluids are corroding and dissolving the hull, and it is only a matter of time before more Tyranids come to hunt you down.

Some of you have expressed ideas that the cruiser's warp core could be rigged to detonate, consuming the hive ship from within.
Some of you have considered using the cruiser's gunnery decks to grievously damage the hive ship.
Some of you remember that in fleeing the Voice of Thunder behind, Kill-Team Blackthorn may have left many valuable supplies of weaponry, equipment and ammunition.

There may still be human survivors aboard the vessel, though the chances are exceedingly remote.

A plan must be forged, so that it can be wielded against the Tyranid horde.

Edited by Commissar Molotov, 19 July 2020 - 09:38 AM.

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

#1878
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"I can fight."

 

++Good, cousin.++ Solastion states as he extends a hand to help the Eradicator to his feet. ++You have much yet to give in service to the Emperor before joining the Great Angel forevermore.++

 

++Suffice to say, we'll have to get you a replacement eye once we've dealt with this xenos monstrosity.++ he rhetorically states what it obvious for all to see, his apothecary instruments whirring audibly as they retract back into place.

 

++Now that we are onboard, we have a scant amount of time to achieve our objective. If the armorium is yet intact, there might be some equipment therein worth retrieving otherwise we need to decide now whether we scuttle the voice of Thunder or use her Macro Cannons to blow our way out and potentially leave her in a recoverable state.++

 

++The Pragmatist in me would opt for scuttling her and taking the whole hive ship down with her. A stab from hell's heart, on might say. But, Strike Cruisers are a commodity I am loathed to leave the Deathwatch without.++


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#1879
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++We would never let a ship like this go to waste in Battlefleet Maelstrom, but this beast is so vast it may survive the vivisection of Thunder's guns,++ Akkad paused a moment, calculating the killing power of the turrets, macro-cannon and potential for torpedo launch.  If even half of it was left it may cut the beast open, but waht of the filth aboard it - even half daed the thing would carry doom wherever it went.

 

And he would not countenance that.

 

++We must also be careful to use the plasma drive for the heart of any bomb.  To use the Warp-drive may dump this sock of Asurru into another place and time,++ Melindra Orduul, Mistress and Rogue Trader had done that very thing with a prize vessel she was unable to tow back to Imperial controlled space.  Two years later the damn thing crashed into an orbital station, killing three thousand Adeptus Mechanicus thralls and Magi.

 

++My vote is to scuttle,++ he decided.

 

MR.


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#1880
Xin Ceithan

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„I can fight!“
Another wailing creak echoed through the warship‘s bulk, approvingly, two warrior souls united in their defiance.

>>They are tough bastards, the both of them. To stubborn to die.<<
The Iron Hand opened his remaining eye. The sensation memory of the grin again. He locked eyes with the Eradictor for a moment. The slightest nod, as Solastion described the intended >>This one deserves the blessing of Iron<<

The Techmarine began to move among the Astartes, running diagnostic protocols, intoned cleansing rituals, giving benedictions of mending as the clade began formulating their next move.

++Engaging the trans empyrean drives this deep in the System and this close to allied fleet elements is not advisable++

The harsh light of a plasma torch cast flickering lights as he cauterized parts of a wounded warplate.

++Our numbers are insufficient to operate the remaining macroweaponary at a level required to cause sufficient damage on the tactical scale required to terminate the xenoform. Ordonance usage is projected to be likewise limited. Torpedo delivery systems are probably compromised, might already be submerged. I project the probability of delivering a decisive strike by conventional means to be very low. Probably negatable.++

The force by which he injected a molecular bonding patch was the only hint at his frustration.

++I suggest we look into more...unorthodox...ways of force projection. ++
Sabaan glanced sideways at the ...thing.. that was now Cadence. >>As if scribbling on shells was not enough...<< A respiratory hiss. Then...

++ We already have some experience at this. Access is projected to be difficult. We should consider locating the Plasma Core. Ammunition and / or Torpedo Magazines. Depending on which components of the vessel are still accessible, I advise we rearm and resupply as possible along the way as we move to employ those assets.++

His thoughts raced while his bionic fingers threaded bundles of servofibre.

++At this point, the Calculus is lacking sufficient data to reasonable project if it is more advisable to commit our full force here first and then move on to the original target or if we should send a more clandestine strike element ahead already...++

He had walked over and finally reached the desolation that passed for warplate on Varvost at this point. He could feel the machine spirits of their Armours growling like caged beasts, uncomfortably close to another, eager to fight again.

Sabaan straithened and turned to face the killteam. There was something in thoughts, streaming, like hot quicksilver..

++We have been blessed by the Omnissiah, the Emperor and the Primarch.
(>>In that order! << Was that... a chuckle? His mind was on fire. Still his voice remained steady, clinical.

++HE has provided us with with the means to do our duty, to prevail even inside this xenos blasphemy!++

He slammed his gleaming left fist into the wall with a bang, then, unexpectedly, again onto Varvost‘s shoulderguard. Neither flinched.

++This is the Voice of Thunder! It is HIS voice! Let it be heard!++
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#1881
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++Any other thoughts or opinions on how to proceed? We must all be of singular purpose, body and mind going forward lest cracks be formed and exploited by the Xenos we seek to slay."


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#1882
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Tyber stopped his poking around the deck for a weak spot to turn to Solastion and tell him, +I do not care, I only want to get this over with... I feel there is something... Something or someone calling to me to the Dark Lantern.+


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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

#1883
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Yeng shrugged. The atmosphere was dour.

"Action itself is best course of action. Longer we stay here, longer the creatures have to find us." He looked mournfully at the blistered paint on all of their armour. "...And less protection we enjoy."

 

He looked about, to the techmarines. 

"Does this vessel possess means to void-transport personnel? If we can find teleporter, we can bypass creatures' defences to plant virus."


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#1884
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Tyber continued stomping around on the outer hull armor as he waited for the hole to be made for them to pass through, his shoulders moved to show a heavy sigh, frustration clear to all watching the motion.

 

Taking out his arming sword, Tyber gripped it loosely and started to rotate it around, letting go of the grip at key moments to grasp it before the weapon would be dropped, clear that these were practiced motions. He hated these moments, these moments let him think about the past, a past that as he looked back at it now, he saw how petty he was, he closed his eyes and thought about that time.

 

+++

 

The assignments had just been passed out; Tyber felt heartbreak, the second company. He had thought the First Company was an assured thing, he had Advan as his master, he had the size and bulk of an Astartes many years his senior.

 

He stalked through the halls of Arce, fury filling him, Sergio had gotten First Company, Sergio seemed to get everything handed to him… Sergio was slammer than he was, weaker than he was, less skilled with the blade than he was.

 

“Beach Savage!” came that voice, Tyber gritted his teeth, Adavan had warned him to be gracious in letting Sergio have his victory.

 

He tried to ignore it, he felt a hand on his shoulder and that voice again, “Beach Savage, where are you goin…”

 

Tyber rounded on him, his fist balled up and struck with all his might, knocking him to the ground, diving on him to start punching repeatedly as he yelled out, “Why is it always you? Why do you get everything handed to you?”

 

Tyber felt the nose give way to his fist, blood coating his fist as he kept striking, the third or fourth strike was halted by a hand on his fist, he turned to see Keeva standing there, a sad look on her face as she said to him, “Tyber, stop. You have proven your strength over him a hundred times, this does nothing for you…”

 

Tyber sighed and let go of Sergio before standing and walking away down the hall, not looking back.

 

+++

 

Tyber opened his eyes and hung his head, that was the last time he would see Keeva, with a heavy sigh he looked back to see how the progress was coming on entering the hull.


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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

#1885
Commissar Molotov

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The Wreck of the Voice of Thunder
Cargo Sub-Decks
Solastion, Varvost, and...

The Voice of Thunder is eerily quiet as you penetrate further into its depths. The ceramite footfall of your armour's boots upon metal-grilled floors resounds through darkened corridors. With Solastion at your head, you have traversed broken, twisted passageways of sheet metal on your way here. Your path even took you through the wreckage of the dorsal spine corridor - and there are those in your number that bitterly recall the fight to defend that bastion against the Tyranid borders. A fight that seems futile now, for the Voice of Thunder is in its final death throes.

In places flickering glow-globes attempt to light the way, but most of the time you find your way shrouded in darkness. You are forced to rely on your suits' auto-senses and the stab-lights attached to your helms, your backpacks or your weapons to pierce the gloom.

There is a door ahead. A door that will lead you to the cargo-bays that Kill-Team Blackthorn first used on their journey from Watch-Station Azurea to the world of Syndalla, over a month ago now.


The Wreck of the Voice of Thunder
Enginarium Complex
Sabaan, and...

Passing through the twisted wreckage of yet another bulkhead door, you enter a high-vaulted chamber. Ahead of you, you see the cog-and-skull symbols of the Machine Cult; countless waxen seals bearing testaments of worthiness and operation have been affixed to the iconography, doubtless by Tech-Adepts seeking the favour of the Omnissiah. It does not seem to have worked; you see fallen corpses in the red robes of the Mechanicus, their flesh withered and mummified.

Sabaan steps forward, sweeping dust and detritus from a cogitator console and pressing the rune-buttons. The cracked screen flickers to life, accompanied by the grating grumble of the device's machine-spirit. Only a few seconds later the screen flashes a startling blue, white screeds of runic text scrolling past, far too quickly to read. You can make out the binaric squeals of the Tech-Marine's armour as it attempts to commune with the console and to find some way through.

It is vital that you ascertain the status of the Voice of Thunder's warp drive. If the drives are operational, then perhaps it is possible to use the stricken cruiser as a bomb. If not, then determining which systems are still operational aboard the vessel will be important in determining the next stages.


GM: Players, decide who has gone with Solastion and who has gone with Sabaan. I will then move things forward and give you some of the answers you need!
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QUOTE (voi shet magir @ May 31 2011, 05:38 AM
That is an unexpectedly strong assertion from a dead person.

#1886
Steel Company

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Tyber watched as the two groups broke off, his natural distrust of both the priestly nature of Solastion and the superstition of Sabaan made him sigh internally. He knew that Sabaan would be the least receptive to his assistance as there was little he could offer the Techmarine aside from raw physical labor. Turning his attention towards Solastion, he didn’t really want to follow but knew he’d likely be most useful this way.

 

As Tyber followed through the spinal corridor he stopped at the statue from before and leaned his helmet against it as he asked it through his vox grill, “Grandfather, your guidance would be most welcome again…”

 

With no answer coming again, he removed his helmet from the contact with the statue and followed along again, halting at the door behind Solastion as he voxed to him with some levity over the squad coms, +Where is a cargo container when I need one?+


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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

#1887
Slips

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++A cargo container to fill with as much salvage as we can wouldn't be too bad of an idea; better not let the Omnissians among us hear that, however.++ he responded as he made to open the cargo bay doors with his sub-team assembled near him.


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#1888
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"Two fields to plough before nightfall – he is wisest who owns two yokes," Yeng quoted. "I will accompany Sabaan; a Gentle – I mean apothecary – for each group." He nodded, politely, to Solastion.

 

+++

 

Yeng looked around the Enginarium, and tapped two fingers to the blunt prow of his helm in mute warding. The external optics whirled and refocussed with clicks as he panned his view around. Drumming the fingers of his left hand on the foregrip of his boltgun, the Gatebreaker waited, alert and ready, for Sabaan to complete his task.


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#1889
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As soon as the order to move was given Atratus advanced silently ahead of the Solastions demi-squad, familiar with the layout and structure of the ship from their time in transit and aware that there was little he could do to assist in recovering the dying energies of the ships enginarium.

 

As they approached the cargo bays Atratus recalled their training, everything here had its place and every claw mark or displaced object was a caution of what might still lurk here as swept the path ahead for his brothers.


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#1890
Mazer Rackham

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Akkad bumped his vambrace off Tyber's Pauldron.

 

"Keep your elbow up."

 

With that he followed the Techmarines, to ensure they were not...disturbed...in their ministrations.

 

MR.


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Also tagged with one or more of these keywords: Deathwatch, Roleplaying Game, RPG, Play by Post, Commissar Molotov, Blackthorn, Kill-Team Blackthorn, Fantasy Flight Games, Kill-Team Swordhand, Swordhand

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