[DW] Blackthorn/Swordhand: Episode III - The Sundered House

[Steel Company]

“I see you have found something even bigger than you for us to move.”

 

Tyber smiled under his helm and cocked his head off to right side a little as Akkad banged on his pauldron. It was good to be in proximity to his brother by choice, as Akkad asked over the vox link; +Where do you wish me to push?+, Tyber reached into his belt pouch where he placed that rib bone, as he responded with +Ahu, I took this from the chest of enemy’s champion that I put down…. With a little assistance from Vaidan, I figured you could add it to your collection from the field.+

 

Tossing Akkad the bone, Tyber took up a position on the left rear side of the harvester, directing the other two to the center and right rear side, laughing a little as they started to push, +At least this one is lighter than the Razorback was, when I last did something like this.+

 

There was some gurgling and sucking noises as the large tracked vehicle started to move, pushing bodies either under the mud or out of the way, with each limb that his boots crushed, his mind with trying to figure out how to best use the remaining fuel in the machine to get his goal of a fire trap working. Taking a moment to look down, it clicked, the dead, it wouldn’t take much to set them aflame, and they would provide a combustible material.

 

+Ahu, I can think of a couple of other task we will need to undertake, I am not sure if the mortals would be up to either.... We will need corpses for burning, we will also need to search for any support weapons that were left behind.+ He paused for a moment, +Remind me, when we are on our way back to the Watch Station to tell about how I finally know where my path will take me.+ There was a sense of calm in his voice, one that had not been there before

Edited September 6, 2018 by Steel Company

[Slips]

As the fighting finally died down and both Solastion and Varvost came back to their senses, the Sanguinary Priest took stock of his predicament.

 

Looking down at his Exsanguinators wrist cogitator, he thought-scrolled to his own readouts and was disappointed to see some of the rabble had managed to harm him at all. But, they were dead and he was just minorly inconvenienced by the ordeal. Quickly pressing a few buttons he brought out his tools injector and, in a very practiced fashion, plunged it into his thigh port.

 

Solastion will perform a medicae test on himself Medicae 75: 1d100 53 2 DoS, Int bonus of 4 doubled to 8 thanks to his Exsanguinator plus Enhanced Healing: 1d5 3 equals a total of 11 wounds healed bring him back up to full.

 

Then, once done tending to himself, he will walk over to Varvost, scrolling through his bio-monitor as he does so ++Well, Cousin, it seems like we will have our work cut out for us if things have progressed this far. A moment of your time to tend to your wounds and we should regroup with the others post-haste...++ he says as he sterilizes the injector needle within its housing before plunging it into the same port mirrored on the Eradicators greave.

Medicae 75: 1d100 71 straight success but thats all Solastion needs; 8 Wounds + Enhanced Healing: 1d5 4 for a total of 12 wounds restored bringing him back up to full.

 

Once done he addresses the Guardsmen around them.

 

"Well done loyal soldiers of the Emperor! Through your deeds you have shown him the depths of your loyalty! You have shown the Alien that they cannot win even with numbers on their side! Rejoice! But for now, regroup at the Templum!"

And Solastion begins walking back, hopping onto the teams comms ++This is Solastion, Varvost and I have cleared out the horde to the...south...of the Templum and are on our way to rendez-vous inside.++

 

Once they set foot inside the building, Solastion wastes no time in syncing his Exanguinators cogitators with the rest of the Kill-Teams bio-monitors and will note that only Brother Tyber seems to have suffered any form of harm and will call out to him on a private channel ++Brother Tyber, a moment, if you would before you attend to any other tasks.++

 

And, if Tyber decides to meet the Crimson Knight, he will administer to his wounds and send him on his way

Medicae 75: 1d100 31 4 DoS; 8 + Enhanced Healing: 1d5 5 = 13 wounds healed bringing him back up to his treatable maximum.

 

As he finishes tending to Tybers wounds, Solastion will then look for what passes for their battlefield triage tent and make his way over to it.

Coming upon the wounded and dying as well as those working tirelessly to ease their pain, he takes stock of those arrayed before him, ignoring the gasps of awe and surprise that come from the mortals as they finally notice the giant, hulking armored form amidst them.

 

Solastion will use Medicae's sub-feature Diagnose to try and ascertain the state of the injured.

Medicae 75: 1d100 31 for 4 DoS. If possible, he will then tend to the most severely wounded that can still be saved and administer the Emperor's Peace to those too far gone with his Reductor.

 

Edited September 10, 2018 by Slips

[Commissar Molotov]

The Novamarine turns back to Haltreme. 

 

"Captain, it would benefit us for you to describe each of these districts and what might be found there." 

 

The Captain, nodding, begins to lay out the details as required. 

 

 

His fingers move from the Templum in the centre of the city towards the purple area, with its rigid square borders. 

 

"As I said, these are the Grand Estates, owned by the nobles and landowners. It's where you'll find the Governor's Palace and the Astropathic tower. Once the fighting got too fierce, they drew up the bridges to stop anyone entering the district." 

 

"These," he points at the green and yellow districts, "are the Portica and Fabrica Districts. The Portica is home to docks and warehouses, whilst Fabrica has factories and manufactoria. This pink area is the Metallica District, home to the Adeptus Mechanicus. The Red area here is the Commercia District, home to the Guild Houses. The blue area outside the city is the Fallows, a shanty town home to factory-workers and slaves. We've heard reports of fighting between the PDF and the rebels in almost every district. They strike and fade before our forces can be brought to bear. A death of a thousand cuts." 

 

 

 

Ryken turns to the Watch-Sergeant. 

 

"So, then. We must establish a strategy." 

 

GM: Objectives

The Deathwatch rulebook establishes three tiers of objectives: Primary (those essential to the success of the mission), Secondary (enhancing the success of the mission) and Tertiary (Targets of opportunity not directly tied to the success of the mission).

 

Ryken and Vaidan will establish in conversation the following objectives for the Kill-Team: 

 

Primary Objectives: 

Locate and kill the Tyranid creature codified as the 'Broodlord' and end its domination over the Syndallan Cult. 

Locate the city's Astropath and send a message to the Deathwatch for reinforcement. 

 

Secondary Objectives:

Ascertain the status of Syndalla's Planetary Governor and ensure continued Imperial Control. 

Help the PDF re-establish control over the city of Beregar. 

Ascertain the status of Inquisitrix Lythea.

 

Tertiary Objectives: 

Exterminate any purestrain Genestealers or Abominations to weaken the Cult's hold on the city.

Eliminate rebel leaders to weaken the Cult's hold on the city. 

Gather PDF support to counter the rebel hordes. 

Locate the body of Thorvald Hammerhand of the Space Wolves

 

 

Perhaps it would be prudent for you to discuss these objectives in the OOC thread and how best to accomplish some (or all) of them? If there are additional objectives you would like to be added, you can discuss that additionally. 

 

As a note - whilst in D&D there's always that advice to never split the party, separating into demi-squads is an entirely viable strategy here. 

Edited September 13, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

Nycax Sabaan, weary of the Weak And The Squishy:

 

It had taken 3.19 Imperial time units to move one of the bulky machines.  He looked at it askance, for the poorly applied and badly made joins of the armour plating and protective buttress were wholly inadequate.  He let out a small throaty grunt of annoyance, mingled with the effort of the final shove to put it into some semblance of logical position.  The unit weighed exactly 15.35 Imperial Metric.  It was important to remember the purity of Mars, no matter the distance from Medusa or any other world that was bathed in the cold light of logic, reason, that was so casually thrown away by emotion-fuelled nonsense - like this uprising.  It did not only smack of sentimentality, but of ingratitude.  The Imperium had protected them, the Mechanicum had given  them tools to feed them, clothe them, to build edifices to the glory of the Cog and Emperor.

 

His annoyance was as unabated as his hatred of the alien.  It was a burden that they would have to bear, the strong always protecting the weak, those who never sought to be strong.  The three Astrates trudged back to another traction engine.  The others had been wise, the Dragon of Caliban had suggested Sabaan should synchronise their efforts and an appeased pulse of data had acknowledged.  It was vaguely pleasing, a clade effort as opposed to the other two merely just charging in headlong, or pulling a trigger at the first opportunity.  A counter appeared in their three helms, causing them to lift in unison and apply their strnegth equally and appropriately.  Sabaan sent them corrections and kept an equilibruim balance burned onto three pairs of retina.

+Akkad, incline 3.224 micra, port.+  A grunt and a shift in balance only a Space Marine and Technomant would detect brought things into harmony.  Via Noospheric interface the Iron Hand beseeched the machine spirits of his new brotherhood with the Passive Doctrine of Fortis Metallicas.

 

10 minutes later and all three hulks had been moved.  The mortals stood around aghast at the feat of strength played out before them.  Again Sabaan's ordered mind was thrown into a convulsion of hatred for their lack of strength.  The Madness of Imperfect Communion with the shuttle servitors it seemed, had brought an edge to his thoughts.  More emotional than logical.  He suppressed it by focusing on his next tasks.  Without being prompted, he tore plates from the haulers and began to hammer and crunch them around the barricades, reinforcing them as best he could.  He issued the Blessing Adamant upon each, proofing them from enemy attack, as had been taught by the Fabricators Martial, the specialists in defending the Imperium with steel and stone, the natural opponents of the Ordo Reductor, whose specialised in the destruction of same.  Both sides of the same Cog, destruction and creation.

 

A realisation dawned that he was doing the same will.  He had destroyed these machines, so that they could be brought once more to life on the right side of the war.  He himself had been destroyed, his armour shattered, but then reforged anew.  The lance of logical conclusion fired his mind until it was but a pure point of light, eliminating the annoyance...suppressing the emotional outburst.  The other Marines had helped him again, as he had assisted them in turn.  It was...challenging, but satisfactory.  The request from the Astral Claw when it came was therefore less annoying than it should have been.

 

With a sigh the Techmarine acceded - after all, the request was reasonable.  He could hardy use an Imperial Infantrymans' entrenching shovel.  He may as well have used his hand - which on reflection, after learning some of Akkad's exploits, he probably had in the past.  Another thought from the commune of spirits smiled at him.  It was a relief after all the disdain.

 

Daon Akkad, ditch-digger and wholesale fatalist:

 

+Ahu, I took this from the chest of enemy’s champion that I put down…. With a little assistance from Vaidan, I figured you could add it to your collection from the field.+

 

Akkad caught the thrown shard of the enemy's own chest deftly in his left hand and nodded at Tybers' retelling.  He smiled under his helm - very modestly spoken, a slight relaxation of the shoulders and how he stood.  He mentioned moving a Razorback, but Akkad was not digesting that.  He said something that began to resonate with the Astral Claw as they heaved and hauled the engines into position.  He spared a moment to think if Sabaan had any comment, but instead, what he had, almost in reply to confirm such sentiment was beyond the machine-lord, he was told to lift a little higher.  Akkad grunted and smiled at the same time, punching the air with the trophy in hand and waving it round in approval.  He even voxed a quick burst of triumph to the younger warrior.  Grinning, he put the item in a pouch for later.  He quickly looked at Sabaan and wrenched a bit of the engine plating off to add to it.  The thumb-sized sliver of metal was old, part of the original machine.  It had rusted in exposure to the weather and had been repainted several times, in the same colour, yellow paint flicked and flaking at the edges, covering much older rust in patches elsewhere.  He slipped this away under the pretence of adjusting his grip.

 

+Remind me, when we are on our way back to the Watch Station to tell about how I finally know where my path will take me.+

 

A change had occurred here.  How he spoke was not as guarded - even as freely as he had spoken to Akkad in the past - it was if his spirit sighed something unspoken into the present, an echo of something gone before?  Akkad was used to that from his own heart, his own soul.  This seemed to be the case.  The words were spoken almost in relief, like a battle had been raging in his heart, torn between two masters.  He remembered the big man staring up at the statue and intoning for guidance.  He had tried to convince the younger Marine his place was here.  That the universe had lead his feet always to here, but Tyber had made no secret of his desire to move on, to find position, prestige and respect of prowess amongst his own brothers.

 

And who did not?  Who could not want that - such a man was rare.  The polar opposite seemed to be Greysight, a man who observed, whose eyes pierced the darkness, but, from what he knew of the brother from Nakaris, his path had split him from his brethren to wander the stars by his own hand, relying on the winds of the steppe to take him where they willed.  He accepted fate much more readily than Tyber, who seemed to prefer self-determination.  Neither were wrong.  And what of men like himself or Varvost?  Did we have more truth of it? Varvost at least was the more honest.  Politics, glory, solitude - these things had not brought Varvost here.  He knew what he was, honest, brutal and as deliberate as the falling of an executioner's axe - he was here because he was told to be and because he was here to fight and both were enough.  He cared about his brothers the way his chainaxe cared about each of it's teeth.  They all fought together in line on the same side, with the same bite and that was enough.

 

He sighed, one that came from the centre of his very soul.  And is it enough - is it enough for me?  What choice did I have?  Bitterness swelled, punctured by the truth. The one I made when I told Huron to - he smiled, the sentence unfinished.  Yes, said Ichoma, his old friend - that is enough, these brothers are here and need you.  You will never abandon them while you have breath.  That is enough.  He sighed again, this time in agreement.

 

He watched as Tyber began stacking the bodies of the enemy dead, calling the guardsmen to follow suit.  He would not press the Dragon of Caliban now.  The story would come in it's own time.  He smiled at the makeshift ramparts, pleased with Tyber's idea.  Good thinking, but not quite all, he rolled the thought around his head.  How would he do it?

He grasped a panel and took it over to the Iron Hand, busy at his work.  He waited a moment until Sabaan had stopped. He lifted a discarded entrenching tool and waved it around, his posture describing how useless it was.

+My Savant, I need a bigger shovel.+  The Iron Hand looked at him briefly and without further word, reached over with his Servo-Arm and crimped, bashed and twisted the plate into something the same size as a man.  Akkad grimaced.  It would work as a headstone as well.  He nodded his thanks and got to work digging a ditch.  This was only the start though.

+Sergeant Greer, 20 men to collect wood, nothing shorter than two feet!+  A salute and a hurried dispatch of troops that had been idling and gawking scurrying to the broken houses to retrieve any bits of furniture they could.

 

After half an hour they had quite a lot and there were four long ditches carved into the earth three feet in front of Tyber's growing barricades.

+Sergeant Greer, can your men whittle?+ The Marine smiled, putting as much of it into his voice as possible.  The humans around him began to smile.  It seemed they had the same idea.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Tyber halted just outside the temple to meet up with Solastion, signaling to him that he was ready for inspection. He scanned the building that he could see from where he stood, pock marked and burned most of them, with some collapsed walls here and there, good placed for emplaced weapons when attacking. Tyber activated the squad vox network, putting out a simple question; hoping for positive answer, +My-self and our Sargent were on the South West side, I have also had a chance to look over the South and South East sides. I ask any Brothers that that may have had a view of the West, North West, North, North East and East sides if any heavy or support weapons were spotted in use by our foes, that have been left behind for us to reclaim to pass the locations onto myself if they are preoccupied so that we can take these and put them to good use.+

 

While Solastion tended to him, Tyber again thought on his recent understanding of himself and his place in the universe, he found a question building in his mind, one that he wanted to ask each of the more specialized of his brothers, but wanted to avoid a lecture from Solastion and he was still weary of approaching Sabaan due to the last conversation they had. Sighing to himself, he put the question out to Solastion just as the apothecary had fished his work; +When you have time brother, I would like to hear how you came to know you were meant for the tasks of the Apothecary.+

 

No sooner had he asked that question, then he got a map update from Greyseight, highlighting a building on the North side, with a tag indicating that three heavy weapons were in the building during the fighting. Bowing his head to Solastion, Tyber grabbed four troopers, while over the external vox he told them +You four, you are coming with me to search a building for some support weapons.+ His tone brokered no debate, his gauntlets giving them all a push left little doubt that they had been chosen for this task.

 

OOC:

GM (CM)

I’m happy to expand on more of this, depending on what we find when looking for the three heavy stubbers that were in the building.

Edited September 10, 2018 by Steel Company

[Slips]

++Tend to your tasks brother, then, if we have time before departing, come see me at the medicae station the mortals have set up and I would gladly entertain that question.++

[Commissar Molotov]

++Tyber, Sabaan - attend me.++ 

 

Varvost's voice grinds over the vox, a location-indicator pulsing on the helm cartograph. 

 

It takes you moments to reach the Eradicator. He stands nonchalantly against a fortification, his combat knife picking unidentifiable chunks of gore from between the teeth of his chain-axe. As the two of you approach, he points off-handedly with the weapon.

 

Its form is unmistakable, even though its armour is chipped and pitted with the impacts of small-arms fire. A Chimera. One of the carrier's tracks is shattered, but the vehicle itself seems serviceable. 

[Steel Company]

The building was damaged, floors collapsed, merchandise strewn about, Shinny trinkets Tyber thought to himself as he lead the troopers to the second floor where the weapons were located, a few bodies lay about in pieces, evidence of bolt gun rounds doing their work. Amongst the runis they found three heavy stubbers with tri-pods and several boxes of ammunition, turning to look at those he had in tow, Tyber saw only three.

 

+You three, head back to the temple, gather others and takes these weapons back and set them up… I will deal with our wayward scout.+ Tyber ordered over the external vox, watching the troopers brake down two of the gun, Tyber tossed the third as well as a few boxes of ammunition out the window to the ground below, before heading down stairs.

 

Once down there, he found the fourth man, stuffing his pockets with whatever he could, almost oblivious to the giant in black that rapidly closed on him, it wasn’t until he felt the grip of the gauntlet on his neck, forcing him onto his knees, looking up at the giant, who’s eyes flashed a deep jade green and spoke in a low, menacing tone over his vox unit, +We are not here for trinkets, I suggest you talk to your commander about compensation after the current problems have been dealt with.+ Tyber pause to apply a little pressure on the man’s throat +If I find you returning to the defensive line with trinkets in your pockets, you will wish the cultists got to you.+

 

Releasing his grip and tossing the man down to the ground, forceably, before leaving the building, that was when he got the message from Varvost, ++Tyber, Sabaan - attend me.++ 

 

Rolling his eyes under his helm, he trudged off to the waypoint on his HUD, before Tyber could even ask what Varvost needed, he saw it, it was beat-up, but serviceable, a Chimera Infantry Fighting Vehicle, he couldn’t help it, a grin spread across his face, though different than a Razorback, this beast still felt like a gift. Hurring over to it, he started to inspect it, the armour with what looked like cosmetic damage that was when he saw it, the left side track was damaged; four sections of the track were not salvageable. Tyber began to look over the unit; most Imperial tanks had spare track sections usually enough to make half a track, more than enough for this task.

 

+Brother Sabaan, it looks serviceable, some of the track sections on the left side are destroyed. However I can see enough spare links to repair the track. That leaves the questsion if the motive systems are still operational.+ Tyber said over the network, pausing slightly before adding +A good find Varvost.+

 

He wanted to explore this vehicle, he’d read about them, seen pictures of them but this was his first opportunity to actually touch one. Inspecting more, would need a more specialized hand, still it was turning out to be a good day.

[Commissar Molotov]

Vârvost nods in the Dragon's direction, acknowledging the praise. He sheathes his combat knife before heading back to the defense line, moving with a feline grace that belies the whine of his warplate's servo-joints. 

[Nineswords]

BEREGAR'S GRAND TEMPLUM was a modestly sized, but masterfully crafted example of the Imperial Gothic style. Forming a long cross in plan, the fortified buttresses of its plascrete and ousilite exterior was at odds with the tall fluted columns of pale pink and tan dressed stone spanning the nave and transepts. 

 

Greysight had silently descended into the softly lit crossing, closing the entry hatch behind him. Eventually finding purchase on a service ledge that had clearly not been used in decades, the Storm Son's landing sent small plumes of accumulated dust into the air. Taking a moment to admire the exquisite craftsmanship of the stone vaulted ceilings, Greysight's vantage point afforded him an advantageous view of the entire templum down its nave and the northern transept. 

 

Far below, the last Imperial defenders were busy fortifying the templum, whilst orderlies attended to the apothecary Solastion as he assessed the wounded.

 

The others had also come and gone, including Atratus, who had left Interrogator Ryken in the care of Watch-Sergeant Vaidan and the Militarum ranking officer, Haltreme. Greysight watched their exchange dispassionately, and though he was well out of vox range, his gene-forged eyesight afforded him the opportunity to lip read the conversation.

 

'What do you know of the PDF's current disposition? Assets, manpower, zones of control?' Vaidan asked silently. Greysight imagined his patrician voice pressing for crucial details without preamble.

 

Haltreme to his credit, did not suffer from the intimidation that usually stalled conversations with astartes. The captain pointed at a map drawn on a piece of well-folded vellum parchment. Even at distance, Greysight could make out basic details inked within the hand-coloured ordnance designations. Cities like Beregar did not change at a rapid pace. 

 

'There are garrisons throughout the city, but there is little in the way of coordination between them,' explained Haltreme, quickly summarising the turmoil that engulfed Syndalla in recent weeks.

 

Vaidan tapped another area on the map.

 

'And this?' Vaidan asked. 'Is this where the astropathic choir is located?'

 

Haltreme nodded. The Watch-Sergeant paused for a moment, assessing the most viable options. 

 

'We will need to summon further aid from the Deathwatch,' said Vaidan, looking at the Interrogator. Ryken turned to face the sergeant directly, and Greysight was unable to read his reply.

 

As he watched, Greysight also made several mental assessments based on Haltreme's summary. The absence of the Inquisitor and the Imperial Governor was alarming, and the Storm Son found himself wondering where they were. Perhaps they had been overwhelmed and killed in the initial seditionist action, although that was unlikely. Less likely but still in the realms of possibility, was that they had strayed from the Emperor's light, or they were rotten to begin with. In either case, a reckoning was at hand. 

 

Greysight's limited knowledge of the tyranids indicated that they were linked psychically, and in turn disrupted psyker activity. His recent experience aboard the Voice of Thunder had confirmed his supposition. As far as Greysight was concerned, the kill-team and the remnants of Imperial resistance were isolated within Syndalla's system. Even if the kill-team could locate the chief astropath and a choir, there was no guarantee reinforcements from the Deathwatch, the office of the Inquisition Ordo Xenos, or any other Imperial military body would come to their aid in time, which also ruled out sending one of the kill-team back to Watch-Station Azurea to petition for aid.

 

Which left only one viable option.

 

If the lesser hordes of the tyranid were compromised as their warrior caste were systematically eliminated, then it stood to reason there would be some controlling presence operating on Syndalla that would need to be located and exterminated, before the limitless hive fleets of the Great Devourer descended on the planet.

 

Decapitate the head, and the body withers. Greysight smiled with anticipation as unknowns began to resolve into sharp focus. Something had caught his eye. It was Watch-Sergeant Vaidan, alone and slowly walking down the nave towards Solastion. The Novamarine looked up directly at Greysight and saluted, placing an armoured fist on his chest plate in the old manner.

 

Greysight returned the gesture, before keying his vox and establishing a private channel between himself and the Watch-Sargeant.

 

'How long before the hunt begins?'

 

 

+++

Edited September 13, 2018 by Nineswords

[Mazer Rackham]

Nycax Sabaan:

 

They had found him something - whilst not Astartes greatness, it was worthy.  At least for here.

 

Finally.  Something resembling the purity of the STC from which it was built - in it's thousands, hundreds of thousands, crushing the foes of Man on a million different worlds, outlasting the puny things that drove them, rode in them, foolishly tried to stop them.  The strength of steel once again proven, if anyone who was ignorant of the might of the Cog doubted it.

 

A Chimera, Mars pattern, with six 12 Hertz Imperial Lasguns, ported and re-barrelled with 20mm Argon coated refractal lenses, providing a beam width of 16.3 y0w and a dispersion of 5 megathules at 200 Metres Imperial Standard.  A Mars pattern M38 Hull mounted Heavy Bolter in Ajax cantilever suspension, original!  The Enginseers had honoured the ancient weapon and hull both by caring for it and remounting it this way.  His chagrin at the weakling fleshy-things on this planet was assuaged a little, with a micron of hope that they were not all useless...

 

He turned to the other Astartes present.

 

+Obstruct me not.+ He warned, crimson lenses burning like coals.  Given once, and only the once he would allow, he then roundly ignored them.

 

He adopted the pose of The Benevolent Fabricant, right arm outstretched and approaching clearly so the lingering Machine Spirits of the vehicle could see his allegiance.  The turret was oddly canted towards him, an effect of the track links being thrown and casting the hull awry.  The Multi-laser stubbornly pointed at him, a wounded animal baring fangs to be sure.  How wise the tutors had been to instruct him in correct approach!  His Ocular relays hunted across the plated hull, deep into the crystal stacks of the engine, sluiced through the ferro-fluid cores of the reserve Laser power cells.  He sensed 6 Machine Spirits: Motivator, Bellicosa, Defensor, Cognisant, Receptor and Illumina.

 

+Toll the great bell once! Hark now to the voice of the Servant of Mars!+ Another step towards the machine.  Speak clearly and loudly, to arouse the wakefulness and not the wrath of the Engine....

+Toll the great bell twice! Ignite both piston and the pump!+  Another step.  Soon his auto-sense coated gauntlets could touch the machine's hull, sanitising protocols could begin transfer to clear his path to the heart...

+Toll the great bell thrice! Awaken, glory of the machine!+ Contact.  The steel beast had accepted him, no animosity burned through his gauntlets.  He moved quickly, clambering up the hand-holds, banging the haft of his Omnitool on the upper cupola.  When nothing game back, he reached down and opened a mechanical release access panel, winding the locks open from the outside.  His helmet light came on, even though his own vision would have sufficed, it was wise to bring light to the darkness of the interior.  He stood, walking over the back of the armoured carrier, and dropped down behind it.  Pulling a short data cable from his elbow, he began the interface.

 

The Cognisant was...docile.  Unlike the fiery temper of the Rhino, say or even more so the Razorback, so beloved of Iron Father Stronos, this one was milder and instead of a powerful steed, or a chariot pulled by a brace of them, this was more like a dray, a cart bearing workhorse.  His respirator cycled in satisfaction if not excitement.  Sturdy, stable, reliable.  Suddenly he had communion as his noospheric transference protocols achieved balance.  The rear door spilled open slowly, with a hiss of pressurised air.  The emergency light strobes flashed into being in harsh amber, unlike the dull arterial crimson of the Astartes armour.

 

He strode inside, pushing the three corpses of PDF troops aside.  A cursory glance explained it.  One had shot the other two in panic, then presumably shot himself.

 

Weak.

 

He paid them the contempt they deserved.  He opened the partition hatch, achieving his objective.  He plugged in again, this time to the Cogitator.  He recited the Canticles of Activation. Mark well that the path to the heart of the engine is clear of obstruction, that your voice may carry to it.  If the engine be Hot, strike the Third Rune, should it Cold, the Fourth is more appropriate...his mind raced faster than the Rites, a quicksilver flash of electrolytics and his thumb hovered over the Rune of Initiation.  He finished his ministrations and his thumb jabbed forth.

 

The Chimera sputtered into life and Sabaan smiled, deeply in the circuits of his soul at another awakened in metal flesh.  He turned the engine off and strode outside, with the pace and cant of a master smith.  Shortly, and to the astounded mortals watching, he fetched the spare track links off the front of the hull with one hand.  he passed it up to his Servo-Arm and knelt, tools in hand to begin the work of repair.  A strange mechanical sound escaped his vox, he was almost ignorant of it, but the others could hear it over the banging and welcoming ring of hammer on metal.

 

He would have denied it of course, as with vox distortion it could have easily been mistaken for the low revs of a well tuned engine, but more than one Guardsman swore he was humming to himself.

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

Vaidan: 

 

Having discussed the situation with Ryken and the Guard officer, Haltreme, you turn to see Greysight having descended from the Templum roof. You salute him in acknowledgement, impressed by his discipline and reliability throughout the destruction of the Voice of Thunder and the battle to hold this cathedral. His calm and lethal precision are a useful asset in the team's arsenal. 

 

The Storm Son returns the salute, keying in a private channel to your helm's vox. 

 

++How long before the hunt begins?++

 

The decision falls to you, as Watch-Sergeant. These warriors, each veterans of many conflicts, now turn to you for decisive action. How will the Kill-Team be divided? Which objectives take priority? What can you do before Syndalla falls beneath the shadow of the Hive Mind? 

[Reyner]

The squad had spent long enough in the Templum and assisted the PDF in fortiyfying it, barricades had been rebuilt and reinforced, Tyber had retrieved some of the cultists heavier weapons for the troopers to make use of. But it was time to move on. The Primary Objective is to reach the Astropath tower and contact the Watch Fortress for support, the team also needs to identify the monster leading the uprising and terminate it. Secondary Objective is to reach the Governor and see if he can make himself useful. Finally we should see if we came recover something of Thorvald, he was a fine warrior and it would be unjust of us to ignore his passing.

 

++How long before the hunt begins?++

 

Seeing Greysight approach Vaidan motions for him to come close.

 

"The Hunt begins soon brother we will first have a short memorial and oath of moment for Thorvald - I failed him and will not let him be left behind but the mission has to come first."

 

Sergeant Vaidan opens his vox: 

 

++Brother Sabaan can you recover any data from the shuttle that will give us any leads on where the anti air batteries are located and a rough estimate of where along our flight path we lost Thorvald? Everyone else meet at the Chimera, that includes you as well Interrogator Ryken. We are moving on.++

 

OOC:

Anyone have anything they want to say/do for the memorial? It's gonna be short these are marines after all who are now angry that one of their own died in a pretty non glorious way. If Sabaan can get anything from the shuttle I will use that in the memorial bit unless anyone else wants to cover it!

 

<insert memorial oath of moment bit here>

 

"We will use the Chimera to make all haste to the Grand Estates once we reach the gates those of you with jump packs will break off and make for the Astropath tower and send a message to the Watch Fortress about what is going on here and that we will need support if more Bio-ships are in the system. Once we reach the Governor Brothers Greysight and Atratus will attempt to discover where the Broodlord leading this cult is skulking but do not engage it under any circumstances. Plant a beacon so we can tackle it later as a team. Once we find out what we need from the Governor we may be able to accomplish several objectives at once depending on what information he has access to - namely the location of the Inquisitor, any information on the Broodlord and if he is in contact with any other elements of the PDF so we can get them organised into a counterassault." 

 

 

[Steel Company]

Tyber watched in awe as Sabaan worked his Martian magic on the Chimera, No not magic he reminded himself, There is no such thing as magic, only technology we do not understand yet. That was an axiom from the earliest days of the Dragons, back when they were the 9^th Armored Assault Chapter of the First Legion. As the Chimera rumbled to life again, Tyber began looking for the tank repair tool kit, pulling free the pneumatic rams used for separating the tread links. It had been part of is training, how to replace a track sections in the field, no sooner than had he gotten the rams into place, then he heard the rhythmic hiss-click of Sabaan behind him, breathing annoyance.

 

Sighing to himself, Tyber released his hold on ram control unit, handing it to Sabaan. As Sabaan inspected the placement of the rams, he questioned Tyber; +What do you think….+ He paused slightly seeing everything properly placed, he chose new words; +Where did you learn this rite? You did adequate work.+

 

Tyber stiffened a little, he had been told to expect religion to be mixed with understanding, it still felt strange to him, by reflex he answered with +It is a requirement for all Dragons of Caliban to know how to replace tread links.+

 

For a moment the two looked at one another in the rain, Sabaan’s helm tilted off to the side a little before he ended their little conversation; +Perhaps Akkad is correct, you may have the talent for my trade. You may leave the rest to me.+

 

Being dismissed, Tyber returned to his inspection of the Chimera, rubbing mud from the hull, as he cleared away for the mud on the side skirt on the left side near the front, he found a number, a number that caused him to grin under his helm: 212

 

He reached out with his left hand, placing just the tips of his fingers against the number, +A good sign…+ he trailed off to himself out loud.

 

Tyber saw the summons on his HUD, setting a waypoint inside the temple, instictivly he headed to it, coming to a halt just outside the doors, he could see Sisters of one of the Orders tending to wounded, leading some in prayer; his mind shot back to his home world, Adavan standing in front of him, instructing him in both knowledge and blade.

 

“Why do we avoid entry to temples to the Emperor?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through Tyber’s mind as he brought his practice blade into a high guard.

Out of reflex, Tyber answered, “The servants of the Imperial Inquisition and the daughters of the Emperor are not to be trusted.” As he said that last word, he switched to a low guard.

 

“Why are they not to be trusted?” Adavan asked, while adjusting Tyber’s stance.

 

“They murdered Chapter Master Corswain DeTelmar in cold blood, when they asked to speak with him in one of their temples.” answered Tyber as he returned to a high guard while Adavan circled around him again inspecting the stance looking for faults.

 

Taking a moment strike at Tyber to see if he could block the swing, he spoke in a low voice, “What is the lesson of that?”

 

Choosing to roll out of the way, Tyber brought up his blade into a low guard, “Do not enter their temples.” Adavan couldn’t help but start to laugh; it was a simple answer, but not an incorrect one either.

 

Tyber had been so preoccupied with that memory he had not heard Akkad approach him, until he had clanged his shoulder guard and speak to him over a privet chanel, +Come Ahu, let us go and dig some more.+

 

Turning on the spot and heading away from the temple, he gave a one word reply, +Aye.+

Edited September 14, 2018 by Steel Company

[Mazer Rackham]

Nycax Sabaan:

 

As he rounded the traction wheels at the back of the armoured carrier, he saw Tyber interfering.  Cold anger blazed like lightning in the face of his helm and posture, engrammic implants flaring sharply in tune with his humours.  After a subvocal sigh, detected by the Auto-Savant he raised his voice.

+What are you doing...+ Then suddenly, the fixing of the rams and jacks swam into clear focus.  He uttered a small electric bark of surprise.

 

+Where did you learn this rite?+ a pause as he inspected the impromptu repair. He nodded once, all he would allow. +You did adequate work.+

 

Tyber stiffened a little before he replied. +It is a requirement for all Dragons of Caliban to know how to replace tread links.+

 

Sabaan’s helm tilted off to the side. +Perhaps Akkad is correct, you may have the talent for my trade. You may leave the rest to me.+  His tone was final, wrapped in a gentle warning not to transgress it.

 

In short order, a thunderous, sharp clang assaulted the ears of all within the square of the Templum.  His brothers watching, oblivious to their eyes, he mentally intoned the mantras, the rhythm of repair as he barreled the pins to secure the track links.  The work was good, harmonious and simple, leading to a calmness, reserved he thought for the Armoria of Medusa.  Each resonating blow of the hammer on the rods felt like a pummelling of annealed metal upon the adamantine anvils.  Techna Lingua spilled from his vox, although quietly, so those not of the Machine God could hear, could eavesdrop upon the Mysteries of Mars.  Each bolt was at least a metre long and the mortals marvelled - he was handling them as if they were inch pins.

 

Clang.

+Affix the rod, that the fastness be whole and swiftness assured.+

Clang.

+Affix the rod, that the fastness be whole and swiftness assured.+

Clang.

+Affix..+

 

A buzz over the vox that was not binary.  Incoming communication from Vaidan.  He paused, hammer in mid swing, although his Servo-arm twitched irritably.  He blink-clicked the hovering rune and Vadian's channel flashed into life, the human syllables and voice impairing his monotonous ministrations with his tools.

 

++Brother Sabaan can you recover any data from the shuttle that will give us any leads on where the anti air batteries are located and a rough estimate of where along our flight path we lost Thorvald? Everyone else meet at the Chimera, that includes you as well Interrogator Ryken. We are moving on.++

 

A pressured gust of air escaped his puminatory life-sustainer.  His position did not change.  Accessing the squad-link, he pulsed an image taken from his own datavault.  He had no wish to return to the shuttle, an encounter with the servitor-menials would....unfocus him.  Yes.

+One of you fetch me this.  It is located in the cockpit.  Sergeant Vaidan, I have managed to restore 63.47 percent viable motive power to this vehicle.  I will need another 20 minutes.+

He did not specify he had to test the Argon-suspension power conduits leading to the Argentium Class XI Crystal Power relays for microfractures that made the whole system prone to uncontrolled detonation.  It was not through lack of inclination, he just didn't think it relevant.

 

Without waiting for reply, he once again soothed himself with hammer blows.

Clang.

+Affix the rod, that the fastness be whole and swiftness assured...+

 

MR.

 

​Edited to include Tyber's interactions.

Edited September 14, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Nineswords]

THE STONE ALTAR was a large grinding stone, a roughly hewn slab of igneous rock pitted with thousands of tiny holes worn smooth. In the distant past, such a rock would have been used to make flour by a dozen labourers, using nothing but large wooden pestles rhythmically pounding and grinding the wheat into powder upon its roughly hewn face. 

 

Greysight wondered if the crop strains grown on Syndalla were entirely native, or carried by the first colonists making their way into the stars during the Age of Wonder. The altar was a symbol, taking something from the earth and making into something more than itself. 

 

Life in unity. Death in isolation. 

 

‘Only together can we overcome the greater darkness,’ he murmured, quoting the Thirty-three Edicts of Ahn-Ezen. 

 

The lesson was not lost on Greysight, as he looked up at a carved wooden idol of the Emperor as Lifegiver, carrying a crudely carved scythe in one arm, and a wheat sheaf in the other. 

 

He thought then of Thorvald, the first loss in this new brotherhood. An unlucky fate, by all accounts. The shame of not being able to save the Wolf, even as the Indomitable Will plummeted towards its own demise still keenly stung at him. 

 

Greysight grasped the leather cord of bones and teeth that once belonged to his missing brother, and held it up to the light. He squinted. Scratched onto every bone and tooth was a different rune. It was a record of sorts, trophies taken from worthy foes during Thorvald’s life, marked with protective wards against the yaksha. The necklace was far from complete, a painful reminder of wasted potential. 

 

‘He died in the Emperor’s service. It is enough,’ remarked Solastion, looking at the kneeling form of the Storm Son next to the altar. 

 

Greysight turned and stood in a single fluid action, and regarded the Crimson Knight. The red and white of the apothecary’s trade contrasted sharply with the onyx and quicksilver of the Deathwatch. Beyond basic medicae assessments, Greysight had conversed little with Solastion over the last weeks. 

 

The Crimson Knight stared at him for a long moment, before pointing at the upheld necklace that belonged to the Space Wolf. 

 

‘And the tooth Vârvost gave you,’ said the apothecary, scooping the profferred items into his hand. He held the tooth up to the light. Greysight watched as a small arm slowly unfolded from the Crimson Knight’s medi-pack. Targeting reticules converged on the black tooth’s surface, before a tightly-focused las beam bored a neat, cauterised hole at the top of the tooth. Solastion then expertly threaded the tooth through the leather cord, before tying it neatly with a surgeon’s precision. 

 

He offered the necklace back to the Storm Son. 

 

‘His legacy lives beyond Fenris now, brother Greysight,’ said Solastion, as the Storm Son looped the necklace around his neck. Greysight nodded his thanks. 

 

‘Your topknot. What is it?' asked Solastion.

 

Greysight unconsciously touched the topknot attached to the rim of his shoulder pad.

 

'It is called a sulde. It is not unlike the necklace I now carry. It is imbued with fate, and through it, the Emperor judges my actions against His enemies.'

 

The apothecary nodded in approval. 'Come then, brother. The Watch Sergeant calls. Plenty of time for the Emperor to judge you in the trials ahead.'

 

 

 

+++

Edited September 14, 2018 by Nineswords

[Mazer Rackham]

Daon Akkad:

 

He stood, watching the Techmarine with his head cocked to one side, the Templum huge above him.  He was not a fervent adherent of the Creed even of his own Chapter, but the doctrines taught to him and those in which he believed were the ones reinforced time and again on the battlefield.  Cleave to the Emperor, cleave to your brethren, cleave to your weapons and the enemy will be cleaved asunder.  Frontline religion, Emperor above, Boltgun in hand.

 

He watched as Tyber hesitated.  His conditioning called the big Marine to obey the summons, his desire in concert with it, to remember their comrade, but something fixed him in place.  He looked up at the imposing building and Akkad had it.  Maybe he felt more strongly about the Imperial Cult than Daon himself.  The Techmarine sent his request over the vox network.  It was an ideal opportunity to ask Tyber about his deed against the hulking xenoform.

 

He strode over and clapped him on the shoulder.

+Come Ahu, let us go and dig some more.+

 

The big Marine turned on his heel and followed close behind, his unease trailing him in the rain like a cloak of suspicion.

+Aye.+ He said simply as they walked into the darkness towards the shuttle.

 

MR.

 

Edited with Tyber's interaction.

Edited September 14, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Steel Company]

As the pair slogged through the mud, Tyber both was and was not focused on where they were going, he hadn’t noticed them walk past the barricade, past the ditch that was still being dug and filled with a mixture of fuel and corpses. It was Akkad that broke the silence between them over a privet vox link, +Ahu, we have time now, perhaps you care to share the details of your feat against the abomination?+

 

His voice snapped Tyber out of his melancholy thoughts in regards to the servants of the Imperial Creed, He hadn’t really thought about how to put it into words till now, taking his time to put the thoughts together, he liked that about Akkad, like Adavan had, Akkad gives him focus when he needs it, +It is hard to explain… I had a moment of… perfect clarity. Everything was slow; I could read what it was going to do, before it actually acted. It charged at myself and Vaidan, a powerful charge, but sloppy… like a large wild Carnisour. It had a scythe with a blade nearly the size of myself,  as it attacked us, I could see the instant it would swing, the tension in it’s muscles releasing, it’s eyes telegraphing where the swings were going to go.+ He pauses, trying to think of a way to explain the phantom blade technique Adavan had taught him, +It’s first series of swings caused it to over commit against us, leaving it open for counter attack, both of my blades were out of position for a good counter assault… I tried a technique that my senior brother had tried teaching me, before he passed. Under controlled conditions in a duel it is hard enough to pull off, in the field it is something much harder.+

 

Tyber looked skyward, thinking back to the fight, he continued, +I made the blade of my arming sword vanish against the mud and sky. Even I lost sight of it, it wasn’t until after it had connected and taken one of the eyes out of the beast that I found it again, thanks to the trail of blood that was mixing with the rain. It was in that moment, that I figured out my place in the universe. I am not meant to be chasing someone I thought my rival through the ranks of my chapter. I finally understood what Adavan and Voltarn both saw in me, someone that has the ability to carry the mantle of Paladin, a champion of the chapter. The irony being, that if I had taken the path of the champion when it had been offered to me, I would likely not understand my path and place within it, I think I would have been miserable. Only by  undertaken this vigil to chase a Crux to gain entry to the command track, was I able to see, what they see in me.+ He found himself almost smiling under his helm, his voice took on a note of being at piece.

 

They had halted just outside the shuttle, Akkad leaning against a gaping hole in the twisted metal wreak, tilting his helm to one side, intent on wanting to hear the rest of it , Tyber again paused to put the events into order in his mind, +Vaidan put two bolt pistol rounds into it’s chest, that combined with the very grievous wound I had inflicted only served to make it angry, but being angry made it even more sloppy.+ again Tyber paused, taking a resting position against the hull of the transport beside Akkad, +The swings it made were wilde, almost uncontrolled, easy to predtic and position myself to avoid them with minimal energy expended, I found myself on the beasts blind side, I unleashed a series of precise devastating blows against the left leg, left arm and finaly I buried my arming sword deep in it’s chest.+ he made a fist with his right hand, and mimicked a kick with his right foot as he continued +In the instant that my blade was buried in it’s chest, it knew what had happened, it had lost, with the life fading from those eyes, I used my boot to pull my blade free, pulling away viscera as I did… As the beast fell to the mud, the cultist’s moral in that section broke and they scattered.+

 

Taking a moment to pound on Akkad’s shoulder guard before heading into the craft Tyber added +Come Ahu, let us find this item for Sabaan… I have irritated him enough for today I think.+

[Mazer Rackham]

Daon Akkad, a fool in metal:

 

+Come Ahu, let us find this item for Sabaan… I have irritated him enough for today I think.+

 

Akkad laid a gently restraining arm on the big Marine, so gentle in fact that Tyber could have completely ignored it and breezed past, but that was not his intention.  The helm, so similar to his own in onyx and emerald turned at the contact as Akkad had known it would.  Rain sluiced off the comms antenna crest at the top.  For a wild moment Akkad felt he was looking at a battlement, the Mk VIII gorget tall and protecting the neck seal.  A Tower of an Astartes.

 

He listened carefully to the bladework, grasping the concept of "vanishing" - a manoeuvre so precise, to make the blade twist at an oblique angle, the mirror sheen or sable shade taking advantage of the way a human eye processes shape, depth, colour.  Wielded by a Space Marine, such a technique would indeed provide the desired disappearing act.

 

His voice when it came was rich in sincerity and ripe with admiration.

+My Kin, such moments of clarity are rare.  Treasure it.  Today you have proven true the faith of both friends and rivals - a good and capable warrior.  Tomorrow, you will be mighty.+ 

 

Tyber stood a moment in silence and Akkad took advantage, slipping past him.  He strode inside, pushing lumps of Rockrete and tangled struts and cables of his way.  Tyber forced his way in behind him and for a moment they stood together, listening to the rain hammering down on the hull like the patter of small arms fire.

 

Each began searching, Akkad preferring his helmet lamp to his night sight, just to provide some depth to the tangled metal, so he could spot the case of the device more easily.  It flickered in orange on his retinal display, a polyhedral, near spherical dome, with four sturdy columns, feeding into a cogitator box.  All told, the device was 12 standard inches tall.  Hard to miss in all the detritus if dislodged.  His lips tightened into a wry smile and he looked around.  Everything was dislodged.

 

The smile faded as he found Faith again.  She was half-buried in debris, but the lamp picked her out, pale skin, blue lips, sunken eyes.  The terrible bruising of a broken neck.  He ignored Tyber pulling things apart behind him and moved toward the small body.  A full-grown woman and still tiny against a Space Marine.  How frail they were.  He leaned over her, looking at her, seeking something, but finding nothing, he could not even name the truth he wanted.  He knelt beside her a moment.  Remembering.  The words came from him wistfully, from far away in a voice he never knew he had.

 

+My Kin, do you remember beyond your villages and skies?  Do you remember before your ascension, when mortals were just people?  Did you ever feel the same as them?  Did they ever love you?+ No disrespect on the inflection, no accusation.  Badabians were careful, always to convey what they meant, when they said it.  It was a holdover from their  written language.  Precision was all - so that nothing as serious as this could ever be taken out of context.  For an inhabitant of Badab, the phrase I mean what I say was an absolute truth.

 

Silence for a moment.  Tyber was not easily lost for words, he was after all a confident warrior, even though he continually strove to prove himself.  The silence drew out until it was awkward.  The rain had increased again.  It always rains at times like these, he thought idly, a part of him fracturing, to notice all the odd and many details of the environmnet - a smear of blood caked with dust, a chip in Tyber's armour.  Now the sound drummed like a marching band all around them.  Akkad had spoken softly, but now had to raise his voice and, in that raising, there was sadness he recognised, but normally refused to heed.

 

+ I remember them.  Or at least one of them.  My Angel. For a second, I thought this one was marked for greatness.  For a second greatness stood with me.+

 

His helm turned, the lamp swivelling in the darkness, like a searchlight, playing across shattered steel, stone and flesh until it found Tyber, lighting him up, a massive shadow of killing power thrown violently behind him onto the hull of the destroyed shuttle - and for the millisecond it took for his superior genehanced eyes to compensate, it seemed as if Akkad had vanished, a voice and a voice only, coming out of the darkness.

 

+Why did you kill her?+

 

The voice was factual, no sadness there any more, but it was not demanding.  It simply was.

 

They waited in the darkness for a reply.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

+My Kin, do you remember beyond your villages and skies?  Do you remember before your ascension, when mortals were just people?  Did you ever feel the same as them?  Did they ever love you?+ came the voice of Akkad, as he was standing over something, Tyber followed the beam of light to see the remains of Faith, she looked at peace to a casual glance, but looking at her blue lips, the marks on her neck, it was like a knife being twisted into one of his hearts, his line of questions continued with,  + I remember them.  Or at least one of them.  My Angel. For a second, I thought this one was marked for greatness.  For a second greatness stood with me.+

+Why did you kill her?+

 

Tyber fell to his knees beside her body, taking his helm off and placing it on the deck he leaned forward to place his forehead against hers and spoke softly in words he had not spoken in what felt like a life time ago, the words of his people, before the coming of the Dragons, the words were still kept alive in the Glass Bay, though never spoken in the presence of an Astartes; “Tena ra, murua ahau, iti. E pouri ana ahau kia meatia tenei ki a koe. Me i pai ahau ki te whakaaro me pehea te kawe mai ia koe me to maatau. Tena koa i runga i te moana nui, kia mau tonu to kupenga me te moana ano he karaihe.”

 

OOC:

It’s Maori, I felt it was a fitting language for a village and people that makes their trade by fishing on clam clean waters:

 

“Please forgive me, small one. I am sorry to have done this to you. I wish I had been smart enough to figure out how to bring you with us safely. Please be at peace on the great sea, may your net be ever full and the sea like glass.”

 

Pulling his head up, he looked at Akkad, and then away, as he whispered out, “I did this. If I were smaller or better trained with a jump pack, I could’ve taken the extra weight during the drop. I asked her to close her eyes and think of happier times, before I did this. I tried to make it quick, for her to not feel any pain.”

 

Bringing himself to his feet again, with helm in hand, he took a deep breath, still not meeting Akkad’s eyes, “ I remember one, her name was Keeva, she was a chapter serf that worked in the kitchens, she was a year or two older than I was when we meet.” He looked off to the side, “She was always nice to me, helped me with Adavan’s meals and she always snuck me an extra ration when she could. As I became a squire we grew close, very close…” he trailed off as his cheeks involuntarily heated a little, “then one day, she was just gone. I had wondered what had happened to her, but I began to keep an Astartes’ schedule and I never had the spare time to look into it.” He finished locking his helm into place while speaking  +I hope you can forgive me Ahu, for what I had done to Faith… it was made worse by Solastion telling me that I had done ‘the right thing’…+

 

He knelt down; pulling her body from the debris, looking back at Akkad, as he added, +I will see if they will honor her at the temple. It is the least I can do for her now.+ a note of sadness in his voice was clear.

Edited September 15, 2018 by Steel Company

[Mazer Rackham]

Daon Akkad, professional loiterer:

 

+I will see if they will honor her at the temple. It is the least I can do for her now.+

 

It was the closest Akkad had seen the younger warrior to vulnerable.  Astartes in his experience were not, as a rule equipped to deal with such matters.  Hypnogogic training, intense combat initiation, battle fatigue, pain, emotional indoctrination.  All should have been purged from them.  In some instances it took root swiftly, cleanly.  They took children, who thought themselves invincible at 12 summers and then, locked them into those thoughts for centuries, wrapped them in plate mail and armed them with the mightiest guns.

 

But one heart was still human.  Even the blackest heart still beat.  Even Huron's.  It was when they were vulnerable that they turned to their brethren, like a wall of shields they closed about one another - but here was a lesson for them both too.  For him, it was a teaching that the old ways, the old things were gone, that he should not expect them to return.  No going back.  He had tried to deal with that premise, but it was hard.  An old soldier set in his ways.  Better men than he would have said that "truths don't change" but they did.  The Inquisition - the Deathwatch - made it so.  Faith had not been mission critical and it was his sentimentality that had saved her so many times.

 

Angel.  So spirited it was burned into his soul.  She had been gone over 100 summers ago, when the bitterness had claimed him and he had volunteered for the Chapter.  Then he had been forced to leave them.  Losing men to battle was one thing - acceptable, but other losses, not so much.  He had been forced to ask Tyber those questions, force them both to look at what they did and why.  The big Marine had not merely killed Faith because she was inconvenient, but because it was necessary.  Solastion had spoken true.  He stepped over to the huge Marine, who seemed still powerful, yet somehow smaller, as if the burden forced down his shoulders.  He doffed his helm, so he could meet Tyber face-to-face, make eye contact.

 

"That is a good gesture, My Kin." His voice was gentle.  He did not accuse - Tyber had not acted in bad faith.  He had just done as he was told with as good intentions as he could have had at the time.

 

How much they were alike.  How strange that he would find one so worthy of being his Brother in All But Blood so far from the soil of home.  He laid a hand, brotherly, comradely upon the mighty pauldron facing him, the fierce Dragon of Caliban defiant against the darkness.

 

"Remember what I said before, Ahu.  Always be aware of the Correct choice and the Right choice and be aware that either will cost you.  Know the difference between following orders and the spirit of the order - between spending lives....and wasting them." He sighed, but it was not at the larger Marine, it was an accusation blown out of superhuman lungs at the universe.

 

"I admit that when we fought at the Dorsal Spine, I counselled Vaidan to cut down the Armsmen with the Tyranids, because for Humanity to be saved, humans must die.  I have under the command given me, rammed humans into minefields, into breaches where I knew they would die so when we made entry, we would not and victory would be ours." His words just kept coming, tumbling out of him.  He wanted to say that one mortal should not not matter.  But sometimes - they did.  Instead he chose something more useful.

 

"We have both learned valuable lessons here My Kin.  I ask for your forgiveness - I should not have put you in that position, that was my error and, that I put your life at risk to honour my sin was wrong. "

He paused a few moments, letting the words pass between them, then continued steadily, his voice had wavered at no point, but it did contain a slight inflection of sadness.  "For what it is worth, I did so because I have great confidence in you. You did the right thing in your heart, as best you could.  That is all that matters."  He gestured to the still, limp, tiny form in Tyber's massive arms.

 

"She fought with courage and died with courage, she will be our example, when the time comes.  Go and see she is shriven properly."  Tyber nodded and strode out of the shuttle, turning his head back over his shoulder.

"What of the device Sabaan wanted?" The huge warrior inquired.

"Oh that?" An impish grin burned into Daon's face, he couldn't help it.  He reached behind him, pulling something free, tossed it into the air, caught it again easily. "I found that five minutes ago."  Suddenly he was serious again. "By my estimate, we have ten minutes before My Savant finishes putting that tracked death-trap back together.  Please impress upon our Watch Sergeant that I need his assistance?"

 

"And Tyber..." The warmth returned to his voice, along with a twinkle around the eyes. "I'm proud of you."

 

He left the Marine to go forth to the Templum.  Then his face hardened into stone and he sat, watching the entrance to the shuttle.  Hopefully he had lanced the poison that had lingered on account of Faith's death.  Now he wished to do the same with Vaidan - he wanted no lingering animosity there and he hoped to counsel the Sergeant as he himself had been, when he was first in command.

 

The silence, but for the rain, returned - and the darkness - waited again.

 

MR.

[A.T.]

Alone. Quiet. Looking out across the city the Raptor did not mourn the dead, it was not the way of his kind. So long as something of this world survived it could be rebuilt to serve the Imperium and so his task was set.

 

Looking skywards he wondered what held the hand of the xenos forces above, more than enough to turn the tide here. Perhaps unable to rise from the surface once committed and even now the one lone ship a tenuous grip on this system.

 

Turning back to the city the streets were quiet with what forces of both sides remained skulking in the ruins. No tanks or artillery but doubtless waiting for opportunity to strike at any stray group that might be encircled or outnumbered. The guardsmen could perhaps provide such a distraction at a critical moment.

 

Hearing the transport stutter into life, "Atratus reporting, the streets are clear for now but blocked in part to the south and east by bridges and barricades. The rooftops are unprotected."

Not lowering his rifle as he spoke the Raptor continued to search each window, crack, and crevice for prying eyes. It would take time for the xenos to redeploy their forces, best to ensure they did not have sufficient information to do so effectively.

[Steel Company]

Tyber raised an eyebrow under his helm at Akkad, a light tone of amusement in his voice that was picked up by the vox unit, +Five minutes ago?!+

His pauldrons betraying his amusement, shuttered a little as he started to laugh, placing one hand on Akkad’s right pauldron he spoke much more evenly and sincerely +You reminded me much of Adavan, he was both my brother by choice and mentor, I am glad to have found another like him, to call brother by choice.+ Giving it a couple of pats, he turned to start the march back to the temple, carrying Faith across his chest out into the rain.

 

It hadn’t take Tyber long to reach the temple doors on the east side, standing just outside the threshold of the temple, he used one of his sabatons to give the door a push, wide open with a thunderous crack. Drawing the attention of all whom were inside, Tyber shifted Faith’s body in his arms to hold her with one hand, as he used the other to point at one of the Sisters tending to those that were beyond saving, the external vox unit passing along his tone of brokering no loitering on his words, +You, take this one and see to it that she is given an honorable place in your cemetery, she stood with us against the forces that would take your world, honor her and you would one of your own.+

 

As the the woman took the body from him, Tyber could see the annoyance on her face, all it seemed to do, was frustrate him, another fine example of the Daughters of the Emperor and their duplicity, feining to love the Emperor and worship all of his creations, as an Astartest he was the embodiment of that work. Letting his disgust at her pass, he activated the link to Vaidan, passing along Akkad’s request before turning from the temple to inspect the progress on the defenses while he waited Sabaan’s work to be completed.

[Reyner]

Brother Sabaan was almost finished with the Chimera when Vaidan heard his vox activate - Tyber informed him that Akkad needed his assistance with something. The rain had started again and Vaidan removed his helmet to let it rinse his face, it was refreshing but part of him still preferred the recycled air of a starship and the rumble of engines beneath him rather than sucking mud and the smell of wet earth. He made his way over to the crashed shuttle half buried in the side of a building and burning, it was a miracle any of them had made it out after the shuttle was torn apart by anti aircraft fire and the stress of atmospherics. He felt the rage and sorrow that not all had made it and Thorvald falling through the disintegrating hull - he had saved the Interrogator though but he should have been here now laying waste to the enemies of the Emperor. Shaking his head his eyes found Akkad waiting watching the entrance to the shuttle who had a device in his hand possibly what Sabaan could had asked for. Vaidan approached him. Edited September 17, 2018 by Reyner

[Mazer Rackham]

Daon Akkad:

 

The Novamarine approached and as much humidity in the air, Akkad's throat was dry.  He licked his lips and surveyed the darkened rooftops, noting Atratus keeping watch.  The keen-eyed Raptor made him feel more secure.  No-one would sneak up on them with such a predator watching.  The Sergeant finally came in under the scant shelter afforded by the hull of the shuttle.  Akkad presented him with the recovered device, deferentially, but wordlessly.  The small space was overwhelmed by the size and sheer presence of the two warriors, although not as much as when Tyber had dwelled there.

 

He had read Vaidan's face as he approached, although he was unsure what the dismissive shaking of the head was for.  Maybe he thought Akkad was wasting time?  It was this eventually, that spurred him to speak.  He moistened his lips and began - just a bolt of lightning creased across the sky.  A moment later, thunder cracked hollow and drowned the sound of even the relentless torrent of the rain.

 

"Forgive me Sergeant, but I did not want to discuss anything in front of the squad and vox will not do." A level tone, nothing ceding control, nothing asserting it, but nothing warm either.  The earlier easy way in which the two Starfarers had discourse did not seem appropriate now they were about to cross verbal swords.  "Tyber has told me something of what passed between you regarding the Armsmen.  Your displeasure is known.  I do not want this hanging over us. Perhaps you should speak of your concerns and expectations of me."

 

MR.