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Kill-Team Blackthorn: A City Aflame

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

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#701
Steel Company

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Tyber found a spot in the courtyard of the temple, under a makeshift tin awning; he pulled off his helm, placing it beside him as he closed his blue-grey eyes to listen to the rain against the tin. He’d never admit it under most circumstances, but he loved the sound of the rain, yet that sound was quickly becoming bitter-sweet, due in large part to both some of the best and worst things to happen to him had occurred during rain.

 

As a child, before induction, he knew that rain meant he would be able to spend time with his father during the day, playing a local version of regicide on the porch of their home. Even after being gone so long, Tyber could still remember the tattoos on his father’s face and body, the intricate work of the ink and tanned skin from a lifetime working in the sun.

 

It had been in the rain, that saw him inducted into the Dragons, when he chose to invoke a rule from ovum furem, that sated that even spectators to the game must be willing to join a team if they if they caught the ball that was tossed to them. That was how he first met Adavan, he had thrown the ball at him and being an Astartes he had caught it easily. Tyber could almost hear Arteims laughing and see the confusion in Adavan’s body language at being told he had to join Tyber’s team, that act had turned the game around and it wasn’t long before the boys of the Glass Bay were playing that game with three Astartes.

 

At the same time, it had been raining when he and Keeva had progressed from friendship to something more, it had also been raining the day he found that she had vanished from Acre Bellator, it had been raining on HSC-296 when that had cost him and the second company so much. He was so lost in his thoughts that again he had failed to notice someone join him under the awning, the voice was soft and youthful, “M’Lord?”

 

Opening his right eye, he looked off to the side to see a young woman, she couldn’t have been more than sixteen, in a muddy uniform, her dirty red hair tied loosely back under her helmet, her rifle on her shoulder, in each hand she had a mug of something, Tyber had to admit whatever it was did smell good. She seemed to take on a look of a herd animal caught in the lights of a ground vehicle once Tyber’s eye fell on her without him even asking she repeated herself, “M’Lord, I brought you some soup… that is if you even eat and are hungry.”

 

Tyber smiled at the girl, while he moved his helm to his left side, an unsaid offer for her to sit, as he accepted the soup, taking a sip, it reminded him of something his mother would make on rainy days in the Glass Bay, again he smiled, before he spoke, “You are most kind, I am happy to accept this gift.”

As she sat beside him, she blew on her cup, looking over the courtyard, she whispered out, “Thank you M’Lord, for your arrival, and everything you’ve done to help us… You’ve given us a real chance to make it through the night.”

 

Again looking at the girl, she reminded him a little of Keeva, pretty, but not too pretty, he reached into a magazine pouch for his bolt pistol and removed one round, it looked small in his hand, he rolled it over, passing it to her as he spoke, “Keep this, as proof to those you hold dear in the future, that you have met an Astartes and they he thanked you for your soup.” He gave her a soft smile, before looking back out over the field to where the transport had gone down, while he awaited Vaidan and Akkad to return.


Edited by Steel Company, 19 September 2018 - 06:25 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

#702
Commissar Molotov

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The rain spatters on the pock-marked hull of Chimera 2-12. Its hull is a dark grey, though the paint is peeling and chipped. 

 

The Kill-Team begins to gather around the armoured carrier, rain running in rivulets down dark armour and washing some of the gore from the warriors. 

 

It has been perhaps an hour since the shuttle crashed into the earth of Syndalla. Already, under the ministrations of Sabaan and Tyber the makeshift defenses around the Templum have been shored up and reinforced. The wreckage of the harvester-machines has been dragged into place, armour-plating repurposed and weapons-platforms erected with the captured heavy stubbers. Should the cult attack again, they will find the PDF a far tougher opponent than before. 

 

Vârvost leans against the hull of the vehicle, seemingly oblivious to the Techmarine's gaze of disapproval. In turn, Tyber, Solastion and Greysight arrive. The Raptor, for his part, remains overhead. 

 

++The streets are clear for now, but blocked in part to the south and east by bridges and barricades,++ Atratus's voice crackles over the vox-net. ++The rooftops are unprotected.++

 

 

 

Vaidan and Akkad, for their part, are yet to arrive. 


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

#703
Reyner

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"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."

 

 

---

Taking the device from Akkad Vaidan hoped Sabaan would be able to recover something from it, finding Thorvalds remains was not their primary concern but it was the honourable thing to do - his geneseed should return to his Chapter

 

"My concerns were purely for the mission Akkad, this world is in the midst of rebellion and our mission is to find and extract the Inquisitor. But now I feel that has changed it is clear there is a Tyranid splinter fleet nearby probably on its way here drawn in by these damned Genestealers. I expect you to back me up when I make my orders. I have a lot of respect for you and welcome any insights you have. As far as I am concerned we can move past this but speak your mind."

 

Relaxing a little Vaidan waits for what Akkad has to say.


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"I don't need my left arm to run." - Sergeant Arkad VII Legion bad-ass.


#704
Mazer Rackham

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Nycax Sabaan:

 

Accessing Squad Vox, the Iron Hand engraves a hololithic representation of the Chimera designated 2-12 upon each retina.

+I have restored 93.71 percent of motive integrity.  Brother Tyber is to be complimented on his work.+ There was an unspoken huff of air that only served to make any compliments both mere formalities and utterly grudging.  Once the hololithic model had rotated, points of access were overlaid.

 

+I have monitored Brother Greysight.  His observances and reactions...+ and the fact he is quiet and shows proper Machine Spirit obeisance, he intoned silently, sharply whilst flexing a steel shod finger in irritation at those who did not, the Servo Arm looming over Varvost momentarily, +...shall provide a 36.01 percent increase in vehicle survival.+

 

He turned to the turret and mounted weapons and augurs.  His voice rattled off the details like a cogitator chopping out punch-cards and his tone was final in each word, a stamp of a press forming each syllable as if from the Iron which made the man himself.

 

+This machine may fight, but be warned, the capacitors are only viable for 3 deployments of full power.+ He continued as the doors of the laser-formed model opened. +This machine can carry the whole squad.  I would caution you - the harnesses will not affix our wargear to arrest us in the event of a terminal deceleration.  You will have to use magnetic restraints.  There is a hand rail along the roof which you find useful.  The brethren with lift-assistance devices shall seat at the rear of the vehicle, where they may move without collision.+

 

+I shall take the Enginseer's position.+ He spoke as if it was his right, which of course, it was.  +Brother Greysight - take your position, I must instruct you in the correct Rites of Activation and Runes of Direction.  Heed me well all of you.  Do not allow any of your....fleshy....extremities to pass beyond any of the blessed Lozenges of Warning.+  He looked directly at Solastion for emphasis.  Then he voxed to Vaidan.

 

+Watch Sergeant, we will be Transport effective in 4 minutes.+  The hololith dissolved and the Iron Hand led Greysight to the driver console.

 

MR.


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"How far are we going?" One of the the human Legionaries peered up at him in the darkness.  They were all wounded, sore and tired from hours, turned to days, to weeks of heavy battle.  Silver armour flashed emerald in the light from a Viridian flare.  3rd Company had begun their attack at last.  The only full Battle-brother left in the unit looked down and hefted a salvaged heavy bolter.  He racked the bolt and the first round slid home true.  In the silence before the wall of noise hit them, the black-and-gold Lion on azure on his pauldron witness to their courage, the Marine spoke gently, almost wistfully.

"All the way.  To the bitter end."

 

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#705
Steel Company

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Tyber entered the Chimera from the rear hatch, catching the top of his helm and jump pack on the upper edge of the frame. Once inside he inspected the rear hatch on the top, not too unlike that of the Rhino class chassis, giving it a bit of a frown, due to his height and Chimera being designed for house hunched mortals at best, he found himself kneeling and hunched over, taking up more space that was ideal.

 

+Brother Sabaan, would the operation of this Chimera be too impeded if we were to open the dorsal hatch? I ask as it would see to provide those of us with Jump Packs a quick exit point to accomplish our sub-task without stopping this machine.+ Tyber suggested over the vox, trying logic with Sabaan, rather than seeking personal comfort during the drive. At least while standing, even with the hatch open, Tyber could relax and not take up so much of the limited space in the unit.


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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

#706
Mazer Rackham

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Daon Akkad, seeker of Truth:

 

"...As far as I am concerned we can move past this, but speak your mind."

 

A generous attitude, considering they only had four minutes.  A smile deep inside him.  As the Sergeant relaxed a little, Akkad let out a breath.  It was a gentle thing, close to a sigh but not quite.  He came to stand level with the Kill Team Leader.

 

"The first time we met, you suggested a bout of combat.  I knew then you could take command of the group, but when you demonstrated your displeasure I was wrong-footed, Khyber."  Akkad held the gaze of the younger man - although slyly noting that Voidfarers could be any age - time and distance meant nothing in the warp after all.  He had used Vaidan's first name to engender confidence, to let him know they were talking as men, not the ranks they had earned.

 

"I did not expect gratitude," that level voice, not as harsh now, but still cool continued, "but I thought taking a wound for you and our earlier camaraderie would allow room." He didn't need to explain that, Vaidan would know that what he was really speaking of was leeway, what other, better men would call liberties. "I know the mission comes first and I hope you knew," Badabian inflection would have told Vaidan, if he had realised, that Akkad had used the past tense quite on purpose, "from when I backed you the first time, I would back you every time.  I think perhaps you were a different man then."  He smiled, knowingly, covering the implied hurt, for he would never tell a soul, maybe not even admit to himself, that he needed the company and acclaim of warriors like he.  A Relic of the old days, he mused, bitterly.  The words were not his, but belonged to Centurion Commodus.

 

A man he hated.  He focused, got back on track.

 

"Which leads me to the Tyranids.  You are right of course - they are out there, waiting, hungering.  I have seen them."  He stared a moment into some strange middle distance that could not be measured, remembering - and not fondly - the birthing pools, the dead, black eyes, the hissing, wailing and thrashing and the hunger...the dreadful, paralysing, terrible hunger...

 

"And I worry Khyber, that your change in mood towards us hints that you harbour a secret doubt."

 

Akkad merely looked at him, meeting his eyes.  Piercing.

 

MR.


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"How far are we going?" One of the the human Legionaries peered up at him in the darkness.  They were all wounded, sore and tired from hours, turned to days, to weeks of heavy battle.  Silver armour flashed emerald in the light from a Viridian flare.  3rd Company had begun their attack at last.  The only full Battle-brother left in the unit looked down and hefted a salvaged heavy bolter.  He racked the bolt and the first round slid home true.  In the silence before the wall of noise hit them, the black-and-gold Lion on azure on his pauldron witness to their courage, the Marine spoke gently, almost wistfully.

"All the way.  To the bitter end."

 

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#707
Reyner

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"And I worry Khyber, that your change in mood towards us hints that you harbour a secret doubt."

Akkad had cut right to the heart of it. He was right, there had been a change in him. Right from the start this mission hadn't gone to plan but they had to make the best of what they had.

"Daon are you sure that you shouldn't be wearing a psychic hood? You read me like a book and I am not going to lie to you. I do harbour doubt, I doubt our mission here - what does an Inquisitor know or carry that makes them more important than striking a direct blow against the Tyranids? Once we reach the palace we are going after the Broodlord. We killed hundreds of xenos on the Voice of Thunder and we killed even more twisted abominations at the Templum but those deaths mean nothing. We need to make a kill that counts for something! Then once support arrives I'm confident we could take on a Hive Tyrant or two maybe even a Norn Queen. I am sorry my friend I will not let you down again."

Smiling Khyber holds out his hand.
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"I don't need my left arm to run." - Sergeant Arkad VII Legion bad-ass.


#708
Mazer Rackham

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"I am sorry my friend, I will not let you down again."

 

Akkad looked at the proffered hand, a glance only.  He had further questions, to test the resolve of the Sergeant, to try and prise up that armour and get towards what Akkad suspected was the real issue.  He felt Vaidan felt a little out of his depth, he had a Demi-Squad before, now he had 8 Astartes of completely different Chapters and humours and a Mission of Galactic Importance.  The confidence could have been a mask - that slipped when he felt things were unravelling.  A good mask, one he had worn often enough.

 

Mistakes, even silly, meaningless ones, must be made to look like part of a grand plan when a man was in command.  Vaidan needed to feel the support he led, the support they had all promised him.  With a sleight of hand in the shadow, he reached for something, turning back, Khyber's hand was still there, but a gentle look of confusion crossed the features of the Novamarine as it hovered emptily for a long moment. Then, Akkad's own hand slipped out, clasped something into the Sergeant's palm, closed his hand over it.  He laid a hand gently on the taller Marine's shoulder, firmly placed on the Starburst and Halo that blazed so fiercely in the lightning.

 

"You did not let me down.  I was merely concerned."  Sincerity and severity in equal measure played on the Astral Claw's face.  "The woman, the Armsmen, they were all happenstance, but had to be sacrificed.  Humans must die so that Humanity may be saved.  You did the right thing - but be careful in your judgement.  You threw yourself into that brawl and took serious wounds, leading us by your example, then challenging us where we followed."

 

Time was nearly up.  He sighed again.

 

"Trust us, trust me.  As we trust you, My Sergeant."  He left Vaidan alone for a moment, striding out into the rain and thunder.  He donned his helm, marching over rubble and corpses, burned, chopped, bayoneted and blown into bloody bricks of what Enlil-Su called Kibble.  He did not look back, but brandished the tracking device.  Vaidan hadn't even noticed him take it and vowed to be more vigilant with a rueful smile.

 

As he opened his fist, the object in it rolled over and gleamed in the light.  It was a Heavy Bolter shell.  Squinting, his Occulobe tensed and flexed in the poor and random light.  Two words, in fine copperplate.

 

+] DAON AKKAD [+

 

MR.

 

EDIT: 1,000th Post! 


Edited by Mazer Rackham, 20 September 2018 - 09:10 PM.

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"How far are we going?" One of the the human Legionaries peered up at him in the darkness.  They were all wounded, sore and tired from hours, turned to days, to weeks of heavy battle.  Silver armour flashed emerald in the light from a Viridian flare.  3rd Company had begun their attack at last.  The only full Battle-brother left in the unit looked down and hefted a salvaged heavy bolter.  He racked the bolt and the first round slid home true.  In the silence before the wall of noise hit them, the black-and-gold Lion on azure on his pauldron witness to their courage, the Marine spoke gently, almost wistfully.

"All the way.  To the bitter end."

 

http://www.bolterand...a-world-aflame/

http://www.bolterand...ons-of-gehenna/

http://www.bolterand...white-paladins/


#709
Slips

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++Brother Vaidan, Brother Akkad, we are ready to depart whenever you decide to join us.++ is all the Apothecary says over the squads vox before he ducks into the Guardsman transport. It could carry Ogryns, true, but their bulk was a fleshy kind; relatively malleable and flexible. Astartes bulk came through their Power Armour which was neither. As such, he decided to remain standing, if barely, in the rear, his magboots disengaged since they had not started moving yet.

 

He took the time to mentally review the state of the troopers. The Sororitas had done what they could, as did their Medicae. He was relieved to have seen no signs of wounds caused by Tyranid Bio-Weapons beyond the obvious claw cuts. He would have liked to have had the time to dissect and inspect the Aberration Tyber slew but time was of the essence and properly applying his skills was more pressing than cutting into the corpse of a slain foe; besides, he was not specialized in the brewing and distillation of toxins from the essence of fallen enemies like some of his peers were. No, his focus primarily lay in healing the wounded.

 

Solastion was not able to save or help all of them; he knew that going in. With grim determination, he administered the Emperor's Peace to those too injured to save but, with some relief, those souls were few and far between. That said, the power behind his Reductors strike, primarily used for Astartes, meant that Solastion had to take great care to not pulp the skulls of the patients he was euthanizing.

 

Beyond that, general injuries were as to be expected; cuts, blunt force trauma, gunshot wounds, burns, etc. And, in the little time he could spare with the aid of the Sororitas Hospitalliers, did what he could. Soon, his primary duty called to him and he rejoined his Squadmates at the...functional...Chimera. 

 

The Sanguinary Priests thoughts were brought back to the present once more. 


Edited by Slips, Today, 01:34 AM.
Typos, syntax, WORDS!

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