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

[Slips]

 

“Brother, before we destroy the carcasses, is there anything that can be learned from them? Ways to fight them better or perhaps track them easier?”

 

 

 

"That, Brother Tyber, would moreso be the purview of Brother Sabaan and his auspex systems. But, know that, for the most part, Tyranid Organisms communicate through a form of gestalt psychic hive mind; the presence of pheromones and spoors amongst tyranid hives is known but I haven't had the opportunity to study them in any great detail due to the methods we employ when attempting to eradicate them."

 

"Regardless of all that, however, my specialties lay in tending to the wounded. Another of my calling might have been able to concoct a very specialized and potent neurotoxin using a sample of flesh as the- Ah! It seems like Brother Greysight returns to us at last."

 

 

 

'We have to find it,' stated Greysight, flatly. 'Find it and end it. It has taken something from me, and I want it back.'

 

 

 

"That is all well and good, Brother Greysight but, tell me, how do you feel? Have you suffered any harm with your short interaction withe the Patriarch? My instruments come up negative but I want to be certain." He said.

[Commissar Molotov]

Vaidan: 

 

There is a moment of silence over the vox-link as Ryken absorbs the report you have just given him. 

 

++Mobilising any remaining loyal PDF forces will be harder without the Planetary Governor's assistance. I have managed to enlist Captain Haltreme and the defenders of the Templum into contacting any nearby units and we have had some success. Make your way to the Astropath's tower and use any means necessary to get inside. We must warn the Imperium of what is happening here.++

[Mazer Rackham]

'We have to find it,' stated Greysight, flatly. 'Find it and end it. It has taken something from me, and I want it back.'

 

"That is all well and good, Brother Greysight but, tell me, how do you feel? Have you suffered any harm with your short interaction withe the Patriarch? My instruments come up negative but I want to be certain." Replied the Crimson Knight.

 

Akkad stood at the entrance to the private rooms after having heaved filthy corpse after filthy corpse upon a pile.  He was going to ask Khyber to do the honour and burn the stinking pile as it seemed fitting as he was commander of the team after all.  He watched the exchange and his mind cast back a few moments.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The room still burned and rang with shots, shouts, screams.  He drove up into the corridor, barging past wounded servants and half-gutted nobles that had tried to flee.  He did not see what he stepped on, but he knew it was flesh.  Bones snapped under his weight.  No screams came.  The doors were there to his right, he turned, the corridor too tight to hold both weapons - he stowed the pistol and barreled onward, Cadence a battering ram that met the twisted, mangled remains of the doors barring his way.  Old wood and metal flanges exploded into splinters as the hulking soldier crashed into the room.

 

Dismay met his eyes.  Greysight, not just incapacitated but subdued, pinned, at the mercy of...a...Broodlord....Throne!

 

++CONTACT!++ He roared, the word burning into the room, elongated, each vowel and syllable a scream of anger and defiance, a call to arms.  His fingers gripping, knuckles white under his harness, the heavy bolter bucked and trembled as she loosed a burst, high, too high, Greysight was in mortal danger of deflection and Akkad possessed enough sense to recognise that even in his rage.  The massive creature turned immediately, with grace and deft completely at odds with its size, leaping over fallen furniture, tossing more into its wake as the shells angrily fought to embed in the hideous carapace.

 

He might have been throwing pebbles at a boulder - the rounds sheared off, flattened, bounced as the brute pummeled through a wall out of sight.  Akkad traced it, still firing, the weapon cycling dangerously fast, dangerously hot, his hands gripped it as if the weapon forbade him to relent.  Fist sized holes punched into and through plaster and brickwork, sawing walls in half in exploding brick dust and cement.  The room reverberated, such a small enclosed space caused the sound of the shots to pound like a giant drum.  Greysight was down and out, there was no time for reticence.  He must drive it off or kill it.  He kept going.

 

The former was what it chose.  It tore a hole in a ceiling and leaped up, out of sight.  Finally, the heavy bolter stopped and he moved forward in the deafening silence, following, searching.  It was a terrible anti-climax.  He hadn't scored a single telling hit.

 

He had hit nothing.  No blood, no body.  Not even a chunk of chitin.  He locked Cadence to his back and waited for the others to arrive.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

His eyes searched the Storm Son, he was right of course, his Sulde had gone.  It was a bad omen.  He knew the Storm Sons well, had conversed at distance with them, read of their exploits (Akkad recognised Greysight with several DoS at the first meeting) as far as he could tell, the equivalent violation perpetrated by the Broodlord would have been someone cutting the Geneseed from a still-living Astartes in a hideous theft.  He shuddered a moment, thinking of the rumours about the Apothecaries from his own Chapter - the rumours of Geneseed filling the repositories that were not from Astral Claws brethren, rumours of "Corpse Takers".  Instinctively his eyes fell upon Solastion, he stared at him for several seconds, going through him and into some odd middle distance only he could see.

 

He stopped abruptly as the Crimson Knight looked at him askance.  Akkad, now without helm allowed a look of shame to cross his face.  Humility entered his voice as he spoke.

"Your pardon Solastion, I was...elsewhere."  he turned to Greysight.

"I crave your forgiveness My Hunter.  My aim was not true, and this slight against you was unnoticed.  I pledge my arm to return that which was taken."

 

He smiled across to Tyber but his eyes held sadness as he realised maybe, just maybe those stories weren't rumours at all.

 

MR.

Edited November 27, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Steel Company]

Tyber could see from the Gerysight’s motions that he was troubled by what had happened, even more so when he actually heard him actually speak more than a word in something more than a whisper. Taking a moment to be daring, still unsure of the smaller Astares, Tyber placed his right hand on Greysight’s chapter livery; he chose his words carefully, an attempt to build a bridge between them, “Do not fret my brother, I swear to you that I will do all I can to return that item to you when we face that beast.”

 

Tunring his hand from an open palm to a fist, Tyber gave a gentle rap on the pauldron before heading off down the hall to the place that the Governor had fallen. Once in the room, Tyber began inspecting the spines of the books, looking to see just what type of person the Governor had been in life and to see how diligent had the records of the world been kept. A practice that he had seen and learned from the Librairum of Arce, a person’s choice of books, said much about the person. It caused him to think on the last time he wandered a library on his own.

 

 

Adavan had given him the day to expand his mind, something since learning to read the young Tyber had found very pleasurable, but today was different, today one of the Librarians had allowed him passed the more basic works, the required reading so to speak, into the section that contained works that were thousands of years old, works that had not seen anything other than torch light in centuries. He passed by stacks and stacks, many thirty or forty meters tall, the smell of ancient leather and vellum filled his nose, gold scroll work, lettering and bindings glinting in the torch light. Reaching for one of the book, Tyber had just touched the spine when he heard a whisper, “not that one.” It said, taking his hand away, he looked around, yet saw no one, “hello?” he asked, yet no answer came.

 

Reaching for the book a second time, a loud thump startled him, turning quickly he saw a cloud of dust rise at the end of another stack, forgetting about the book he was interested in, Tyber went to where the dust cloud had come from, rounding the corner he found not but a scroll on the ground, rolling back and forth as if it had just fallen from the stack, bending to pick it up, as he stood up again he found himself face to face with an older Astartes in blue robes, an unnatural feel about the air around him, he looked at Tyber or rather through Tyber before he spoke in a deep raspy voice “You are not yet ready for this section child, much forbidden knowledge is found here. Comeback when you are both older and wiser.”

 

The old Astares turned heading back down the stacks, turning a corner out of sight, Tyber hurried down the same direction, yet did not see the Astares in blue robes down the path, only other Libraians one of which came and ushered him out of the restricted section, still clutching the scroll in his hand.

Edited November 27, 2018 by Steel Company

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad watched as his friend walked his fingers through papers and books.  He approved and that small lift broke his dark reverie.  He looked to the Novamarine.

 

"Well, My Sergeant, what now?"

 

MR.

[A.T.]

Atratus did not linger long in the chamber, securing the roof in solitude. They had been fortunate to avoid losses... perhaps, to attack the lord before the astartes and to risk a creature of strategic importance suggested more.

 

Gazing across the plascrete roof in hopes that the xenos were less cautious on approach than in escape he considered the possible implications of the attack. A noble perhaps under their influence who would gain command priority upon the death of the governor perhaps? The Storm Sons plight however opened another possibility "Brother Solaston, has anything been taken from the Governor? A key or charm."

[Slips]

++Well, Brother Atratus...+++ Solastion says as he makes his way into the Governors chamber and, subsequently, his final resting place.

 

++With the few minutes of contact Ive had with the man he says kneeling in front of the corpse giving it a quick once-overI wouldnt have been able to get a good enough view of him to commit what he had on his person to memory.++

 

++That said...++

Edited November 29, 2018 by Slips

[Commissar Molotov]

With the business of tending to the wounded members of the Kill-Team concluded, there is an opportunity for the Sanguinary Priest to investigate the scene laid out within the Governor's librarium. 

 

The Governor himself is seated within a capacious leather armchair, located comfortably near a fireplace. He might've seemed contemplative, or deep within though, were it not for the ragged wounds he had sustained; deep bloody gashes to his throat and chest. 

 

(Solastion INT test (+20): 59 (PASS)) 

 

From a visual inspection, the blows certainly seem consistent with the Broodlord's attacks. You notice these wounds are also on the Governor's forearms - as though defensive wounds - though he would have had scant seconds to attempt to preserve his own life in the face of the flurry of strikes from the Tyranid Broodlord. The armour he wears, though styled after power armour, offers little more protection than carapace, and certainly would not have stood up to the creature's blows. 

 

To your eyes, nothing seems to have been taken from the Governor - but why, then, did the alien creature take the trinket from Greysight? 

Edited November 28, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Commissar Molotov]

Tyber:

You are keenly aware that Varvost and Atratus have left to scout the rooftops and roadways surrounding the Governor's manse for any sign of the Genestealer Cult, and that you will have to follow them soon; nevertheless, you find yourself drawn to the Governor's libraries and the tomes within. It is an opportunity to remind yourself that Syndalla is a backwater, and there is little to hold your interest. You do, however, find yourself drawn to a battered and scuffed leatherbound book. It stands out, in part, because of how plain it is - compared to its gaudy neighbours with their gilt edges and decorations.

 

This tome is bound in a greyish leather that seems slick and oily, though it does not shine in the light. It is unquestionably old, and contains many loose sheets of vellum inside, seemingly bundled in a random order. As you flick through the pages quickly, you see what appears to contain fragments of a personal journal of some kind, interspersed with drawings in a heavy, ink-scratched hand. 

[Steel Company]

Taking a moment to flip through several of the pages to get a rough idea of what it contains, Tyber closes the book, heading back to the ball room, clutching the book tightly he makes a direct line towards Vaidan, stopping just short of the Sargent to speak in a low whisper so that only Vaidan might hear it, “Sargent, this book seems to be mostly a personal journal. However due to that nature, I think we may find something valuable to our mission in it. I would like to take this with us and perhaps have our interrogator do scanning of it while I am occupied scouting or in combat…. Later I would like time to read through it myself to verify the contents. Can I trust that you will place this into the Chimera for later inspection?”

 

Part of him didn’t want to turn over the book, he wanted to go through it first, but knew he lacked the time required to do so at the moment. It was the very nature of the tome being so out of place with the other works that spoke to its importance. It was always subtle things that spoke about the importance of things, an unremarkable thing surrounded by gaudy things stressed that the unremarkable would be truly remarkable, just as the inverse was rarely true, often the more gaudy  an item then less actual value it held other than to distract from something more valuable.

[Slips]

With the business of tending to the wounded members of the Kill-Team concluded, there is an opportunity for the Sanguinary Priest to investigate the scene laid out within the Governor's librarium. 

 

The Governor himself is seated within a capacious leather armchair, located comfortably near a fireplace. He might've seemed contemplative, or deep within though, were it not for the ragged wounds he had sustained; deep bloody gashes to his throat and chest. 

 

(Solastion INT test (+20): 59 (PASS)) 

 

From a visual inspection, the blows certainly seem consistent with the Broodlord's attacks. You notice these wounds are also on the Governor's forearms - as though defensive wounds - though he would have had scant seconds to attempt to preserve his own life in the face of the flurry of strikes from the Tyranid Broodlord. The armour he wears, though styled after power armour, offers little more protection than carapace, and certainly would not have stood up to the creature's blows. 

 

To your eyes, nothing seems to have been taken from the Governor - but why, then, did the alien creature take the trinket from Greysight? 

 

++Judging by how the body is placed, it seems like he was in deep thought or otherwise had something on his mind when he was slain; it appears that he at least attempted to depend himself.++ he says performing his cursory overview.

 

++Although, with how the timeline of events played itself out, it seems odd that the man would have had time to sit down and ponder given that Brother Greysight was naught but a few paces behind him and battering the door down.++ he wondered aloud as his Nartheciums cogitator took notes of what he observed having been switched to Coroner-mode.

 

++It seems that for all his bluster and grandeur, the 'Power Armor' he had acquired for himself was naught but flak armor before the Patriachs claws...++

 

++Otherwise, Brothers, I can't see that any signs of any missing personal effects.++

[Mazer Rackham]

++It seems that for all his bluster and grandeur, the 'Power Armor' he had acquired for himself was naught but flak armor before the Patriachs claws...++

 

++Otherwise, Brothers, I can't see that any signs of any missing personal effects.++

 

Akkad suffered a brief sense of dislocation, Greysight had been right on the Governor from the beginning of the ambush.  He had either sat down to hide something, retrieve something...or...

 

"My Apothecary - how long has he been dead?"

 

MR.

[Commissar Molotov]

Solastion: 

It is apparent that the Governor has only recently died - which is consistent with what Greysight observed. His wounds are fresh; his body is still warm.

Edited November 29, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

Akkad nods at the incisive decree of the Crimson Knight.  The body was sat by the desk.

 

Without ceremony, he stepped over to the corpse and tipped the chair, casting the limp form of the former Governor to the floor.

"Greysight...put yourself in his place if you would.  See if you can discern what he was doing before the alien attacked...perhaps he tried to secrete something of use to us in the desk?"

 

EDIT: Previous iteration didn't really flow.

 

MR.

Edited November 29, 2018 by Mazer Rackham

[Commissar Molotov]

Greysight:

Perception Test (PER37: 23 (PASS))

 

The governor's chair - though capacious - is clearly not designed for the bulk of one of the Astartes. You are, however, able to squat down to some approximation of Orlai's eyeline. With the slow, careful patience of the huntsmen of Nakaris, you scan carefully for anything out of the ordinary. 

 

Then you notice it; a brick within the fireplace surround that stands out from its surroundings. You reach out, and the brick grinds with an audible click. Above the mantel, a panel in the wall slides aside. You see a painting of an Imperial cruiser, barbed and dagger-like, backlit against garish stellar phenomena. Upon the frame you see a brass panel labelled 'THE DARK LANTERN.'

 

Beneath the picture, you see a sword and a pistol mounted to the wall. Both are well-made, with the skill of an artificer. 

Edited November 29, 2018 by Commissar Molotov

[Nineswords]

[Placeholder]

[Mazer Rackham]

GM: Can we make out the class of ship The Dark Lantern is?

 

He studied the painting for  a few moments and made no move to take the weapons.  For all he knew they could be booby-trapped.  He had seen it happen - idiot Legion troops, pressing down a key on a piano, righting a picture frame from being canted.  He sighed.

 

Sensing very little more that would be of any gain to them, the Astral Claw moved to don his helm and step outside, to where the pyre of Genestealers waited to be consumed by cleansing Promethium.  Before his ceramite mantle slipped over his head, he noticed Vaidan's eyebrows raise in such a manner as to indicate he wished to speak to him.

 

A slight nod, then he moved into the curtain of rain that began to wash the soot and stains from his warplate as he waited upon the Sergeant to give orders.

 

MR.

[Reyner]

It was getting time to move on. The Broodlord had to be destroyed but Vaidan was unsure why the creature had stolen something from Greysight, what was its purpose? Was it trying to goad them by dishonouring them? He had heard that Genestealer Broodlords were psychic so maybe it knew what drove the Killteam and how it could manipulate them. All the dead Genestealers had been piled up outside the palace ready to be cleansed by purifying flames, Syndulla would be cleared block by block until it wholly belonged to the Imperium again and Vaidan was glad to be of service - it was his duty to the Emperor and he enjoyed it, there was something peaceful about clearing the enemy dead after battle. Like they were restoring the balance of the universe or maybe it was just the smell.

 

Vaidan made his way over to Akkad he still felt stiff from his injuries but his body wouldn't take long to get over the pain.
"Brother Akkad, your quick thinking very likely saved my life once again. I apologise if I butcher this pronunciation but if it wasn't for you I would be among the mitutu right now, I heard that from an Astral Claw once before and believe it means 'the dead ones' in Low Gothic. You are an excellent warrior and I am proud to serve alongside you, I took a few more bottles of that brandy that we can share once we finish this mission."

 

Vaidan grinned and clapped Akkads shoulder then readied his flamer and walked outside into the eternal rain approaching the waiting pyre of Genestealers. He put his helmet back on and his voice boomed out from his open vox:

 

++What is the fate of all foes? To perish in the fire of battle and be cleansed from the galaxy.++

 

Then Vaidan unleashed his flamer washing it over the pile of Genestealers watching them be consumed by the fire their hides turning black and splitting, chitinous armour plates loudly cracked and bones glowing red hot.

 

++Brothers it is time we moved on, make your way to the Chimera - we are going to pay the Astropath a visit and ensure its guardians take heed of us. Make ready to move out in five minutes, see to your arms and armour.++

 

Vaidan went to look for Lord Vortis - he likely would be a good stand in for Governor Orlai to unite the Syndullan PDF and perhaps he knew more about the weapons Greysight had found in the Governors office, Vaidan might even recognise the ship or at least its class as he was an experienced void farer.

 

"Lord Vortis, I have need of you. Are you able to act in Governor Orlais place? The PDF of Syndulla need to be organised into a coordiated defence and be able to launch a counterattack."

[Xin Ceithan]

Placeholder

[Mazer Rackham]

"Brother Akkad, your quick thinking very likely saved my life once again. I apologise if I butcher this pronunciation but if it wasn't for you I would be among the mitutu right now, I heard that from an Astral Claw once before and believe it means 'the dead ones' in Low Gothic. You are an excellent warrior and I am proud to serve alongside you, I took a few more bottles of that brandy that we can share once we finish this mission."

 

Stunned into silence as the Novamarine banged on his pauldron.  In five thousand years the Astral Claws had not spread far and wide, but the Novamarines had.  He had never had anyone but the Warders speak to him in Badabian before - except Tyber of course - but he was Kin by Choice and therefore an exception.  In a way it was odd, normally so smooth and right-footed in the politics of conversation and knowing where he was within his Clade, as Sabaan would call it, stranger still having Khyber say it - Badabians meant what they said. He stopped his thoughts abruptly with the realisation.

 

They were becoming one another.  The borders were there, where the Lion roared, the the Star Burst, the Dragon growled, but they reached a communion of sorts.  Atratus, Sabaan and Greysight were orbitals around it, but they were there all the same - apart, but part of it.  The battle under the glass dome, to paraphrase Tyber had drawn them together properly, finally.  He waited until the Sergeant had finished speaking to the Noble and left him to wander inside.  A smile sprung onto his face at the pronunciation.  It had been a good effort, he allowed with a raised eyebrow, his composure returning as he watched the aliens burn.  Above him on the parapet, Tyber's sable helm and green lenses reflected the holy fire of retribution.  At sight of this and moved by the Sergeant, Akkad raised his arms palms up, in supplication.  It had been a long time since he done such a thing.  Long before Hellsiris...and longer even after.  He banished that thought.

 

+Ki'am Urbat-Su.  Warki Ina Qitrub Tahazi, Enlil-Anu, Amelnakru-Nur Ana Sepiya.  Eli Baltuti Ima'Idu Mituti.+  Then he began placing several tokens he had picked up into one of his clasps to remember this battle.

 

Without further wait, he trudged off towards the Chimera, patting guards and stunned mortals alike on the shoulder, not unkindly.  The words echoed in his head, he uploaded the translation to the squad network, no priority.  They could access it at their leisure, but for Akkad, they circled through his brain.

 

We are become the hounds of death.  Heavenly one, after the battle you have put our enemies at our feet.  The Dead Ones will Outnumber the Living.

 

Badabians meant what they said.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

Tyber stood on the roof, overlooking the burning of the bodies, his left hand absentmindedly rubbing the cross guarded hilt of his arming sword, his mind lost in thought; Adavan, my mentor and brother by choice, I am finding myself puzzled by recent events… I wish you could hear my thoughts and offer guidance to me once again. Why did you wish me to carry your blade, I was surprised and overwhelmed when Paladin Captian Torvix and Master Voltarn presented me with It;  I wonder if I would feel as Greysight feels having lost something so personal to the beast we hunt…

 

He shifted his weight around, walking to the other edge of the roof, continuing his musings, this time however he put voice to it; “A better question would be, why did it take a trophy in the first place?… From my understanding of these beasts, they are not likely to take trophies, let alone let someone live that they know to be a threat.” Taking his left hand from the cross guard, to place an index finger against the crusaders point at the tip of his helm, giving it a gentle tap a few times, as if he were tapping the tip of his nose, “Then again, how did it escape? Or get in for that matter… I do not recall seeing damaged windows in that study, nor could it have come down the hall via the ballroom, it would’ve been seen, either entering or leaving…”

Edited November 30, 2018 by Steel Company

[Commissar Molotov]

Daon Akkad:

The painting is impressionistic in a way that makes you feel almost queasy; in a way that makes you think back to the shifting tides of the Maelstrom's edge. Still, though, you are able to make out details. It bears the jutting prow so characteristic of Imperial vessels and the ship seems to the standard cruciform shape of the Imperium; the muzzles of heavy weapon batteries jutting from its flanks. Engine clusters flare blue-hot as the ship churns through the void. There is little in the painting to provide a sense of scale, but from your experience it seems to be a Grand Cruiser of some kind.

 

Khyber Vaidan:

Lord Vortis nods slowly, grimly. His doublet is stained with blood and ichor, and the assembled Astartes have been discreet enough not to mention the stains within his britches. He seems dazed by his experiences.

 

"I will do what I can. My men will contact the PDF forces we can and attempt to bring them into line."

 

With a nod to you, he turns away and begins to limp back to the manse.

 

 

+++

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

+++

 

The Chimera grinds to a halt in the courtyard surrounding the Astropath's tower. The plaza seems almost unrecognisable to Tyber, Atratus and Varvost. Where before the manicured gardens had provided neatly demarcated lines for its automated guardians to traverse, now it is littered with bodies. The guardians themselves are shattered and broken, each surrounded by the wretched multi-limbed corpses of the more heavily-mutated members of the cult. Indeed, you see the corpses of purestrain genestealers interspersed among them. The servitor-guardians acquitted themselves well, reaping a heavy toll of the hybrids, but even they were eventually brought down.

 

As for the tower, the heavily armoured doors that barred entry to the assault marines are now a smoking ruin, completely caved in. It is clear some sort of explosive device was used to breach the tower and force entry.

 

In the time the Assault Marines had left the Tower and returned to the palace, it is clear the Cult has taken the advantage to attack, cutting the psychic chords connecting Syndalla to the wider Imperium.

Edited March 4, 2021 by Commissar Molotov

[Mazer Rackham]

Tyber was almost vibrating.  His barely controlled anger and urge to force his way int to Tower of Echoes was creating a spike in the temperature around him.  As ever, the smaller Astral Claw was at his side, in his shadow, where it suited him.  The big Marine kept the piercing lights from the top of the tower out of his eyes, especially since the Dark Lantern had made his head swim.  He had not seen a ship of that displacement for quite some time...he drew back to the present.

 

+Ahu, wait.  Let us go in there like an iron fist, not a swordpoint.+ He smiled and spoke moderately, his tone hinting at caution, but also concern for his friend.  He knew the big Marine could handle himself, but there may be a whole rabble of Stealers in the Tower of Echoes, which was, ironically, silent.  Vaidan was grimacing under his helm as the squad branched out, the Raptor naturally placing himself into both cover and shadow with a few smooth steps.  Varvost was...casual.  He waited silently for orders, whilst Sabaan flexed a fist and a Servo-arm twitch told the watchers, Greysight most notably, that he was angered as well, although this was probably more to do with the destruction of the Servants of the Machine, sworn to defend this place.

 

+No room for a Heavy Bolter in there.+ He mused, vox grille echo a little louder than he had wanted.  He shrugged and fixed Cadence to his back, reaching for his pistol and knife.  A polite cough came from his left.  Looking up, he could see the Sergeant proffering his Flamer.  A cant of the helmet told Daon the Novamarine was smiling.  A private channel conveyed his thanks.

+I suppose you are taking Solastion's advice, Khyber?+  He spoke wryly, with a matching smile on his lips, infesting his voice, accepting the weapon, continuing, +I think myself and the big one volunteer.  Who else should go in?  Apart from Varvost?+ A smile blossomed into a grin, then died as he looked up at the tower again.

 

MR.

[Steel Company]

As their transport ground to a halt at the plaza that seemed to be more a slaughter house than it was less than half an hour ago, looking on the scene before him, Tyber balled his left hand and  repeatedly struck the open hatch of the Chimera, while he spoke over the open vox, clear anger in his voice +Throne!+

 

Hulling himself out of the chassis, he made a direct line to the carnage, stopping only at one of the broken servitors, taking a moment to inspect the blades they carried, pulling it free, any behind him would not have been able to miss his shoulders slump and his head hang low for a moment.  +I was overly cautious, these are not power blades.+ His voice low, as he stood to his full height, pointing the blade down, while lifting it at high as he could before driving it downwards, through the body and into the ground.

 

Ooc: STR test to drive the blade into the ground

TN: 68 (48 STR +20 from PA)

STR test: 1d100 5 pass by 8 DoS (6 base +2 from Unnatural STR X2)

 

+I failed here, we shouldn’t have left.+ he spoke while still gripping the hilt of the blade, tighter and tighter, twisting his hands around it. +How did they arrive unseen? How did they know to attack now?+ He knelt on one knee, resting his helm against the pommel for a moment. Akkad approached his friend, placing a hand on his pauldron, +The fault is not yours Ahu, you followed Lugal’s command to return, we could not have accounted for the Master of this brood to split his forces like this.+

 

Tyber only nodded, before standing again, drawing both his chain sword and arming sword and stomping into the tower, +I am going in, any who wish to join me, you will be most welcome support.+

 

Ooc: As per CM’s request, Perception test

TN: 40 (base, if Heightened senses sight / hearing count; 50. If Auto senses is also counted; 60)

Perception test: 1d100 19 pass with 2 DoS ( more if Heightened senses and auto senses are applied.)

Edited December 2, 2018 by Steel Company

[Xin Ceithan]

-Placeholder-

 

Sabaan makes sure the Chimera is combat ready

Pillages through the rubble

Discusses strategy ( see OOC thread)