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Atratus acknowledged Solastion, watching his brothers for a moment before shrugging and moving to his sector. Death was inevitable in service to the Emperor, duty was all that mattered.

 

Still the events had revealed more of his squad, Sabaan had spoken more passionately of this matter than any other in recent days and around him others stood with support or suspicion in their posture. Khyber stood amongst them trying to prevent such fractures becoming something more... in battle it was more simple, below it would not be.

 

"Now if you will excuse me..." Solastion as ever stood in the shadow of command. But questions for later, the xenos vessels were vast and the forces they had encountered so far no more than the first searching tendril. Atratus set about his search pattern pushing other concerns aside.

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As the Kill-Team spreads out and ensures the dorsal spine is free of any threat and that the xenos creatures have been extinguished, you hear a voice crackling over the vox-network within your armour. 

 

++Excellent work. With the spine secured, we stand a chance of making it to Syndalla.++ You recognise Captain Dimitar's gruff tones as he speaks. It is only a single blink-click to resolve the grainy hololithic image of the Voice of Thunder grappling with its two assailants. The bio-ships are grotesque in their alien-ness, coiled shells sprouting masses of questing tentacles as they latch onto the Imperial vessel. They have sustained damage; the space around them seems hazy with vital fluids. The Voice of Thunder, itself, is riddled with the maggot-holes of Tyranid boarding worms. Its broadsides pulse weakly, without unity, like the last spurts of blood dribbling from an amputated limb. Fires burn along the super-structure as tentacles with lamprey-mouths scrabble for purchase. The cruiser's keel, laid thousands of years ago, begins to bend and crack under the pressure. 

 

Despite the Captain's words, it seems increasingly unlikely that the Voice of Thunder will reach Syndalla at all. 

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You hear another chime on your vox-link, and your ears are filled with the voice of Interrogator Ryken.

 

++Deathwatch, you are to secure an exit from this vessel. Your duty remains on Syndalla, not here in the void. Find a route that bypasses as many of the xenos as possible and reach your objective.++

Edited by Commissar Molotov
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Vaidan put his helmet back on and checked his boltgun.

 

"Squad, we'll make our way to the shuttle bay. With the ship's structure coming apart, any other option we might have had is now too risky."

 

He paused for a short moment, pondering their next move. Under no circumstance did he want to be ambushed on the way to their exit point.

 

"I want Greysight and Sabaan up front, Tyber and Solastion on each flank, Atratus and Varvôst to the rear, Akkad and Thorvald in the centre with me."

 

"Front and rear, no more than 30 metres distance between you and the centre. Front, I want your scanners active at all times. Eyes and ears sharp."

 

"Flanks, no more than 10 metres wherever we have the space to spread out."

 

"Engage any hostiles immediately but do what you can to keep your distance and be sparing with your ammunition. Heavy weapons are to be used only if we're faced with another horde of similar magnitude or bigger beasts."

 

Satisfied with his unit's disposition, he opened a vox link to Ryken.

 

"Affirmative, Interrogator. Where will you meet us?"

 

He didn't bother asking about the Captain and his crew. They would no doubt choose to go down with their ship. It was the way of the Navy, as the Novamarine had witnessed numerous times.

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There is a moment of static-laden silence before Ryken speaks again.

 

++I will meet you at the tertiary starboard hangar.++ An orange location-rune pings on the flank of the Voice of Thunder, a location not far from where you currently are.

 

>>ABSTRACTED TIME BEGINS<<

 

As you make best speed for the hangar deck, you fight through the xeno-forms who seem determined not to allow you free passage.

 

GM: To represent these clashes with the xenoform, make 1D10 Weapon Skill or Ballistic Skill tests (your choice, in any combination) - for each test failed, roll 2D10R (Pen 2) damage against a random body part.

 

Varv

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Run to the shuttle tests

Hall run: 1d10 2

 

WS target number 44

1.WS test: 1d100 16 (hit)

2.WS test: 1d100 44 (Hit)

 

During the run to the deck, Tyber thinks on Akkad’s words to him about the “Wrong, correct and right choices”, the Deathwatch had been more harmful to him in the short term thus far, this must have been the right choice.

 

Between swipes of the bio-forms, he sent a short burst message to Sabaan, unsure how the more machine than man Astartes would respond, well that would be long term, something not to worry about now.

 

+

++

+++

Brother Sabaan, gratitude for not pulling the trigger on your Bolt Pistol. I had expected you to do so, but had hoped that you would not.

+++

++

+

 

With the message sent, Tyber shut off the link and focused on getting to the shuttle, eager to see the craft that would get them dirt side, the void was not agreeing with him.

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The xenoforms came on quickly, scurrying along the walls and ceiling seeking to engulf the killteam and slow them down long enough to amass in more dangerous numbers.

 

Individually they posed little threat to an astartes but as more flooded in from each junction and crossway it became clear that their numbers were legion.

 

 

Rolls to make : 3

Melee attack rolls 2, 26, 88 (hit, hit, miss)

Damage to 88 (leg) = 14 - 6 armour - 8 toughness (no damage)

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Vaidan was the most wounded and his armour only partially repaired.

 

Like as not the damn beasts seemed to recognise him as the leader-organism and managed to break through in pressing throngs, despite the best efforts of the warriors.  Akkad went back to back, shoulder-to-shoulder with the Novamarine, cutting, shooting and warning.  He was never more than a foot away, with no thought to his own defence.

+ Ware right my Sergeant! +

 

Akkad will spend this time either assisting or shielding Vaidan, I'll leave the rolls of how badly I get beaten up to Mol..!

GM: could this give Dos +10 to his tests as it's an assist?

 

MR.

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+++ Inloading +++

 

 

The Voice of Thunder was dying around them. Like a wounded beast it shook and swayed, refusing to go down quietly. Out in the void, it traded blows with the immense xenos shipshapes which tore at her flanks. Inside her hull, the mortal crew faced the claws and fangs of boarding swarms, the martial imitation of an immunological response. But her wounds were to great. Inevitably, the ancient warship would succumb to it's wounds, perish from the vileness that spread through it's hull. Yet it fought on, determined to fullfill it's final mission by delivering the Kill-team to it's destination. It would deny victory to the enemy and only die once it's duty was fulfilled.

 

Sabaan a gave short binaric praise to the warship's machine spirit but detached himself from it's suffering as the kill-team fought it's way towards their destination. He had switched to his bolt pistol and combat knife as he ran along Greysight. His Augury scanners allowed them to bypass some of the beasts but the sheer numbers of xenoforms meant they were soon fighting the things every step along the way. The Storm Son cut a bloody swathe through the Tyranids. His movements were flowing, precise and seemed almost effortless. It could have been describe as almost artistic' had Sabaan been giving to such a notion of prosaic description. Instead, he duly noted it's efficiency even if it differed greatly from his own combat style. He blocked a blow there and severed a tendon here, hacking mechanically through the wave of Flesh. After his epiphany on the dorsal Spine, Sabaan found solace in the monotone repetitiveness as he focused both his mind and augmented physiology on the next strike, the next step. His warplate hummed. Another cut.

++

+++

Brother Sabaan, gratitude for not pulling the trigger on your Bolt Pistol. I had expected you to do so, but had hoped that you would not.

+++

++

+

 The Dragon's voice interrupted his algorymeditation. Nycax felt the fury rise inside him, but this time he found it easier to vent it. A bolt round detonated a xenos head. He found his pace again and returned to his bladework. Both Tyber and he had failed to reign in their nature on the dorsal spine. Sabaan was determined to rise above it. Apparently, so was the Dragon. This was a reaction he could respect and that was synergic to the creed. Under the vox distortion, there was just a hint of something else. Gratitude? It was something Nycax was ill-equipped to handle. At any rate, after his recent experience on the dorsal spine, the Iron Hand was not willing to weather another potential emotional situation so soon. Not before he had time to assess the last one. But he concluded that it was in accordance with the Creed to share his approval of the Dragon's aim of improvement. He turned his head towards Tyber as he advanced. He held the Dragon's gaze for a moment and ...nodded...in what he hoped conveyed his respect. Then he turned and allowed himself to cleanse himself of that emotion in the precision of purging the enemy

 

OOC

D10: 3 http://orokos.com/roll/643881#

Vs WS

Encounter 1: 16 (Hit) http://orokos.com/roll/643882#

Encounter 2: 26 (Hit) http://orokos.com/roll/643884#

Encounter 3: 4 ( Hit) http://orokos.com/roll/643884#

Edited by Xin Ceithan
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GM: I'm happy for you to choose to defer thoughts on your own safety, providing Vaidan with a +20 to his WS or BS skill. However, it will mean that Akkad sustains injuries, which I will resolve.

 

Accepted - thank you. :thumbsup: 

 

My body is ready!

 

MR.

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PUNCHING FOUL XENOS (or getting punched): 1d10 4

Vs WS46

DA PUNCH: 1d100 5 Hit

DA PUNCH: 1d100 94 Miss; hit to body

DA PUNCH: 1d100 80 Miss; hit to head

FOUL XENOS: 2d10+2 6 vs TB 8 + Ap 8 (10-2); no damage

FOUL XENOS: 2d10+2 8 vs TB 8 + Ap 6 (8-2); no damage

 

"Understood, Watch-Sergeant." and Solastion takes his place where the Watch-Sergeant ordered him to be and proceeded in formation with the rest of the squad.

 

As they went through the vessel, now crawling with Xenos, they were a mobile bastion of their demise and each Battle-Brother slew more than their fair share of the feeble bio-forms that assailed them; they were lucky to not have encountered any greater beasts yet.

 

At a few points, the beasts had gotten some good swings in at him but, as is standard for the xenos, they were unable to best humanities finest.

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THEY WERE EVERYWHERE. The swarm that had been eradicated in the dorsal spine were replaced by more of the foul things. A swathe of chittering teeth and claws scuttled through the vents and corridors like a rabid infestation of ants, quickly overwhelming the Voice of Thunder’s crew.

The ship was doomed.

The interrogator, Ryken, had ordered the kill-team off the ship, and complete their insertion into Syndalla. It was not as Greysight hoped, an infiltration. The tyranid invasion had put the planet and the entire system into jeopardy. There was no need for subtlety, only survival.

Greysight considered the shifting mission parameters as he performed his vanguard sweep with Sabaan, whose cold, inhuman fury was taken out on the lesser swarms as they tried to split the kill-team apart. The Storm Son understood the practicality of the situation: find the Inquisitor. Find the source of the tyranid threat and destroy it, or die trying. Thousands had perished to provide a chance to save billions.

The swarms died in their hundreds, step by step, as the kill-team fought their way to the tertiary hangar, Akkad half carrying sergeant Vaidan whose injuries would take time to heal. Time that they didn’t have. Ammunition was used sparingly against the larger beasts, and soon Greysight’s combat knife was slick with ichor, a price paid for by dozens of small dents and scratches that appeared on his refurbished armour.

Conversations ended as thoughts turned to the slaughter, a repetitive, mechanical task that had no honour in it. Greysight had no doubt whatsoever that the Great Devourer had intended for them to die, exhausted and unable to raise heir fists in righteous fury against its innumerable tide.

The Great Devourer be damned.

+++


 

OOC: 

 

Greysight: D10: 2 

Using BS40:
1: 15 (HIT) 
2: 80 (MISS)
 
TB 10, Armour  8 (10 on body)
 
No damage
 
Edited by Nineswords
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KHYBER: 

 

D10 BS42+20 tests: 7

 

1: 10 (PASS)

2: 2 (PASS)

3: 58 (PASS)

4: 56 (PASS)

5: 20 (PASS)

6: 98 (FAIL) 

7: 25 (PASS) 

 

Vaidan is hit in the head (TB8 and Armour 8(6): 5+2 = No Damage taken. 

 

 

AKKAD: 

Hit D10 times by the Tyranid: 4

Hit 1: 9,6 (15) in the 4 (BODY) - TB8 and Armour 10(8) reduce damage to 0

Hit 2: 7,8 (15) in the 6 (LEFT LEG) - TB8 and Armour 8(6) reduce damage to 1

Hit 3: 5,7 (12) in the (LEFT LEG) - TB8 and Armour 8(6) reduce damage to 0

Hit 4: 1,6 (7)  in the (LEFT ARM) - TB8 and Armour 8(6) reduce damage to 0

 

Akkad takes 1 wound and is at 21/22 wounds.

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Your journey to the tertiary starboard hangar is a bloody one. With fists, blades and boltguns you decimate the Tyranid xenoforms that stand in your way. You do what you can to avoid the greater body of the horde, but you cannot fail to notice the wireframe of the Voice of Thunder as compartment after compartment floods red, and contact is lost with Imperial defenders. Slowly but surely, the Tyranids are claiming this vessel and its crew. 

 

You enter the hangar deck to find it deserted. In the centre, the transport shuttle you took from Watch-Station Azurea sits. It is an ungainly thing, a far cry from the patterns used by the Adeptus Astartes. It is more suited for the mass conveyance of Guardsmen than the insertion of an elite fighting force. It is, however, perhaps the only means of escape from the Voice of Thunder and to the world of Syndalla. 

 

The shuttle is unattended and you know that one of you will need to pilot it. 

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Entering the docking bay, Tyber did a quick scan, his enhanced senses razor sharp, the scene did not feel right, in a ship that was being overrun; this place was left untouched. Doing a quick look over his squad readout, everyone had taken some damage, but this ship needed to be check out, it was their way off of this doomed craft. Looking over his options, he spoke over the squad Vox, “Brothers Vavrost and Greyseight, please accompany myself in securing the craft, nothing feels right here.”

 

Asking Varvost for assistance made his skin crawl, but he had to admit with that chain ax, Varvost was at least his equal in close quarters and now was not the time to let pride get in the way. Greyseight on the other hand was another mater, he had not had the chance to work in close proximity with the Storm Son and this would provide opportunity to assess his skills first hand, a chance to remove some unknown qualities in the variables of this new squad.

 

His mind still working quickly to formulate a plan to deal with his current situation, he continued over the Vox “Brother Atratus, please get on top of our perspective transport and use your rifle to scan the launch control room for any hostiles, Brother Thorvald, please stand ten meters back from the entry door and provide over watch until we are ready to disembark. Brother Sabaan, once we have secured the craft, please interface with the machine sprit to see if it will guide you in being able to bring the craft safely to the surface.”

 

Drawing his chainsword and arming sword Tyber stalked up the loading ramp, while an idle part of his mind wondered if their interrogator had been cut down by the horde of bio-forms that were laying claim to the Voice of Thunder. Another part of him mind was already planning his next task, secure the launch control room, then get back on board their craft, now was not the time for foolish heroics.

Edited by Steel Company
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Akkad was virtually unscathed, the aggressive snarl of his warplate at being violated by a scythe-like claw nipping in at his neck seal as he danced around the Sergeant.  The armour had already sealed the small chink and his physiology had sealed the wound.  He could feel the tiny itch, caused by the toxins the breast carried requiring  some attention, but this was not the time.

 

He laboured into the hangar with Vaidan at his side, scanning warily as Tyber beckoned to Varvost and Greysight. Good choices, he thought as he watched the big Marine take initiative.  He had not needed to guard the back of the others, they had been death without pause on the way down here.  Tyber may call himself a blademaster one day.  He is not wrong.  Akkad looked at the others in turn.  He was grateful for them, even if some of their brutal majesty was stolen by being caked in gore.

 

+Ahu, take caution, remember from our training, the Tyranids like to leave...surprises for the unwary.+ He allowed a touch of concern to enter his voice, making it more a suggestion than anything else.

 

He selected squad-wide vox and tilted his head with a deferential nod in Solastion's direction. +Brother Apothecary, please assist me to get our Sergeant into the shuttle.+ Without waiting for reply, he continued. +Once we are all inside, leave the loading ramp open, that I may defend our escape.+

 

Nearly there.

 

MR.

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"No foolhardy heroics, Akkad." is all Solastion says thumping the marines pauldron as he walks past him after the Watch-Sergeant and the others board the shuttle before him.

 

His weapons were ever at the ready and, as he moved into the vessel behind his other Battle-Brothers, Solastion made use of his Diagnostor Helmets x-ray function to scan the interiors of the ship for anything that was amiss. The limited area of affect across his field of view that the x-ray affected made this process difficult; it was made for medical procedures after all, not looking through the walls of a spacecraft.

 

"Have we made contact with the Interrogator yet, Brothers?"

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Atratus began scanning the room for access points. Once the bay had been cycled to release the transport they would be closed and pressurised but such an act would also seal the interrogator outside.

 

"Brother Sabaan, would the craft have been kept fuelled in transit?"

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Surveying the hangar deck brings greater clarity to the situation.

 

As Atratus astutely observes, the shuttle will need fuel. Nearby, you see a hulking promethium tanker - protruding from it is an heavy, elephantine hose that will need two Astartes to lift, drag into place and secure in the appropriate port on the craft.

 

The hangar's armoured shutters remain closed to the void, requiring the command to open from the observation deck. You see the windows of the observation deck staring down at you from above.

 

The shuttle itself would need to be cleared, before ascertaining how to pilot and control the craft.

 

You also have yet to hear from Interrogator Ryken.

Edited by Commissar Molotov
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After the running battle to reach the docking area, the sudden calm felt almost unnatural. As the clave spread out, Sabaan remained near the Watch-Sergeant and Akkad. After an initial sweep produced neither signs of obvious hostiles nor the Interogator, they Techmarine began a second sweep.

 

"Brother Sabaan, would the craft have been kept fuelled in transit?" Atratus had already perceived one of the problems they were facing.

 

"No." The Iron Hand remained motionless. " But there is a high probability that the rites of Awakening and Void Hardening were at least begun before the boarding since we were considering using the craft."

The seemingly desecrated state of the docking bay still troubled him. Where were the deck officers responsible for this area? The enginseers? An area this size should have a contigent of maintenance servitors at the very least....

 

OOC

Sabaan will be using a half action to perform an Auspex sweep with his Augur Array

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"No foolhardy heroics, Akkad."  The Crimson Knight bumped his fist off Akkad's shoulder.  Under his helm the Astral Claw grinned.  The Apothecary had even used his name for the first time.  Things were looking up.

 

"Have we made contact with the Interrogator yet, Brothers?"   Akkad had been wondering about that as well - a rendezvous signal followed by...nothing.  The Interrogator had been adamant about his duty, had been keen to get the Kill Team deployed.  He had been absent during the running battle through the ship.  He may or may not have survived - how did he come to get here?  If he had?

 

"Brother Sabaan, would the craft have been kept fuelled in transit?"  Good solid question from Atratus as usual.  He looked around to see the cables and hoses half-discarded across the hangar deck.  equipment, tools, breathing gear and oil spills marked and pocked the deck, like a canvas of mayhem.

 

No blood.

 

"No....But there is a high probability that the rites of Awakening and Void Hardening were at least begun before the boarding since we were considering using the craft."

 

Sabaan became what to all intents and purposes to an outsider was a security sentinel array.  He stopped, scanning and it was obvious to those with technomancy or not.  Akkad's unease increased.  He slipped his Auspex from his belt and eased Vaidan onto Solastion's shoulder.  He pulled the Bolter from the Sergeant's waist and pushed it into his fist.  The Sergeant had suffered, his earlier commanding attitude had been bled at shouting orders, keeping his team together, hefting weapons against the enemy.  With a gentle clunk he detached Cadence and clamped the Auspex to her, where he could view both it and the muzzle.  He swept the empty corners of the room with the barrel, even though the Auspex could not detect that far.  His eyes were slits under his helm, the jade lenses burning coldly.

 

He took his time with each action, working slowly but steadily, like a man trying not to alert a predator.  His senses were screaming in the silence.  Finally he gave voice to his earlier thought as he clicked the safety off the heavy bolter and the Auspex powered up.  In the silence as the Kill Team had stopped moving, it was loud - at least to him.  The silence was pregnant.  Waiting.

 

"There is no blood." He said, simply, but firmly.  The way he said it was dark, not dismissive.  He could wait too - but they could all only wait so long.  This ship was becoming a living tomb - a Sarcophagus.  In Badabian that was a bad omen.  In the ancient language of Symetran, a corruption of the earlier Greesh - down on the coasts, the word meant "Casket that Eats Flesh."

 

"We need to move.  Now."

 

Akkad readies Cadence and will Auspex sweep for non-human lifeforms or unknown gases or pheromones.

 

MR.

Edited by Mazer Rackham
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"The only way we'll be getting out of here is once this shuttle is ready for launch. Brother Sabaan, what do you need us to do? You're the one with the expertise on getting a vessel prepared. Either way, this is a very suspicious situation...No crew, no signs of battle, no Interrogator..."

 

So far they've only seen swarms of the gaunt-type and a scant few encounters with the warrior-type and the fact that none had followed them here was concerning to be sure.

 

He had his fair share of encounters with Tyranids before - as did every Blood Angel - and the quietude only brought a few of their bioforms to mind if this was indeed an ambush: Lictors or Genestealers.

 

Solastion seriously doubted any of these would be present on the vessel but that didn't necessarily count them out and if they were indeed being stalked...

 

"Brothers, how many of you know of the Lictor bio-forms in addition to Genestealers?" he asked his Kill-Team as he continued his scan of the vessel with what little X-Ray vision he had.

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+The Lictor strains are ambush hunters correct? It is why I requested Varvost and Greyseight join me in securing the craft. It is also why I requested Atratus use his rifle to scan the launch control room prior to one of us entering to open the armoured shutters.+ spoke Tyber over the squad vox as his sabatons touched down on the loading ramp. Edited by Steel Company
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There is little to report, and indeed it seems as though the Tyranid swarm has avoided the hangar decks. It makes some form of sense; perhaps the boarders are focused on areas with greater concentrations of lifesigns. Through your auspices, you  can see no lifesigns - human or otherwise - on the hangar deck or in the shuttlecraft. As Atratus plays the crosshair of his scope across the hangar deck's control room, he finds it likewise empty. 

 

Perhaps you have an opportunity to escape the vessel relatively unscathed. 

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