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DW: Campaign - Head Hunted (IC Thread)

FFG RPG Roleplaying Deathwatch In-Character

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  • 621 posts
  • Location:Canada

Carde is going to activate his Raven Guard Solo Mode: Master of the Shadows to be able to reroll failed concealment tests. Also, per his Guerilla Training talent, he doesn't take the penalty to concealment because of his power armour.


Concealment (AG): 46 + 10 (hiding) + 20 (cameleoline cloaks) = 76

D100: 29 pass with 4 DoS


He tries to impart some advice to the other members of his kill team...


Tactics, Recon & Stealth (INT): 36

D100: 55, fail with 1 DoF


... but ultimately fails. He may be quite capable himself, bu the is no instructor. He quickly grows frustrated with his companion's failure to grasp concepts that are ingrained in him and quickly drops the subject.


Edited by Boyadventurer, Yesterday, 05:42 PM.

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  • 574 posts
  • Location:Eastern Fringe
  • Faction: Imperials

Because of the absorption properties of the environment, the increased levels of electromagnetic and radiographic interference generated by the installation itself, and how those emissions are conducted/transmitted through different material media Ains understood more of how to hide himself from the sensors looking for them, as He had already had been trying to conceal himself from the get go, the presence of the Tau looking for them made it imperative to hide themselves and he worked with skill to do so with the vast knowledge of how technology works at his disposal.  With the Earth and Fire Castes present he could not be more careful, especially spying the tech heresy that is the Battlesuit, fighting those head on was foolish, his mind reviewed the Layout and the patrols he could see, marking each one on their HUDs as they are observed, designating them with threat levels and marking armaments as identified. 
Technology Concealment (Tech Use) (Int): 45 + 20 (Rho Output) = 65
D100: 41 pass with 2 DoS

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Mazer Rackham

Mazer Rackham


  • 3,116 posts
  • Location:The Little Grey Hells

Carde and Ains:


The Tau sentry continues scanning with his googles none-the-wiser to your individual locations.


The magnoculars fix on the tree stumps and rocks your colleagues are hidden behind, peering.  From this distance through the systems in our own helms, you can spot the very distinctive shuffle of the Fire Warrior's knuckle as he zooms in.


I will update fully on Friday to allow others to get their rolls in if possible.




The Khamsin pattern Land Speeders take off in a roar of engines and buzzing of anti-grav plates.  Soon you are whipping over the terrain at breakneck speed, knuckles gripping the handles of the twin-linked heavy bolter mounted in front of you.  Kraevus is an excellent pilot, the bob and flit of the Land Speeder easy to compensate for, even for the humans in the back and hanging off the sides with their magboots.  Extra pouches of boltgun ammunition are hung around the cockpit.  You won't be running short any time soon.


The thought makes you wonder as to your colleagues, and the pilot next to you, do you think to address him as Ironbreaker before you realise he is not?  How easy to be cut from brotherhood - yet you know this all too well.  Maybe you think of the Space Wolf far to the North, pursuing his own Wyrd.


Irrelevant now.  You skip over the Imperial Guard lines and Kraevus patches you into the IG battle-net.  The chatter is ecstatic, nothing but excitement at the strange turn of events, yet, as a Chapter practiced in hit-and-run, and knowing the Tau for what they do, maybe the exuberance is premature...the Red Hunter's voice breaks you from the cyclical reverie.


+Predator Two-Five, Viper One.  We will engage the first targets in five minutes, over.+


You work the action on the guns and test the pintle.  This is going to be interesting.

Indexes: IA: Scions of Gehenna IA: White Paladins


Fuel-oils and the scent of burned exhaust metal greeted the back of his nose and throat.  The horrible stink of scorched plasteel, where the naked sun had touched it in space, lingered in the air - a delicate cross between extinguished candles, burnt plastic and molten solder.  It was a truly awful concoction.  "Smells like home," he winked at Tyrell.


The giant stood across from him, visor opened and mask withdrawn.  He pointedly sniffed.  "You lived in a fart-bottling plant?"


Arron Owen, The Ares Gambit.

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