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[Mazer Rackham]

Olafsson:

 

In the distance, you hear the thunder of something powerful smashing through something unable to withstand it.  Moving off in the direction of Objective Theta, you can hear the unnatural screaming of engines choking on thick air as they accelerate towards the ground.  There is no more you can do, and they must trust to the Allfather and gravity.  Taking stock of your surroundings and the map, it appears you have landed on one of the higher ridges overlooking T'au controlled territory.  You will have to be careful - the last known location of a full Hunter Cadre is nearby.

 

The trees creak and moan, branches pushing and fretting at each other, the sounds of a planet groaning with the turmoil wrought upon it.

 

In the skies, you can hear metal doing the same.

 

A check of your map shows your position.

 

Spoiler

 

 

As you look up from the image on the dataslate, you hear the tree branches rustle above you, moving beyond that of normal wind.

 

Since you were maintaining an alert state you may make a Perception Test (Any sense).  This will be an Opposed test, with the winner being the roll with the most DoS.  Bear in mind that your Space Marine implants give you +10 to sight, hearing and in your case, smell.

 

Map scale is an abstraction, so roughly 1inch = 10km.  Dark Grey Ares are heavily wooded and slower going, with successively paler areas increasing in potential pace for a decrease in cover and concealment.

[Trokair]

"Your Chapter appears to be proficient in aerial craft: what is the optimal course of action now, Brynjarr?"

Looking out the open hatch Brynjarr considers the Exorcists words and their situation. The cacophonic of klaxons, alarms and alerts of the various ship systems, the damage and fire, all intermixed with the howl of air and wine of engines, what to do indeed.

“There is too much air and ground for my liking.” Gesturing towards the sky, “I’d say my proficiency ends up there. Regardless, this Blackstar is not well, and I doubt she is still voidworthy, and that is without counting the battery* of enemy intercept crafts.”

“While the original orders had been for us to jump,” glancing at the winch he continued, “or rappel from a safe height, that does not seem to be ideal anymore.”

Switching to vox Brynjar called out to Ironbrekaer.

+++What is your status? By my unschooled eye this vessel may not be voidworthy anymore, could you land instead?+++



*Apparently the collective name for a group of barracudas is a battery. I original had shoal here to play on the fish name of Tau craft but thought I better look it up.

Edited by Trokair, 23 February 2021 - 07:14 PM.

[grailkeeper]

Rolled a 62. I think I get bonuses for being a helmetless space wolf, but that's still not great.

Edit. Burned a fate point. Got 74. Uh oh.

Edited by grailkeeper, 23 February 2021 - 09:06 PM.

[Mazer Rackham]

Olafsson:

 

Yes, that's correct, in this instance you'd be testing against 40 (your base stat) +10 (Heightened Senses - Implants - I have included these in your profile) for a Target number of 50.

 

The height of the trees is deceptive, giving you a strange sense of vertigo, even for a fleet-serving Astartes, and veteran of the snow-hidden peaks of Fenris, where the eye does not truly perceive the depth, the sights and scents of this place are not quite accustomed within your eyes, ears or nostrils.  Perhaps it is the lingering effects of the ejection, the rocket motor fumes clogging your olfactory powers.

 

It is of no consequence, the noises above you resolve into a troop of tiny green-blue Ong'Keh, an indigenous type of arboreal monkey.  The troop hop and swing through the trees, almost as oblivious to you as you are to them.  They seem to pick some kind of berry from the boughs supporting their truly nimble and tiny bodies.  They gorge themselves as you move forward, their droppings slapping onto your armour, though thankfully not your head.

 

It is...pungent.

 

The Ong'Keh jabber and cackle to each other.

 

Corvus Blackstar 052:

 

+++What is your status? By my unschooled eye this vessel may not be voidworthy anymore, could you land instead?+++

 

Khordeila Cao's gauntleted fingers danced across the panel, hearing the Voidborn's words, yet focussing on his task.  Runes flashing under his deft touches, the delicacy of a surgeon's hands mimicking the flutter of a clavichordium-performer across polished keys.

 

Extinguishers kick in, damping the fire, but for all his effort, the T'au pilot behind is unimpressed as he falls back to 300, then 400 metres behind the craft.  He lifts above the lateral plane, angling, chasing Ironbreaker one way, then firing into the trap set.  Ains manages to deter the burst of missiles, again.  You can only imagine the pilot's frustration, but it delays nothing.  The burst cannons fire again, either independent of the fouled Xenos targeters Ains is blocking, or just fired manually at close range.  An energy spike shrieks across your armours threat augurs.

 

The Space Wolf does not answer immediately with words.  He grunts and grinds his teeth, and the image of long canines locked in a tight clench spring quickly to your minds.  Perhaps he could no no more.  With his smashed arm, he wrestles the spacecraft to evade, Brynjarr seems to shift his balance by instinct, but even the rest of you can tell his response time is sluggish, and the Apothecaries witness his life-signs shift from green to amber, his heart rate thumping into higher tier to keep him fighting for your lives.

 

Then it happens.

 

A godlike punch rocks the whole craft, wobbling it violently and toppling anything standing upright or not firmly secured in the racks.  It can only be a hit by the main gun of the Barracuda pursuing you.  Tools and boxes of corpse-starch rations explode across the cabin, banging off your armoured shells to tumble from the open doors of the assault ramps, pinwheeling away into the orange dawn, the curve of the sun peaking over the Black Mountains and the carpet of trees below, revealing such a beautiful sight.

 

The romance of such a view, if it registers with you at all, is subsumed by the reports of the impacts on your armour, of shrapnel from inside the craft.  Your cybernetic-synapse links register the contact.  A whole panel blows out as reserve power cells rupture through cascade failure in the auto-repair circuits and the rear ramp tears off with a harsh squeal and a decidedly angry wrench.

 

The explosion and rapid air-tunnel rush puts out the fire, but the success is short-lived.  The Blackstar lurches sharply to the right, banking down and coming around, the lift in your stomachs telling you of rapid altitude loss at speed, if the altimeters linked to your HUD didn't do that for you.

 

+Port wing is held on by paint!  Hold on to something!+ Ironbreaker barks, though his voice is clotted with thick fluid.

 

The Barracuda behind you peels off and away, you can see him performing some kind of victory display.

 

The ground gets closer and from the front of the assault ramps you can see Ironbreaker is heading for a small clearing.  The engines die as he cuts the power, trying to glide the Blackstar in, to prevent you matching the blazing orange sun, with a nuclear fireball of your own.

 

+What in Throne is happening?+ a sharp voice cuts over the vox net.

 

Racel has just woken up.

 

Although the wind pummelling through he Blackstar is a hurricane - there is the odd stillness of a craft without power.  With such clarity of thought, you have a few moments to act.

Edited by Mazer Rackham, 23 February 2021 - 11:38 PM.

[Trokair]

Not bothering to look at the freshly awoken Racel, as his attention was on disconnecting the hurricane bolter ammo bins; in a crash they could cause a problem, Brynjarr reply curtly as he threw them out the left forward hatch. If they could recover them later it might give them much additional ammunition, but for now he judged that they were better off with the ammo out there.

“Enemy intercept craft shot us down, in a few seconds we will be saying hello to the ground.”

Logically the assault cannon ammo feeds would be under their feet somewhere, but Brynjarr did not know exactly where so could not jettison those.

Operating the crank on the left front door he closed it, at the speed they were still going it might be better to remain inside and brace, he hoped that one of the others had the same though and was dealing with the right front hatch. The rear door was still open should they need to run and jump at the last second.

As the ground drew closer Brynjarr tensed, ready to brace or jump.

Edited by Trokair, 24 February 2021 - 08:13 PM.

[grailkeeper]

Olafsson considers firing at the creatures but decides against it. Better not to draw attention to himself and who knew when he might resupply. 

 

He didn't think it was likely the black star would crash. It probably made it to Imperial lines. There was no point searching for it if it did crash. Enemy forces would find it first. Everyone on board would be killed in the crash or dispatched shortly afterwards. Enemies were most likely seeking it out even as he thought. Hopefully that would draw them away from his location. The smoke and noise from a big crash would draw their attention, if their stratocraft didn't report it in first. 

 

He sent out another vox message with a databurst containing his location. If they were alive they'd converge on him.

 

If. 

 

He drew his combat blade and started to make his way north through the undergrowth, aiming for Objective Theta.

Edited by grailkeeper, 23 February 2021 - 11:03 PM.

[Mazer Rackham]

Olafsson:

 

You press through the thickets slowly, trying not to disturb more of the undergrowth than necessary, making up for this by hurrying across glades and making clever use of fallen branches capable of supporting your weight to minimise your footprints and sign.  The blue-green haze permeates the forest at all levels and but for the fact there are forest animals and avian analogues fluttering about, you could in parts be underwater in a deep, algae choked lagoon.

 

Your progress is slow, but continuous for a solid five minutes, your hand pushing through dense lianas and tall grasses whose edge is so sharp and hard it would slice unprotected flesh.  Everywhere is lush and vibrant and the forest is a riot of smells now your nose has discerned the different scents available.  You press on, until the forest goes completely silent, and up ahead you can smell something rotten, and hear the chop of metal into flesh accompanied by odd chirruping and low squawks.

[grailkeeper]

Silkbeard froze, Metal sounds ruled out local fauna. It was probably the eaters of the dead, the xenos mercenary light infantry. He quietly primed a frag grenade and tried to ascertain how many there were.

 

 

77. Jeepers these dice are not great. I wont waste a second fate point this early on. 

[TechCaptain]

Ains instead of worrying like the other Astartes about what can they do to ease the landing and give our selves less mass for less impact, instead helped the pilot with trying to maintain the best angles for a crash landing. His mind was making minute corrections to the numbers running probabilities for every scenario, especially on how they can use what they have left to their advantage. They are now in no man's land or behind enemy lines, this is going to be one of the more dangerous parts of the mission. Luckily, the likely response is going to be relatively low unless T'au has better intelligence on what their craft had carried. Most likely the T'au would assume this Blackstar was like most transports from orbit for the Imperial Forces, the lack of confirming the kill follow on at least supports this theory. Either way as his mind joined the task at hand, they want to keep the nose of the ship relatively flat or up in a a minor fashion to create as much forward thrust and limit the downward angle, creating an avenue for Momentum to go that isn't as hard.  Ains did however direct the others not to remove the EWAPS station or the power feeds to the fuel batteries. If they survive the impact, he could use the whole set up as a trap and maybe take a squad or two with the vehicle. The Blackstar technology will not fall into enemy hands and will be praised to the Omnissiah in a final act of momentous beauty. An rigged explosion after landing timed with the probable locating time of a scout/search squad would by the team enough time for further infiltration. He could even rig it to display a distress beacon with a false encoding that would entice the enemy. Ains' Chapter are the premier hunters of the Eastern Stars for a reason and he is one of the great Artificers whose duty is to carry the knowledge of the Chapter. 

[Mazer Rackham]

Olafsson:

 

As you ready your frag grenade, your eyes are drawn to the source of the noise.  It is indeed a Kroot as you suspected, an Eater of The Dead.  It stands above a corpse bloated with decay-gas and riddled with maggots, little more than a grisly tatter of ragged meat.  The Tau Auxiliary raises its Kroot rifle once more and slams it back down into the sack of rotting flesh at its feet.  Thump-schlock.

 

As you continue to watch, it croaks again in the harsh native language you heard before, yet the noises are no different.  It is a chirp, followed by a squawk, and nothing else.

 

It lifts the halberd-rifle and slams it down again.  Thump-schlock.

 

The grey flesh wrapping it's lean muscles is wasting, clinging to emaciated ribs.  It repeats the call and the action.  From the mire of the ground, it has been stood there for a while.  A quick look around reveals other victims, all wearing the garb of the Imperial guard, but the equipment left scattered is high-end.  A strike team perhaps.

 

The Kroot repeats its mantra.  Thump-schlock.

 

More chittering betrays there are other Kroot nearby, but you cannot see them, the spectacle before you absorbing your attention.

 

Thump-schlock.

 

Blackstar 052:

 

Ironbreaker Piloting Test: AG 45 + 10x6 (assistance) - 20 (Damage) - 20 (Difficult Manoeuvre) = 65

D100: 008.  PASS plus 5 DoS.

 

The pilot is likely drunk on pain suppressant, for he breaks into a dirge in Fenrisian.  It is not a strong, gusty tale, but even though the meaning is lost, there is something moving and mournful about it.  Those of you who know the customs of the Wolves will understand this Wyrding Lament all too well.

 

Ironbreaker is dying, and must have lied about his injuries to the Grey Hunter, Silkbeard, but there is no pulling the wool over the eyes of the Apothecaries as his vitals slip into crimson.

 

Still, as you jettison the ammunition bins, tear out consoles and hurl them into the wake of the Blackstar, he keeps you aloft.  The angle of descent, so steep as to resemble a bullet fired at the ground, smooths out into a graceful arc, your stomachs shifting with the motion, the feeling of the nose riding up as he flares it, the trees suddenly eclipsing the view, providing nothing more than a green-blue backdrop across the remains of the rear loading ramp.  The trees get taller, and taller.

 

The rattling of the airframe is the cough of a dying man shuddering from poison gas, and then something solid hammers beneath your feet as the toll of a great bell.  The vessel drops again, to the sound of the earth being torn and rent, great clods of mud and grass are catapulted into the cabin via the rear ramp.  The sound stops as the craft lifts briefly, skimming the ground.

 

It is punctuated by a lift, and then another resounding collision, and the unmistakeable sound of sloshing water, cascading up and showering the whole upper hull.  As the Blackstar becomes a sledge, tobogganing through peaty mire, it wallows its way down into a wet, watery bed before slowing, arrested by long marsh grass and sucking swamp.  The deceleration is not easy, anything loose in the vessel or upright without magboots tumbles and smashes against the now closed assault ramps in a slide that seems to creak and groan and rumble on forever, rattling your teeth and guts with shuddering force.

 

Finally the craft stops, and for a few moments, there is nothing but eerie silence, before the ooze begins to slink into the compartment and inexorably begins to pool about your feet.

 

The clearing, so inviting from above, appears to have actually been a swamp.

[Dosjetka]

Placeholder.

Loth lets Brynjarr take charge of the Inquisitrix. He heads to the cockpit to see what he can do for Ironbreaker. Depending on the situation, he'll try and heal the poor bugger. If that isn't an option, last rites and progenoid gland extraction.

[Trokair]

Brynjarr was pleasantly surprised by how gentle the landing had been compared to what he had expected. He had certainly been in rougher boarding torpedoes and assault craft landings, let alone that ork scrap that had stranded him. This landing, rough as it had been, was a testament to the pilot’s skill, it could have been so much worse.

As far as Brynjarr could asses he was unharmed, as where the rest of the kill team. Loth was heading to the front, to see to the pilot no doubt, as he would have been the worst affected by the crash. Water was beginning to seep in, but not at a worrisome rate. Letting go of the hull he had used to brace himself and unlocking the boot mag-lock he glanced at Racel still tied to the seat he was holding in his other hand. She seemed unhurt, though possibly dazed, if there were more serious injuries then they were not obvious to him. Releasing the straps, he helped her find her feet, Once she was leaning against the wall he took the opportunity to splash towards the open rear hatch, the water had risen up to his lower leg, if this continued then they may be in trouble, but for now it was fine.

Stepping of the landing ramp and into the swamp he muttered with some indignation “Hello Ground.” The bottom appeared to be no deeper then knee height, though care would need to be taken, as it would be both unstable and other parts may be deeper. Behind him water continued to flow into the black star, but the wreck seems to be mostly settled now.

Their landing path was obvious, snapped branches formed an obvious gorge in the forest ahead of him. Debris was scatted along the ground, much of it sinking into the mire. Ripples of waves lapped at the edge of any solid ground, and would no doubt continue to do so for a while.

Using the team vox channel rather than speaking out loud Brynjarr asked:

+++ Brother Ains, you have the best vox equipment, any word from our Team Leader, I thought I heard a data burst from Silkbeard as we were coming down but I could not make it out clearly.+++

Green-blue reeds obscured the shoreline on the left side of the clearing that they were in, while to the right and wearing out of sight there was enough of a break in the trees to suggest a tributary brook or stream. The majority of the vegetation around them was some local analogue to moss, floating in patches and clinging to solid ground, it had an iridescent hue to it that might be native, or spilled oil from the Blackstarr. Further out beyond the clearing the forest quickly became too dense to see through, a mixture of trees and ferns blending into one.

Looking up Brynjarr was disappointed to see clouds moving in and obscuring the sky, he did not like it, though tactically it would aid them avoid attention from anybody searching for the down craft. Turning back into the Blackstarr, water now ebbing at his knees just as it had outside, he retrieved his Breacher shield from where it thankfully was still mag-locked next to the remains of the tactical station.

Time to organize and they should not tarry here, switching back to audio he spoke out loud.

“Does anybody have an approximate map location for where we are now?”

Edited by Trokair, 25 February 2021 - 07:43 PM.

[grailkeeper]

Silkbeard's lips curl with revulsion. Eating the decaying dead. His instinct is to leave the scene but he knows that he may stumble across more enemies nearby. Drawing enemy attention may be inevitable- he may as well do it on his terms. Perhaps the dead guard kill team may have some useful intel or materials.

 

He quietly tries to prepare a trap with the frag grenade. Better to draw the enemy to him and take them out on his terms. 

 

Roll 19. I'm not sure exactly what I'm rolling against but that has to be at least a few degrees of success.

 

His trap prepared he retreats back a safe distance and prepares to spring it. He slows his breath as he aims at the enemy. Aims and fires.

 

Roll 26 v 92 (BS 42+ 20 full aim + 30 unaware target) 6 degrees of success!

 

 

Edit : damage (12+5) 17 AP 5

Edited by grailkeeper, 25 February 2021 - 06:19 PM.

[TechCaptain]

Ains looks at their situation and start making judgement calls since their leader had punched out without verifying they could actually jump and complete the mission. With his usual quick thinking and analytical approach with the information he had Ains decided the best course would be for them to make best speed out of their current position. "Okay, Apothecaries. Assessment for Iron Breaker, is taking him along any value or is it time to collect his geneseed so his brothers can honor his sacrifice? Once that is done get out of here towards the objectives try to hide our numbers and tracks as best you can. Go single file and step in each other's prints. it will make it harder to judge numbers if a bit easier to see passage. I will rig a few door-jam trip wires, that will keep will kill whoever investigates. Whatever is still intact however needs to be broken before then. This technology can not fall into enemy hands. I will bring up the rear and try to cover our tracks as best I can." With the plan verbalized, Ains commences with trying to execute it. 

 

Ains also took the chance to check the comms equipment which records what it receives to clean up and figure out just what they had gotten from their estwhile teamleader. "I don't have it cleaned up yet, Brother on the Vox messages. I will let you know what I find."

 

(OOC: I don't know what skills or how many rolls are needed. Will update with that later.)

 

Edit: BS: 34 Success

 

Edit 2: In response to a placeholder, I don't know what I need to do to figure out what we have received of the Vox.

Edited by TechCaptain, 25 February 2021 - 08:06 PM.

[Mazer Rackham]

Olafsson:

 

+++ SURPRISE ROUND +++

 

Silkbeard takes careful aim and strikes from ambush, snapping a round off from his bolter.  His shot strikes the target, and blasts a chunk from the thigh, flinging the Kroot to the ground.  It mewls pathetically, gesturing with its Kroot Rifle.

 

To find location, we reverse the Hit Roll numbers, so 91: Left Leg.  The shot is now reduced by the Target's armour and Toughness Bonus.

Armour Penetration only affects Armour, it doesn't overspill.

 

Damage 16 Pen 4

Reduced by TB 4 (Armour 0) = 12 Wounds inflicted.

 

+++ COMBAT ROUND: STRUCTURED TIME BEGINS +++

 

There is the swish of plants and tall grasses as in the little clearing, two more Kroot Carnivores stand up, their rifles left on the floor.  Whether in shock or carelessness is unknown, but they carry themselves as the first.  They do not sniff the air, or shriek with war cries.  They merely squawk and chatter at this unexpected assault.

 

They are approximately 30m to your left.

 

Initiative Order:

 

Silkbeard Olafsson: 6

Kroot Carnivore 1: 5 (0 Wounds - 10 points of Critical Damage Remain).

Kroot Carnivore 2: 5

Kroot Carnivore 3: 5

 

Olafsson may now act again as he has Initiative seniority.  The two other Kroot stand close together, within 2 metres.  Any target within 2m of another, may be attacked with the same action if it offers multiple shots, dividing them between targets as the player chooses.

 

For example, Olafsson may choose the Semi-Auto Burst Full Action here.  For every two degrees of success, another one of the shots fired will land - so for a Bolter profile, we see S/2/- as the ROF.  This means that if Silkbeard scores a PASS and two DoS, both of his shots will the target.  He may then allocate one hit to each target, rolling damage separately against each, or plough both into one enemy.

 

++++++++++

 

Loth:

 

You pull the tangled wreckage aside that keeps you from reaching the Wolf.  Your sensoria suite and the Narthecium input shows he is in an exceptionally bad way.  As you force into the cramped cockpit - noticing the obvious absence of Silkbeard and the co-pilot throne - you lean over the Skyclaw and ease his helmet from his head. He would be unable to do so himself, as both arms are sheeted in rich Astartes blood, shining purple in the odd light from the strangely-hued foliage.  His eyes flash, catching the orange sunrise, retinas alive with fire.

 

"Made...an Oath, to get you down," he coughs up a knot of clotted blood, more freely runs down his chin.  His secondary heart has stopped beating entirely, his skin a deathly pallor.  "Geneseed...oath."

 

He reaches to grip your forearm, then slumps and is still.  His fingers gently slide away from you, but he stares up and out through the shattered cockpit.

 

You may make a Difficult (-10) Medicae Test to remove the Progenoid glands, due the awkward manner in which he is trapped within the machine.

 

++++++++++

 

Brynjarr:

 

Inquisitrix Galleus does not fight you as you manhandle her to a position of relative safety, the water lapping up to her waist due to her size and the way the deck of the Blackstar is canted.  She holds her stomach, bending over slightly, and puts an arm out to steady herself.

 

+My thanks, Voidborn,+ she voxes to you.  +I think I can move.+

 

She pulls herself upright, but it is obvious something is not entirely right, as she emits a sharp groan through her external vocaliser unit.  Regardless, she checks her weapons and once more looks around the cabin, her helmet pivoting, then shaking slowly.  Finally, her previous, confident tone returns.

 

+We must make all speed to Objective Rho.+

 

As you look out onto the rugged view, you can see fallen tree logs coated in the thick, twinkling moss.  They are moving contrary to the eddies of the water.  More problematic is the high-pitched whine of engines in the distance.

 

+++++++++++

 

Ains:

 

As you set about giving your suggestions and looking for a handy spot for a grenade, the Shadow Vox activates at your urging and begins to exload data screeds into your HUD.  Reassuring binharic language rolls across your vision in different runes, as it auto-affixes to your own preferred style.  It shows that there are two vox messages awaiting from callsign Hellebore Alpha.  The name perhaps is appropriate for the demanding Fenrisian.

 

++Squad Hellebore - are any of you hálfvitar alive? Hone in on my location. ++

 

The other is a coordinates check.

 

(See Map)

Spoiler

++++++++++

 

Mantanor Carde and Khordelia-Cao:

 

With the craft now settling in the much of Baraban, there is still much to do.  Some of your brothers may be injured or perhaps the Inquisitrix is in need of medical attention.  Nonetheless, the crash site must be either secured, or a way must be planned for escape.  Either way, you pull yourselves free of the wreckage and stand ready.

 

What do you do?

 

++++++++++

[Boyadventurer]

Carde finally regains his senses. In his last ditch effort to establish communication with the Imperial air defenses, he must have removed his helmet. Easier to see the dials with his own eyes, there was clearly something he was missing. When the ship was hit, he went to help secure the Inquisitor. He can feel the residue of dried blood and fresh coagulants, he must have been hit in the head on their descent.

He surveys the crashed Blackstar and the scenes unfolding within. He releases the maglock on his helmet and, after pouring out some swamp water, fits it back on his head and checks his armour's integrity.

 

++ That wasn't too bad ++ he voxes to his squadmates. ++ I will take up a watch until you all are ready. No telling what we might have stirred up, hmm? ++

 

He scans in the distance patches of dry land first and draws his gaze back along the swampy water surface looking for any signs of disturbance. All the while running his hands over his weaponry and kit, making sure there is no major damage. If he feels we are safe enough for the moment, he will begin a more thorough check through his gear.

[Dosjetka]

Placeholder.

Medicae Test: 56 (-10 for difficulty but +10 from diagnostor helmet)
D100: 52 PASS

Loth manages to extract the glands though with great difficulty. Reflects on genetic heritage, the uniqueness of each gene-line, and the critical importance of gene-seed preservation to ensure a Chapter's survival. Muses about his own death and what would happen to his own gene-seed: would the Mantis Warrior fulfill his oath?

Says something along the lines of: "You have fulfilled your oath to us, Ironbreaker, and I have fulfilled mine to you. Go now, in peace and with pride, to the Emperor's side."

Dips fingers into some of the uncoagulated blood and marks his white helm with it, as a way to remember both the Space Wolf and the blood that Olafsson now has on his hands.

[grailkeeper]

Three. The knowledge implanted in his head told him this was small squad. Perhaps they had taken casualties, or perhaps more were trying to flank him.

 

In either event he kept the pressure up- raking the killing ground with a semi auto burst.

 

30 v 52 (BS 42+10) 2 degrees of success

 

hit no 1 10+9 

 

hit no 2  9 +9

 

I think I get righteous fury on the first shot. How does that work with pbp?

[Mazer Rackham]

Grail:

 

You're spot on.  With Righteous Fury (RF), you simply roll another D10 and add it to your total.  RF Auto-Confirms against Xenos. If that extra D10 comes up with a 10, roll again until you roll 9 or less.  So Hit 1 would look like this:

 

Dam: 19 (RF Confirmed) + x = xx

 

+++ COMBAT ROUND: STRUCTURED TIME CONTINUES +++

 

Olafsson:

 

The two Kroot are no match for a prepared hunter.  The first bolt round takes one creature in the head, blasting it's beak apart and blowing the flesh into red ruin.  The second round smacks into its companion, striking it in the chest.  The mass-reactive cap tears the chest open with a bang and crack of splintered bone, leaving a horrible wound.

 

Spoiler

Kroot Carnivore 1: (0 Wounds Remaining)

Kroot Carnivore 2: (-3 Wounds - Critical Damage Sustained).

Kroot Carnivore 3: (-2 Wounds - Critical Damage Sustained).

 

All three Carnivores are downed in less than two thumps of your heart, and whilst not dead outright, left to their fate, they will soon perish from blood loss and shock.  The forest stills after the throaty roar of the Boltgun, and as you survey the brutal work, the small noises return, the skirmish over almost before it began.

 

Only the first foe felled shows any signs of life.  It shudders as the emaciated body fights to remain alive.

 

Ammunition Expenditure: 3 (Please mark this on your sheet).

 

+++ COMBAT ROUND COMPLETE: STRUCTURED TIME ENDS +++

[TechCaptain]

Ains with a disgruntled grunt fed the information of the map coordinates to everyone's HUDs and the Inquisitor's systems as well. "Well our 'leader' is in the opposite direction of Objective Rho but on the way to Objective Theta. At least one of the Apothecaries should go to him, just to make sure his hide stays in one piece. Inquisitor wants Objective Rho down first appropriately as that is what is giving our enemy such good data. I think the rest of us should head straight to the objective. It is already going to be slow going due to the swamp and the fact we need to cover our tracks as best as we can. Objections?"

[grailkeeper]

Three shots three kills. Olafsson waits to see if any more enemies emerge.

 

When none do he makes his way through to the glade, picking up his grenade on the way.

 

He stamps down on the surviving alien's shattered leg. Bones crack. He kicks away its weapon.

 

 

"Listen to me Alien. You will die. Unless you wish it to be painful, you will tell me where your commander is and what forces lie between me and him."

[Mazer Rackham]

The creature looks down as your armoured sabaton snaps through it's avian-derived limb.  It peers at the crippling, awful broken shards sticking through its ruddy, ragged flesh.  There is no meat on this creature, it is literally skin and now, less bones.

 

It does not respond to your question. You lean down, but the thing doesn't even seem to see you at all.  It just chirps some random, sad noises.

 

The bone-breaking is the last straw, the beady eyes, even now dull, glaze over and it dies, still staring down at the pulverised limb, first by the boltgun, now your boot.

 

There is nothing but the trade of death in the glade, and you are it's merchant.

 

If you wish to glean information about the area, the bodies etc, you will need a Routine (+10) Scrutiny Test (Perception).  The bonus is due to having secured the area, and no enemies immediately present.

[grailkeeper]

rolled a 65

 

My perception is 55 so Plus ten scrapes a pass.

[Mazer Rackham]

Grail - you may re-roll that if you wish - you do have the free re-roll to any Perception based test.

 

Brynjarr/Ains/Loth/Carde/Cao:

 

The high-pitched whine resolves into your friendly T'au pilot.  He has obviously seen the crash and now is heading towards the pall of black smoke billowing from the top of the craft where the paint still blisters and sends ashes to scatter across the waters of the swamp.  It will be on you all in seconds.

Edited by Mazer Rackham, 26 February 2021 - 10:52 PM.

[TechCaptain]

"Exit and get down now!!! Hide so it doesn't look there are survivors but we do not want to be in here if he fires upon the vessel for kicks." Even as he spoke Ains did for himself exactly as he suggested, moving out to the side of the Blackstar that would keep him hidden from the pilot because of the smoke, debris and the large chassis. Then he made best use of the few second they had to crouch down near some dark debris of the dead Blackstar to hide his silhouette so no pilot would be able to distinguish him from the rest of the wreckage.