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[OW/X - Tau]: Operation Fireknife (IC Thread)


Mazer Rackham

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Gue’la Earth Cast drones! From past encounters with these kind of humans Monat knew that while the things might resemble humans, and that there would be a human remains in there somewhere, these things no longer qualified as people, having been mutilated rather than enhanced by the human earth cast in their misguided way. They were a mockery of the Kor’vesa that worked and fought through the Empire for the Greater Good.

 

Mockery or not, they could still be deadly, just like the Be’gel pseudo-primitives. Setting down on the deck and dialing back the jetpack, for things like those often had infrared sensors and the stealth field would not be able to hide the heat from the engine for long.

 

If they were here then there would be more close by, better to take some out before they could alert others. Taking carful aim Monat sent a hypervelocity slug at the left of the two hostiles.

 

 

Aim (half action) at left murder-bot
Single shot (half action) at left murder-bot
BS: 47 + 10 Aim + 10 Short range – 10 Small (I assume they are like the one the others encountered) = 57
D100: 21, Hit , 3DoS
Hit Left Arm
Damage – assuming no dodge
2d10 (roll 8 + 5) +10 = 23 at Pen 9
Clip:15
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Monat/Tro:

 

You have Surprise, so the Bot cannot Dodge.  The next round you will go first.

 

The...construction snipping and snapping at your Fire Caste brethren to your left is cored through, like a Ja'rra fruit, the oil-clogged innards spewing out in a supercooked, melting slurry.  The circular laceration left by the slug burns golden as it peels, fire breaking out on the tattered sheath of robes the drone wears.  It sits there, burning, slumped over as the red light dies.  Its comrade - if one could allow such a moniker -  turns, almost confused, buzzing excitedly in some fashion unknown.  It extends the arms still coated with the purple blood of your kin, sweeping the air before it as it advances, quick arachasae legs propelling it forward in a mad hunt.

 

As it does so, after a few heartbeats, the sound of squeaking and wrenching metal ceases, when a panel in the ceiling is smashed out.  Another beast just like it emerges through conduits and sparking cables, as though birthed by the ship.  It too searches, glowering crimson gaze looking without seeing.

 

Awareness test Bot (Left):

FAIL.

Awareness test Bot (Ceiling):

FAIL.

 

Initiative continues to be 5.  PC goes first.

Edited by Mazer Rackham
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In one smooth action she swung the rail rifle round, assisted by the suits sensors acquire the other human drone in short order and fired again. Monat was unsure if it had had time to send a wider alert or whether it had just call to it's colleague that came crawling out of ceiling and joined the search for her, either way the quicker she put them out of their misery the better.

 

 

Aim (half action) at ground level murder-bot
Single shot (half action) at same
BS: 47 + 10 Aim + 10 Short range – 10 Small = 57
D100: 48, Hit

Hit Right Leg

Damage 
2d10 (roll 2 + 2) +10 = 14 at Pen 9
Clip:14

Edited by Trokair
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Monat:

 

Bot Dodge: Offscreen.

 

Again your shot strikes true, the power of the experimental weapon proving invaluable against these travesties of mechanics and flesh.

 

The last of the misbegotten drones searches for you, and detects where the shot has emanated from, but is otherwise unaware.  It makes a series of sharp chirps, and then hurtles in magnetised locomotion towards your position, its whole body beginning to glow with internal heat.

 

Full Action: Run towards Monat - 30m.

 

The Murder bot is now 10m away.

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The last Gue’la drone charged blindly towards Monat, and on its trajectory would almost certainly clip her, if not outright collide with her. Moving to the right and hopefully out of its path Monat took one more shot, if this missed then things could become messy close quarter fighting.

 

Half Action, move diagonally right/forward

Half Action single shot

BS: 47 + 10 Short range – 10 Small = 47
D100: 89, Miss 4 DoF – at least no overheat

Clip:13

Edited by Trokair
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Monat:

 

The Bot gives no heed to the round that careens from the glacis of ruined plates forming the sundered corridor - instead it glows even brighter and charges onwards, legs hammering pistons, the magnetic limbs piercing thin metal panels and sheeting as it comes to within arms' length.

 

At the last moment, the horrid thing seems to reach a calculated conclusion the shot came from your location, and it erupts in final, fatal vindictiveness.  Even then, it is tragic, sounding almost like a scream in the last second of its misbegotten transformed life.

 

Full Action: Charge 10m & Kaboom!

Blast 3m  Auto-hit unless Dodge.

Damage: (Body) 2D10+2 X Pen 0 = 14 (-TB 4, Arm 8) = 2 Wounds.

 

Regardless of the result, the passage is now clear, and the living quarters are not far away.

 

Tony/Targykex/Jaq'Arn.

 

The final bot falls over, for some unknown reason.  Nothing touches it, or strikes it, the creature slumps, before it begins to heat up and like the one before it, explode.

 

The comms frequency clears.

 

+R'nan to all teams, I'm in the living quarters.  Kyosha is wounded. We have found Doubletongue.  He is dead.+

Edited by Mazer Rackham
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At the last second the Drone veered right towards her, now glowing as parts of it overheated. Monat realised too late that it had no intent to engaging in melee, but rather it was a guided bomb. In the close proximity of the wreck there was little chance of escaping the blast.

 

Dodge Test

AG 49

D100: 88

Fail, Ouch.

Wounds remaining: 16

 

Picking herself up from the wreckage of the ruined corridor Monat had the suit run diagnostics. She could feel the aces and bruises, as the suit had not been able to dampen the entire shockwave of the blast, though it had absorbed the majority of the explosion. The pain would be a nuisance for a while, but nothing she could not live through.  The suit reported that the armour itself, as well as the support systems, were intact, some scorching aside.

Edited by Trokair
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Tony Keys.

 

 

"Let us move then. The Tau have not seemed to be so lucky as we were." said Targykex

 

 

"Affirmative Commander R'nan. We are inbound to your location, it seems that the Servitor Drones that we were facing were distorting vox frequencies."

 

Tony wandered over to check the remains of the corpses. As he did so he wondered how he knew about such technical things. It must be these most excellent Fio Caste implants - Tony thought.

 

Who am I? Am I me? Where do I get these weird sayings and memories from? 

 

Tony salvaged a knife blade arm that was intact enough and had a good edge. He endured the electric shocks as he made the Sign of the Cog over the remains.

 

The amalgam that thought it was Tony Keys hurried after Targykex and Jaq'Arn. His Implant allowed him a moment of lucidity.

 

"They'll fix you, they fix everybody!"

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The living quarters aboard the Wavestrider are not what the Gue'la would call opulent, nor the Aeldari describe as spartan.  Each room is designed to be in balance with the next, devoid of rivalry, rich in compliment.  Even so, the rooms of the diplomatic aides differ in decoration for rank, as they splice from the central area, a recreational hub where the passengers can gather.  Unlike the rest of the ship, there is power here.  The light is bright and welcoming.

 

The sight, however, is not.

 

The passengers, or what remains of them are gathered here.  As each of you enter through the passages from the hold, airlock or main gangway, you see Vre'R'Nan cradling Kyosha, her drones flitting about them in a warding pattern, a gun, shield and technical drone rotating in harmony, scanning for threats.

 

Each has seen action, their metal plating gouged, rent where the blades of half-human beasts assailed them, the Oilbloods, as Targykex quotes.  The two Tau soldier suffer too.  R'nan's arms sport three cuts bound over with dressings and Kyosha holds her arm up, hand clasping a trauma kit to her shoulder.  Both have cuts and grazes on their facies and silver chips carved in their combat plate.

 

Around them lie the sparking, but otherwise still remains of six murder-bots, themselves covered in the gore of Tau entrails and essence.

 

In the middle of the floor, where light-tables carry holograms of the shores of Tau'N, mountains of N'Dras or the forests of Pech, the slaughtered passengers sprawl.

 

Their faces frozen in terror or grim determination, bodies sliced into terrible ruin.  Coloured fabrics of the seating and carpet are awash with grisly slick, and the garments of office are tattered, blood-soaked rags.

 

The walls and ceiling are a mess of gore.  The Gue'la drones have done abominable - but ruthlessly effective work here.

 

Alone among them one is whole.  He clutches the Honour Blade of an Aun, yet his amulets and rings portray his Water Caste status.  In his other hand is a pulse pistol, magazine completely discharged.  At his feet there is a holodisc, flickering with the figure of a small Tau female, smiling up at someone offscreen.

 

He lies Doubletongue, the Half-truth, the Two Tongues.

 

R'nan stands up.  "We didn't find any survivors.  All pilots are dead."

 

"Sweep the cabins, see if you can find any clues," he shrugs.  He turns back to Kyosha, propping her up on a swept-back chair and assessing her.

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Tony Keys

 

The sight of all the carnage and spilt blood was too much for Tony Keys to take in, coming as he had just exited from a tightly confined tunnel together with two bird killers. Tony retched in a corner, his mind reeling as two sets of programming clashed at odds with each other "Emperor preserve us!" sobbed Tony as he puked on the floor, his hands clasping into a form of the aquilla that he'd used as a child.

 

Slowly Tony Keys managed to compose himself, he wiped himself down and turned to face the squad leader R'nan. "For the Tau'Va! I am unworthy, please, please forgive me. I am a wretched fool to still cling on to silly dogma, even when I have been instructed in the enlightened ways of the Greater Good." said Tony Keys grovelling.

 

"Targykex, Jaq'Arn and I destroyed three of those Servitor Drones. We had faced off a fourth but it self-terminated. Those remains could still be deadly containing an unspent grenade charge."

 

Tony Keys noted the wounds that the Tau sported and the six dead killer-cherubin. A facet of his imperial programming analayzed the kill spreads and noted the spent pulse weaponry that they had used. Yet he and Targykex had destroyed three with shotgun and more primitive shot weapons. Maybe the servitors had been optimised to fight against Tau weaponry, or maybe the tunnel confines had helped his squad out better control the kill-zone?

 

 

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The smell of spilt blood and oil suffuses the air in the cramped room, and Targykex relsihes it as he pulls it into his lungs. Static they might be, the oildblood hunters had been murderously effective. Odd though, the oilbloods were loathe to spend their resources without cause. He would have expected an etheral to be the target of other flatface deviations. Unless of course, the oilblood hunters had been hired out to one of these subsets.

 

Always Targykex was reminded how much more the flatfaces were like his own kind than the Tau were, forever binding themselves within their narrow alotted castes. 

 

The Kroot was wrenched from his reverie by the sound of flatface babbling from Tony Keys. Shocked at the carnage, the human seemed to be caught between grovelling to the Tau or hos own kind's leader. Maybe not so much like his own kind after all. The Tau could also be surprising, the hunter ruminated as he looks upon the corpse of the fallen water caste. It had struggled well, as ill-adapted to violence as it was. A great shame, and loss to them all, that the consumption of his corpse and the preservation of the corpse was unlikely to be allowed.

 

Except of course, there ought to be more than this one.

 

Targykex's head snaps up towards the standing Fire caste members.

 

"Your Etheral. Is she not among these?"

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Seeing that the area was secured and that the others were all here Monat disengaged the stealth systems. The crew and passengers had fought to the last, with honour. Crouching by the fallen Por, she examined the holodisc.  An’Rho’s uncle no doubt, pocketing the holodisc and the amulet she informed the others.

 

“I found one survivor on my way here, a Por’Saal, kin to this one I believe. She was not aware of any other survivors, but she had been able to search for any either. She reported that the Gue’la boarded the ship before the crash.”

 

Turning to address R’nan. “Where should we take any surviours, gathering here again would probably not be a good idea?”    

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R'nan steps over to the Gue'vesa first, gripping him by the shoulder and heaving him upright.

 

"Courage, Tony Kais.  You would not be here if you were not worthy of this task.  You must put behind you the constraints of the Imperium.  The Tau do not waste lives, we spend them for cause."

 

He turns back around, looking at the devastation, a grim look on his face as he considers Targykex's question.

 

"It does not appear so, but...it will take time to identify all the..." he baulks, the blue-grey skin common to Sa'Cea'n visibly paling, "everyone."

 

Kyosha nods, pulls a drone controller form her belt and sets her three drones to scan mode, each of them hovering over the carnage, tacking and analysing.  The Kor'vesa undertake it with a grim solemnity, perhaps understanding the situation in some fashion.

 

Vre'R'nan listens to Monat carefully, absorbing the information.  "You acted correctly, Shas'Ui.  This is a Shas'Ar'Tol matter.  Kyosha - we must power the comms unit in the Wavestrider, and report to the Shas'O immediately."

 

A clip of squelch comes across the comm-beads.  "Shas'Vre, Anuk'Var.  They're a way off yet, but we have a few guests approaching."

 

R'nan looks at the carnage around him, then at the team.  "Someone go and have a look.  Otherwise you can remain here and assist in the search.  We will meet again in the cargo bay."

 

There are a few things available to the players here, you can go and investigate the disturbance reported by Pathfinder N'dras Anuk'Var, retrieve the Por'Saal An'Rho, or search the bodies/quarters for traces of the Aun'La Du'Rega.  Alternatively, you can assist Shas'Ui Kyosha in getting the voice of the Wavestrider functional.

 

Structured time is over, so narrative is the order of the day.  You may also explore the Tau vessel in the remit of "patrolling".  The cargo bay is where Monat entered, and where you should finish up unless you go outside after.

Edited by Mazer Rackham
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On the way to retrieve An’Rho Monat stopped by several of the slain Tau and examined them in more detail, marking their position and condition on the map for easy retrieval should recovery of the slain be ordered. From one she took a pulse pistol that still had ammunition, not much, a few shots, but better than nothing.

 

Arriving at the door she activated the controls, but before stepping into sight she called out.

 

“It’s just me Saal’An’Rho” After a moment Monat entered, cautious of more mops.

 

“The ship has be cleared of hostiles to the best of our knowledge, and I am here to lead you to the hanger bay were we are gathering survivors.”

 

Retrieving the medallion and holodisk Monat hastened to preempt An’Rho question.

 

“Your Uncle unfortunately did not survive, he died with honour, defending others from the enemy. He did a great service for the Tau’va, and now you must carry his memory and honour his sacrifice.”

 

While speaking Monat handed both trinkets over, trying to be both kind and respectfull.

 

After having giving the young one as much time as could be spared to process it all Monat handed over the pulse pistol she had retrieved in the corridor.

 

“This has only a few shots, but it is more than a mop, just in case. The Gue’la drones have been cleansed, butcaution should always be taken. There are both Kroot and Humans auxiliaries working with us, so don’t be frightened if you see non Tau.”

 

Monat proceeded to show An’Rho the basics of how to operate a pistol safely. Once this was done it was time to head for the hanger.

Edited by Trokair
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R'nan stepped over to Tony, gripping him by the shoulder he heaved him upright.

 

 

"Courage, Tony Kais.  You would not be here if you were not worthy of this task.  You must put behind you the constraints of the Imperium.  The Tau do not waste lives, we spend them for cause."

 

Tony stood up straight and was pleased.

 

Yes the cover still works, Tony mused. Just don't over do it. 

 

Tony trusted to his hypno-gogic conditioning and training, however the expertly sliced bodies had shook his memories. He remembered the surgeries after he had 'Voluntereed' to serve the Tau and was augmented. Tony dimly also remembered deeper recollections which shook him to his core and had made him doubt who he was or what he was.

 

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

 

"The subject vessel is an amalgam of different minds. All the better to handle the intensive mental conditioning. He shall be inserted into a warzone where eventually he will meet various Xenos foes and be seen to join the Tau."

 

This memory Tony had recalled in many fragments numerous times, he had only very recently recollected it whole.

 

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

 

A clip of squelch came across the comm-beads.  "Shas'Vre, Anuk'Var.  They're a way off yet, but we have a few guests approaching."

 

"Someone go and have a look.  Otherwise you can remain here and assist in the search.  We will meet again in the cargo bay." said R'nan.

 

"Shas'Vre I shall hook up with the Pathfinders, my optics have many settings and I may be able to discern details that range obscures" stated Tony Keys, walking towards the exit.

 

Tony Keys remembered waking up on the Tau operating table as he was augmented.

 

"A man barely alive..."

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Monat:

 

An'Rho takes the trinkets gratefully, with a grace and dignity worthy of a Water Caste envoy.  She takes your instruction on the pistol diligently, realising that her life and now the lives of her rescuers may depend on her proficiency and courage.  The Message of the Tau'Va is clear, all must stand, or all shall fall.  She thanks you, and slowly unscrews the mop from it's bracket.

 

"I am Por'Saal An'Rho.  This is my staff of office.  It is humble, so I will be humble.  It will remind me of today, always."

 

You leave to go outside.

 

Tony Keys/Monat:

 

The pathfinder Shas'Ui N'dras Anuk'Var is a small blip up on the hillside, tucked in under a large rock outcrop, if it were not for his commbead IFF, you would not see him.  Next to him is the signature of his Drone, Fio'do.  The markers for 'Threat: Indeterminate' appear as yellow triangles on your HUD's and display, as the from the rim of the mountain basin, erupt figures in silhouette, five, then ten, doubling massively until maybe a horde of human-like figures and burden-beasts stand looking down onto the crashed ship, and whatever may rest inside.

 

Red silken banners flutter long in the skyline, rippling in the harsh winds, and the dry throat of the desert rolls down the cliffs and scarps to remind you of the wastes beyond this rough, cool oasis.

 

A small party of mounts break from the line, heading down a path which is indiscernible at your elevation, but these beasts fit your information for the Gue'la-ridden Mukaali.  As Anuk'Var said, they are still several hundred Tor'kan'a distant, but they are heading for you at the lazy pace of the desert-dweller.

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Targykex:

 

Your closer look proves fruitful in some ways, baffling in others, since the riders who approach are wearing some kind of cloth wrap around their heads.  Pale in colour, a flap covers their nose and lower jaw, leaving only hard stares to peer out from the swaddling clothes.  The robes they wear are layered for lightness and warmth, voluminous trousers snapping in the breeze from the mountains.  Some go barehanded, some not as they ride into the basin.

 

As you peer out over the desert, you can already see temporary shelters are being erected with large poles holding strange, vertical sails of finely wrought metal.  Their use becomes apparent as the mists from the basin flow down the mountain to collect in streams tumbling to fill military issue water containers.  You can the younglings being put to work fixing odd devices in the sunlight, and a glimmer betrays the reflective panels of solar collectors.

 

The one striking thing you notice is a riot of primitive, if well-made, weapons.  The travellers carry lances, javelins and an array of bows for their longer range striking power, but otherwise sabres, knives and clubs occupy the belt order of the warriors lining the hill.  As you near, the Mukaali moan and low, perhaps detecting your predatory scent.

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