Commissar Molotov

Apologies guys - as Petragor said, I look up and it's the weekend! Work has been hectic here and I've not had a free time. I'm having to rework and rewrite things to accommodate missing players, but I'm keen to try to get things going. Please bear with!

Work has been hectic for me but I will work on an update today, starting on Blackthorn.

Daon Akkad: The Star Phantom's voice swirls around you. "Is there honour within your soul? Even after all the horrors you and your kin have perpetrated upon this galaxy?" Once more you feel the sensation of falling backwards, falling through your memories until you land with a crunch on unfamiliar ground. You look down to see a body that is yours - and yet not yours. The power armour that encloses your body is both entirely familiar and wholly alien, at once. White-painted ceramite, flecked with damage sustained in battle you have never fought and yet remember in intimate detail. Before you can ponder these impossibilities further, a Thunderhawk gunship roars overhead, dangerously low. Reflexively, you take cover as a pair of missiles streak from its wings to detonate in sequence across a row of factories, administration buildings and hab-blocks ahead of you. The air is choked with dust and smoke that play havoc with your auto-senses. ++Get up!++ Where are you? How could you have forgotten? ++GET UP!++ In the near-distance, ahead of you, you see the enemy advancing. Their familiarity with these streets and hab-stacks lends them an ease of movement. These are the defenders of the cess-pit that is Badab Primaris. The hated Astral Claws. Their steeled armour is tainted sickly yellow with the sulfurous light of the sky above. They are alert, bolters high and panning fast. You rise on snarling armour joints, shedding the last vestiges of Daon Akkad as you do. Your painful memories are swallowed, sublimated as your armour’s pharmacopeia infuses your transhuman biology with stimulants and nerve-killers. It feels like stepping into a bath of warm water. TO BE CONTINUED...

I will update tomorrow and then we should be able to move forward with our Kill-Teams...!

Hope you're enjoying!

Daon Akkad, the Last Loyal Son of Badab Star Phantoms Battle Barge Clepsydra - Azurean Nearspace As you walk to the chamber, you feel like a man being led to the gallows. The Phantoms standing guard at the entranceway remain motionless, their bolters held tight to their chests, but you hardly need to be a psyker to divine how they yearn to gun you down where you stand. Each of them wear campaign badges and icons that you have come to learn mark them out as participants in the so-called War of Badab. Montesa came to your cell with news of the bargain he had struck: Trial by Ordeal. He had sat with you, attempting to describe what would unfold, and the steps that would need to be taken. For all the good it did you: it seemed akin to trying to explain sight to the blind. Still, with commendable patience he led you through prayers and taught you the mental exercises that would be necessary to endure what would happen. Entering the chamber, you find it larger than you expected; it is spartan in the ways that Astartes accommodations so often are, but the end wall is dominated by a sculpture of the Imperator Mortifex, a looming, shrouded figure clutching an hourglass in its skeletal fingers. Perhaps best not to dwell on such symbolism. To your right, you see Montesa. The Codicier’s sloped helm inclines toward you in a nod. To your left, you see the Chief Librarian, Parmenion. He is unhelmed, his eyes boring into yours. "Daon Akkad. You are summoned here to answer the charges that have been laid before you. The treasons of the Astral Claws are many and multitudinous, and the damage wrought upon the Imperium of Mankind by your brethren has erased any honours they may have once claimed. This trial will determine whether you bear any guilt; whether you must die alongside the rest of your kin." As he speaks, the door shuts behind you with a heavy clunk-clunk-clunk... as the locks slide into place, one after the other. It only serves to add a sense of finality to Parmenion's words. Psychic wards and runes inlaid within the walls and floor begin to glow, taking on an oily, kaleidoscopic hue that streaks at the edges of your vision. The temperature of the room drops palpably. Parmenion holds out a hand, drawing esoteric symbols in the air. The walls of the room seem to ripple, expanding and contracting with your double heartbeat. You are dimly aware of Star Phantom's prodigious psychic force lacerating your thoughts, sifting through your thoughts and inspecting each constitutent part. Your hands are swathed with wisps of turquoise smoke. As you reach out your hands, the smoke blooms and fluffs. The veil of the warp draws back. The chamber fills with smoke, rushing around you with sudden force and speed. Your ears fill with the harrowing screams of every individual you have ever killed. So much death. There is the sensation of falling backwards, of being unable to halt yourself. And lastly, the Librarian's words: "What gives you the right to live, Daon Akkad?"

*Furiously making notes*

Lysimachus, can you make a narrative post in which you describe Swordhand readying to put Titus's plan into action? I will then move on from Swordhand for a little interlude...

++The original Enginarium will be buried deep within the ship's core,++ Captain Rubio says in response to the Red Talon's comments. ++They are specifically positioned to withstand enemy fire. With that said, the Ork Meks are far more enthusiastic than they are prudent: there are a number of fuel-lines and engine boosters that have been built directly onto the ship's hull. They do pose potential vulnerabilities.++

If Adesro was active it might require rolls, but Maladon is currently protected by his NPC-status and so it's unlikely to require any rolls. As to how effective your distraction will be, that's a matter for another day...

My thoughts are that a Techmarine in the service of the Deathwatch must be relatively flexible and adaptable, given the unusual situations they find themselves in..! They can always beg Chaplain Helgrim for forgiveness later!

The Astral Drake looks at the gunship's turret and then the junk lander, comprehending the Stormbringer's plan. "That craft? It could, in theory. Assuming these Greenskins haven't bastardised it beyond repair."

I should make it clear that although I'm clearly dangling plot in front of you, you can choose the path you wish. You aren't being railroaded, but your decision may have consequences...

++The decision is yours, Swordhand,++ Thorvald voxes. ++Engaging the Orks in open conflict and hoping to destroy the Slagjaw may be an impossible task, given our numbers. Then again, if the Wrekkas are left alone to plunder this battlefield, they will only grow more formidable. You may be witnessing the birth of a Space Hulk.++

So I had to go and google the "Big Red Button" to find out what it was. I think my interpretation of Ork "kultur" would be a little more nuanced than that - there isn't necessarily "a" big red button on the Slagjaw, but it is certainly the case that Ork Meks cannot help themselves from modifying the vessels they salvage, and invariably that manifests in the Ork desire to make things "shootier" and "fasta". I don't think you need to roll - perhaps this is an opportunity to provide some backstory from Embe's service in the fleet. As Apologist has mentioned in his most recent post, the Orks are one of the most endemic threats in the galaxy, and almost all of you would have had extensive experience fighting against them.