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DW: Campaign - Head Hunted (IC Thread)

FFG RPG Roleplaying Deathwatch In-Character

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#51
Mazer Rackham

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Martinez glances at both Brynjarr and Silkbeard, including them both in his reply.

 

"I regret that she will be joining you.  Don't judge her too harshly by her mortal frame.  I am told she is quite capable, so think of it as....a joint escort," a real smile threatens his mouth.

 

He turns as a serf brings in a tray of silver-chased goblets containing clear liquid.  Your helms and augurs register zero threat, it is only water.  The vessel holding it however is much more interesting.  The design is intricate, carrying the engraved symbol of the Deathwatch and a hero, obviously meant to be the Emperor, fighting the dragon of Horus.  It is a scene depicted in many cathedrals and fortress monasteries across the Imperium.  He picks one up and drains it with a faint sigh, before thanking the serf with a nod and returning to your questions.

 

"The Tau will be busy along the front, Dark Hunter, but if the Iron Spider comes out of his hole, I will not be surprised, so do not rule it out.  It may even help you to eliminate him faster.  The more havoc you cause, no doubt the more the Tau will respond.  Hit Rho hard, then vanish because the Imperial Guard will be set to exploit the gap.  Again, we'll keep you appraised on the Shadow-vox."

 

"I hope that satisfies you, Brothers, because our window to launch the operation is closing.  I will hand you over to Ironbreaker now," he makes a small bow, a gesture of respect from one warrior to another.

 

"Good hunting, Hellebore."

 

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

 

Dismissed from the Strategium, and led by Torin Ironbreaker, you are led through the passageways of Watch Fortress Erioch.  The Apothecaries will recognise the destination, as the main surgical blocks where all the medical procedures on the wounded and the fallen are carried out.  It is here that the hypnogogic induction caskets are arrayed, and here where in isolation, you remove your warplate with the help of servitors and oathsworn serfs.  Giving it up to them is difficult, but the surrender of your hardy skin is just one trial on the road.

 

Inside the caskets, your minds are filled with all the knowledge the Deathwatch possess on the myriad foes, not just the Tau.  Ancient alien civilisations crushed millennia ago, with none who now live knowing thier name, the insidious and brutal Tyranids, the brutish Orks and all their ilk.  The leaning continues for several hours, until your minds reel with the understanding hidden from even the most trusted of Space Marine Chapter officers.

 

When you emerge, the serfs have your wargear once more, but it is almost unrecognisable.  The lacquered sable of the Deathwatch now subsumes it, driving your past ties with your Chapter beneath the surface.  On the right shoulder, your reversed iconography is strange, the left arm even more so, shod in electrum-silver.  Once harnessed, the reality of being in the Deathwatch takes hold, and when you greet your brothers in the chamber leading to the Apothecarion, you are no longer a team of patchwork colour.

 

You stand as equals.

 

With Ironbreaker nowhere to be seen, Watch Sergeant Kulle, the Silver Skull who you suspect resembles a box either in or out of his armour, greets you this time with a respectful nod.

 

"Very well Initiates," he grins nastily, "which of you will be Kill-Team Leader?"

 

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

 

The way a Leader will be selected is primarily on a voluntary basis.  You can either put yourself forward, regaling the others with the saga of your deeds, or give a strong argument as to why you should lead - perhaps you have a special skill or trait which you see is vital to the mission.

 

If you don't select a Leader, I will pick at random, which may result in a sub-optimal and enforced position.  I would much rather you thrash it out.

 

Note that the Leader is not in charge per se, he is more the casting vote on options, his word carrying more weight, since the mission responsibility will be his.  Perks come with this.  The Kill-Team leader may petition other formations for aid.  He is not guaranteed them, but good Roleplay and the weight of his authority can carry an argument.  If you need more guidance, please throw ideas around in the OOC thread - but primarily you should RP the Leader choice in here.

 

Even if it becomes a ritual duel between the two alpha-alpha types!


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#52
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"I am" said Silkbeard, in a voice that would brook no argument.


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#53
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As Brynjarr removed the armour he had only donned earlier that day he spoke with care to the serfs helping him, aware that the void-hardened armour had its own unique difficulties, and while they no doubt knew what they were doing he did not want some minor mistake born from unfamiliarity to compromise the armour down the line. Lastly he explained the nature of Voidborn personal heraldry to ensure that the new star on the right shoulder pad would not be compromised.

 

---

 

Later, staggering out of the casket Brynjarr stumbled and drooped to his knees.  He could feel the imprinted knoladge lying heavy in his mind, ready to be recalled when needed. It had all gone smoothly at first as far as he could tell, but when it came to the Ork other memories clawed their way up and everything after that was a haze. He knew logically that all the knowledge would be there but as he left the casket it was all overshadowed by the darkest days on that accursed moon. The vivid foul ever pervading stench, the howls fights in the bowls of moon, the taste of Ork flesh, noxious scraps of water and the long years tearing at his mind.

 

Steadying himself he recited mantras that Chaplains had taught him. As the after effects of the hypnogogic induction faded Brynjarr regained his composure.

 

With each piece of his armour he puts on again his self returns. Reciting his duties he slots in the new wrought left shoulder pad, the gleem of the arm and puldron bright and unfarmilliar. Listing the stars of his last life and the star of his new he fits the right shoulder pad. Finally, lifting his helmet, repeating his oaths once more he puts it on and hears it lock into place once more. Before he was reborn in words and thoughts, now he was reborn in body and mind.

 

No longer Voidborn of the Darktide, lost in battle. No longer Voidborn of the Dawnbreaker, outcast amongst the living. He was Voidborn of the Deathwatch.

 

Focusing on his brothers around him he hears the Sergeant speak. This mission did not call on his skill as Voidborn, nor did he have any experience with these local Xenos, and lastly he had not lead brothers before. He would not be worthy of taking the lead here, and Brynjarr keeps his silence.


Edited by Trokair, 06 February 2021 - 04:29 PM.

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#54
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The tension is sliced apart by the sudden appearance of the Watch-Captain and the Inqusitrix.

 

Loth takes the oath in a similar fashion to the Voidborn named Brynjarr and then listens to the briefing and subsequent questions, absorbing the information and letting his mind run through its motions. Finding that he has no questions beyond those already asked the Exorcist remains quiet, eyes drifting over to the Mantis Warrior standing opposite every so often. Suspicion and disgust hang heavy in the recycled air.

 

Once inside the hypnogogic chamber, Oridiyn makes it clear that the serfs are to wait outside until he is in the casket set up in the middle of the room, wires pouring out from all sides, a strong hum emerging from within. As the casket lid closes like that of a coffin, the Exorcist loses consciousness and the induction sequence is initiated.

 

+ + +

 

Doning his armour once more, Loth contemplates the new aspect of his cuirass and realises it will take some time to get accustomed to it as well as the new knowledge imparted, implanted even, by the Deathwatch.

 

Once he has rejoined with the rest of the Kill Team, the Watch-Sergeant puts them in an interesting situation. The sour and dour Space Wolf immediately, almost over-eagerly, puts himself forward with a tone of voice that can only be described as arrogant. Oridyn, never one to seek more responsiblity than he knows he can manage, remains silent.


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#55
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Carde is about to speak up but holds his tongue. He can sense the tension in the air, about to break. Let's see this play out.


Edited by Boyadventurer, 08 February 2021 - 01:57 AM.

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#56
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Ains looks at the gathered of his new squad with various looks of pride and aloofness. His will is that of the followers of the Omnissiah. As memory and the hypnosis take hold in his mind, he looks at the two who show no desire to stand at the top of their small group with nods of understanding and with a feeling of truth. A leader needs to feel the pull to be worthy and these two don’t have the pull but the one who was arrogant in his declaration Ains looked hard at, so hard that his eyes seemed to burn into the soul. “Feral Hunter, Child of the Wolfborn, what makes your assertion of leadership so sure? What makes you worthy of being the lead in a Saga of the Emperor? What great wisdom hides in a beard of silk? Where is the strength of conviction born?”

Edited by TechCaptain, 06 February 2021 - 09:17 PM.

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#57
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Silkbeard squares up to the artificer, so close that their chest plates are within a hairs breath of touching.

 

"Almost two hundred years of killing the Emperors enemies with the rout, Brother"  this last word is spat with heavy sarcasm.

 

"What would you have me do, hold their hands and wipe their arses afterwards? This is a kill team, not a philosophy school." 


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#58
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“ So your a whelp still. It explains your lack of ability in communication. So you know what we all know. Feral one as now I doubt you have been on a true hunt. No need to wipe their arse but maybe you should wipe yours before the hole in it gets you in trouble.” Ains was unimpressed and unamused by the arrogance of the Space Wolf. His own face around the Mechanical ‘improvements’ showed that he too was an aged warrior. “It is a Kill *Team*, what makes you more than any other marine here? What makes you a leader, and not some pup who still needs his hand held to be told where to aim, hmm?” A single sardonic eyebrow rose as his tentacles pressed in around them showing that he is never disarmed. “You have proven you don’t have the wit, Though you may have some brawn, we are facing a predator who traps other predators, so maybe you can try to exercise the obviously least trained part of yourself.”

Edited by TechCaptain, 07 February 2021 - 10:55 PM.

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#59
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"This is a very interesting way of team bonding," Kulle adds to the mix, looking unusually happy.  "I pray you have given each other plenty to think about."

 

He steps close to the two broiling Astartes and slips his hand in between them.  Both Silkbeard and Ains automatically take a half step back, more to assess the new element to the arena than from deference, although that too plays a part.

 

"I wager you'll kill each other on this mission," his grin is unchanged from before.  He sizes both of you up.  "Yes, some very nice wargear for the recovery teams.  Well, me."

 

"Olafsson has stood for Team Leader - Ains, do you challenge or are you two here to bore me to death?"


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#60
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Ains smiles but it was one that had a humor that wasn’t shared. “ The pup has a ways to go but since he proved he has a spine at least. I shall see if he can learn wit along the way. Let him be the nominal leader. The Omnissiah has the insight we lack and only time and experience can help those like thee be tempered in the forge of the upcoming saga. “ Ains turned his attention to silkbeard. “ Pup lead as the rest don’t have the stomach for it now, but learn your mind and that of your team otherwise no matter how many battles you win the war will always be lost.”
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#61
Mazer Rackham

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I'll let Grail have any shout-back he wants, but it is clear that Olafsson is the Kill Team Leader.

 

We will now move to the arming phase, where everyone now sees how much bang they can get for their buck.

 

The Requisition for this mission is set at 35 for each PC.

 

Please feel free to discuss or ask about the kit in the OOC thread, but FYI you will also be given the following items (per player):

 

  • Camo Cloak
  • Demolition Charge (simple use)

And the Team will receive:

 

  • Secure Tactical Long-Range Vox Unit (Stalker-Vox)

These will not impact upon your Requisition amount (they're free).


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#62
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The doors of the Strike Vessel docking bay open and the six of you stand, helmed for safety on the quay as the vessel to take you to Baraban sweeps in, and she does this in every sense of the word.  The serfs and servitors carrying your arms and equipment are unmoved by the sight, but you are not so used to a display like this.

 

Her hull is black, but her Mars-pattern prow is grey, painted over with a grotesque image of a hound, but this is truly a beast from myth, for the hound's shoulders break into three necks, and three heads, each rearing up to leer or snarl, the maws all different, yet all similar for their ferocity, and the blood red eyes staring forth from each.  In sweeping script, a calligrapher's art on a titantic scale, a warning strides the sweeping lower bell-flare of her nose, wrapping around the torpedo tubes:

 

"Make Thine peace before embarking, ahead there be Dragons."

 

This is matched in freshly gilded letters further up the tall ram-blade prow:

 

=][=

 

"Kerberos."

 

 

This then is to be your ship, a fast vessel by her handling, even in dock, she manoeuvres abruptly, much like the hounds she wears, eager to slip the leash and gnash upon anything in range of her guns.  Some of you who sail the stars will be challenged to place the class, but it is obviously a Corvette displacement, and it is bristling with guns.  Macro cannon rank on her port side, the beam facing you, as well as three torpedo tubes to front.  Dorsal batteries snap and spark with readied lance power, and her engines emit the halo not of the usual plasma drive waste in blue, but the hot pink of something altogether more intriguing.

 

Almost at once, her port side opens up to reveal a shuttle bay - a golden letterbox, with black, almost invisible stick figures preparing for a launch.  It is then you see the shift in the docks below, a small black flatfish, bearing the sigils of the Deathwatch and the white flashes of kill markings.  As it gets closer to the ship, it waggles its wings in salute, before putting the power on, and driving home into the belly of the hungry beast before you.  If it is Ironbreaker, he is showing off.

 

In response, three Arvus lighters reach the dock, with smartly trimmed pilots dropping out of the capsules in their hardy flight gear.  Armsmen rush to load your 'baggage' swiftly, and before you know it, you are the only ones left standing on the dock as the others depart, much in the way they greeted you, a cloud of incense and the tingling jostle of silver bells and chains.

 

The lead pilot bows to you all, but whether not bothered to find the Team Leader or too keen to treat you as equals, is to your own private judgement.

 

"My lords, time is short, please board and we shall be gone."

 

Feel free to make any observations or post the thoughts your character may have.  What is this ship?  You may each make a Challenging (+0) Intelligence test to see if you can recall the class, or which sector it may have deployed in.  As Voidborn, Bryjarr may take this test at Ordinary (+10) due to his familiarity with vessels, yet, the pattern is rare enough to be difficult even for him.

 

Please make all rolls in this thread.  When you put your numbers in, please post in the format as discussed in the OOC thread, posting only the green text.  For quick reference this is:

 

Int: 42 (intelligence Stat) + 10 (Bonus, if any) = 52 (Target Number)

D100: (x) (result of the roll)

 

Make sure to include any Degrees of Success or failure if you can, eg:

 

Int: 42 +10 = 52

D100: 82, FAIL Plus 3 Degrees of Failure (DoF)

 

You can also do any little scenes before boarding, perhaps you have sought a few moments meditation, or have prepared in the armoury.  Ains/TechCaptain expressed a wish to make a post where he helping to assemble or handle the equipment.  Now would be the best time to do this.  Go ahead and finish any post with boarding the Arvus.

 

You may secrete yourselves as you wish, pairing off or grouping up, a single Arvus will fit three of you and some gear.  Maybe you even wait, hoping to sit alone in one of them.  If the latter wish is spoiled, where do you go instead?


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#63
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As the others followed Sergeant Kulle out of the Apothecarion and headed towards the armory to stock up on essential supplies Brynjar makes a quick detour to his cell. Not knowing how much time he had Brynjar deftly gathered up his weapons and stored away his personal belongings into the two crates. Before locking them he took out a small devise from the star heraldry crafting kit. This would allow him to capture the image and spectrum of that star where they were going, so that if they got back, Brynjarr corrected his thought, when they got back, he would be able to add it to the lone representation of Erioch already on his shoulder pad.

 

Trusting that the creates would be left secure and untouched until his return Brynjarr picked up his Breacher shield that was resting against one wall and swiftly headed to the armoury.  Upon his arrival he saw that the others were already well underway in gathering their gear, nearby serfs assisting.

 

A senior serf appeared from amongst the crowd of mortals and wordlessly handed Brynjarr a slate with a list of equipment he could requisition. While others bustled around him Brynjarr carefully loaded his naval boltgun magazines with standard ammunition and scanned the list, occasionally marking items that may be useful based on the mission profile.

 

Brother Ains appeared to be nominal in charge here, understandable given that this would be within the scope of his domain, and Brynjarr head over to him to confer what additional items the team or he might need. Once done with Ains’s assistance, Brynjar swapped a portion of the Specialist ammunition he had recived into his boltgun and stored the rest. A chainsword bearing the stylized I of the Deathwatch hung at his side.

 

A little later Brynjar saw Apothecary Loth load a Missile rack, while a launcer was carried by a servitor as a serf chanted a blessing over it. Seeing the stack of additional shells next to Loth, Brynjar offered to carry one as the Missile rack was clearly full.    

 

---

 

As the shuttle bay doors opened to reveal the busy traffic around the Watch Fortress, one ship rapidly approached and slid into a parking orbit, their ride no doubt. Studying her with care Brynjar noted the common design elements of an Imperial Escorts, though this one had been modified extensively if he were to judge.

 

Catching sight of the script Brynjarr smiled, the Ship Master, or some forbear, must be an avid student of Navy traditions. ‘Here be Dragons’ that ancient terran maritime refrain for the unknown, was clearly invoked here.

 

Noting the gilded name Kerberos, the Inquisitorial I and the animal motif, all much newer then the underlying hull, this ship clearly has served more than one life and master. Before Brynjarr’s thoughts could dwell longer on the Kerberos a hanger opened in her lower deck, and pulling knowledge from the recent implanted memory he identified the arriving craft as a Corvus shuttle, one of the specialist Deathwatch insertion crafts, their conveyance to the surface, with the young wolf on board judging by the aggressive flying.  

 

With the arrival of the Arvus time was almost upon them. As the Armsmen loaded up the three shuttles Brynar took a moment to gaze past the Kerberos, and took in the starscape beyond, which light was their destination he wondered.

 

Hearing his brothers board behind him Brynjar turned and headed for the nearest shuttle, stepping on the ramp just as the pilot called out that it would not be closing.

 

 
Test to see if Brynjarr recognizes the type of ship. 
Int: 40 + 10 = 50
D100: 22 - Pass, 2 Degrees of Success (I think)


Edited by Trokair, 10 February 2021 - 11:07 PM.

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#64
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Int 36 + 0 = 36

D100: 43, Fail

 

Carde does not recognize this craft, but so long as it is quick, he does not care what it's called. He begins to board the middle shuttle, then calls back:

 

"Come, brothers! I have a mind for killing, let us begin the deed."


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#65
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Ains moved with surety as he handed out ammunition to the rest of his team. The attention to detail of the Artificer was something to see and it was obvious that he took great care of his domain. The proof was in his Mjorn pattern Boltgun which was a work of art with prayers of Omnissiah etched into it.  He gathered his own equipment after he was done with his duties to the rest of the team. He gathered tools of Bunker breaching and of detection noting the lack of direction coming from Silkbeard. He shook his head look at the Feral Hunter, but he had hope the young marine will learn the needs of the team soon. Either way he watched and would do his job as also being the spiritual advisor of the team, and everyone is focused now. 

 

When they had finally went to the ships that would take them to the ground, Ains recognized the class with a smile. He moved to the ships and began examining the derivative changes that had been made to the normal class. He knew the Mjorn version, so some of it could be explained by the different Forge World but other modifications were Inquisitional Standard. Ains didn't recognize other Modifications in which he figured were Deathwatch specific. He hadn't been in the Deathwatch long enough to recognize them all. His duties had been mainly in the Ammunition centers of the Armorium and not the flight vehicles. His curiosity got the better of him from for a bit but eventually he got into a ship ready to go. 


Edited by TechCaptain, 12 February 2021 - 05:54 PM.

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#66
Dosjetka

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#67
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Silkbeard weighed himself down with munitions. He didn't know when he would get a chance to re-arm or even if he would. Better to be well stocked whilst in planet.

 

The dock was a hive of activity. He made his way wordlessly through the throng towards the flying slab. Mortal dock workers were everywhere, marshalling small goods trains, ammunition hoppers and a thousand and one other tasks. One mortal waving a pair of lumen wands almost backed into him. Normally he would have cuffed him,but he was waving in a lander. Even Astartes have to give way to 100 tonnes of moving aerocraft.

 

 "My lords, time is short, please board and we shall be gone."

 

He entered the craft and took up a seat near the pilots door. He placed his helmet under his seat and buckled the straps from left to right, taking care that they wouldn't tangle with his ammunition webbing. 

 

"I have no idea what make of craft we are leaving from, but get on before it leaves". 


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#68
Mazer Rackham

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As the Arvus lighters lift from the dock, each of you is in his own world.  The strange bobbing and listing of the small craft, so heavily loaded, is unsettling to those who prefer to have the firm set of land or a sturdy keel under their boots.

 

Brynjarr is akin to a small boy, marvelling through the armoured glass of the lighter.  His familiarity with vessels of the line matches that of the Artificer, but whereas the teachings of the Mechanicum lend their arcane knowledge to tell Ains that Kerberos is a Claymore Class Frigate, and her weapon configurations is markedly unusual, the very fabric of the vessel is revealed to the Voidborn.

 

The prow is remade, masterfully fused onto the hull of the warship from a donor vessel, probably a Viper Missile Destroyer, yet the slightly bigger ship will put the six torpedo tubes to better use, with more munitions and boarding type torpedoes to satisfy the hungry ordnance rate the tubes demand in battle.  A rare ship - the Claymore was designed to free up the Cobra and Viper Destroyer squadrons across the Segmenta Imperialis, by being easy to repair and refit, and this has obviously occurred under her tenure to the Deathwatch.

 

These thoughts flutter into and out of your minds on the short trip across the dock, where a figure too tall for even the biggest naval Armsman awaits, a slight smile on his clean-shaven lips, his long black hair lacquered down where he sealed his helmet.  The shuttles cut from the black into blinding light of powerful glowlamps in the bay, or perhaps more accurately belly of the iron beast, and there you decant, festooned with weapons and ammunition, looking for all the world like you're about to lay siege to the ship.

 

No sooner do your magnetic boot soles thump down onto the ship's deck, recently polished by her crew, the entire bay begins to close and the Corvette begins to withdraw from the dock in good order.  Perhaps it impresses you, maybe it will take more.  Ironbreaker is soon joined by a diminutive figure wrapped in an armoured bodyglove.  Her feminine physique and posture betrays her identity behind the black glass visor of her void-helmet.  If you needed more evidence, your eyes notice her palms close to the weapons adorning her hips.  She stops her advance six metres from your group.

 

+Kill Team,+ Galleus' voice cuts across the squad vox, the volume in your helms or in your ear obliterating the myriad number of shipboard noises in the background, +follow me.  We must see the Captain.+  She turns and sets off without looking around to see if you follow.

 

Ironbreaker merely shrugs and walks in the other direction, across the landing bay to the Blackstar, where the transfer of your gear is being completed.

 

++++++++++

 

From her brisk pace and unerring confidence, it is no secret to you that Galleus has been on the ship before.  All is organised chaos.  Squads of Armsmen and Inquisitorial Stormtroopers march, run or carry orders up and down the passageways of the Corvette.  She sails past all of them, those getting into close proximity hurriedly backing away holding their mouths and trying not to retch.  Naval Ratings and Officers are in abundance, the Techwrights and Enginseers blessing conduits and cogitators, the heavy technical incense lingering in the air, mixing with the scent of weapon oils and the sweat of human bodies hurrying to their stations on a warship under sail.

 

She leads you through the decks, always out ahead of you, and when forced to go up in a grav-lift to the command deck, she gestures for you to enter one lift car, whilst she takes another.  She regroups with you on the secondary level, below the bridge and escorts you to a large wardroom, where the officers of the ship take drinks and discuss the business of the ship.  Some of you may feel at home here, where the deck trembles and the tiny clink of crystalline goblets mask martial discipline with the old ways of unhurried nobility.

 

After a few minutes, a tall, whip-thin man appears at the doors, his eyes hold authority and yet, he bows to you in a courtly manner, his Naval uniform decorated with braid, gold frogging thick on his shoulders.  The collar of his tunic is high, fashionable among the houses wealthy enough to afford the best, and yet his foppish appearance is offset by his rigid bearing and the power sword at his hip.  It is a long, heavy bladed affair, a battered scabbard that lies in direct contrast to the tight and fiercely regimented moustache, that was quite possibly too terrified to have a hair out of place.

 

"My lords, greetings.  Kerberos is away and we make top speed.  I am Captain of this vessel, Arland Fraykes," he rights himself and snaps his fingers.  At his signal, four orderlies enter, napkins over one arm, and balanced over the other, lie great silver platters heavy with meats, fruits and lightly grilled vegetables.  "Please accept this repast.  Astartes repose cells, training cages and arming stations are provided in the bow section of Blue Four."

 

He stops to grip a handful of grapes from one of the laid servers, popping one into his mouth, crunching.  "Mm.  Nicely chilled.  Forgive me, I must return to the bridge.  We will be entering your launch zone in two days and I must make sure the ship is at battle readiness.  I will call you to the bridge when we near."

 

This is part one of an update.  You shall be on the Kerberos for two days.  Perhaps you take the Captain up on his hospitality or spar with each other to warm up before Deployment, or just explore the ship?  Whatever you want to do, I will post the second part, which will describe your Deployment on Sunday.  Please take the time to fill your placeholders, concoct new scenes or interact with each other or the crew - perhaps you wish to glean information from the bilge gamblers, or visit the ship's Astartes facilities or go and watch the passing of the stars from the observation deck?


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#69
Trokair

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Taking a small sampling from the platter offered by the orderly Brynjarr glanced towards Galleus. ‘What hast and arrogance had driven her to command them here for a meeting with a Captain, who though courteous, and clearly a gracious host judging by the welcoming meal, was foremost a professional seeing to his ship rather then play the politics so common to the mortals.’ He mused. ‘If opportunity presented itself he would have to compliment Captain Fraykes on his dedication to voidmanship.

 

Having eaten as little as seemed polite Brynjarr left his brothers at the table, he could feel the acceleration of the ship around him and intended to be elsewhere before the ship reached its jump point. On a more conventional ship this size it would be many hours hence, but these engines where clearly superior, whether from a larger vessel, or some specialized version not commonly in serves in the Imperial Navy fleets of Segmentum Tempestus he did not know.

 

At the door he paused, for while he though he knew where he needed to go, it would be better to ask for direction. Imperial ships tend to follow the same design principles, there were however many variations, and in a modified ship like this assumptions could easily play him a fool. It would not do to get lost. Turning towards one of the ceremonial shipguard that stood to attention he enquired both as to the location of section Blue Four where their quarters where and more importantly for now, an observation deck.

 

Following the direction to the letter Brynjarr found himself not far from where he had expected to find the observation deck. As anticipated, at its core it was a backup for the bridge, only used when the main bridge was compromised. Dormant stations and controls where visible in the recesses and the forward pit. Discipline must be exceptional aboard the Kerberos, for while the air was stale the surfaces where clean and dust free.

 

Stepping down into the control pit to get closer to the viewing port Brynjarr took care not to disturb any station, for now doubt even in this dormant stat there would be monitoring cogitators that would alert the both ship security and the bridge if one of these was used.

 

Looking out Brynjarr had a good view along the length of the ship as it stretched to the prow, but it was not the ship he wanted to see but the stars to which they were headed. Erioch was already out of ark visible to him, but it would not yet be straight behind him as the moving star field ahead showed that they were still on a slowly curving path.

 

It was later, as the klaxon rung out and the viewing port shutter descended, that Brynjarr turned to leave, time to head to section Blue Four and their assigned cells. Some corridors later, about a third of the way to his destination he felt the subtle shift as the Kerberos entered the Immaterium. They were now subreal and at the mercies of tides unbeknownst to all but the scions of the Navigator Houses.

 

While the day was growing long it was not yet over, and aside from that initial meeting before the briefing he had jet to spend any time getting to know his new brothers. In less than two days their lives would depend on it. Suspecting that at least some would be in the training cages Brynjarr headed there.


Edited by Trokair, 13 February 2021 - 02:27 AM.

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#70
grailkeeper

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Placeholder. I see myself staying on the bridge, but duelling or watching duels might be cool.



#71
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Placeholder. (Open to dueling otherwise will go do something techy or Religious thing.) 


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#72
Mazer Rackham

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Olafsson/Ains:

 

There are three swordsmen aboard, apart from Captain Fraykes.  A Naval Lieutenant called Gericke, A Stormtrooper Sergeant named Trainor and an Inquisiorial Acolyte known as Koto, who belongs to the extended retinue of the Inquisitor Lord Racel Galleus reports to.  Each can be challenged for a sum of Throne Gelt or goods in kind.

 

There is a gambling circle which pays out more for the spectacle than anything else, so the duels rarely result in injury beyond first blood.  The orderlies serving you may know more.

 

Ains: Maintenance of the Corvus Blackstar could be a possibility for you.  Torin Ironbreaker will be able to advise what needs doing.

 

Brynjarr: The observation deck will open for a few hours before short-skip warp translation.

 

You can of course spar with each other - which would be a rare sight for the crew - however, serious injury would hamper mission success and is therefore forbidden.


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#73
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Entering the training hall Brynjarr found none of his brothers here, though at least two of the training cages and been in use not too long ago, and a ship menial was cleaning one of them. Thinking that he may as well make use of them he stepped into one of them and went through some standard exercises. While his body worked Brynjarrs mind reviewed the hypnogogic imparted knowledge of the enemy xenos, the Tau.    


Once finished Brynjarr headed back out into the ship, maybe his brothers where mingling with the crew on one of the lower decks, or up in the state room in which they had first meet the Captain, or even on the bridge. Wandering the strangely quite ship it appeared to be the middle of the night according to ship time.


Edited by Trokair, 14 February 2021 - 11:01 AM.

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#74
Mazer Rackham

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Brynjarr:

 

The eventide bell rings, just as you think of it, but it is drowned out by the sound of angry voices around the corner of the next intersection:

 

"No, sir, please!"

 

Your enhanced senses pick up the clues as to the nature of the problem as though you are looking at it yourself.  It is obviously a petty squabble, the pleading voice belonging to a young male, he is breathless and mewling, obviously having been struck to the ground.

 

"Where's my money Henricks?" the man asking has a voice like gravel, and one which would not be out of place in a barracks.

 

There is the sound of a boot meeting a human body and the sharp expulsion of breath.  At this time of the evening, there does not appear to be anyone else around.


Aeronautica Imperialis: Because X-Wing vs TIE Fighter was boring without Orks.
 

#75
Trokair

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Coming round the corner Brynjarr took in the sense before him. The junior crewmember lay curled up on the floor, arms in a protective embrace covering his head and chest. This must be Hennricks.

 

Standing over him where three men, still in the uniform of the inquisitorial Stormtroopers on board, though they had taken of their carapace armour, nor could he see any guns on them, no doubt checked into the armoury at the end of their shift. All three had their back turned to Brynjarr, taking a guess that the middle one was the ring leader of this little band he tapped him on the shoulder.

 

“A Interesting form of discipline and honor I see.”


Edited by Trokair, 14 February 2021 - 11:14 AM.

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