Secrets of Cenaroun [40K Freeform]

[Ms.Malbolge]

The halls are bathed in darkness, lit only by dim glow lamps every ten meters while its walls of dark metal seem to absorb what little light there is rather than reflect it. It has been thus for over three weeks, three weeks of near total darkness, oppressive cold and cramped quarters aboard the Bjornir, the Overlord class battle cruiser which you have called home for almost two months. For three weeks the Bjornir's artificers have worked tirelessly, repairing the ship with unknown rituals, constantly attempting to appease the ship's ailing machine spirit. By the Emperor's Grace the ship's warp drive is not ailing but the arcane systems that circulate the ship's power and air have all but failed. You have dealt with nights so hot interior paint ran from the walls like blood and have been forced to temporarily evacuate compartments that have turned as cold as the space outside, quickly freezing to death any who were trapped inside. Now, with the exit from warp space it is only a matter of time before the living hell that is Bjornir is a memory.

Your boots clank loudly on the floor grates as you make your way towards the ships aft and the drop ship there that awaits to take you down to Cenaroun. Though it has been over two months since this mission was assigned you have not yet received a proper briefing by the Inquisitor you serve, the man known as Lyman Thargrave, and even though you have met his Interrogator you can count on a single hand the words shared between you. You approach the doors at the end of the corridor, the split down the center where they are supposed to join is wide enough where you can see into the room beyond and it, unlike the hallway you find yourself in now, is at least well lit. The door struggles to open at your approach and, giving a mighty mechanical whine, manages to open just enough for you to squeeze through though only just so. The room beyond is long though oddly narrow with four large docking bay doors stretched across the far wall, their black frames lined with etched gold runes and seals of purity while at the top of each sits a mighty gold Aquila. This is perhaps not the first thing to draw your eye, for standing in the dead center of the loading dock is the Interrogator.

Interrogator Aecha Raed stands before you, a woman of medium height standing roughly 5'7" with an athletic build forged by years of constant war. She stands adorned in garments darker than the ship's corridors, black carapace armor bearing the Aquila across the chest while most of the armor itself is covered by a voluminous mesh combat cloak just as dark as her armor. In her right hand is a massive gold staff topped with an axe blade shaped like an Aquila under which a long scroll of holy battle hymns hangs. The staff is planted firmly on the ground while her left forearm rests easily on a gold Bolter pistol of exquisite craftsmanship holstered on her hip. Though her face is shrouded in the shadow of her cowl it is fairly easy to tell when her attention is turned to you, as it is now turned to each of the Acolytes standing before her.

"Acolytes. Servants of the Emperor's most holy Inquisition through your master, and mine, Inquisitor Lyman Thargrave." The words explode out of her mouth with fervor and nigh zealous faith while at the same time sounding like something she says countless times a day. She turns her shadowed head, focusing on each of those gathered for a long moment before deigning to continue.

"You have been brought to this tainted world, this Cenaroun to aide His most holy Inquisition in matters of grave import. A team of Acolytes, lead by myself, will descend into the pits of Kerr Prima shortly to search it's stores of weapons and munitions as well as inspect the front lines of it's current front against Cenar. This is a distraction." The words come bluntly, lacking much of the fervor of her previous statement while her tone suggests annoyance, perhaps as being used as a 'distraction'. "You will descend in a separate vessel and will land on a recently collapsed cliff face that has opened up one of the great mining tunnels that now serves as part of Kerr Prima's underhive. Once there you will search the vast networks of mining tunnels as well as the underhive itself for any signs of Xenos taint."

Aecha ceases to speak for a moment, letting her words sink into the Acolytes as she looks from face to face, her presence nearly suffocating. Finally after a terse moment of complete silence she continues. "Once there you are to seek out an agent in the mining subcity of Kerr Septimar, an Arbite known as Red Mayar. He will brief you on the local situation as well as provide a list of possible storage locations for the suspected Xenos weapons." Aecha walks forward then, taking slow easy steps before stopping face to face with Grendal Shaw and holding up her right hand, in which appears to be square of thick metal half the size of a piece of paper, obviously a data slate of some kind. "This contains additional information, review it during the descent in seven minutes time."

She takes one last long look at the green Acolytes gathered. "The foolish man puts his trust in luck. The wise man puts his trust in the Emperor." With those words Interrogator Aecha pushes past Grendal and begins to head back to the depths of Bjornir even as one of the massive pressure doors before you hisses violently before a loud mechanical roar threatens to make your ears bleed. The doors rattle and slowly begin to open even as golden lights at the doors corners begin to flicker, warning all present to stay back, before the lights spark and die, no doubt another victim of the ship's ailing machine spirit. After a long moment the great doors finish opening, locking into place with a loud thud, to reveal a narrow, unlit corridor some twenty meters long, ending with a small door. No doubt the door leads to your drop ship.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

"The foolish man is long dead."
The hiss of his voice could be heard to those around as he mentally prepared himself for the journey. He was fully aware of what was required of him in his service to an inquisitor and his hopes to one day join their ranks could only be achieve by solemn devotion.

Raising himself from his hunched position in the door way he was 6'4" a giant of a man in grey robes with flowing black cloak, the robe ended just below his waist where pants matching the colour of his cloak. Intricate patterns of red flowed throughout his attire. Careful inspection would discover a faint outline of an unstitched inquisitorial rosette, made of felt rather than a real version but a symbol of authority no less. He was clean shave with a relatively short black haircut, neatly trimmed though with enough flowing hair to cover his forehead. A gaunt impassive expression remained on his face as he surveyed his companion, who he has spent little time with on their journey; preferring isolation in order to contemplate.

Moving forward he took one look at the data slate given to the nearby guardsman (assuming that if it was given to a guardsman it was likely to provide minimal insight) and proceeded down the corridor likely to take him towards the dropship. He could socialise as an Inquisitor, not before.

[RandomLunatic]

Cynthia draws her slight fram up to full height for the interrogater-all five and a half feet, 146 pounds. Her jet-black hair is worn shoulder length, contrasting sharply with blue eyes. A rare recent shower enables an observer to determine her complexion is the pale, ghost-like tone typical of underhivers who never see a ray of natural light. An autogun is slung over shoulder, and bulges her what were modest clothing which has now seen better days suggest concealed weaponry.

After Aecha's departure, she turns to face the Aquila standing in the center of the room, bows her head, makes the sign of the Aquila, and offers a quick prayer to the Emperor. That done, she suggests Shall we get out of here before the whole place falls apart?

[Arkaris]

Grendal Shaw

Receives the Data Slate from Interrogator Raed and stares back at her, even in height. His beard has grown wild and parts reach down even to his chest. His long black hair flows down to his shoulder blades but it has apparently been cut to length. If you stare through the thick mangle you can see what is trying to be hidden, a thick metal collar, a common enough trinket used to keep the Emperor's subjects in line, it also carries enough explosive to make short work of anyone in the vicinity as well. There is a thin layer of soot that covers his skin, the kind that only comes from knowing the depths of a hive world, the stuff that does not wash off.

Looks blankly at the Cleric as he briefly looks at the data slate. Shrugs his shoulders and looks over the rest of the group, lingering at Cynthia as she preforms a ritual.

@Cynthia "You might want to stay here after you see what is down there. Of course I'm sure you know how broken things are in such cities of the underworld."

Starts down the corridor, readjusting the lasgun on his back and the collar around his neck.

When they are all inside the dropship and the time has passed he attempts to read out the information on the data slate. Going over the abundant (or lack thereof) information available.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva Deschan

Scurrying along behind Grendal Shaw, an indistinct figure makes its way down the creaking iron hall. Swathed in clothes that are threadbare, moth-eaten, and tattered, but still recognisably those of the Commissariat, very little can be made out of him, her, or, indeed, it, save a pair of scarred hands (missing a few digits apiece) clutching a short stave.

There is a small tug on the dataslate. When Grendal looks up from it, he's in for quite a shock - a small, disfigured face held mere inches from his own, framed by a battered papakha. Waiting for her to say something - there is obviously an intent to such an end in those pallid, watery eyes - it becomes suddenly apparent that the reason that she is not speaking is because she can't. Her lips have been neatly, surgically, sewn up.

Instead, she holds up her own dataslate, a slightly more advanced, case-hardened model than that containing the mission briefing. Upon it is written the following words:

May I copy that information? Multiple copies will


enhance comprehension and


remove any possibility of losing vital knowledge.

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

Xuan kept to the rear of the group, as he normally did. In the Guard the officers told him to watch the formation back. When nearly everbody else had been blasted apart from the front by Xenos, Xuan had gathered that rear guard was his destined position.

His boots clanked loudly against the floor, the dull metal ring melding with the matching sounds from the feet of his companions. He had endured this journey with difficulty, away from the light of the Father of Suns. The Father was in all places, surely, but it was easier to remember that when it wasn't black and icy.

His white hair, thick as fur and standing out oddly against his bronzed skin, had been crouped around his head, rough cut into an uneven hanging. It look horrid but it was out of his eyes this way. He'd had to do it in the dark so there was still some dried blood in a few places. Some had dripped onto the shoulder plates of his Flak Armour too, mingling with the older stains and hymn sheets.

Standing over six feet tall Xuan could see over the heads of most of his new allies with only Calk looks down upon him. Xuan had to respect growth of that magnitude, he didn't meet alot of people from the Calm Worlds who could look him in the eyes. And he knew the proper ways of Father of Suns. Back home, they made guys like Calk chief.

"Don't like this... underground thing. Been way from light too long as be."

He ran his hand along the axe at his side and glanced over his shoulder at the massive pack he carried, stuffed to bursting with weaponry. Xuan liked to be ready for whatever unholy alien popped out.

[Arkaris]

Grendal Shaw

...caught off guard by the... girl... at his arm he instinctively raises the data slate out of reach. An obvious chill runs through him as he looks at Aviva. Quickly scans the words on her data slate. And in disgust he says...

"After we go through it once, I'll let you copy it. I'd rather not chance anything getting scrambled..."

Quickly tries to walk off, obviously unnerved by the encounter...

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

As he began to move away, another brushed past him from behind. He took no notice of it until the taste flowed into his mind. He turned abruptly to see the ruined, indistinct figure behind him. It was not so much hate or disgust which appeared on his face but the preconcived notion the aforementioned. Mixed in was pity, at the undoubtably psychic body he had before him. The horror this shell had faced and be deemed "sanctioned" was more than most tried to comprehend, though he had been through the same. Turned around and continued down the corridor.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva


Oh, so you too? In an Ecclesiarchic Priest, oh dear.


Sitting on the bench opposite to Calk, Aviva has hunched her knees up, and written a message for the psyker priest. It's angled on her dataslate specifically so that only he can read it. Once he's finished reading, a single digit of index finger skitters across the page. She looks smug - as much as she can, at any rate.


Do not worry.



I won't rat you out.

You're wondering how I know?






I can taste it.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

"To you, i must be at most, a mild hint but you.." Careful to keep his voice too low for the others to hear "..your overwhelming, every corner of this rooms is consumned with your...odur" pausing again, confused as to how to further the conversation "...you can't talk then? They damaged you that badly?"

An element of pride began to fill Calk, he always considered his power too insignificant to register but that this psyker had focused in on it over her own, raw, unclean, overwhelming odur.

[Warpfire]

Lirius Corian

For now, Lirius has been silent as he follows along with his companions. Instead of talking he has been watching the situation, carefully taking note of the actions of those around them and what they told him. This is what Lirius is always doing - assessing the personalities and flaws of those around him. Never knew what might become useful information later.

Lirius Corian is a man of spotless appearance - his black hair cut short and precisely above a clean shaven face and a stainless black outfit. The hunting rifle on his back and the sheath of the sword at his hip are both almost gleaming (a couple bulges indicate these are not his only weapons). He is slender and of average height, with dark green eyes.

He now decides that it would be of value to begin socializing with his comrades. While Lirius rarely engages in conversation without something to gain from it, he decides that establishing some modicum of fellowship with the people he will be working with would be smart.

Starting with Xuan, he looks over at the man and nods an agreement. "Yes, I'm not looking forward to this either. But what choice do we have, right?"

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

"None but will of Father of Suns and First World. We bring his light with us, even in this place and where we march towards."

Xuan looked down at the clean man, a strange sight in all his time, both on and off of his home planet. It was impressive in a way that he managed to keep himself in such conditions against the 'wishes' of the circumstances about them.

"You odd one here; look good." Xuan tilts his head to expain the rifle hanging across Lirius' back. "Good weapon."

[Illiterate Scribe]

Mild? I imagine everyone in


the sector who looked could tell.


She looks oddly at the priest.


And what do you mean I can't talk?

We are talking now

are we not?

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Returning the quizzical stare. He transfered his thoughts into her mind (OOC: im just going to call this psy-talk from now on guys).

"Communication is relative to the sender and recipiant afterall, i assume you can respond in this fashion. Im a bit rustic, havn't had a chance to use this in a long while"

[Illiterate Scribe]

I can receive such thoughts


but not receive.


I presume that you have that


ability?

[Arkaris]

Grendal Shaw

Half turns to look back at the group as he approaches the hatch that will take them to the dropship. Looks through the group till he finds the primitive speaker...

"Don't worry about the way he looks, a few seconds after being on the surface, he'll look like he is supposed to. Covered in whatever this stuff is..."

Motions down at his exposed hands and the soot and dirt that can be found there.

"If it was not for this ship, I would look a lot worse for wear."

[Warpfire]

Lirius Corian

So this man was highly devoted to the 'Father of Suns', no doubt a primitive name for the Emperor. Lirius mentally frowns at this, as he dislikes too much devotion. It was often dangerous, not only to the devotee but those around him. Though this was the stance of Lirius on most strong feelings...

"Thanks. It gets the job done, though I must say I don't have the...versatility you seem to be equipped with," Lirius says as he cranes his neck to look at the nearly bursting pack on Xuan's back. He hears Grendal's comment, but decides to ignore it for the present. Nothing to be gained there.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Inside the dropship he reached out and grabs the glow lamp, bathing his own face in its glow. He stares outside the dropshop entranceway, waiting for those climbing in.

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

Xuan grinned, displaying his large yellowed teeth, "Be ready. Aliens got lots of shapes." Turning from Lirius, Xuan stepped quickly into the drop ship, following Calk's lead.

He took a moment to study the other man's face in the new light before moving past him. "You light carrier then," he said as he reached up and gripped the hand holds along the top of the ship. In the Imperial Guard they didn't give you chairs on drop ships. You where lucky if you get a safety strap.

His words where simple but being the 'light carrier' ment alot back on the homeworld. It made you the leader. The biggest was almost always the light carrier because they could hold it up the highest. Since he'd left home that tradition had kind of lost any real meaning (officers tended to be Calm or Clean Worlders) but Xuan clung to his birth ways when he could.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The hatch hisses, spewing forth pressurized air in great white clouds for a long moment before a great clanking of gears announces the doors opening. The door is incredibly slow at opening and more than once a loud grinding noise stalls the door even further. Once it is open, however, you can see the dimly lit interior of the craft. Not a simple drop ship but an actual piloted vessel awaits you. As you have entered through a side hatch you spot an open archway leading to a small cockpit with small transparasteel windows showing you that the ship itself is in a small docking hangar barely large enough to fit the vessel. Many of you take seats on the metal benches, which seemed designed to provide maximum discomfort but do have several safety harnesses attached to ensure you remain seated no matter what happens to the ship. While some of you carry on conversations a small flashing light appears on the data slate given to Shaw even as you catch movement from the cockpit.

A small, you can only assume he was once a man, enters the room from the cockpit. He stands a frightening 5'2" and appears to be more machine than man though he lacks the robes and other markings of a Tech-Priest. The mans right arm has been replaced with a bulky metal arm whose massive, hydraulically assisted hand looks as if it could tear through plasteel without too much effort. His mostly steel legs bear the trappings of flesh, where it has grown over the steel appendages over the years. He looks at you with a glowing red visor that has no doubt replaced his eyes and is attached to a massive steel plate covering his skull, which in turn is covered in wires and data ports.

++We are dropping into a war zone.++ The vox unit gives his voice a booming synthetic tone as he places his hands squarely on his hips. ++I will override the automated defenses using Inquisitorial Command Code IOP-3917-8A. This will not disable their manned weapons, which will be fired at us. Prepare for emergency descent and a crash landing from the moment we leave the dock.++ That glowing red visor settles on Shaw, then at the data slate in his hands. ++Your slate is blinking.++ he says rather matter of factly, before turning around and heading back into the cockpit.

Many of you can't help but turn to the data slate which is indeed flashing a brief message. With a few touches of the hand the group manages to bring the briefing up on screen and read the information deemed potentially important to their mission.

Inquisitorial Investigation 476a9-ka11643-231-L.THARGRAVE
.
..
...
AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED
PASSWORD: ************
.
..
...
ACCESS GRANTED: Lv-A1/1

++It is better to die for the Emperor than to live for yourself.++

REF: Inq/99821165367/A65P
Author: Inquisitor Lyman Thargrave.
Subject: Mission Briefing.
Name: Cenaroun.
Location: Segmentum Obscurus
Sector: Vasinar
Tithe Grade: Exactus Extremis

Mission Details: The Holy Ordos have received reports indicating use of questionable weaponry and vehicles by Hive Kerr Prima in their war for dominance with Hive Cenar. This conflict not only brings light on potential Xenos or Daemonic Taint to the Hive's weapons but the conflict has grown out of Governor Syckes ability to control and threatens, for the first time since Cenaroun has been brought into the fold of the Holy Imperium, to fail to make his annual Tithe.

Interrogator Aecha along with my five most well known Acolytes will tour the two Hives and make show of inspecting their munitions depots and production facilities. Your team will descend unknown into the vast tunnel networks beneath Cenaroun and conduct the real investigation. Once you land you are to make your way to Kerr Septimar and meet with my Agent, Red Mayar, who will provide a list of possible corrupted depots and probable hidden storage sites. It is his duty to inform you of any useful information regarding Cenaroun's geography, political situations et cetera. If he fails to meet with you then you are to ascertain his whereabouts and if the situation warrants it, eliminate him.

Kerr Prima will think you a Cenar strike force and will seek to eliminate you while Cenar will think you agents of Kerr Prima, you are to perform your duties using extreme prejudice. None are innocent and the Emperor will protect His own.

You are likely to encounter automated defense way stations and in cases of extreme emergency you authorized to use Inquisitorial Override Protocols to disable automated threats and potentially hostile machine spirits though doing so risks exposing you. Use only if the mission is at stake, your lives are expendable, the mission is not.

You are to report any and all findings to Interrogator Aecha Raed as you find them. If you are out of comm range you are authorized to use local communications channels, decryption sequence HK-869-O11C, located in this slate.

RETRIEVING DATA
.
..
...
INQUISITORIAL OVERRIDE PROTOCOL: IOP-7322004-A3 GRANTED...

69882-KA-77490-EMPERORS-LIGHT-X27K

++In all things trust in the Emperor.++
As the message comes to an abrupt end the entire ship begins to shake violently and it becomes apparent than many of you haven't bothered to strap yourselves into your seats and realize it may be a good thing to do. With a great lurch and a deafening moan followed by an even louder crack the ship is in slow movement, heading out of the modified Overlord battle cruiser and towards the objective below.

[Arkaris]

Reads off the data slate to everyone.

"Gloomy as always eh?"

After being jostled he quickly tries to find a seat closest to the door and straps himself in. He looks at the data slate and then back at the psyker...

"Honestly it's a bad idea to copy this. I don't know much about Imperial protocol, but I don't want to be hung up by my thumbs for copying this kind of information. On top of that if something goes wrong, I'd really rather not have to recover a data slate off of your corpse."

Dwells on that last statement for a moment before looking over at Xuan. He attempts to get Xaun's attention and then says

@Xuan "Look if something goes wrong and I get shot, or killed, or whatever it's your job to recover this thing from me. I figure it'll be vital for the rest of your survival."

He slides the data slate in to a pocket under his flak vest.

[RandomLunatic]

Yep. She is almost knocked off her feet when the ship lurches suddenly, only halted by grabbing a loose harness. She quickly sits down and straps in. Home... Dirty, dark, and smelly as it was, there was no place like home, and she was going back. Well, unless all those guns killed her. The ship lurched again. Unless the pilot beat them to the punch.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Strapping himself quickly into the seat, never particularly good with high velocity gravity drops, he did so with a nervous shake. He closesd his eyes and uttering a short prayer of preservation. Looking next to him he say the guardsman having taking a seat, he only nodded his head adn uttered "The Emperor protects", and resumed his silent prayer, eyes closed.

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

"Men serve," Xuan says, adding the line to Calk's quote. He had remained standing, dispite the rumbling of the dropship. He had an iron grip on the handhold with one hand and the other on the strap of his pack.

After a moment he turns to look at Grendal. "Done."

[Illiterate Scribe]

Nodding to show the wisdom of Shaw's point, Aviva crawls to the back of the dropship, and straps herself in. Making a blanket fort out of her coat, and concealing the dataslate, begins tapping something into it: I - O - P - 7 - 3 ...

Once this is finished, she lays a hand on the device, and with the barest touch of psychic force, fries the written message. She lies back, a headache slowly spreading from the base of her skull outwards. Those overrides now lie within her head ...

[Warpfire]

Lirius takes a moment to strap in to as he listens to Shaw read off the information. He glances over at Calk as he says "The Emperor Protects".

I suppose we'll find out, won't we?

"Looks like we're in for a bumpy ride," he comments, perhaps understating slightly.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The ship drifts about in space, heading directly for the planet's surface as the Acolytes make ready for their first true test in the name of Emperor and Inquisition. It's cold as hell in the drop ship for apparently it was not deemed prudent to make such trips comfortable but after the trial that was several weeks aboard the Bjornir this is all too easy to endure. The ship begins to tremble slightly and flashing yellow lights in the cabin signal that they have entered Cenaroun's atmosphere.

++Sending envoy sequence to Kerr Prima's Machine Spirits.++ comes the booming synthesized voice of the pilot. ++Envoy received, negotiating acceptance of Inquisitorial Override for all automated defense platforms. This would be a good time to pray.++ The ship lurches suddenly and the pilot demonstrates his masterful diversity of several curse words. ++Emperor damn this infernal rock!++ being by far the most mild of the phrases he uttered. Finally after a long moment of silence in which he watches the faintly glowing slab of metal before him he seems to relax and lean back in his chair. ++Override accepted, continuing to quadrant NE32-Kilo. Estimated time until we are in range of their manned guns... Right about... Now!++

The ship banks sharply to the right, jostling the passengers around like rag dolls in their harnesses. You can hear faint explosions sound from outside the hull and many of you are finding the time to pray for a safe landing. The ship rocks violently and Xuan is slammed hard into the ceiling of the craft and it is perhaps a testament to his strength that he kept his grip on a hand rail even as his vision swam. ++Evasive Maneuvers...62% effective. Two minutes to touchdown!++ His vox units screams above the sounds of explosions which now roar all around you. The ship lurches again, now nose diving toward the destination, the pilot's hands become a blur as he tries to right the craft. Another loud explosion stuns everyone, causing their ears to ring and their vision to swim. The ship now spins beyond control causing your stomachs to churn dangerously. The smell of burning paint and composite fills the air and you notice the floor is now glowing slight as the green paint boils off of it, the composite smell coming from the burning soles of your shoes.

Xuan is thrown around though his armor seems to protect him from the vast majority of the trauma, Emperor protecting His own. Finally through luck or fate Xuan's foot becomes entangled in a safety harness enough to hold it tight and between that and his iron grip on the handrail he is held relatively still at an angle to the burning floor. For over a minute you endure this and for over a minute your thoughts are turned to death and the wonder of what will truly happen to your souls once the Emperor takes you, but even that minute of hell is better than the darkness that consumes the other.

The ship is struck directly and a great rent is opened in the ships side sucking out everything not nailed down or strapped in. Xuan is now screaming from the pain as his body goes through similar conditions to that of the primeval rack, and the feral worlder is beet red with sweat soaking every inch of him. Suddenly another shell strikes the ship and everything goes black, the shot having obviously hit the ships power plant. The only light is the dim, gray light coming from Cenaroun and you find yourselves taking gasping breathes of foul, polluted air which causes you to cough almost immediately. A few of you look through the great rent when the fog clears and you see the cliff side barreling towards you at unbelievable speed.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Being the closest (disregading the psyker as source of physical strength) he reached ou attempting to pull Xuan back into his seat.

(OOC: i assume this is a strength test then?)

[Arkaris]

Grendal Shaw

Forces his body and legs to go limp trying not to strain and brace to prevent injury. He holds on to the straps with his hands though, hoping they will be enough.

He stares out the hole at the oncomming land mass...

"This is going to hurt..."

OOC: Anyone want to try and jump at the last second to see if it works?

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

In retrospect using the seats would have been a better idea.

Xuan was sure he was screaming though he couldn't really hear himself over the wind, metal ripping, and ringing that surrounded him in the ship. He needed to get into a better position for the crash but letting go wasn't a great idea and he foot was caught.

Through the heat and screaming he felt something grab him. A light in the flashing darkness. The glow lamp? Calk!

Hand of Father through hand of man... Against all his normal reasoning XUan released the hand bar and swung his hand down, grasping hold of the Cleric's hand.

I know we're not using rolls for this but I'm practicing for my RL game:
[roll0][roll1]
Ouch, 53. Even with the two +5s I'd have to have rolled the max when setting my character's strength to pass that.

[Warpfire]

Lirius Corian

Lirius holds onto the straps tightly. He alternately watches Calk try and save Xuan and the massive hole in their ship.

"This is certainly starting out well."

[First Speaker]

Aviva slowly raises herself from the seat, and, remaining precariously strapped in, attempts to hook her aquila-headed staff - or, to be specific, be beak of one of the eagles - under Xuan's armpit. It's a futile maneuver, not so much for its infeasibility - although the odds of it being helpful are indeed remote - but for its place in the bigger picture. If, by some miracle of the Emperor, they do survive planetfall, they will most likely all survive by the Emperor's intervention - he doesn't exactly act by half measures - and so any attempt to initiate another solution will be at best extraneous and at worst sacreligious; if said miracle does not occur, then getting Xuan back into the lander will only mean that everyone dies together. This doesn't really make a difference - Aviva's no longer really the type for detailed forward planning.

And so she attempts to lend a hand to her fellow psyker in terms of grabbing Xuan, lunging out with her staff in both hands. Crooked in her neck is the dataslate (attached by a cord to her clothes - losing it would be a disaster), whose ochre letters glow a their greatest luminescence in the half light.

Hang


on!

[Ms.Malbolge]

The drop ship speeds towards the cliff face, the few landmarks you can make out amongst the scorched mountains pass far too quickly. You hear the pilot's vox screech curses and voice commands in an attempt to revive the dead ship, an effort proving all too futile every second the cliff face races toward you. ++Revive you thrice damned piece of Grox s**t!++ With a mighty crash his great metal fist slams into the control panel hard enough for you to hear it over the cacophony of wind rushing through the rent in the ship's side. With a great roar something deep within the machine stirs and the lights begin to flicker faintly, too faintly to allow you to hope.

All the while Xuan, through the efforts of Calk and Aviva is slowly being forced into a seat. Calk's hand grips the guardsman's leg armor tight enough that Xuan feels its pressure even as Aviva uses the Aquila of her staff to help steady the large feral. It is a great effort as the three race to get Xuan in a seat before they make planet fall. A sweat soaked Xuan races through his prayers to the mighty Sun Lord hoping one of them will be enough to save his feral hide and it seems form a moment his prayers are answered.

With a great tug Xuan finally rests on one of the benches but as Calk moves to no doubt help the man strap himself into a harness a great yell comes from the pilot's vox. ++The machine spirit is online. Attempting to fire engines!++ Suddenly the ship lurches as the machine spirit attempts to right the ship. The lurch is so violent that it rips Xuan out of Calk's grip and sends him tumbling to the back of the ship where he slams into the wall with a painful crash. The engines fire and you race to cover your ears from the noise coming from the external engines that can now be heard fully through the great rent in the hull. You search outside the rent again to gauge the distance to the target and your vision is met with a wall of scorched rock.

Your world becomes one of confusion and pain as the ship crashes into the cliff face, breaking through easily to tumble down the tunnel beyond. More than one of you loses the contents of their stomachs as the ship flips side over side, front over back for what appears to be an eternity. The machine spirit, and the ship with it, finally dies during the crash, plunging everyone in total darkness with nothing to feel but sickness. Finally after an eon the ship crashes into something hard, hard enough for it to stop and not simply break through. You are thrown against your harness with enough force to fill your mouths with the taste of blood before you hang there, apparently upside down, in the darkness of the cave.

A circle of light rolls down the ceiling of the drop ship below you, casting enough illumination for you to get a good idea of the condition of your fellow Acolytes. The lot of you are haggard, those of you who are dark of skin look pale while those of you who were pale simply look dead. The stench of fresh vomit, which now covers a great deal of each of you, fills your nostrils threatening to make you sick once again. The globe of light finally rolls to the end of the ceiling to stop where the crumpled form of Xuan lies. The feral lays in an awkward position while his once green armor appears a sickening reddish orange due to the blood and vomit now covering him. A great pool of blood is forming near one of his legs where a great strip of metal has slammed through his armor to lodge itself in his left leg. The obviously unconscious Xuan looks paler than most of you and you instinctively know that if you don't help him soon he may perish altogether.

[RandomLunatic]

Hearing the horrendous crashing noises come to an end, Cynthia dares open her eyes again. She coughs up a mix of blood and vomit while waiting for the world to settle down. Once she can ascertain up, she unbuckles and swings down to the ceiling. The effort brings a burning twinge to her chest, suggesting a cracked rib.

Using the wall for support, she negotiates the debris-strewn and vomit-slicked ceiling to where Xuan lay sprawled. Xuan, can you hear me? she asks. Not getting a response, she takes a wrist. Not getting a pulse, she tries the neck. He's alive! I need some help back here! she calls while looking for somethign to elevate the leg and apply pressure with.

[Illiterate Scribe]

I am glad, Aviva thought, that the previous owner of this coat - some Commissar, ordering his toy soldier guardsmen around on some distant world somewhere, fighting bravely against the Tau, or Neck-Runne, or maybe those horrible tyrrynids - did not have an excellent sense of hygiene. This coat stinks. However, this is not a product of the last few seconds. It has always been this way. I cannot even smell the vomit, such is the enduring nature of the olfactory pleasures of lasgun oil, industrial lubricant, blood, tanning agents, molasses, salt, snuff, butts of clove cigarettes, asbestos, paint-water-pot dregs, cordite, oxidised mercury, steak, unwashed man, unwashed woman, phosphoric acid, burnt hair, and monosodium glutamate that



DAMN!

SNAP OUT OF IT AVI!

OK, Aviva thought, someone's shouting at me. Shooting at me. Better get moving, wouldn't want that cowled overseer to whooooah

That was close. Nearly fell. Now what. Take stock, Aviva, take stock! What can you see around you?

A cursory inspection reveals to her
four (4) vaguely familiar forms. These would be, if her memory serves her well enough, her ... travelling companions?
one (1) sanctioned psyker dangling from the roof by an errant safety-belt. Further introspection would suggest that this was Aviva Deschan, a novice of the Adepta Psykana, who had been allotted to this expedition to - wait ...
one (1) rapidly cooling and exsanguinating guardsman on the floor. He was being attended to by a familiar form (see item 1), who was what, calling for help?


This made sense. Drawing a long Psykana mercy blade from within the voluminous coat, she watched the psyker swing wildly above and behind herself, scissoring through the safety belt - so much for safety - then falling, landing awkardly, rolling, bringing up her laspistol by some miracle to cover Xuan and Cynthia from any dangers lurking deeper in the cave, and then braining herself on a stalactite. Aviva winced as she saw Aviva's head cannoning into the architecturally placed stone spire. And her perspective lurched.


***


Concussion or possession?


Possession or concussion?


Probably - hopefully - concussion.

Without putting the gun down, but thumbing on the safety, Aviva busied herself helping Ms. Faleen. Her fingers danced, scribing out words as if onto her data slate, but actually into thin air.


Am I really that stupid - that foolhardy - that, well, suggestible -


with only a little knock to the head?

[Arkaris]

Grendal Shaw

Dazed and confused he reaches for the straps that are unusally tight on his chest. He searches the straps and eventually finds the clip. Unbuckling the harness he is somewhat shocked when gravity appears to flip and sends him crashing in to the ceiling of the ship.

Grendal rolls over on to his back and attempts to stand up. Stumbling over to where Cynthia is he attempts to help, in his half dazed state, and tries to find an object that can be used to keep Xuan's leg elevated.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Somehow he had managed to maintain his grip on the glow lamp, and yet another miracle, every bone in his body had not shattered on impact. Unfortunately to counter that, his boots were covered in (he presumed) his own vomit. Noticing others in similiarly uncomfortable states, his confidence began to ebb back. He realised that the sickening perspective he was feeling was because he was dangling several feet in the air. Slowly summining up his courage, he unclasped the safety clamps and drop limply onto the ground. He managed to land feet first but the effort caused his knees to buckle and he fell to the ground.

Breathing hard for a few modest seconds, his head still swimming but atleast he could feel his equilibrium returning. He look up to see the psyker drop next to him, and other figures crowding around the limp form of the feral he had attempted to assist earlier. He forced his weak body to move towards the feral, finally recognising that the painfully bright light had been coming from his hand. Moving towards the side railing he held the light over the body, and drew his stubbler, though what he was aiming at he wasnt quiet sure but he new he would provide little assistance to the wounded.

[Warpfire]

Lirius opens his eyes and begins to analyze the situation. Only relatively minor injuries to his person - mission should not be inhibited. Drop ship damaged beyond repair - pilot most likely dead. Companions all still alive. Also, of interest was that the ceiling was the floor and the floor was the ceiling. Overall, though, it seemed that the mission would still be completable.

Taking his time, Lirius slowly extracts himself from the safety harness. Hanging by the safety-belt, he drops as low as possible before letting go of the belt. He lands on the ceiling with a quiet thump. Standing up again, he looks down with mild distaste to see the blood and vomit on him. Nothing to do about it though. Walking around the craft, he notices Xuan lying there in his own blood. It seemed like the guardsman might not make it. There was nothing Lirius could do to help, though, he had little skill with treating wounds. Besides, there were always more guardsmen.

Remembering where they were, Lirius pulls the hunting rifle from off his back and holds it at the ready.

[RandomLunatic]

By the Throne, nobody has any medical knowlege? Grendal, apply pressure here. Lirius, Aviva, set up a perimeter-scavengers'll be here once they figure out the place is not going to come crashing down on them. Calk, bring that lamp. We need to find the medkit, because we are going to need bandages to stop Xuan from bleeding out. A lot of bandages. A quick search of the trashed interior, even taking a moment to check on the pilot, proves fruitful.

Coming back, kit in tow, she says, Alright, I'm gonna pull it out. There's gonna be a lot of bleeding, and you two will need to be fast with the bandages so he won't die. Hopefully, the pain will bring him around so I don;t have to figure out which one of these is the stim. Ready?

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

Xuan coughed, trying to get the blood to stop flowing into his mouth. It wasn't working, with the ship tilted, everything was flowing downhill and blood was probably the most enjoyable of the various flavors he was dealing with.

"Get off floor," he said, raising his hand slightly and grasping the thing in his leg, whatever it was. It was sharp, that was for damned sure. He got as tight a grip on it as he could and started to pull.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Spotting Xuan attempting to pull the rather large shard of metal from his leg, he quickly reached out his hand to stop him, he was no medicae but something about ripping razor sharp objects out of fragile areas seemed like a bad idea.

To atempt to retrain Xuan, he pushed very gentlely with his mind, not enough to shake him but enough to force him to respond physically. Particularly in his weakenend state.

<<Lie down, now. You are not in pain.>>

[Illiterate Scribe]

Still somewhat dizzy from her blow to the head, and sensing psychic movement, Aviva spins round to blow Calk's head off with a spirited burst of lasfire. Seeing that it's just him, she looks back into the darkness, trying to shake the light-adjustment from the glow-lamp from her eye, the better to see into the darkness. Clutching the dataslate to her chest like a large, hard, rectangular, metallic blanket, and using it to rest her pistol, she types a message. The whole thing lights up with a faint, diffused, but directional beam as it tries to display a thousand 'character not recognised' symbols in all their blank rectangular glory. It's not enough to use as a torch, but it does provide just enough reflected light to set off those rods nestling in her retina, without creating dancing shadows to conceal attackers. She begins sweeping in gradually widening circles around the prone Xuan and compatriots.

[Warpfire]

Doing as Cynthia suggested (rather forcefully), Lirus heads off with Aviva to check the area. He opens his mouth to start a conversation, then realizes that her only method of conversation was currently occupied. Just as well. Psykers had an irritating tendency to see through his facade and call him things like 'sociopath'.

Instead he focuses his attention of searching the darkness about them for scavengers or any other foes.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Xuan stirs, coughing the blood and vomit that has pooled in his lungs out as he reaches towards the metal sticking out of his leg. With as much force as he could muster the metal begins to slip slowly out of his leg. Pain fills Xuan's very being and he slams his eyes shut with enough force for pins of light to swim about before him. Calk reaches over to stop Xuan but it's too late, the shard of metal, as large as a bayonet, is held firmly in the Guardsman's hand. His leg armor is quickly removed and bandages wrapped around the great jagged wound. The pain fades slightly now that the metal has been removed but it is obvious to Xuan that he won't be able to move as fast as he could until the wound heals a bit.

Lirius and Aviva scan the cave outside of the ship. No rock formations break up the near perfect circle of the cave, obviously drilled by one of the great roaming mining machines. The light of Aviva's slate aids that of the glow sphere still inside the ship as well as the foggy gray light coming from the massive hole in the cave's ceiling some five hundred meters south. You notice that while the cave itself is some seventy-five meters in diameter and nearly a perfect circle, the floor of course being flat and remarkably level. Several side passages break off from the main tunnel as even with the dim light you can make out at least three.

++Not.. dead.. yet.. bastards.++ comes the synthesized voice of the pilot as he climbs out of the cockpit, tugging a large steel case behind him. The pilot looks to be banged up pretty bad, many of his augmentations are sparking and his great steel fist is now deformed. +Never a.. damned.. priest when.. need one.++ It's obvious that even his vox unit is damaged by the way he talks but nevertheless he manages to stand. ++I.. set.. comm relay... northe... peaks... Sept... south...++ he says, pointing a finger at himself and then pointing at what appears to be north while pointing at you and then pointing south.

A faint electrical whine is heard by Lirius as well as a distant red laser sight. It's barely within his rifle's long range and if the assassin had to guess he would say it's a skull probe.

[Warpfire]

Lirius brings the rifle to his shoulder as soon as he hears the sound of the machine. Peering through the blackness, he begins to make out what made the noise.

"Something's out there," he whispers to Aviva. "Think it's a skull probe."

[First Speaker]

Aviva taps Lirius on the shoulder, gestures to encompass the entire cave, and shrugs, looking questioningly at him.

All of her hair (there isn't much) is standing on end. Psychic power is gathering around her, although she doesn't seem to realise.

[Warpfire]

Lirius gestures with his rifle in the direction of the probe. "The red laser sight. Should we go ahead and try and take it out?"

He gives a weird look at her hair.

[RandomLunatic]

Then south we go. But first, we need to put the shuttle to the torch. Let His enemies think we perished, so that they may lower their guard. She looks the servitor in the... eye? Can you do that?

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Attempting to place the glow lamp in a more confined space to limit the exposer of himself and his allies, he then swiftly moves forward to join his companions at the cave. Not exactly sure what they were watching as his eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, he rested his stubbler and arm on the rock in a steadied crouched position and waited for whatever was coming.

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

Xuan, covered in blood and bial, took a moment to tuck the metal shard into his belt. He'd earned the thing, like hell if he was going to let it go.

His steps where slow and everything in his body hurt everywhere. The entry heat had cooked him in his armor. He even had a screaming burn between his legs, which didn't make walking any more fun as he stumbled out of the crashed ship. But he was still alive.

Father of Suns had given him wisdom from this little trip already.

He took a moment to catch Calk's attention. "Save life."

"And you." He added, looking down at Aviva, though she seems to be distracted at the moment.

Kneeling (and in pain from doing so) Xuan retrieved his shotgun from his tumbled, fluid soaked pack.

[First Speaker]

Entranced by the presence of something 'out there', barely hearing Lirius, and not hearing Xuan at all, Aviva drifts forward in a half dream-like state, laspistol at the ready. At one level this is a simple, childish impulse - asking 'what's there' to the darkness, but at another it's a tactical one - as she steps forth, the skull probe will either have to reveal itself, or break off its observational mission.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The pilot, who is most definitely not a servitor, shakes his head, the act accompanied by a shower of sparks erupting from his eye augmentations. ++No power... no... apons powe... enough.++ He reaches down and picks up the massive steel case. With his mighty steel fist he opens the dented case and pulls out three items, shoves them into Cynthia's hand before he exits the ruined drop craft. The first item is an ear piece, obviously for communication, with a small antenna and an attached arm containing a mouthpiece. The other two objects are the same, two heavy green frag grenades to aid you in your struggles. You all hear the insanely loud mechanized whine of the pilot leaving the craft and maybe a couple of you watch as he heads down the tunnel opposite the direction of the probe.

The smooth cave offers no cover save for small openings in the side walls every hundred meters. As Aviva walks forward she can make out the skull probe, laser light roaming the cave even as it moves ever forward. It won't be long before you are within the probe's sight and the group faces a choice, to shoot it down, let it spot them or think of something else.

[Illiterate Scribe]

She saw it. There it was. Down the corridor, the man with the lamp was coming towards her. She couldn't be found away from the dormitory not now, not after she'd done all this!

But maybe she didn't have to hide. Not this time. Not with her not-so-imaginary-now friends to back her up. She beckoned the scariest one (by her latest account) over. His long tongue would be able to snatch the lamp from the man's hand before he got to her.

They're coming to take her away haha, they're to take her away hoho!

[Warpfire]

"That's it, I'm taking this thing out," Lirius whispers. He takes a few moments to aim. His cross hairs fixing on the target, the assassin steadies his hands and takes another second to adjust. Finally, he squeezes the trigger.

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

Moving slowly, Xuan back down the cave, following the pilot away from the threat. Normally he liked to be out front but even he had to admit he wasn't in the proper condition for it. That also ment that a spread weapon was a poor choice.

Dropping to a knee again, Xuan rumaged through his pack to trade the shotgun for his lasgun but everything was mixed up from the rough ride and more than little scratched.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Looking between his companions and the approaching skull probe, he looked for some sign of what the others were doing. Mouthing the worlds "shoot", and holding his face in a puzzled expression, in an attempt to understand their game plan.

[RandomLunatic]

Alright, let's go, Cythia says, unslinging the Autogun and heading south.

[First Speaker]

Continuing in the vanguard, Aviva totters forth. Laspistol barely grapsed, she's looking for the swirl of aetheric dust-motes - the signs of anything else conscious in the tunnel.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The probe floats this way and that as it moves ever forward. Though it's movement is erratic Lirius finds it easy to follow in the relatively calm conditions of the tunnel. The targeting optics turn from a bright green to a dark red when the probe is centered. Taking a deep breath the assassin, ever so gently, pushes down on the trigger of his massive hunting rifle. With a resounding boom the weapon fires, it's kickback pushing Lirius back a step as the gun's muzzle swings up from the force. The probe explodes in an impressive display of sparks and bone dust a second before the tunnel wall some four hundred meters down tunnel explodes from the bullets impact as well. After the explosion of the rifle shot the tunnel is eerily quite save for the now distant mechanical whine from the pilot moving north through the tunnels.

Aviva stands before all and it is her who first hears the distant sound. Deep in the tunnel, beyond sight and barely beyond the sound of the psychic and the assassin comes the roar of several small engines racing towards you. Whoever it is there are a few of them and judging from the engine sounds they're either driving small crude transports or bikes.

It would seem as if the skull probe was the least of your worries.

[Warpfire]

"One shot, one kill," Lirius states with a thin smile and tone of subdued pride. His brief moment of satisfaction is quickly interrupted by the roar of engines in the distance, and he hastily readies his rifle again.

"We've got trouble. Someone get the wounded guardsman," Lirius mutters to no one in particular.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva crouched, flattening herself against the floor. The slight static tingling had returned. As if a wave of gentle ionisation - funnelled by the dense matter of the tunnel walls - had washed over the oncoming vehicles, each member of the oncoming group felt subtle changes of pressure and matter in the air, in their vehicles, in their own bodies.

Down to the molecular level, matter shifted. Nothing noticeable of course; the alignment they fell into, the cohesion of their electrons, the geometries of their superstructure - were on a nigh-insignificant level. But they were there. They had heard Aviva's psychic call. And they were ready to go to war.

Invocation/concentration. Essentially, Aviva's chargin' her laser.

[RandomLunatic]

Everybody find cover and wait for them all to get closer-then we all fire together and kill as many as possible in the opening volley, Cynthia says quietly, moving into one of the holes in the walls and taking a knee, trying to keep as inobtrusive as possible while still having a shot.

[Warpfire]

Lirius follows Cynthia's advice, looking for some good cover to hide in.

[Tadanori Oyama]

Xuan Xuan

Swinging his pack back onto his shoulders, lasgun in hand, Xuan moved up to a better position, nearer to Lirius. He crouched, getting as much of himself behind rock and dirt as he could and proped the lasgun up.

"Sounds bad," he said, ensuring the charge pack was tightly in place and quietly performing the little rites the weapon's spirit required of him before battle.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Still crouched against the rock wall, he reached out with his mind in an attempt to feel for any presences which may be approaching them. While doing so, his grip on his stubbler tightened.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Lirius finds the nearest cover to be the drop ship as does Xuan. Cynthia and Calk manage to squeeze themselves partially into the small openings on the side of the cave which provide cover but are too small for them to squeeze into completely, leaving them partially exposed. Aviva stands before the drop ship, her few hairs raised on end as she seems to concentrate on the noise which is rapidly getting closer, she is brazenly without cover.

Soon you are able to see them in the dim light, trikes of crude construction rushing forward, their tires kicking up dust and debris even as their engines produce a thick acrid smoke that does well to hide whatever drives behind them. It is hard to see who or what drives the trike's due to crudely welded slabs of steel welded at the front of the bikes broken only by view slits cut so that the rider's can see where they're going. The design proves crude but affective at their long range and even the most perceptive of you feels it only a waste of ammo to fire until they get a bit closer. The metal is covered in paintings and symbols and it is clearly evident to the Hive born that these are simple scavenger gangers no doubt searching the cave when they heard Lirius' gunshot.

You can see six of the trike's at the front but you can make out things behind them, like what appears to be a large crudely armored transport of some kind coming in right behind the trikes, and there no doubt is a few more trikes in the obscuring smoke and debris of the for runners. They are within your long firing range and if they have autoguns you are within theirs though they seem to hold off on firing for the time being, perhaps waiting until they get a bit closer so as to get better shots.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva, having drawn power into herself, feels something pop in her head. It's as if all of the symmetry, the closely drawn patterns in her head stretching all the way out to the bikes, suddenly crack, splintering. It doesn't have to be a big disturbance of the pattern - but it's almost worse that it's small.

This worries her. It shouldn't be this way. She wants it to stop, to cease this state of brokeness. Throwing out her hand, and shouting for the raiders, the asymmetry, for anything, to stop, she lets fly with her power.

Using Machine Empathy, or the equivalent, to damage or otherwise impinge upon the systems and primitive machine spirits of the lead trike. Essentially, she's trying to cause it to crash & careen, hopefully taking some others with it.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Recognising the patterns changing in the very air around themselves; being manipulated by his psyker companion. He could feel the force being directed at those incoming, though nto they bodies but the machines themselves. Although his power was not comparable, to Aviva, he motioned his own force of will at the drivers, each one a different comamnd from <Stop> to <Speed Up> to <Turn sharply>, attempting to add disorder to the chaos he hoped Aviva could casue.


Enforce Will: basically only using minor commands, just to try and get them to act a bit more erratically.

[Warpfire]

This isn't good...

Lirius takes aim at the the leading trike, preparing for when the shot is actually possible.

[RandomLunatic]

If getting shots through form the front was impossible, Cynthia was going to get them in from behind. She draws one of the frag grenades, and hefts it a few times to estimate how far she can throw it.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Aviva boldly stands before the ruined drop craft and channels the power of the Warp. Her few remaining hairs stand on end and it's as if a great wind begins to build around her. Suddenly in a flash of violet lightning the whole area is thrown into chaos. A great howling wind fills the the air, tugging at your clothes even as you start to feel something warm and wet begin to rain down from nowhere. In great torrents the warm rain falls and after only a cursory glance you realize that the rain is fresh blood, which already begins to soak through your clothing. Aviva herself stands in the eye of the storm, a halo of pure Chaos circling her head as lighting strikes down in great pillars around her. Suddenly in the distance there is a great grating sound as three of the trikes' engines explode, throwing their riders from their armored mounts and onto the ground where their fellow gangers don't even bother to avoid running them over.Peril of the Warp triggered: Blood Rain.

Calk summons his power, reaching out to the minds of gangers but with the sudden appearance of the bloody storm his power is thrown out of control. Instead of reaching out toward the gangers it's as if his mind turns in on itself and as his own power grips him Calk is raised a few meters into the air. A great burst of psychic power explodes from Calk's mind and the priest is cast back down to the ground violently enough to disorient him. His gun is no longer in his hand and he must now take the time to stand up lest he make himself easy prey for the gangers.Peril of the Warp triggered (Thanks to Blood Rain): Psy-Blast.

Cynthia waits for them to get closer, taking a measure of how far she can throw the grenade but she can't help but grimace as she realizes she can't throw it as far as she probably hoped. She waits for them to get closer but suddenly the storm around Aviva erupts, causing no small amount of distraction, and perhaps confusion, to the situation.You can throw the grenade 6 meters, it has a 4 meter blast radius.

Lirius' takes aim, awaiting that perfect shot when suddenly all hell breaks loose around Aviva. The wind and the howling wind do a great deal to distract the hardened assassin and he must force himself to steady his scope and await the shot he craves. The trikes and the transport stop in the distance, the fact they are no longer moving making them slightly easier targets. Shortly after they stop however, right as Lirius is no doubt lining up a shot, a bright flash is seen from atop the transport an instant before a dull roar is barely heard over the sound of Aviva's storm.

You all recognize the flash and the dull roar for you've no doubt experienced it before. They have a heavy stubber.

The world around you becomes even more chaotic as the stubber adds its own steel rain to that off the blood and those of you behind cover no doubt hide behind it. The air is filled with sparks as the rounds hit the strike craft and it becomes clear to anyone paying attention that the primary target is the one drawing the most attention to herself: Aviva. Bullets whiz past Aviva's head as she begins to grasp what she has unleashed upon herself and her fellow Acolytes. Bits of rock and metal fill the air as the bullets rip into the earth, tearing great rents from the solid rock. Aviva's hearing seems to be gone, no doubt from the thunderous wind that erupted from her and it's as if the Psyker is in a haze. So much blood feels the air, so much painful howling...

It takes Aviva a long moment to realize that some of the blood is her own.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

His mind rolling, with the painful realisation that....he...s.he....what the hell was going on? Desperately trying to steady his head, he reaches to the nearest wall and recognises that his gun had gone missing, though when in doubt, his sword is draw. Using it as a crutch, he hobbles over to the wall, from there, sees the hell which had been brought forth in front of him. The raging cyclone in from of him, with both phyical and warp death, spurring around them.

He desperately searches for his fallen weapon.


Also is there anything i can do to help nullify that storm, or is it too far out of control?

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva

The psyker looks, if anything, mildly confused and affronted by what she has unleashed. It wasn't the first time. Oh no, it wasn't the first time by a long way. She was glad that the tricycles had been so kind and stopped for her. But this was ... well, this was new. They were indoors, for the Emperor's sake! What was ha-

She looks down. There's a strange freedom in her midsection. All the tension is draining out of it - no pain, as if it is lighter than air. It's a blissful, calming, peaceful sensation - as if somehow there's nothing to worry about, that she was one with the air ...

Through a drunken haze, it dawns on her that she is bleeding.

Looking more closely, she sees that she is hemorrhaging freely from a pair of long cuts in her abdomen, as if she had been neatly scored by an artisan's knife. Some force - exhaustion, delayed shock from the abortive descent through the corona of planet defence fire, or simply something about her forces her down. Her limbs go slack under her, like a puppet with strings cut, and she collapses into the cover of some of the rocks of the cavern's edge. Suspiciously so, in fact. Almost as if said puppeteer - some unfathomable controlling intelligence - had drawn her out of immediate harm's way.

[Warpfire]

Lirius ducks behind cover and begins to assess the situation. Things were not going well, between the wind and the blood, and the fire of the heavy stubber. As there was little he could do about the first couple of problems, Lirius decides to try and do something about the heavy stubber. As soon as there is a lull in the firing, he looks out and tries to locate the weapon and see if it has a visible wielder. He doesn't try and line up a shot, yet.

[RandomLunatic]

Blood falls, the Stubber barks, and Cynthia swears. Hide an let them get close, I said. Why was that so hard? Keeping low and against the wall, she was at least grateful for the concealment, if not the other effects of the rain. She moves quickly back towards where the shuttle crashed and gets out of the line of fire as fast as possible. She pushes blood-saoked bags out of her eys and casts around for another hiding spot.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Calk finds himself on his back and once he stands, drawing his sword to use as a crutch, he makes it to the wall. Bullets rush near him, cracking through the air as they do so but Calk makes it to the wall whole. Taking a moment to examine the cyclone and look for his fallen stubber he realizes that the warp storm cannot be calmed by one of his lesser skills, if it could be calmed at all. His eyes now roaming the floor which is now covered in several small rivers of blood it almost seems an impossible task. Calk just isn't perceptive enough to find his stubber amidst all the blood and chaos. Perhaps when the storm dies but for now, the gun is lost.

Aviva collapses as if some great puppeteer had indeed cut her strings. When she hits the ground it's as if her whole world becomes one of pain, the pain of her wounds, the bright lightning paining her eyes even as the thundering threatens to tear asunder her ears. It's hard to see exactly how much of her blood is running freely from her wounds but the sensation they bring is as if one is forcibly ramming hot pokers into her middle.

Once the firing starts Lirius ducks behind the drop craft an instant before the whole front of the craft is peppered with stubber fire. He awaits a lull in the firing but it doesn't come though he can hear the sounds of the trikes now, apparently getting ready to approach it becomes obvious to the assassin, and perhaps anyone else who has seen combat, that the stubber will pin them down until the trikes close enough to do the knife work.

Cynthia rushes through the bloody storm, counting on the chaos to hide her movements from the enemy's guns. Darting across the ground as if the hounds of Great Powers were on her tail she manages to make it to the drop craft intact. The drop craft makes excellent cover though with only three fire points it will limit how many of the group can fire towards the enemy if everyone rushes behind it. Cynthia no doubt uses the point closest to her, the edge of the craft nearest the wall where she can take cover and turn around the edge to fire. Opposite Lirius, who holds the other corner of the drop ship the only other fire point is the door into the craft, where one can hide in the craft and fire out the door in need be.

The trikes are indeed beginning to move at the outer edges of the massive cavern, staying well away from the heavy stubber fire which pins most of the group. It's hard to see how many of the crudely armored bikes are coming towards the group, with the lightning and the blood rain doing much to obscure your vision, even the most perceptive of you will be unable to get an accurate shot off until the rain abides or they get much closer. You can now hear the whooping and yelling of the scavengers as they seem to whip themselves up into a frenzy though they remain cautious in their approach.

Blood Rain, like a heavy rain is obscuring your vision greatly and the stubber is maintaining a constant stream of fire, effectively pinning you to your cover unless you wish to risk being shot. Three fire points on the downed craft, two occupied, one free. Xuan is behind the craft, Lirius is to the craft's left most corner and Cynthia is at the right most. Calk is on the wall not far from Cynthia and Aviva is about six meters in front of the craft, collapsed in a heap but it's hard to see if anything is wrong with her.

Nearest three trikes are now 85 meters out. You can take shots as the nearest trikes are within the close ranges of Autoguns, Lasguns, and Hunting Rifles. You can hear them coming and vaguely see them but due to the rain taking precise shots is out of the question. It's down to 'point the noisy end of the gun at the enemy and pray',

[RandomLunatic]

Still muttering invective under her breath, Cynthia keeps her head down.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva crawls slowly along the ground, the pain from her thorax getting worse, if anything else. There was so much blood everywhere. In fact, she is quite startled that her body contained this much. Whipping out her mercy blade, whose cold, clinical light is of great comfort in the middle of all this organic chaos, she begins hauling herself towards the bulk of the other acolytes, desperate purpose in her eyes.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

By the time he had managed to regain his senses, "s*** storm" was an inadequate discription. His sword managed to pentrate through the blood, and into the hard earth. Whether it was just the damage and mental trauma he had just sustained, or whether because he was ridiculously confident, he dived out of cover, hurrying to where Aviva now lay. Grabbing her as best he could through blood, he began the longest journey of his life, the few meters to the dropship...

[Illiterate Scribe]

She was moving, for sure, but ... not in the direction that she was crawling. Why? Craning her neck at an uncomfortable angle, she sees Calk pulling her back towards the dropship. Seeing the intermixed vacancy and hauntedness in his eyes, she realises the psychic trauma that her invocation had caused in her fellow psyker.

Barely suppressing a giggle, she mouths a single word, around the threads keeping her mouth closed:


Sorry.

[Warpfire]

Lirius, after long enough waiting for a break in the firing that doesn't come, realizes what's going on. Deciding to go ahead and risk it, he attempts to take a quick shot at one of the leading trikes.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

The strain from carrying the limp psyker must have been taking its toll as calk was covered in sweat, red, dark, sticky sweat...

Yet his 'luggage' had the audacity to mock him. He returned one of those parent looks of 'you'll be the death of me'...

He imagined that he was already at the ship, bullets were still wizzing past but atleast he had a nice wall to lean against, and sit behind...

[Ms.Malbolge]

Cynthia remains hidden as the heavy stubborn rains fire down upon the drop ship even as Calk bravely wanders out into the maelstrom of battle. He grabs hold of Aviva and manages to drag her most of the way to the drop ship unharmed. However, shortly after he gives Aviva a reproachful stare, the bullets come too close and Calk is near deafened from their thundering. He drops Aviva, no longer able to carry her weight and suddenly if feels as if his entire left arm is on fire. Darting his head to look at the source of the pain he Calk finds his left shoulder ripped asunder, the once whole shoulder now a mess of shredded flesh and visible bone, definitely a grievous wound but not enough to take Calk out of the fight. His left shoulder quickly becomes numb and if Calk tries to move it he will find it quite useless. Summon his stamina he manages to drag Aviva the rest of the way using only his right hand and only when Calk enters the drop ship does he realize his throat is hoarse from screaming.

Lirius ducks his head out and lines up a shot with his great Hunting Rifle. It is no easy feat to line up a shot with the moving trikes as they sway left to right in an attempt to be difficult targets, and attempt that works fairly well. Lirius' chance comes when the stubber seems occupied with the fore of the ship and he finds himself unmolested. Quickly before the stubber turns it's attention back towards pinning them behind their cover Lirius squeezes the trigger. Immediately he see's sparks as the bullet slams into one of the crude armored plates protecting the driver and no doubt sighs in annoyance. The trike suddenly veers sharply to the left however and slams into the cave wall where it comes to a rather smokey stop. It is clearly obvious that the crude armor is no match for more powerful weapons, for Lirius' shot seemed to strike the driver beyond.

The trikes driver ever onward.

Trikes are now 55 yards out and seem to be slowing. Calk can't use his left arm and is bleeding rather profusely.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva Deschan

Seeing Calk's scowl, Aviva understands, a toxic fog of endorphins notwithstanding. Poor priest ...

She shakes her head vehemently, or at least as vehemently as she can (tiny sparks of Æthyric light still leap the bridge between her and the dropship wall, earthing themselves in safe, dead, matter), then nods with a serious look on her face. That misunderstanding cleared up (enough for her, at any rate), Aviva drops her gaze to her wounds. Peeking under her coat, she saw -


What was


that?

There was fire all around her for a moment, but then it was gone. Calk's blood. Screaming, felt through the contact with the one dragging her, more than anything else.

When they reach the safety of the ship, exhausted and bleeding, the sanctionate takes a long look at the arm of her comrade. It's ... well, it's a bad wound. Seizing it in a vague approximation of applying pressure, she takes a closer look. Was that bullet still in there ...

[RandomLunatic]

Hearing the gunshot and crash, Cytnhia grap Xuan's attention and waves hi over. Talking in norma voice, which may as well be a whisper over the the grwol of the approaching engines and the bullets slamming into the dropship, she says When that gunner turns away, take that lasgun and plug 'im.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

It was a nice wall, it was a wall, and it was nice, therfore, a nice wall, and that was all the rationale Calk needed right about now. He (assuming he still has it) placed his sword gently by his side and began to reach for his stubbler, absent of course. His brain had seemed to lagged behind a few minutes and as he looked around for where he might have left it, he noticed Aviva.

"Pretty hair, put a pretty flower it it", obviously blood loss didnt bode well for the active imagination. "Flowers are pretty, not pretty flowers here though..."
It was almost as if the minds delay had finally synced-up, and the bullets wizzing through the area had become a necessary threat again.

Looking out to an imamginary figure, he reached out his hand, "gun, now", with as much authority as could be managed for one in these circumstances.

(OOC: anyone willing to give him a weapon? His track record with "holding on to items" isnt too good but he'll try extra hard!)

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva

Looking quizzically at the priest - someone making less sense than her? Unthinkable! - Aviva unholsters her laspistol, and underhands it to Calk, before returning to attend to his wounds, tearing a strip of cloth from a sleeve to soak up some of the precious vitae now adding a hint of colour to the dropship floor.

She hoped he wouldn't shoot her.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Appearing quiet bemused that Aviva had handed him her weapon, he reached out to grab, the now dead guardsman las rifle and las pistol, returning Aviva her gun. He looked at her, the child-like stupor now passed.

"See, as i figure it, were dead, least we can do is make sure they waste their bullets on US, may aswll, give the other guys a fighting chance..."

His words trailed off, as did his train of thought. With his one good arm, he held it over the wall and pulled the trigger wildly, without even raising his body or moving. The laspistol bursts (hopefully), streamed in the general direction of the bikers. He motioned for Aviva to do the same.

Now to take the returning fire.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Not dead.


Yet.

Writing with one hand, she continued to stuff the wound with cloth, to soak up the blood.

[Warpfire]

That is an interesting development.

So the shields apparently weren't going to be that much of a problem. Well, no reason to screw around then. Waiting for the perfect opportunity, Lirius takes aim at the person manning the heavy stubber. If the shot is possible, he fires. Otherwise he switches targets with a sense of mild dissatisfaction and tries to take out another trike.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Aviva and Calk find refuge inside the drop ship though they are met with the corpse of Shaw. Mutilated beyond the point of identification the only things you can see that tell you it is indeed Shaw is the remnants of his beard and the explosive collar around his neck. Calk seizes the opportunity and digs through his possessions, retrieving the guardsman's laspistol and rifle. Calk is still bleeding and Aviva begins to stuff strips of cloth salvaged from her own clothing. Aviva is handed back her gun which she had given to the priest a moment before and he takes his own salvaged laspistol and fires wildly through the drop ship's door, hoping to catch one of the biker's or at the very least provide cover fire for the others.

Cynthia grabs Xuan and yells her orders to the feral guardsman only to find Xuan's gaze wide eyed and staring. It seems that one of the heavy stubber rounds that had so narrowly missed Cynthia had torn through Xuan's helmet. Blood oozed out of the wild man's mouth and nose but he still clutches his lasrifle in his hands as if it alone would save him. Apparently if Cynthia wants to 'plug' the man on the heavy stubber she is going to have to do it herself.

Lirius attempts to find the perfect shot against the man on the stubber but the gun shields on it are far less crude than those on the trikes, perhaps salvage from some long abandoned PDF emplacement. Either way Lirius finds it too difficult to get a shot off against the stubber and turns his gun towards the trikes heading towards him. They are close and Lirius finds it child's play (since they are currently trying to avoid Calk's las fire) to line up a shot and squeeze it off. The heavy bullet from his hunting rifle tears through the crude shields on the trikes which now that they're closer appear to look only defensible against pistol fire. The trike, which was coming toward suddenly begins to roll end over end toward the assassin even as Lirius feels a sharp pain in his right thigh, a grazing bullet wound writ clear upon his flesh. Now the assassin has to chose whether to run out into the gunfire to dodge the trike rolling toward him or to hide behind his cover and pray for the best.

The trikes are now within the easy range of most pistols. They open fire with autopistols, sending a hail of bullets on top of the fire of the heavy stubber. Four are headed toward Cynthia who is alone with only the dead Xuan as company and two are headed towards Lirius', perhaps attempting to silence his mighty rifle. Calk and Aviva have no enemies heading towards them for the enemy left the center clear due to the stubber fire. The blood storm seems to be clearing fast, the violet lightning having faded completely and the torrents of blood having faded into a light drizzle.

Trikes now 25m from Lirius and Cynthia, about 28 from Calk and Aviva. They're opening with light pistol fire and there appears to be four on Cynthia's side, two on Lirius'.

Lirius can dodge the trike but it would put him in the open, if he ducks back behind the ship the trike will most likely crash on it's corner and may explode, engulfing the assassin in flames.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva continues to fuss over Calk in an attempt to stop the bleeding, making the odd encouraging noise as he comes close to blowing out the charge pack on his laspistol with his wild fusillades.

By the way, would Aviva know how long the blood rain is going on for, via pyniscience, or something? I'm itching to get back into the fight ... :smallamused:

[RandomLunatic]

Cynthia scowls and wrests the lasgun from the ex-Guardsman's death grip. If you want something done right... There were times for ammo conservation, and then you had times like this. She sets the gun to AUTO, peeks out and sprays the incoming trikes with a flurry of sapphire darts.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Twitching and tasting the air with long, frond-like antennae, Aviva looks up sharply. She could feel a change coming in the air, a front of Immaterial low pressure moving in a rimwardly direction, blowing away those clouds of blood and resulting in a beautifully aetherically lit day.

Keeping one hand pressing the now blood-soaked cloth into the open wound, she slowly rises, her hand stretched out, feeling the breeze - as it grows more strongly.

Lol, weather puns. Anyway, invocation, hopefully so I can perils of the warp into a daemonhost next turn.

[Warpfire]

Lirius watches the trike tumble towards him, and after a split second of deliberation comes to a decision. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he dashes out of his cover. Twisting and dodging to make himself as difficult a target as possible, he sprints for where Cynthia is taking cover and as he nears takes a leap and a dive for cover.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

At the very least, one of the trikes was down. He knew it was a long shot but that stubbler could be the end of the dashing assasin. Reaching out, he hoped he could persaude the gunner to stop firing, just for a few moments.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The trike tumbles ever closer side over side, spewing crude shards of metal like shrapnel as it does so. Lirius swallows and darts out from his cover, keeping his head down even as he begins to twist and writhe as best as he is able while running. The heavy stubber begins to turn toward the assassin and he suddenly finds himself running into the stubber fire. Just as Lirius is about kiss his stealthy *ss goodbye the stubber suddenly stops. However Lirius' luck isn't all good for the trike crashes into the side of the ship with jarring force, the pressurized fuel in it's tank igniting, exploding outwards in an impressive display of smoke and flame. The trike is torn apart and much of the crude vehicle becomes shrapnel, some of which slams into Lirius' back with all the force of a bullet. The assassin stumbles, but manages to save himself from crashing face first into the ground.

Gritting his teeth he continues on and as Lirius passes the side door of the ship he spots the priest and the psyker. Aviva stands, one hand presses firmly on the shoulder of the priest whose shoulder seems torn to shreds, left arm hanging limp at his side. She stands staring off, free hand held forward as if testing something. You notice also that the priest's head is rolled back, eyes focused in concentration even as he trembles from some great effort.

Passing that Lirius spots his goal and sees Cynthia drop out from behind her cover with one of the Guardsman's lasguns. Great shafts of ruby light spear forth from the muzzle of the weapon, lancing out to strike at the dangerously close trikes bearing down on her. Through a hail of pistol fire the Scum takes aim and fires, displaying either great courage or stupidity in this endeavor. The trike's crude shields are suddenly aglow from the heat of the las fire and the one in the forefront takes the most hits. It veers sharply to race into the small opening in the cave wall, the same opening Cynthia was hiding in a moment before. Lirius watches the trike explode violently and there is now plenty of light from the various burning debris too see from.

He ducks under Cynthia's lasfire and takes up position behind her... He knows the two trikes will make their way towards him now that he has moved, but perhaps they will be distracted by the two still in the ship.
Three trikes within 20 meters of Cynthia, you think they're going to start circling you soon as they are veering off to your left, though two are most likely following Lirius. Stubber is stalled for the next round due to the great effort of Calk. Aviva succeeds her invocation. Cynthia has a hard time telling if she hit the gunner on the stubber but she can see the gun shield glowing in a few places due to the lasfire.

Also I did this all from Lirius' perspective since he was going to pass everyone anyway and I wanted to give this post a twist for some reason. I might do a post like this every once in a while for flavor.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Just as Aviva is about to set her energies towards healing her colleague, she stops, seeing the trikes bearing down on Lirius and Cynthia. Her head, nerves, and entire body hurt so much from the last time, but this couldn't go on - she saw each of them stumble, wounded, from the hits of the gang. Turning and fixing a point that even in her befuddled state she knew the beasts would pass through on their swinging arc, she releases a fragment of her focused conscious mind into that area, letting it sublime into the air like boiling arsenic, and releasing a diffused pulse of chaotic, swirling, raw energy to embrace the attacking bandits.

Essentially, trying for a 'wall of fire' type effect that tries to a) be in the path of the trikes, and, if it can fulfil, b) while doing this, putting it in between our Lirius/Cynthia team and the trikes. However, not being a pyrokine, but rather a theosophamist, she's not using fire, but instead just generally nasty warp energy.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Watching the trikes push on towards those who might actually have a chance to bring them down. The one advantage he had managed to gain was to stop that stubbler from ripping them to pieces. He doubted he could hold it for long but he was going to make the most of it.

With all the energy he could muster, he hefted the spare lasrifle and rested it against the wall. Bursting as many shots as he could at the two trikes crossing towards Cynthia while still trying to keep his hold on the stubbler gunner

[RandomLunatic]

Cynthia fires one last quick burst at the incoming trikes, then ducks back behind the dropship, tugging on Lirius's sleeve to bring him along. With the bulk of the wrecked dropship between her and the enemy's guns, she dashes about a half dozen meters from the ship and flops on the ground, quickly becoming all but indistinguishable from gore-smeared cavern floor-at least, from the perspective of someobody peering through a narrow slit cut in the armor plate of a pseeding trike.

[Warpfire]

Lirius, realizing that Cynthia probably had a good idea, runs after her and follows suit taking a prone position next to her. He draws his hunting rifle once more.

[RandomLunatic]

Spread out, or we'll both get nailed by the same burst. Cynthia whispers urgently.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Aviva focuses on the ground before the trikes, attempting with her mighty will to unleash the immaterium upon the poor hapless scavengers. A foul wind seems to fill the cavern and the smell of sulfur fills all of your noses with it's stench. Then you hear it, like the cry of dying Grox as if heard from a great distance. The air seems to shudder violently, as if the whole cave is filled with silent thunder. You see it then, a great ball of nothing slowly fading into existence and to even look at it is to risk your sanity.

Suddenly a great implosion is felt and each of you feel it's tug upon your mind before the great ball of nothing erupts into the crimson and violet tendrils of the Warp, ever turning in on themselves. The ground below the warp energies is ripped up in great chunks before being consumed utterly by the chaos and when the trikes see this they do all in their power to avoid a similar fate. The first trike slows but not enough and soon, with a deafening scream, the rider and the trike are sucked into the chaos and you can hear great tearing sounds as the trike is ripped to shreds just as you hear the feminine screams of it's rider. The second trike tries to slow but it too fails, however it's rider has more time than the lead and so he jumps from his seat, rolling along the caverns floor as the trike is sucked into the rending chaos. The third trike slows and begins to turn as the second rider jumps up from the ground and jumps behind the third trike's rider and they both rush back towards the transport vehicle.

The warp energies persist for only a moment before they disappear but the cost of that moment is evident to those who can see Aviva. Her skin has taken on an even more tepid pallor and she trembles violently even as blood oozes from her nose and mouth.

Calk tries to maintain his hold upon the gunner upon the transport vehicle even as he brings his las rifle to bear. He hears the trikes a moment before they pass and he is ready, squeezing the trigger as the rush by. Though they be as metal blurs their closeness to Calk makes them easier targets. The las fire rips into the first trike, tearing great burning rents into the vehicle and rider and Calk can't help but take some small measure of satisfaction at the screams of his enemies. The trike simply slows and the second rider never passes but soon Calk realizes why. It appears as if it too has turned to flee towards the distance vehicle as well. The downside to Calk's actions is that he has lost his mental grasp upon the stubber's gunner and with his knowledge of his broken link it can only be a matter of time before it opens fire again.

Cynthia opens fire with her lasrifle and it's ruby light lances through the dying warp anomaly and into the back of the rider who had jumped behind the last trike. You hear a scream as the las fire hits home and watch with delight as the rider falls from it's seat, twisted form crashing violently upon the ground. The trike's driver looks back but doesn't stop to try to help the fallen ganger, leaving him to your devices, clearly so since you can tell the ganger still lives.

The heavy stubber doesn't open fire again, but instead the transport slowly turns around, the stubber swinging to ever keep it's barrel pointed at you. With most of the trikes haven fallen victim to you it would seem they have chosen to cut their loses and run instead of continuing what is quickly becoming a suicidal battle.

Cynthia and Lirius probably still find it prudent to continue their actions and drop prone some ways behind the drop ship just in case the maneuver is a ruse but as the trikes gain speed and transport slowly lurches forward it seems to be a legitimate retreat.

(Trikes still in close range but wont be for long. You're still in the heavy stubber's range as well. Aviva pretty much owned that little psystorm. Consider it the behind the scenes dice rolling equivalent of rolling a natural 20 :smallbiggrin:)

(This would have been up yesterday but the forums asploded, so it's a day late. :smallannoyed:)

[Illiterate Scribe]

Grinning like a maniac, Aviva turns to Calk, giving him a significant look. Yeah, about that derision ...

Natural 1, natural 20. I'm liking it.

[RandomLunatic]

Cynthia waits for a bit, but when it becomes abundantly clear the retreat is for real, she gets up and strolls over to where Xuan leans agaisnt the dropship's hull, and relieves him of his holster and Laspistol. She sets the Lasgun back to single-shot mode and waits a bit more for the gang to clear off. Then she leans back around the side of the transport. What's it gonna be, punk?

I never knew it was possible to upgrade to a Lasgun/pistol.:smalltongue:

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Looking back at Aviva, giving back a 'we were this crose from dying in the most horrible way, ya know?' kind of look. Though to be honest, Calk was more busy giving encouragement to the scavengers with his flashlight lasrifle



OOC: sorry for lateness, forums hate me thiiiiis much |------------------------|

[Warpfire]

Lirius, also after waiting for a time, stands up and looks around. Despite believing the attackers were actually retreating, he keeps his rifle handy. It always paid to be prepared. He takes a moment to look around, then heads over to Cynthia.

"Looks like we've already suffered two casualties. And we've barely even landed," he shakes his head.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva is sitting, legs dangling from the side of the dropship, idly watching the retreating attackers. She hoped that she hadn't been out of line with them.

Overhearing Lirius' comment, she scribbles a few words on the slate, and holds them up, turning the brightness up a few notches to gain their attention.


We did


just weather an anti-aircraft battery


and a large number of


vehicles.


We are lucky to be alive.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The vehicles pick up speed and soon they disappear into the darkness of the caves. You are granted a brief reprieve in which you have time to see to the wounded among you as well as see if the dead triker's had anything of value on them. However, before you can get too comfortable a sound is heard coming from Cynthia's pack. The faint crackle of static followed by the synthed voice of the pilot. ++First comm.. lay depl..ed. We ca... n..w commu..ate.++ From the sound of it the pilot hasn't had a chance to fix his vox unit and the sound of the chatter is easily grating on your nerves but without a tech priest he will be stuck like that for some time. He continues to speak however. ++Ke.. timar..mile..dow..tunnel..milita..aware..y..presen ..cau..n..par..m..nt.. Skul..pro..s..searchin..are..hiv...forc..headi..yo ..r..way.. Mov..it!++

(The Swag)Axe @ 3
Knife @ 5
Autopistol @ 3
Autopistol Rounds @ 31
Shotgun
Shotgun Shells @ 12
Ganger Leathers @ 2
Guard Flak Armor @ 2
Explosive Collar
Corpse starch rations @ 14
120 thrones
Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer.

(This obviously includes the stuff from your two dead comrades.)

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva takes little part in the scavenging, rather wishing to fuss about Calk's shoulder wound, all the while skittering across the slate's glassteel surface with spare fingertips, recording the pilots message and playing a rousing game of fill-in-the-blanks.


First comms relay deployed
we can now communicate
Kerr Septimar mile down
tunnel military aware of
your presence caution
paramount skull probes
searching are hiver forces
heading your way move it

Looking up from the slate, she shrugs, and carries on bandaging the wound with some cloth from the hivers.

Calling dibs on simultaneously quad-wielding three autopistols and an axe.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The ganger felled by Cynthia lays on the ground near where Aviva's warp storm ripped into the materium a scant moment ago. The ganger still lives but wound, partially cauterized by the head of the las blast, still oozes copious amounts of blood which pools thickly around the man. You are all careful to relieve the ganger of his knife and autopistol but it doesn't look as if the man, wearing naught but tattered clothes and a crude metal helmet, will make it long without first aid.

And so the choice is laid before the minds of the group. Attempt to save one of your would be murders in the hopes the young man has something useful to contribute or to let the young ganger die a slow, painful death as he no doubt deserves.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Reholstering his recovered stubbler, and slinging his newly found shotgun (along with as much ammunition as could be found). He moved to the rest of the group.

"Leave or take him (indicating the wounded prisoner), either way i would advise we move away as quickly as possible".

[Illiterate Scribe]

Wafting over, via a now purloined Imperial Primer, Aviva addresses the surviving ganger by means of her tablet, making sure she has his attention.

Care to explain


yourself?

[RandomLunatic]

Forget him. Let's go before we get pinned down by somebody who doesn't give up so easy. Now.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The group takes a moment to gather what spoils they can in the eerie silence of the cave, lit only by the foggy light coming from the ruptured cave side some five hundred yards down tunnel. The comm link has been silent since the pilot called in only moments ago but the need for speed and caution on your part was clearly pointed out thanks to Aviva's filling in the blanks of the pilot's damaged vox unit.

Calk grabs Xuan's shotgun and the accompanying ammunition and begins to load the old weapon. A rudimentary shotgun with only two barrels that have to be reloaded manually it is clearly not the best gun in a drawn out fire fight. But in the close quarters of the underhives that are to no doubt come it will no doubt make a fine close quarter's weapon. Calk says his piece, voicing the need for haste and makes ready for the mile trek down tunnel.

Aviva grabs hold of Xuan's primer, leave it to a psyker to grab only a book and not the weapons that lay scattered about the field. After a moment, however, she turns her gaze back down towards her former companion and strips him of his rations and armor, still bloody and vomit drenched though none the less serviceable despite the filth. Once finished she turns her data slate towards the wounded ganger who bleeds to death nearby and she attempts to communicate. The man's eyes flutter and open but they are blood shot and already begin to film over and after a moment of holding her data slate over the man's face Aviva might come to the conclusion that in his condition it is pointless to try and talk to the man.

Cynthia takes a moment to recover most of Lirius' gear from his still steaming corpse, taking his compact laspistol and tucking it into her belt even as she straps the massive hunting rifle over her shoulder. She digs around the assassin's body glove until she finds his stash of stimm and tucks it away, no doubt cursing after another brief inspection tells her that while he had the drugs he didn't have an injector but that problem could be easily fixed when they reached Kerr Septimar. Once her newly acquired weapons and drugs are safely tucked away she heads into the drop ship and begins to unceremoniously strip Grendal of his armor and once the blood and vomit stained armor is in her hands she merrily jumps out of the ship to stand near the other Acolytes before barking out her opinion to simply leave the dying ganger where he lies and move out before they get pinned down by something more determined than some moderately equipped scavengers.

Once the remaining three are ready to go a snapping sound is heard from the drop ship behind them followed by a loud crash and an even louder curse. The cursing voice is distinctly masculine and whoever it is you can hear them stomp down the ceiling of the ship before you see the figure standing in the opening of the ship's side hatch.The figure appears to be a young human standing a couple of inches above six feet with a well built frame. He stands adorned in the regalia of the Imperial Guard, complete with flak armor and las weapons. The man's face is covered in blood originating from a vicious swollen gash on the man's forehead that has stopped bleeding. He, like all of you, is covered in blood and the rank contents of Xuan's stomach and maybe it is because of this that he has a rather annoyed expression written upon his blood stained face.

(*waves her hand* Jalek was in the drop ship the whole time! *waves her hand again for good measure*)

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva pulls out her mercy blade, regards its finely honed edge for a long moment, and advances on the ganger, cradling his head on her lap, with a sorrowful, almost piéta-like fondness.


Sorry.


The pain should go away soon.

She drives the knife into the base of his skull.

[UncleWolf]

Jalek shakes his head, getting rid of the last of the dizziness from the landing. He looked out at the carnage and sighed.

Why do I always miss the fun? he asks sarcastically to no one in particular.

Seeing that Xuan's body had already been looted, he grabs the explosive collar and puts it into a pouch at his side. It could be of use later.

He flips over the body and finds an autopistol. Jalek grabs it and checks the ammo.

Twelve in the clip, one in the chamber. Grabbing the holster, he puts it on and grabs the rest of the ammo.

[RandomLunatic]

Suddenly realizing her situation, Cynthia steps back inside the dropship. Pausing at the doorway to the cockpit, she calls, Don't opne this door unless it's life or death. Or there'll be a death. The warning is punctuated by what sounds like an Autopistol being cocked, followed by a door slam.

Inside the cockpit, Cythina lays the armor of one of the consoles. Then she gracefully slips her left arm out of its sleeve. And, across the cosmos, comes a piercing cry. It is the wail of a million demons, the shriek of a trillion souls of a billion war-ravaged worlds. It is the sound of adolescent males everywhere discovering this is where the narration fades to black...

Presently, Cynthia reappears outside the dropship, looking ready to start a war all by herself. Gee, too bad somebody went and smeared blood all over the windows, huh?

[Ms.Malbolge]

Cynthia finds that since the dropship is upside down that setting the autopistol on the consoles is a bit trickier than one would expect but through sheer ingenuity and the resourcefulness born of a life of hive dwelling she manages to succeed in her task. Stripping off her street clothes she slowly shrugs into the flak armor, manufactured in one size fits all it manages to fit after Cynthia toys with the buckles and straps for a moment, managing to find it suitable though not the most comfortable of things to wear. When she leaves the dropship, now adorned in bloody vomit covered armor, she see's the others as they prepare to disembark down the tunnel toward Kerr Septimar.

After his dramatic entrance Jalek turns his attentions to looting the remaining corpses, picking up what the others haven't claimed which is only an exploding collar and an autopistol with a couple of clips of ammuntion. After the quick scavenging he makes himself ready, having already been briefed upon their mission he looks down tunnel... into the gloom... into the depths of Cenaroun.

Aviva finds that killing the ganger is frighteningly easy. The mercy blade, honed to an edge so extreme that a simpleton might think it mono-molecular it slides effortlessly through the man's neck, tip seen through the opposite side. A long, slow gurgle serves as the man's final words as he didn't even seen to wake and he is long dead by the time Aviva cleans and re sheaths her mercy blade.

Calk begins to trudge down the massive tunnel long before the others do, taking up his newly acquired lasgun as his keen eyes strive to pierce the misty darkness. He never looks back to see if the others are following, perhaps such is because of his great confidence that his fellow acolytes will follow him, a pure man of the cloth.

You gasp in the heavily polluted air that valiantly tries to choke you as you pass the massive hole created by your rather adventurous landing and by then the more astute of you noticed that the tunnel seem to slop ever slightly uphill. It is a long hike, the scant three quarters of a mile, combined with the fact most of you are still coming down from the shock of battle, finds all but the guardsman panting quietly in the near total silence... a silence that does well to match the darkness at this point.

The tunnel is no longer smooth, filth and debris line it's size in great heaps the size of large buildings and the air turns sour with the stale stench of fungus thriving amongst the refuse. It is at this point you hear a great rumbling up ahead. As if a great, burdensome vehicle slowly bears down on you from the darkness. Calk's head seems to look at the garbage at each side when he first hears the rumbling, as if searching for an advantage, any advantage, in the refuse that seems to surround you. You have all heard this sound before and have marked it well upon your memories.

For it is the sound of armor... heading your way.

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

"Is it too late to make a damned request for a cursed missile launcher? yet again the loyal administrators of the Emperor, inadequately provide His servents."

He tried to take cover in any sort of ditch/crack in the walls around him and motions the others to do the same. Perhaps if they are careful they can let it slip by.

[RandomLunatic]

Whaddaya expect from beuraucracy? Cynthia asks. Go thorugh this junk and find something we can jam in tracks-in case we need it. Then hide. She grabs Aviva's arm. This means you, she grawls, dragging Aviva with her to the nearest pile of detritus.

[UncleWolf]

Hearing the armor, Jalek quickly tries to hide in a pile of trash on the opposite side of the road from Aviva and Cynthia.

He flips the safety off of his lasrifle and readies it.

Just in case.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva, distractedly, is dragged along into the debris field, staff clanking quietly in the mess. She scrabbles about, looking for the requisite scraps, all the while trying to bore a hole through the darkness with her eyes.

[Ms.Malbolge]

You each scramble through the fungus ridden filth that lay so thick upon the side of the tunnel, digging your way in even as you begin to prepare for the worst. Cynthia grabs Aviva and drags her into cover even as the psyker tries to bore a hole into the darkness, her eyes seeming to glow for a moment before she is dragged off.

The rumbling gets louder and louder and soon the very earth seems to shake, loose pieces of refuse coming loose to slide down the great artificial hills, covering the group in Emperor-knows-what. Finally you see it, or it's light anyway, in the distance. A great beast of a machine roaring slowly towards you, two spotlights piercing the darkness as they rove over the great trash heaps, ever searching, and it doesn't take an Adept to realize that they are most likely searching for you.

The trash heaps begin to teeter as the armor begins to pass, it's great tracks turning rubble and refuse alike into dust and when the armor is close enough you get a good look at it. An old tank, it's chipped and dented carapace lined with grand sigils of ancient origin. Twin linked autocannons are attached at it's sides, a red targeting laser roams over the refuse pile, showing those of you observant enough where those mighty cannons are aimed. It's main gun is pointed firmly forward and the brief gouts of flame tell you that it's a heavy flamer.

When it passes many of the great refuse heaps become dangerously close to falling but through either luck or the will of the Emperor they endure and you live, for in your positions such an event would spell your fate as surely as a rock slide or avalanche. Behind the tank walks a squad of seven men dressed in the flak armor of the Guard though it is modified greatly and covered, like the tank before it, in ancient sigils. You see not their flesh for their armor fully encases them and their helmets bear re breathers and the glowing red slit at their eye level tells you they have targeting optics. The optics visors are attached via a bulky cable into the scopes of their massive autoguns which the large men seem to carry with ease and you see grenades and well used swords upon their belts.

They do not seem to find you as they begin to walk past and you cannot help but wonder if you will soon find yourself thrown against fierce warriors such as these.

But for now, if you so choose to let the kill team pass, the way to Kerr Septimar is open.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva, eyes now somewhat less drill-like, peeks at the great Tank that rolls past. The sight of all those people, all those guns - they could help them, surely? No. Probably not. They didn't look like the type inclined to offer aid, what with their harsh edges, sharp ones that you could cut yourself on.

Instead, she fastens her gaze on the twisting runic script adorning the tank and the soldiers. If she looked at them just ... so, she could often 'recall' them from dreams and visions - at least, those back at her Scholastica Psykana Instruction Centre had looked on in worried affirmation when she presented crayon-wrought images of eldar runes, flaming eyes, skull-like glyphs, and three-dot triangles.

She screws up an eye, and stares.

[RandomLunatic]

The sound of the tank and its accompanying infantry recede into the distance, and Cynthia again breathes-for what seems like the first time in hours. She passes one of the frag grenades to Jalek. Here. And then she sets off towards Kerr Septimar.

[UncleWolf]

After the Armour and escort rolls by, Jalek breathes a sigh of relief. There would have been no way that they could have taken that on. Not with what they had now.

Thanks he says as he takes the offered grenade and puts it in it's slot on his belt.

Jalek keeps his finger near the trigger of his lasrifle as he travels in case anything else unexpected shows up.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Aviva screw up her eyes and stares at the sigils upon the ancient tank for a long moment but try as she might she is unable to recall their meaning or origin. When the tank passes along with the kill team the group breathes a collective sigh of relieve, for the thoughts of the Guardsman perhaps ring true, such a foe is beyond them, at the moment.

After grenades are exchanged Calk emerges from a particularly disgusting pile of refuse and makes his way toward the center of the tunnel, doing his best to shake off the sticky offal from his once immaculate inquisitorial robes.

Further down tunnel the refuse piles become larger and larger until they truly are a marvel. For mountains of human waste underground are a rare, if perhaps inglorious, sight. Soon you see dark colored, stained humans at the outskirts of your vision, deliberately so one would think. The sounds of mice and vermin become pronounced as well as the occasional scuffle of something larger.

Up you see the beginning of a trail of artificial lights set into the dark, slimy stone of the caves, a sure sign that your objective is near at hand. Sitting under the first light, however, is a rather thin woman, skin the color of the refuse around her while her stunningly red hair, seen clearly through the dirt, gives one the impression of.. well... flaming refuse. She looks at the group with pale blue eyes and her hands cling tightly to a rather archaic looking pistol as she raises it before her, holding it between her and you with trembling hands.

"Yous go away! Ya won' get me yer bastids!" Tears form at the edges of her eyes as you either stop, or being to pass...

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva is stunned by the sudden onset of this woman - after all, all the previous people that she had seen for weeks had been trying to kill her, or would be if they knew who or where she was. She holds up her hands, in an attitude that would be conciliatory if it did not come from a mangy, bloodsoaked waif with a large, sharp knife tucked in her belt (also covered in blood), a copy of the Imperial Guardsman's Primer dementedly clasped under her arm, and an impression beyond the simple psykana iconography (although Throne knows, that was enough) of too many eyes.

[RandomLunatic]

Cynthia puts her hands out to her sides, hands shoulder-high, and turns to face the woman. Whoah, ma'am. I think you have us confused with somebody else. Then, with all the sympathy she can muster, asks, What's wrong? Would you liek to talk about it?

[Ms.Malbolge]

The woman's eyes go wide when she see's not only the more than a little strange visage of Aviva but the other three, two of which look as if they could start, and win, a Hive war single-handedly. He hands tremble all the more, to such a point that it would take a slight miracle for a slug to hit you if she did find the courage to pull the trigger of the old weapons. She swallows and pushes herself farther back towards the wall with her legs, and it's clear that if she could she would push herself into the wall as well, to avoid the rather grim looking group.

Finally she seems to overcome her fear and awe and her mother opens and closes a few times before finally she is able to answer Cynthia's questions. "Te... Tey tooks dem, all oft dem into the tunnel city. All of Prith... gone. I's wait 'ere.. Kill 'em all when theys come again." Her eyes become watery as she speaks and her voice is hesitant even as it boils with an ignorant rage. It would seem either she or this Prith has been wronged some how and she intends to get justice, from the barrel of a gun perhaps.

Though it is quite clear the skinny young woman isn't going to find anything but her own death from such an endeavor.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Trying to look and sound less wrong, Aviva holds up the slate, a words written on it in large, open characters.


Who is

'Prith'?


Who are


'they'?


This woman had better be literate.

[UncleWolf]

Jalek quickly raises his hands and keeps them away from his weapons.

Wait, who are you talking about? Just who are "they"?

[Illiterate Scribe]

Upon realising that the words are as meaningless Rorschach tests to the woman, Aviva turns, scribbling something new on the dataslate, and then holdds it up triumphantly, in glorious colour, only slightly miffed that Jalek got there first. Trying to communicate through mutually incomprehensibly ranges of language would be about as much use as an illiterate scribe, but the language of images was something different.

http://img21.imageshack.us/img21/6029/artr.png

[king.com]

Calk Wadous


In an attempt to grapple with the situation, he bangs his head against the wall. He was away for 5 minutes....

[Ms.Malbolge]

The woman blinks, turning her attention to the Guardsman for at least he is able to speak.. though his strange accent is hard for her to understand.

"Dem slava's in the big tunnel city." She points down the tunnel, toward Kerr Septimus. "Tey tooks all of Prith... all of Prith be slaves naw. Is kill dem, kill dem for takin' Prith!" Her eyes water and tears slowly begin to trickle down her cheek. Apparently Prith is a place, not a person.

(Bonus points to Scribe, whose pictures made me laugh.)

[king.com]

Calk Wadous

Maybe it was the sensative tissue scaring in his head or the blood now slowly trickling through his arm but it seemed apparently obviosu what was going on.

"Well evidently we are too late so simply 'assess' the situation in the hive if her words are true. Perhaps we should attempt to contact our benevolent overlord? The Inquisitor may need us to take another path hmm?"

[RandomLunatic]

Cynthia shoots Calk a withering glare, making a mnetal note to have a brief chat with him in a bit, then turns back to the woman. Killing yourself going against impossible odds won't help anybody. Do you know how many there are? What they look like? I can kleep an eye out ofr them while in town, which I promise you will be far more effective.

[Illiterate Scribe]

Aviva scribbles out another sketch, and holds it up.

http://img26.imageshack.us/img26/5673/rede.png


This means of communication - it was somehow ... better. The epistemic distance between thought, word, act, was lessened. A more direct translation of thoughts to others.

Haha, using terrible mousepad pictures to communicate is growing on me.