Deathwatch: Watch Station Janus IC

[DrK]

Watch Station Janus


http://www.fantasyflightgames.com/ffg_content/deathwatch/Watch-Sation-Medael-NikolausIngeneri_2_0.jpg

Watch Station Janus. The small station with a crew of some 15 Deathwatch marines and 235 serfs lies near the Cellebos warzone watching the slowly unfolding carnage in the Acheros Salient.

Dire news though from the large moon around Enarch VI. A key world near the supply lines to the hostile worlds of the bloody trinity. Despite the Imperial Blockade around the system there was a penetration and the chaos warband of the dark magos Izak Thrul landed on the world. Searching for something.... Although the Inquisition knowns not what.

The warband comprises of many heretics and magos but at its heart the Reaver Titan "Destroyer of Souls"- one of the feared Deaths Head legion that once fired shots at the Gate of the Imperial Palace on Holy Terra during the heresy before it fled into the depths of the galaxy after the Emperor smote Horus.

The moon is a barren wasteland. Human habitable- if barely if you ignore the 200km/h ash storms and median temperature of 39C. The world- a vicious ash waste home to mining colonies in sealed colonies to avoid the dust and the wind.

The Imperial troops on the northern Continent have been spread between the small hab stations and recently 11000 men have become unaccounted for as the Warband strikes at will. THe massive EM interference in the atmosphere preventing any form of orbital scanning and making orbital bombardment risky far beyond the tolerance of any ship's Captain.

The small black armour plated Astartes strike craft "Bringer of Wrath" slingshotted into orbit 2.3 hours ago breaking heavily as it streaked across the upper atmosphere aglow with the heat of the atmospheric burn. The flicjering red shooting star seen from the planet a sign of the woe and fire to come.

As the Bringer of Wrath tore its way free from the immaerium the vox lit up with urgent requests for identification from one of the 4 Imperial Navy frigates in high orbit. The dust wastes laid out beneath your vessel as a dull brownish smear partially obscured by the crackling black highly charged clouds that dominated the moon's thin atmosphere.

Red = mining/ research stations that have been garrisoned.
Black= missing/silent hab stations
http://i830.photobucket.com/albums/zz225/KHolbourn/40K%20stuff/desert_img001.jpg

THe hololith spreads out the vast display of the continent in the command deck. The soft whisper of the chapter serfs going about their duties the only sound save the soft hum of the air purifiers and the buzz of the cooling plasma drives.

The map spreading out over the deck glows, the different hab-mining stations glowing with the current dispositions of the Imperial forces and the black marks denoting the 3 mining stations that have dropped off the vox net without warning over the past 2 months.

Commander Nascent, the Deathwatch serf in charge of the safe conduct of the vessel turns to the assembled Kill Team. "My Lords' Astartes. The Imperial Fleet is becoming most insistent on an answer."

Mission Objectives:-
Primary:-
Destroy the Destroyer of Souls
Eliminate or Capture Izak Thrul

Secondary
Disperse the Warband
Secure the northern continent
Ascertain what the Heretics are searching for

Tertiary
Eliminate the command structure of the warband
Find the drop pods that landed here to identify the enemy vessel
Restore morale for the Emperor's troops
Destroy armoured support vehicles of the warband

OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=13330827#post13330827)

[Whiskeyjack]

Serfs. Untrustworthy, weak failures. Or generational beasts of service. Which is worse?

Barachiel shifted slightly, the servos in his armor whirring softly. Mark 3c Tactical Dreadnought Armor, a model better known as "Terminator" from the massive Crux Terminatus emblem on one shoulder, rumored to bear a sliver of the Emperor's own armor. The armor was new---to him, at least. His promotion to the Deathwing somewhat unexpected after that incident on Vanity. Still, nothing to be said, with his assault bike shipped back to the Chapter aboard the same Nova-class that had delivered this armor and a small stack of gene-locked data pads.

It had taken weeks for him to secure the services of enough Servitors to properly perform the painting ceremony. Of course there were enough serfs, but that was another story. They wouldn't be trusted to clean his storm bolter, let alone to undertake the rituals to placate this ancient machine spirit and coax it into service in the Long Vigil. Still, it gleamed black in the lights, the left pauldrons bearing the broken sword insignia of the Deathwing. Mag-locked to its hip was a venerable storm bolter, from which dangled a myriad of feathers, tiny bones and teeth, and other fetishes. Barachiel knew most other Chapters wouldn't understand; ironically, a Space Wolf would, or a White Scar. The fetishes adorning the ancient weapon appeased its spirit and bound to it the ghosts of those slain by it, bound them to the service of the Emperor's Angels of Death.

Over the armor was draped a hooded robe, bone-white with a thin forest-green trim, the red broken sword at each shoulder and neck-hollow. Obviously often-patched from applications of enemy fire, it was yet another idiosyncrasy of the Chapter, a reminder of the colors of the Deathwing and that First Company's particular history and traditions, another way to appease the Terminator's machine spirit even though the armor had been darkened for service with the Deathwatch.

As the display of the planet and details of projected enemy forces began to illuminate the room, Barachiel smiled behind his armored helm, keying in a small sequence into the board before him. A chance to hunt traitors was always to be savored. Yes, this seemed a deployment fitting for a Cyclone Missile Launcher...

[LithiumBlossom]

Korbin, like any wary raven, roosted high in buttresses and beams of the main hall of the ship. He crouched in the shadows between the crossing of two i-beams as motionless as the other gargoyles accompanying him.

For a challenge he had ascended to his chosen spot without his jump pack. Instead he had found a route himself, clambering up using banners, cables, carvings and any other foothold he could find. With his enhanced abilities he scuttled up with the speed and silence of a spider.

Down below robed serfs hurried about their duties. Tiny, frail things compared to the battle-brothers they served. They were used to being unobtrusive and diligent only towards their duties. Predictably none realized his presence.

He spared as much notice to them as he himself received. Instead he busied his mind with his latest sacred duty. Up here away from the petty affairs of mortals he could truly focus upon the task at hand.

Using his helmet's command and control elements he reviewed the intelligence at his disposal. Holographic picter interfaces projected footage and text directly upon his eyes.

Nothing escaped his notice. Korbin pursued everything- reports, scattered transitions and archival information. No matter how trivial or unrelated he scrutinized it regardless. Two centuries in the Raven Guard had taught him well that anything could be of use during a mission.

Something changed in the room beneath. Another form entered the chamber, as large and dauntless as a small hill. Every footstep rumbling against the deckplate. Even through the dim light Korbin instinctively recognized the form as a suit of Terminator armor.

With slow caution he appraised the new figure from his roost. They wore the Deathwatch colors, although adorned blatantly with a Dark Angel's robe. Primitive tokens seemed attached to their wargear hinting at borderline heretical superstition. Korbin would have to watch this one, he could be...problematic.

Seeing his battle-brother activating a tactical display Korbin likewise returned to his studies. There was no need to make his presence known, his perch was good enough. For the time being.

[Bucklesworth]

Forgemaster Argus was agitated. The facility available on this vessel was spartan and lacked many of the capabilities he had become accustomed to.

Still, it is sometimes best to return to ones roots, the hammer and anvil is all I require

His meditations on the nature of purity in forging were interrupted by a mechanical voice over the vox-com inviting him to the command deck. He laid down his tools and retrieved his helmet, fitting the ancient work of art over his blackened features before leaving his workshop.

He was not the first to arrive, a deathwing terminator stood with his back to the entrance observing a glowing hololith of the planet. His mechanicus trained instincts twitched,

Mk3c Terminator Armor. Indomintus Patter. Original suit pattern intact. Cast M310-M32
Mk18 Hololith. Ordinem Pattern. Installed during commissioning. M39

His enhanced senses took in the display at a glance, noting the three most vulnerable settlements and likely avenues of attack.

"The traitors will assault one of the three easternmost settlements next. We should locate and strike before they have that chance."

[M3r3k]

Leonatus looks around the Command deck having made the a routine of being on the command deck when not employed in other duties. The rustling of his jump packs metal feathers like wind chimes on the breeze being made by the oxygen recycling unit. Nods slightly to Brother Barachiel, noticing the new markings of first company adorning his terminator armor. Even if it was technically looked down apon by most chapters to adorn sacred Tactical Dreadnaught Armor with such things. The machine spirit wants what the machine spirit wants, The Emperor knows Leonatus understands that much. His own Mk5 armor has a mind of its own. The gore that is a persistant reminder of the armors inclinations towards its foes, the calling voice of a hero long dead begging to return to the battlefield and take up the fight once more.

Silencing the vox caster in his skull helm he offers a silent prayer to The Emperor. "Let the curse be sated for this mission." He says after the traditional end of the
litergy.

Turning Back on the Voxcaster, a voice almost melodic ringing through the helm "Hab Stations not reporting in, the storms might have destroyed their communication beacons, that or something more sinister." (Pauses for Dramatic effect) He takes the skull helm off,
"We should prepare for the worst possilbe outcome. People could be trapped underneath collapsed buildings not to mention there is a heretic warband out there. Oh and a titan."
He gave a smile to the room to let everyone know he was trying to brighten the mood but failing at it. Subtley hinting for someone else to take lead, he volunteers:

"Lets split into two groups, first group be a reconisinse element designed to move quick and assertain the situation prefferably in an aquila lander. I volunteer to be a member of the recon party. If there are survivors I would like to make sure they are taken care of. If we run into any hostiles we will trigger the teleport homer for orbital insertion."

[Emperor Ing]

Standing at the side of the commander is another hulking giant in Terminator Armor. His arms end in massive assault cannons that have temporarily been retracted to allow manual dexterity as he completes his almost trademark ritual of typing up instructions on his seemingly endless supply of dataslates. This time he held only one, and proceeded to type on it.

He motions for the weak fool that calls himself commander to vox the Imperial blockade.
One warband. The blockade could not stop one warband fleet from breaking through.
Once the vox is open, while typing on the dataslate he addresses the Imperials with a voice that does nothing to mask his characteristic disdain and indifference.
This is Sargent Dannach Lorarius of the Deathwatch. The Ordo Xenos has sent us to aid you.

[Whiskeyjack]

Barachiel sighs inside his helmet. An Iron Hand. All bile and spite. Always eager to just...act like that. No subtlety. Cannot even take his Throne-blessed autocannons off for a strategic briefing. And yet he bears the insignia of a Veteran Sergeant. He might even make Captain. Throne help us all.

Instead, Barachiel speaks to the Salamander, the voice amplifiers making him sound ever more menacing, but his voice nevertheless carries a heavy accent not reminiscent of the clipped and proper High Gothic typically spoken by the Dark Angels. His voice is, in fact, an almost mellifluous baritone, though with some kind of cold, hard core barely kept contained. "What exactly makes you say that, Brother Techmarine? Three attacks to the western positions. This device does not even show the order the attacks were perpetrated in. An attack on the 18th encamped in the northwest is just as likely as strikes to the east."

To the Blood Angel, he says, slightly gently and slightly harsh: "Brother of Baal, I do not wait for others to scout for me. I do not wait for perfect conditions to teleport in. The Deathwing does not wait. It strikes. I am Deathwing. I act. I do not wait. Especially when Traitors are about. And taking a mortal craft in is unbefitting. Not to mention not tactically sound. It's a Thunderhawk or one of your Stormravens. An Aquila would fold under mortal heavy bolter fire, let alone a Traitor weapon." His voice drips with scorn as he speaks the word 'mortal.'

[Bucklesworth]

The 18th? That makes no sense. Unless...how embarrassing.

Argus winced underneath his helmet. Thankful for the protective ceramite.

By the Throne. I apologize for my indiscretion Brother Barachiel. I had not finished completing the maintenance rites on my auto-senses, my vision of the hololith was distorted. I beg your forgiveness for the error but it seems we are in agreement after all. I will have to spend many hours in penance before the sacred fires to recant my mistake.

Pulling out a small toolkit from his belt he began chanting in techna lingua whilst applying a small amount of corrective oil to the lens before delicately turning three small screws on the implant's side. His eyepieces went dark for a few seconds before glowing red once more.

You are correct about the defensive capabilities of an aquila but I question the effectiveness of an aerial assault in the first place. A swift hammer blow via drop pod or teleport stands to be most effective. We have orbital superiority, there is no reason not to use it.

[DrK]

At the words of the veteran sergeant their is silence from the fleet before a reply is returned. "Space marine vessel. I am Admiral Jagen Netanyu. How can we assist the Astartes." The voice is cold and flat. Obviously the Admiral is not thrilled by the arrival of the jet black destroyer.

As the marines talk around the display they can alls ee it shimmering and crackling with heavy static. The readings suggesting another vast ionic disturbance in the upper atmosphere. The nature of which would prevent any form of safe teleportation. The ride down in a thunderhawk or drop pod would be possible- if a little exciting.

[Emperor Ing]

The Iron Hand prefers the matter-of-fact tone to the groveling normally suffered from humans. His original plans for giving the commander the list of data he wished collected were unintentionally dashed. Instead he opted to read from the dataslate like a list. If only it was a more comprehensive list.
We require information of last communications received from ground-side facilities, specifically concerning the whereabouts of heretical forces.
The readings of ionic disturbances have already answered another of his questions.
Further intelligence provided will ensure swifter destruction of traitor forces. Leave no stone unturned, Admiral. Humans tend to appreciate the platitudes of their titles. It makes them more cooperative.

[bluntpencil]

Brother Librarian Euan Douglas stood next to a large, marble table, ignoring the conversations going on about him. He, too, was clad in Terminator Armour, making him something of an armoured behemoth.

He ignored the arguments for a reason: There was no point in coming up with a plan unless they were fully prepared, and had consulted the Emperor's Tarot.

He laid the cards out in front of him, and uttered but one phrase to the mortals in the chamber.

"Commander, for your own safety, please hold on."

A fierce, unnatural wind kicks up in the command room, as the warp attempts to force its way into the Librarian's mind. However, he reacts with the strength of Sacris as the Tarot cards are blown from the table, his body enveloped by electrical sparks, protecting himself from any harm.


Okay, Pushing Augury!

Psychic power roll [roll0]
Psychic Phenomenon roll [roll1]

[bluntpencil]

Euan grimaces under his helm. He took a risk, and was only just able to make up for it.

Still, the risk was necessary. They were facing a God-Machine, a Titan. They had to do this alone, most likely, as the Guard were being picked off like sitting ducks.

Again, he focused his mind, hoping for the winds and storms of his homeworld to give him answers.

And, again, the storm rears its head, winds blowing harshly, making the room's fixtures shake. The cards themselves are lifted and scattered by the gale, answering Brother Euan's questions with great accuracy.

His question, "How can we best capture the Titan for the Imperium?" was answered by the Tarot cards, scattered across the floor at his feet.


Push Augury, Psy Rating 10
Power Roll [roll0]
Phenomenon [roll1]

This should tell us the most dangerous opposition, 10 other negative forces, the best advantage or tool we can use, and give us a piece of advice too.

Edit: Because of Warp Conduit, I get Phenom, not Perils. Spectral Gale...

I am at two levels of Fatigue.

[DrK]

The serfs all hit the floor ducking behind cogitators, display banks or other large metallic objects as the lightning crackles around the hulking librarian before the gale whistles around the bridge throwing scrolls and small objects around in its whistling wake. Strange multi-coloured flashes still crackling around the bridge in the wake of the small warp encursion.

On the table the tarot cards as normal flip and twist with a seeming will of their own as the pictures seem to slip or change slightly.

The Magos reversed - Izak Thrul is the most dangerous of their foes. His warband around him a host of lesser dangers including the hulking Titan legion Reaver Destroyer of Souls and its dark princep Nos Surfeto.
The warband is a large one- the Tarot cards wheeling out a perfusion fast and mobile armour elements (leman russ, chimera's, hydra's and the like). But the most telling is the Iron Hand of betrayal. Iron Warriors. A logical duo with the dark magos and that of a the one-eyed witch.

Izak Thrul is the Dark Magos Warlord
Other elements are a Titan, its princeps, Traitor legion, a Traitor legion captain, an enemy psyker of some kind. Several types of armoured vehicle - the Leman russ, the Hydra, chimera, the manticore as well.


When seeking advice the tarots cards the and the [I]Astropath the traditional cards suggesting stealth, guile and communication as opposed to violent confrontation.

Even as the team of heavily armed marines digests that information the vox caster burbles again. "Natenyu to Astartes Vessel. THe information you requested graciously has been transmitted. Ground forces are comprising sweeps of the area. We shall appraise when your assistance is merited." The edge in the Admiral's voice still present.

"Information received my Lords" the Commander of the Wrath says quietly. "There is not much there my lords. Merely the time stamps when the comms nets went down and the preliminary casualties estimates at each location. The aerial reconnissance vehicles all vanished without a trace so there is no combat zone reconnissance telemetry"

Looking at the data you can see that the details of the attacks are sketchy. A 3000 strong regiment of Mordian 33rd were destroyed at the northmost settlement 5 days ago- the last report an incoherent scream about the chaos titan before the vox net went down. The entirety of the 44th Calixis Penal legion was eradicated 2 days later; 2 panicked reports from the Commisariat in charge screaming about enemy armour crashing through the walls and the sky raining fire from a demon of iron. The ground base for the Manchurian 12th Air Cavalry was taken out 26 hours after that - 2 strike waves vanishing in a depressing vox net tale of heavy anti-aircraft fire before the enemy mechanised infantry stormed the air base.

The beginning of the report is perhaps the most interesting. A pict recording of the void above the moon. A rift being torn in space as a spinning semi-hulk comes hurtling out of the immaterium. Lances and macrocannons blazing the vessel hurls kilotonnes of explosives against the Imperial Fleets as void shields flare and armour buckles. The frigates responded smartly as their batteries began to focus on the wreck of the chaos vessel. Even as the chaos shields collapse the frigates are too slow to stop the literal rain of drops pods- including one colossal one some 800m in height that fall like fruit from the base of the vessel. The sacrifical transports bulk shielding the pods from the Frigate's fire as the pods pass into the charged ionisphere and away from efffective weapons range.

[Whiskeyjack]

The moment the Warp winds begin, Barachiel is already turning towards them, a curse against the foulness of Chaos on his lips and his storm bolter in hand, its fetishes tinkling and dancing in the sudden wind. With a contemptuous curling of the lip he notes the serfs diving for cover, thus showing their true measure. He trains the storm bolter on the Warp eruption as his robe flaps around the armor...holding and locking on until it finally subsides.

When the winds clear in the static cracking of the Librarian's defensive power, Barachiel utters an annoyed and disgusted noise trough his vox, loudly slamming his bolter back into place and turning back to the console. Burning scraps of paper and cloth dance through the air; machinery is stained with soot from the electrical discharges and some panels near Euan crackle and spark. "The combat information center is no place to loose such powers, Codicier," he growls. "Warp intrusion here could doom us all, and this world's chance of survival with us."

[Whiskeyjack]

Ignoring the Forge-Master's apologies as unnecessary, Barachiel instead responds to the Blood Angel Chaplain once normalcy reruns to the bridge. "These storms will make teleportation difficult if not impossible with interference. I have seen such things before. A Stormraven is perhaps our best option. I have heard they are faster than Thunderhawks, though I have never worked with such a vehicle in depth. That would be more your area I believe, Brother Leonatus."

After reviewing the data sent by the mortal craft, Barachiel frowns behind his armor. "They fought adequately well, for mortals. I believe that massive pod must be the Titan deployment slip. A heavy escort of Dreadclaw pods however, and more traditional craft to deploy cavalry. Highly mobile. And smart enough to send escorts for that blasphemy of a God-Machine. The filth does seem to be sweeping south and east given the order of attack. A good instinct, Brother Argus, even if it had no factual basis when you originally concluded such." Close enough to a compliment from the Dark Angel.

[LithiumBlossom]

"The Emperor has shared a tiny fraction of his infinite wisdom with us brothers," a rasping voice hisses from a less illuminated corner of the chamber, "Even if it was most... tumultuous."

Brother-Chaplain Korbin half emerges from the gloom. In his black power armor it is hard to tell where the shadows end and the Astartes begin. He gives a barely perceptible nod of his crow skull helm in recognition of his brethren.

"Look at the mortals flee in disarray at Thrul's onslaught. No doubt the Traitors believe themselves the most terrifying force on this world. We must correct them in their folly. Nothing can surpass the unbridled wrath of the Emperor's angels of death unleashed upon the wicked."

"Our brother Barachiel is correct," Korbin waves his Crozius in the direction of the Dark Angel, "A Stormraven is the wisest course of action. The Iron Warriors are as cumbersome to react and no doubt complacent from their victories. A swift and sure insertion when they are at their thinest would be the wisest course of action, allowing us strike before the corrupted Titan has a chance to bring it's arms to bear upon us."

He pauses briefly in silent contemplation before stabbing a finger at an Imperial Guard marker icon on the tactical display.
"Perhaps a distraction could aid our chances."

[Bucklesworth]

"The Imperial Navy assets in this system contain detachments of Thunderbolt Fighters and Marauder Bombers. A strafing run to the fore of the enemy forces would allow us to strike the heretics from the rear."

Argus concentrated, his Ominissiah blessed memory implants recalling what was stored about the Titan Legions.


Forbidden Knowledge: Adeptus Mechanicus[roll0]


Too many blueprints and schematics, too much variation. With no further data it was impossible to sift any useful data from the mess of uncertainties surrounding Imperial Titans much less a chaos abomination.

"Without better intelligence there is no way to be sure what form this titan could take. The basic patterns themselves are too varied to draw any sure conclusion and the Warp is sure to have altered any pure technology beyond recognition."

[Emperor Ing]

Platitudes. Foolish platitudes was all that the Veteran Sargent heard. He was not facing them, but he was very much listening on their conversation. From the useless dribble that he came to expect from new Deathwatch recruits. The only point in getting the enemy to know fear was to either break them seconds before execution or for them to introduce their backsides to bolter fire.

It would be wise to know where they will strike next.

He thought of the southernmost silent hab block. It seems to be in their path, and their going dark does not mean that they were destroyed. Curiously enough it seems to be that only the hab blocks have gone silent, while mining/research stations remain to be picked off by the traitorous warband.

[LithiumBlossom]

"The Enemy has the advantage of a highly mobile force thanks to their armored support. Predicting their next move could be challenging. With their level of mobility and the lack of more recent intelligence they could be anywhere, ready to strike anywhere. If they have decided to fortify then we may have even worse of a scenario, this particular Legion are known for their arts at seigecraft."

"It would be made easier if we find a way to lure them to us. Set up a diversionary attack perhaps. Maybe even reduce a garrison under the pretense of shoring up a more valuable location. It would seem more of a tempting target for them."

"The more the better. The Titan is slow and only a single unit strong. If we can divide their forces up then it stands more vulnerable."

"We can afford to sacrifice the lives of Imperial Guard if we have to. Neutralizing a corrupted Titan which has blighted the Imperium for ten millenia is fitting enough a prize," Korbin indicates one symbol in particular with his Crozius, "This Penal Legion looks particularly disposable to me."

"The only problem now lies with the fate of the missing colonists. It is wise to remain cautious and assume the worst, that they have somehow become compromised by the Archenemy. In which case we must be especially sure we know exactly what foe to face."

[bluntpencil]

Euan ignores the perhaps warranted criticism from the Dark Angel, gathering the cards up before announcing his discoveries to the others.

"The Emperor, via his cards, has told me that communication, stealth and intelligence are the key to victory. We must be subtle.

Our most dangerous foe will be the Dark Magos himself, Izak Thrul. He has at least three lieutenants of note: An Iron Warriors Captain, the Titan's Princeps, Nos Surfeto, as well as a witch of some kind.

The enemy has much in the way of armour, including tanks, artillery, mechanised infantry and... anti-air support. This could hinder insertion via Stormraven or Thunderhawk.

However... it will not hinder a Drop Pod Assault, brothers.

I would suggest linking units of Sanctioned Psykers into a communications web, alerting us to the presence of the Enemy. This will prevent the environmental conditions affecting vox-transmissions. It stands to reason that their communications are suffering, since messages have been more than somewhat limited.

On being notified of the Titan approaching a certain stronghold, Brother Korbin can be inserted via Drop Pod, alone. He could then stealthily conduct a reconnaissance operation, reaching the centre of the Enemy force.

Then, he would activate a locator beacon, guiding our blades unto the heart of the Enemy.

We should be able to board the Titan, perhaps exorcising it, or tearing its throat out, situation depending."
He stops speaking at this point, having offered a reasonable plan, and awaits the others criticism and suggestions.

[LithiumBlossom]

Brother-Chaplain tilts his head down cautiously.

"I am willing and capable in regards to either plan Brother Euan. Once we can find the Titan I am willing to deploy individually as a vanguard."

Korbin's shoulders slouch with a hint of casual violence.
"You can rely upon me my brothers. I have been on enough covert insertions before that this should not pose much of a challenge. "

Korbin clenches his power first triumphantly before him.
"We shall be the Emperor's lightning bolt. Their defeat shall be sealed before they even realize what fate has befallen then."

As energy crackles around his power-fist Korbin slinks back into the shadows, gloom consuming his features.

[bluntpencil]

Euan nods, grateful that the Chaplain did not condemn his admittedly reckless use of his powers. They had proven useful, after all. After Brother Korbin mentions being the Emperor's lightning bolt, Euan's eye lenses spark with electricity as he grins beneath his helmet, allowing a little of his psychic energy to show.



"I believe we have two options, my brethren.

The first involves Brother Korbin locating the Titan itself, then utilising a Drop Pod to hit his position, tearing the head from the Traitor force. This is possibly the more glorious option.

The second involves more finesse, but is more strategically sound. Korbin can infiltrate himself, and locate the enemy anti-air units, then call in our Drop Pod. From there, we annihilate their Hydras and similar, then await extraction via Thunderhawk.

We will have air superiority at this point, and should be able to slowly pick off the enemy tanks from the air, in spite of the hazardous weather conditions.

Once its support is eliminated, we can converge on the Titan and remove it."

He looks open to criticism here, in spite of the helm, holding his palms down and open, as if expecting his brothers to have noticed something he has missed.

[M3r3k]

"I will trust the planning to the Sergeant." Nods to the tactical marine. "I must retire to my chambers to perform my pre-combat purification rituals."


(Waits to be dismissed.)

[Bucklesworth]

Argus nodded in agreement towards Euan, the motion barely perceptible beneath the masses of ceramite and mechanical servos clustered around his helmet.

"A bold plan, if we coordinate our extraction with close air support from Navy Thunderbolts or a bombing run from Marauders we could cleanse a significant portion of the heretical forces before they have the chance to assault another settlement. We could even weaken the warband to the point where the Imperial Guard could mop up most of the force while we seek and destroy the titan and high priority targets. A flurry of hammer blows will bring forth the light of the emperor."

[Whiskeyjack]

"Glory? Feh. The latter plan is more sound. Without its screening elements, the Titan need only be hamstrung and left to fall over, never to stand again. And then its plasma core detonated, releasing the God-Machine from its torment. But its Princeps, oh, now that one I will take my time with."

Barachiel turns from the cogitator display to the Iron Hand Veteran Sergeant. "I presume you wish to lead the charge against this affront to Mars, Brother?" Speaking the last word just as harshly as he knows the Iron Hand would speak it.

[Emperor Ing]

Glory? It was never about glory. Being a Space Marine is about how much damage you can do to the enemies of Man before you are felled yourself. The only real glory comes from living longer and killing more than others, and even that is fleeting when someone else happens to live a longer life and kill more xenos, mutants, daemons, or traitors. Glory is something they indoctrinate into guardsmen so that they will willingly charge to their deaths. They can write songs of triumphs, erect statues in one's honor, but there is no real glory to be had for Sargent Lorarius until every heretic lies dead. The Sargent's purpose is to kill every single traitor to Mankind the galaxy can throw at him. And he was willing to comply with their collective death-wishes.

The halls of the dead, human and astartes alike, are filled with those whose heads were full of glory and absent in sound strategic planning and logic.

He motions subtley for Leonatus' dismissal.

Natural interference upsets the machine-spirits and our ability to coordinate aerial and orbital support. Do not plan as though we must rely on them.
He glances at Barachiel in acknowledgement, but dismissal of his platitudes.
You are correct brother. Sever a foot and the traitorous machine will fall. Its princeps with it.
Hardly a solid or coherent plan, but the Sargent is known for being surprisingly receptive to alternate strategies and ideas.
The destruction of the titan quickly will ensure their loss of the greatest strategic asset before the traitors even realize we are there.

[bluntpencil]

"So, Commander, do we eliminate their anti-air first, or immediately go for the throat?

The fact that the enemy struck at loyalist air-fields early implies a fear of losing air superiority. If we can ensure we have this advantage, I believe that we can force them onto the defensive.

You are correct in that the environmental situation may limit the damage we can do with a Thunderhawk, or with bomber support, but with patience, over several attack runs, we can eliminate a large section of the enemy armour before they can retaliate. The lesser enemies, who are beneath us, can be purged by our mortal allies.

If the conditions are too bad for aerial assaults to pick off the armour, I would suggest that we all utilise jump packs or Attack Bikes, depending on preference."
The Librarian seems neutral over which position to take. He obviously favours the second, more finesse based plan, but has enough confidence in their leader to happily take either route.

[Whiskeyjack]

"Sergeant," Barachiel begins, using the term purely to flatter the Iron Hand, ludicrous as that suggestion might be, "The Raven Guard Brother-Chaplain speaks truly. Thus, a strategy for your consideration:

"Order the Penal Legion and perhaps elements of one of the Tallarn companies to assault the Titan directly, preferably not allowing it to come to them but sortieing against in. The Tallarn elements might draw away enemy armor screening the Titan, but regardless, the enemy will be focused on the Imperial Guard, particularly the criminals.

"Brother Korbin will have previously inserted and, during the battle, will place the locator beacon behind the Titan. That will allow the rest of the Kill-Team to insert via Drop Pod and assail the Titan and any nearby foes from the rear, prioritizing the Titan and any remaining Hydra Flak Tanks.

"Once the Titan and antiaircraft are defeated, we extract via Thunderhawk and skirmish with the remainder of the enemy force, calling in air strikes and deploying personally where necessary.

"However this strategy is based on the assumption that the enemy is roughly traveling all together in a single force, or at least several forces moving closely together. If the AA is fighting distinct from the Titan, the tactics will have to change.

"But bringing down the Titan first and foremost will accomplish two goals: removing the greatest force multiplier the enemy possesses, and demoralizing the mortal Traitor Guard with the loss of the visible image of their filthy power. I doubt such action will mentally affect the foul Iron Warriors, but removing the Titan from play is, of course, critical and could throw them into disarray, lacking the structure of the Codex Astartes to rely upon when battlefield conditions drastically change."

Barachiel thus ceases speaking and actually switches off his external vox, turning to an internal assessment of the proper wargear he will require to fulfill his role in the mission.

[bluntpencil]

If his Indomitus-pattern Terminator Armour allowed him to nod in agreement, he would have. Instead, Euan speaks up, just a little.

"Brother Barachiel's suggestions have merit. The criminals can provide a distraction. Whilst we strike at the Titan, the Tallarn contingent can move in on the potentially exposed anti-air. When we finish our mission, we can move to assist."
There are no 'ifs' simply 'whens'. The Deathwatch do not fail, it seems.

[LithiumBlossom]

"A decapitating strike," Korbin rattles from the shadows.

"The Titan has to fall, and quickly. It is the centerpiece of the warband and the most deadly element of it. We simply cannot allow it to enter the fray at full capacity."

His voice seems to echo from different directions, with his silent steps it is impossible to know for sure where he is.

"Our mortal forces should be sufficient to fight the lesser foes we face freeing us to focus on the Titan."

[bluntpencil]

Looking to their Sergeant, Euan speaks,

"My lord, I would advise limiting knowledge of our presence amongst our allies. We would not want mortals making assumptions about our intent, nor would we wish for the Enemy to gain intelligence on our presence from any prisoners they may take.

The Admiral's knowledge will be beneficial, as will the knowledge of the Tallarn contingent's commander. The Commissar attached to the Penal Legion may benefit from such information too. Everyone else, however? I think their ignorance will be a strength."

[Whiskeyjack]

"The rank-and-file need not know anything. They need only die for the Emperor and His Imperium, as is their solemn duty. Officers are only useful in relation to driving their forces in a way that allows us to achieve our objectives."

The Deathwing turns to look at the Iron Hand, wondering if he will contribute anything. A strange position for a leader, to not offer his own opinion, he thinks.

[M3r3k]

Leonatus dons the skull helm at the nod from the Sergeant, and heads briskly towards the door. (Leaves conversation)

As he leaves the meeting, Leonatus cannot help but feel a little ashamed at what he has heard. On one hand it is a bold plan, on the other hand it is callous, and should it fail would turn a manageable situation into a rout.

He also notes that his views of humanity are so opposite from the members of his team. The Emperor created the Imperium to protect Mankind from itself and the xeno. Space Marines were men given the blessings of the Emperor. It should be our duty to protect mankind. Throwing away those lives as a distraction is in essence a betrayal to the Emperor.

These thoughts follow him until he reaches his quarters, he opens the hatch to a spartan living quarters. There is a bunk, a desk and chair, and a shrine to the Emperor befitting a chaplain. Moving towards the desk he opens a delicate, Gold embossed, wooden box his chapters emblem emblazoned on the lid. Taking the box to the shrine he begins the ritual.

[Emperor Ing]

Communication. The sargeant remarks flatly.
First we need to know we can communicate with the Guard at all. If they have not been wiped out by the titan. Secondly maintaining communication with Brother Korbin will be essential.

[Bucklesworth]

Mechandrites swayed seemingly with a life of their own around the Forgemaster's hulking metal frame.

"I believe that communication after Brother Korbin infiltrates the warband may well prove impossible, or at least highly unadvisable. Vox transmissions are vulnerable to interception by traitorous forces. The only other option would be to infiltrate a psyker along with Brother Korbin which had its own obvious drawbacks." Argus intoned, "However, communication with the guard should be simple, provided the regiments in question still survive. The Admiral should be able to facilitate our communications. "

Three serpetine mechandrites moved fluidly towards vox-caster mounted near the hololith display, deftly interfacing with the controls.

"Admiral, the Deathwatch requires your assistance in interfacing with the ground forces on the planet below. I necessitate a vox-patch into the PDF command channels. Your Chief Enginseer should be able to facilitate our needs."

[Whiskeyjack]

"There should be ways to route covert communications up to orbit and back down to the Guard in ways or codes that the Traitors cannot track. Perhaps a coded message from Brother-Chaplain Korbin using the Deathwatch cipher to our cruiser, decrypted locally and then routed to the Imperial Navy ship, which could send down to the vox-units in the guard command Chimeras," Barachiel muses. "Complicated. Of course, I leave the details to Brother Argus should that be the method most likely to keep our presence and involvement secret."

[Bucklesworth]

"The problem lies not in decryption but in the triangulation of the signal's origination. But perhaps I could rig a one way transmitter so Brother Korbin can send intelligence back up to orbit." Turning to his Raven Guard battle-brother "You would need to be exceedingly cautious where you activate the transmitter, but as long as you keep a wide berth from any traitorous signal arrays you should remain undetected"

[bluntpencil]

"The electromagnetic storms, which prevent teleportation, will also prevent vox-communication, unless I am mistaken.

I will provide communication, alongside other Sanctioned Psykers assigned to the Guard contingents. I can do so without any real risk, especially if others are embedded in our allies' command structure.

Trusting to vox will only allow the enemy to listen to our plans.

A locator beacon, however, is nice and simple. We'll have hit the location before they know what it is. Vox chatter is not quite the same, and using different technologies regardless."
Euan knows the risks of psychic powers, but this irritates him. Psykers form the base of communications for the whole Imperium, so this should be accepted readily, he reasons. Still, he allows their Sergeant to make the call: He knows his strategies more than Euan, so should be able to make a fair, informed call.

[Emperor Ing]

Sargent Lorarius allows the Techmarine to communicate the admiral with no resistance save one request:
Inquire the Admiral of psykers posted with the Guard.
He turns somewhat to the rest of the assembed Marines.
Communicating with their command structure through telepathy is our greatest option. But I must know how Brother Korbin would communicate to us new data learned through his infiltration that may compromise my extant plans.

[Whiskeyjack]

"A psyker is unlikely to be accompanying Brother Korbin in his covert duty. Too easy to spot the psychic signal. Or the mundane one, for that matter; psykers are rarely made scouts, and certainly would not be on par with a Raven Guard for that role.

"Brother, I believe you are...somewhat confused. The concern is less the overall communication method between us and the Guard, for Brother Korbin should be able to personally liaise with and give orders to the Guard units easily enough. The concern is more the method by which Brother Korbin signifies to us that the feint operation is to start, if it is not set to a predetermined zero-hour. Of course we will be prepared to insert as soon as the locator beacon signal is received. And as to listening to plans, do you truly believe that the enemy has broken the Deathwatch cipher?"

[bluntpencil]

"I can communicate with him, via aetheric means, at set intervals, if that is acceptable to himself?

From there, I can communicate with units embedded with the Imperial Guard, forming a network. This should be reasonably reliable. Once he lets informs me that the plan can be initiated, I can relay this to our mortal allies.

Regarding ciphers: I will not give the keys to such to the Imperial Guard, as they are not the Deathwatch. However, they must receive commands in some fashion."
Euan offers. He seems confident, but not recklessly so. Maybe he is reckless and doesn't know it, or maybe his confident has basis in truth. It is hard to tell, as the others are not psykers themselves.

[Bucklesworth]

Argus' mechandrite clamped down on the volume lever on the vox-caster's control panel, muting transmission.
"The Guard forces on the planet's surface were able to receive vox transmissions during the previous chaos attacks so the electromagnetic storms do not completely rule out transmissions. Thus it should be possible for encrypted vox communications through the planetary network to take place. Through this Brother Korbin can signal us using a long range transmitter from our standard scout armor that I can remove and adapt for solitary use. This cruiser has some manufacturing and processing facilities. I can adapt several of the devices for relay work allowing our brother-chaplain to extend his vox range. Korbin leaves the transmitters in a trail behind him allowing vox communication. The narrow scope of the signals poses almost no detection risk for one way transmission from the battlefield and even two way transmission is possible, albeit with significantly more risk. The Deathwatch ciphers are effectively impregnable so it may be wise to use our own communications system as an interface to the guard's system so to avoid divulging sensitive decryption algorithms. Through this system and interface we can maintain communications with Brother-Chaplain Korbin as he scouts and disseminate information and orders to the existing Imperial command structure as we see fit."

Re-opening the channel he addressed the Imperial Navy vessel,"Additionally, Admiral we require any information regarding Imperial Psykers on the planet. They could prove to be an invaluable asset to our assault on the ruinous powers."

[DrK]

Mechandrites swayed seemingly with a life of their own around the Forgemaster's hulking metal frame.

"Admiral, the Deathwatch requires your assistance in interfacing with the ground forces on the planet below. I necessitate a vox-patch into the PDF command channels. Your Chief Enginseer should be able to facilitate our needs."

At the Forgemaster's instructions the vox waits for a moment before crackling into life once more. A 3ft tall hololith of an attractive female Commander appearing on the still slightly crackling planning table. "My Lords's Astartes. I am Commander Neeva. I will be liasing with you. The Adminaral is a little buy to deal with all of your requests." The sweet smile not quite hiding the slight anoyance at the Imperial forces being usurped and the slight confusions as to the chain of command with the kill team. "We will transmit you the command codes to link with the regimental controls. THey can disseminate your requests from there. I'm sure of course that your advanced Vox systems will not struggle such as ours with the ionic disturbances."
A minute later there is a faint beep from one of the cogitators and the serfs on board the command deck nod and acknowledge the receipt of the command codes.


Sargent Lorarius allows the Techmarine to communicate the admiral with no resistance save one request:
Inquire the Admiral of psykers posted with the Guard.


Re-opening the channel he addressed the Imperial Navy vessel,"Additionally, Admiral we require any information regarding Imperial Psykers on the planet. They could prove to be an invaluable asset to our assault on the ruinous powers."

The commander shrugs slightly. "I am not aware of the disposition of psykers within the guard units. We have been relying on our Astropathican choir on board. But there are not many psykers within the planetry forces outwith the regimental and brigade command structures. We do not like too many of their kind within our regiments. It is bad for morale.

She still is as good as her word and within minutes a complete list of all the sanctioned psykers with telepathic capabilities on the northern hemisphere is sent. The list is short. There are only 4- one within the Regimental command of each of the 3 main stream regiments and a 4th low grade astropath at the surving naval air base.

As discussion of methods of planetary entry are discussed the Senior flight ops serf approaches quietly and bows low. WHen his prescence is acknowldged he mentions quietly "My Lords. We currently have two operational Thunderhawks in launch bays 1 and 2 and the 3 standard drop pods in the aft launchers..

No storm ravens or obscure drop pods on board.

[DrK]

The cruiser is a quiet and meditative place as the marines arm and garb themselves for battle. Weapons are annointed with sacred ungents, prayers and oaths are uttered in chambers wreathed in holy insence and weapons are affixed to the ancient suits of terminator armour with the greatest of care in the vast Temple shrine aboard the vessel.

The planning continued, the slow moving of the ponderous imperial regiments beneath. The serfs on the command bridge keeping a steady watch on the comm and vox channels; and on the slow orbital dance of the Naval frigates as the serfs keep watch- always a hand near the reactor controls and weapons consoles lest the Navy vessels try anything foolish. This far from the light or Holy Terra it has been known.

EVentually a dull pulsating green rune appears on the vox control panel. The Major in charge of communication station with 6 deep black bars indicating more than 60 decades of service abaord the vessel passing the message to the hulking and armoured Sgt Leonatus. "My lord Astartes, we have a partial vox transmission from the planet."

He touches a few controls passing the message across to the entire kill team. "... [hissing static] Colonel Brusark to ... [hiss]... under attack. Heavy artillery bombardment from 27 miles bearing 265.

Requesting.... [hiss]... assitance. Air cover is gone. We are digging in preparing for close order battle. Emperor prserve us and ..... The transmission ending in a sudden blast and crackle of static.

The serf bowing low and looking worried. "Apologies My lord Astartes. We cannot raise the 33rd Mordian Iron Guard any more. It seems that their vox orbital relay station may have been destroyed.

Your orders my Lords?

[Whiskeyjack]

"Long range bombardment designed to crack the first line and cause bedlam. A classic Iron Warrior opening gambit. Tuly with the amount of armored support I might expect some among the traitors to possess corrupted Tactical Dreadnought Armor." Barachiel pauses a moment then lurches forward towards the door, which opens with a hiss and puff of incense into a dim hallway ensconced with tiny altars. "If we still had communications, I would suggest that the 33rd undertake to fall back to its second line and prepare to receive armored cavalry and infantry assault. Suppressing fire and return artillery volleys, churn the ground up to stall their advance. Regardless we know the enemy anti-aircraft is deployed in the vicinity of the 33rd. Brother Euan, perhaps you can raise their psyker and advise them thusly. I am to the Armoury to couple my armor with its artillery systems and claim the special ammunition I require. It seems the time for battle has been thrust upon us. The enemy has the initiative. We must not allow them to keep it," he adds, exiting without waiting for "permission" to do so.

As he exits, a tiny, humanoid creature turns to look across the room, its body swaddled and hooded beneath a pitch-black robe. And just as fast, it is gone in Barachiel's shadow, if it was ever there at all. The door snaps shut behind the massive Deathwing Terminator.

[Bucklesworth]

I must retire to my forge to anoint my armor and weapons. This new development alleviates our need to scout for the enemy forces. We should deploy at once.

[bluntpencil]

Euan salutes the Deathwing with a fist to his chest, before opening psychic communications to the 33rd, then silently speaks with the psyker of the 33rd.

"Inform your Commissar that you have been contacted according to Omega Protocol Seventeen, servant of the Emperor.

Inform him that you have received instruction and intelligence regarding enemy operations via this protocol, using code Gamma Seventeen "Macharius' Valour'."
After his somewhat lengthy introduction, and the psyker's similar response, which is very convoluted, for safety reasons, Euan informs the 33rd of how best to respond to an upcoming assault, as instructed to by Barachiel.

The psyker receiving the communication would likely not understand the protocols mentioned, but his Commissar would, and that's what's important.


Long Range Telepathy doesn't cause Phenomenon, so using it until I succeed at unfettered.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[DrK]

The shroud of terror is almost palpable as the huling librarian reaches out with the colossal power of his mind. His thoughts reaching out towards the speck on the surface reaching out for any psyker on the ground...


You need to use astrotelepathy. Average orbit for a space vessel in polar orbit is ~1500km. Your long range telepathy has a range of 300km (psy rating 6).

Astrotelpathy- same system - takes a good few minutes as its slower than telepathy.



The thoughts and sensations slowly reach you as you find the terrified mind of the psyker. An image and taste of dust and and the metallic tang of fear. Still a brief jumble of words and images are replied to you...

"Lords Astartes. Save us. Give us aid."

Even as the minutes slowly tick past as Brother Euan forms the words into thought shapes. Even as the words of the psyker tickle at the edge of your mind another face protrudes. A cruel twisted face obscured by freakish glowing warp light... a book radiating evil carved in human skin and a thin sibilant voice in your ears...

http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20111006143455/warhammer40k/images/f/fc/Chaos_Sorcerer.jpg

The voice whispers to Brother Euan silently to the others, the voice chilling him slightly.

"The angels of death.... we bask in your glory and prepare for your divine appearance. Come if you dare sons of the dead god...."

THe message is punctated by the death scream of the Mordian assigned sanctioned psyker as heavy fire and glowing promethium fires from the raw immolation rockest sear his body and soul away...

[bluntpencil]

On one hand, Euan speaks verbally to his companions as he hands Korbin a dataslate with the location,

"They know we are coming. Be careful."
And on the other, he summons the power of the God-Emperor and attempts to put the fear of Terra into their foe.

"Hear me, and know fear, thou who hast sold thy very soul..."
He then projects imagery of an armoured assault; a whole company's worth of Storm Warden cavalry smashing aside all opposition. Land Raiders, Razorbacks and Rhinos rolling over the Guard trenches at high speed, then careering into the enemy armour.


Okay, rolling intimidate. Using WP, since it's mental. Also, some misdirection as a part of the intimidation.

[roll0]

Edit: Right, 6 degrees of success, since my shield gives +5 to WP rolls. Fear me, filth.

[Whiskeyjack]

Barachiel makes haste into the ship's guts, vox pulses sending out orders for very particular Servitors to meet him in the Armorium.

As he enters, a double column of arming Servitors awaits him, the forge-serfs dismissed for this ritual lest they pollute it with their human weakness. Barachiel takes his place near a massive altar surrounded by winches, grav-lifts, and servo-arms. He plants the Terminator's feet solidly and rumbles, "Begin arming process."

In a heartbeat there is a flurry of movement. The armored backpack hatch hisses open as a long belt of assault cannon rounds is inserted into the hopper and drawn from a long strand into the armor, folded loops jingling gently. The cannon itself is lowered from its reliquary by a servo-arm and lovingly coupled beneath the armor's left forearm even as a daisho stand extends from the wall bearing a power shield and two storm bolter-grade ammunition magazines. Above, a winch begins to lower a massive missile launcher down from on high as racks of krak missiles are shuttled forward in reinforced dollies.

As Argos enters shortly thereafter, the Deathwing smiles ever so slightly as the coupling, arming, testing, sanctifying process continues around him. "Brother Argos. I would be honored if you blessed this sacred process."

[Emperor Ing]

Nothing changes. The Sargent remarks matter-of-factly

Brother Korbin will infiltrate their lines and plant a beacon on their Titan. He then looks to the aformentioned battle-brother. One that simultaneously suggests his faith in his Brother's abilities as well as ordered sternness.
Do not engage enemy forces until we are planetside unless necessary. When the beacon is activated we shall land at the feet of the infernal machine, and liberate the machine spirit bent to the will of false flesh. We will exfiltrate through their anti-aircraft emplacements unless tactically unacceptable. He shouldn't need to remind the squad that they cannot possibly single-handedly take out the warband. Raven Guard tactics of hit and run to wear down the warband may be best, but first it needs to be decapitated in a single strike. They know they are coming, but not their plans.

[Bucklesworth]

Argus nods his assent to the Deathwing. Reaching out a grasping mechandrite he procures a holy looking bottle of sacred machine oil and flexes the fine tool arms embedded in his mechanically augment carapace. He begins to ritually bless the myriad components of the ancient suit of terminator armor, adjusting the connections for optimum balance and painting the symbol of the aquila, the ominissiah, and a passable rendition of the Deathwing insignia onto each of the major armored components.

"It is done. The machine-spirits are appeased. Your armor will not fail you this day."

Turning from the veteran terminator he begins the even more laborious process of anointing and adjusting his own wargear. Disassembling and re-assembling each piece of the sacred armor and triple checking every possible connection. An hour later, satisfied with his armor and weapon's condition he is ready for battle.

[Whiskeyjack]

"I am prepared. My thanks, Brother." Barachiel makes for the door, eager to see how the mission has progressed. He heard the Iron Hand's orders come in over the squad vox. Obviously Brother Korbin has not made contact with the Titan yet, but it's only a matter of time.

[bluntpencil]

Euan nods to their commander, signalling his agreement.
"Aye, my lord, they know we are coming... all that ensures is that they will die afraid."
With that, he draws his sword and salutes, point in the air.
"I swear by He on Terra that I stand with my brothers this day. Our unity is our strength and our foe's weakness."

[LithiumBlossom]

"It matters not that they know we are coming. They will be sorely pressed to find me yet," Korbin's voice is clad in the armor of contempt.

"This should make things simpler for us, know we know where one element of the warband is," he departs from the shadows, the gloom hungrily clinging to his form. "Either the Titan is there with them or it has been left behind with another element. The first means we know where it is but will have greater difficulty reaching it. The second means it may be more vulnerable but harder to detect. I fear this latest assault may even be a feint to draw us out."

"Either way the time to act is now," he stabs the air with his Crozius, voice rising in fever.
"You," Korbin jabs a armored finger at a nearby serf, skull helm swiveling menacingly towards the attendant, "Bring me my Jump Pack immediately."
"Time is of the essence, striking now we may be able to save some of the Emperor's servants even as they divide our foes attetion."

His gaze jounies over each of his companions, "Be wary, the Archenemy is devious in their cunning. Expect a trap."

[LithiumBlossom]

"It matters not that they know we are coming. They will be sorely pressed to find me yet," Korbin's voice is clad in the armor of contempt.

"This should make things simpler for us, know we know where one element of the warband is," he departs from the shadows, the gloom hungrily clinging to his form. "Either the Titan is there with them or it has been left behind with another element. The first means we know where it is but will have greater difficulty reaching it. The second means it may be more vulnerable but harder to detect. I fear this latest assault may even be a feint to draw us out."

"Either way the time to act is now," he stabs the air with his Crozius, voice rising in fever.
"You," Korbin jabs a armored finger at a nearby serf, skull helm swiveling menacingly towards the attendant, "Bring me my Jump Pack immediately."
"Time is of the essence, striking now we may be able to save some of the Emperor's servants even as they divide our foes attetion."

His gaze jounies over each of his companions, "Be wary, the Archenemy is devious in their cunning. Expect a trap."

[LithiumBlossom]

"It matters not that they know we are coming. They will be sorely pressed to find me yet," Korbin's voice is clad in the armor of contempt.

"This should make things simpler for us, know we know where one element of the warband is," he departs from the shadows, the gloom hungrily clinging to his form. "Either the Titan is there with them or it has been left behind with another element. The first means we know where it is but will have greater difficulty reaching it. The second means it may be more vulnerable but harder to detect. I fear this latest assault may even be a feint to draw us out."

"Either way the time to act is now," he stabs the air with his Crozius, voice rising in fever.
"You," Korbin jabs a armored finger at a nearby serf, skull helm swiveling menacingly towards the attendant, "Bring me my Jump Pack immediately."
"Time is of the essence, striking now we may be able to save some of the Emperor's servants even as they divide our foes attetion."

His gaze jounies over each of his companions, "Be wary, the Archenemy is devious in their cunning. Expect a trap."

[LithiumBlossom]

"It matters not that they know we are coming. They will be sorely pressed to find me yet," Korbin's voice is clad in the armor of contempt.

"This should make things simpler for us, know we know where one element of the warband is," he departs from the shadows, the gloom hungrily clinging to his form. "Either the Titan is there with them or it has been left behind with another element. The first means we know where it is but will have greater difficulty reaching it. The second means it may be more vulnerable but harder to detect. I fear this latest assault may even be a feint to draw us out."

"Either way the time to act is now," he stabs the air with his Crozius, voice rising in fever.
"You," Korbin jabs a armored finger at a nearby serf, skull helm swiveling menacingly towards the attendant, "Bring me my Jump Pack immediately."
"Time is of the essence, striking now we may be able to save some of the Emperor's servants even as they divide our foes attetion."

His gaze jounies over each of his companions, "Be wary, the Archenemy is devious in their cunning. Expect a trap."

[LithiumBlossom]

"It matters not that they know we are coming. They will be sorely pressed to find me yet," Korbin's voice is clad in the armor of contempt.

"This should make things simpler for us, know we know where one element of the warband is," he departs from the shadows, the gloom hungrily clinging to his form. "Either the Titan is there with them or it has been left behind with another element. The first means we know where it is but will have greater difficulty reaching it. The second means it may be more vulnerable but harder to detect. I fear this latest assault may even be a feint to draw us out."

"Either way the time to act is now," he stabs the air with his Crozius, voice rising in fever.
"You," Korbin jabs a armored finger at a nearby serf, skull helm swiveling menacingly towards the attendant, "Bring me my Jump Pack immediately."
"Time is of the essence, striking now we may be able to save some of the Emperor's servants even as they divide our foes attetion."

His gaze jounies over each of his companions, "Be wary, the Archenemy is devious in their cunning. Expect a trap."

[DrK]

The arming takes place quickly as sacred weapons of war and death dealing were strapped onto the arms and backs of the marines and the serfs began the warm up sequence on the drop pods.

The psychic emanation from the surface snapping back as Euan's psychic threat bombarded the dark sorcerer. The vox transmissions also dying out though the occasional request for aid, panicked shouts of falling back and faint screams and large explosions echo over the vox.

Within minutes of the order being given Korbin's jump pack is attached to his sleek black armour. "My Lord, how close to the scene of battle would you like the pod to drop?"

[Emperor Ing]

Stealth tactics are not his expertise. The Sargent's plan is usually to go in heavy and loudly. As such, he gives a knowing glance to Korbin, expecting him to give instructions.

In his mind though, landing just off of enemy lines would be best, and going in a drop-pod would fool them into preparing for a squad, and not for a single sneaky scout to infiltrate their lines.

[Whiskeyjack]

After a time, Barachiel stomps out of the Armoury, weighted considerably with implements of war. "Sitrep," he grumbles into the squad vox.

[Emperor Ing]

((Emperor Ing casts Reveal Post))

[DrK]

The Raven Guard, garbed for battle strides don the long corridor before boarding the drop pod. The ancient craft inscribed with cyphers from countless missions and landings almost seems to tremble with excitement as the chaplin straps himself into his drop cocoon.

Gravimetric restraints slowly coming online as the craft depressurises slightly before gently deteching from the strike cruiser and beginning its vertical descent into the atmosphere.

Aboard the craft even deep in his prayers to the God Emperor; Father of all Astartes, Korbin can feel the buffetting as the pod streaks downwards like a meteor; flames pouring off its admantine hull as it heats to thousands of degrees dropping at a little over 3000 metres per second.

On the ground flak alerts go up as rusty and chaos inscribed gun barrels lift and twist, missile raid radars activate and cogitators search the sky trying to track the speeding pod.

Inside his drop harness Korbin can hear the warning alerts as the pod is lit up by targetting systems and feel the slight junking of the craft's machuine spirit as it weaves fractionally in and out of the masses streams of fire...



Some attacks by AA elelments...

Hyrda Tank:-
[roll0] TN 21
[roll1] TN 21

Las Point Defence Turrets
[roll2] TN 23
[roll3] TN 24
[roll4] TN 18
[roll5] TN 17

Missiles
[roll6] TN 28
[roll7] TN 15
[roll8] TN 32

[DrK]

The drop pod dives like a comet out of the sky trailing a great tail of fire behind it as it plunges through the ionic storms. Great crackling bands of lightning and tears of thunder heralding its arrival.

In his pod buffeted left and right yet heavily strapped into the crash cocoon Korbin begins to assimilate the telemetry coming in from the battle beneath. The small mining research station- a collection of maybe a dozen small research domes coupled with hab blocks, research stations and air mining facilities.

The perhaps 5 square miles of industrial covered ash waste is a war torn ruin as you the satellite feeds shows the encircling ring of iron. Maybe 30 or so armoured vehicles pouring fire into the ruins - several on fire themselves from the return fire. The tiny specks of the accompanying Heretic infantry as they push forward under the massive artillery bombardment.
The Titan is obvious a giant creature of death standing in the centre of a star of defensively placed armoured troops - the titan its once proud armour twisted and coated with dark scales dominates the heart of the combat - colossal missiles rippling from its top carapace weapon. One arm toting a rhino sized chainfist; the other some sort of rapidfiring megabolter that spits colossal shells into the town sending a building collapsing into a cloud of rubble.

The panicked vox calls of the trapped Mordian platoons and squads begin to be picked up by the drop pod as it passes under the ionosphere and the fearful warblings of the guards men can be heard. Their predicament worsening as Korbin can see the plumes of dust as faster elements of the warband - attack bikes and crude skimmers swing around the research base cutting off any hope of escape for the men below.

The worry about the men below is erased as the craft begins to rock and jink as much as its terminal descent allows. Longs strings of heavy bolter and autocannon fire races past, some bouncing off the armoured skin of the drop pod.

Multi-laser turrets and sponson mounted lascannons move skywards as the air is lit with las fire seeking to punch through the heavy hull.

Most dangerous of all are the two ancient and venerable whirlwinds. THe tank emblazoned with the signs of chaos and the grinning metallic skull of Pertabu's 4th legion. The rockets are quick off the rails spiraling closer and closer, the first going wild before the others slam into the drop pod, 2 in quick succession doing horrific damage.

In a great plume of flames and shrapnel the pod is torn apatr and with a violent twist that would shatter the spine of a mere human Korbin is hurled free of the burning wreckage....

THe chaplin plummets down through the towards the ground beneath, blood pooling from the crush injuries and armour scorched and burned, the fragments of the pod falling alongside him as the dull grey ash wastes rush up to meet him...


Some form of Pilot (Personal) check would be appropriate

[Whiskeyjack]

Barachiel watches as the pod status screen, showing a schematic of the drop pod, goes from cool, healthy green into the unhealthy yellows and oranges of damage, then to fragmenting red static as it is torn apart by the AA fire. He is silent for a moment, right hand clenching and unclenching slightly within the massive Teminator gauntlet. Then he speaks. "Brother Codicier, perhaps you should attempt to contact our good Chaplain. Gunnery serf, what anti-ship weapons are equipped to this vessel?"

[LithiumBlossom]

Korbin began to unbuckle at the jarring second impact. Once was an a nuisance, twice was bad and thrice could be disastrous. Warning lights flashed around him giving a hellish cast to the interior of the pod, the machine spirit intoning imminent danger with somber indifference.

Freed from the harness Korbin rises to his feet. A mere moment later the deck beneath them vanished, torn apart at last. The explosion vomits him out with enough force and heat to consume a mortal. Gravity's pull suddenly became more intense, dragging at his stomach. The ground and sky began to flash before in him in random patterns.

From his brief visions of the ever approaching ground Korbin get's a chance to see the Chaos warband with his own eyes for the first time. Flashes of fire told the story of the one sided battle below. However the sight of the Titan, his prey, reinforced his spirit. He was in the right place.

Debris from the destroyed pod rained down around him. Some larger chunks still glowed around the edges. His armor pattered as fragments impacted upon him, unable to pierce the ceramite.

Never fail to seize an opportunity, the Father of Ravens had preached.

A plan began to formulate in Korbin's mind, his implants stopping his senses being confused from his freefall. The debris could make an excellent disguise and cover for himself, allowing the enemy to believe he had been killed in the attack.

Waiting for the right moment Korbin flares his jump pack towards a large piece of debris to cling to, intending to break his fall with another burst once he is close enough.



Pilot (Personal) skill= 55

(1d100)

Rolling manually = 69

Great. I'll burn a Fate Point if I have to.

[M3r3k]

Leonatus moves quickly to the missions designated drop pod. We must wait for Brother Korbin to signal us. The Emperor will protect the virtuous, our tactics were sound but we have been out maneuvered by the enemy. Our only option is to support our brother and the men in this engagement.

He moves to a seat on the drop pod and straps himself in. I want to deploy as soon as the locator beacon is activated.

[Whiskeyjack]

"It is advisable to adjust our drop protocols if possible. Increase the rate of vectored-thrust firing, or lessen our descent angle. Or simply inform the Chaplin Korbin to place the locator beacon on the far side of the enemy host from the bulk of its anti-aircraft fire. Were you able to communicate with him, Brother Euan?"

Barachiel awkwardly straps himself in with one arm, trusting to the machine spirit's auto-secure function to prevent the Terminator's bulk from being jarred loose from its moorings in an impact. Having never deployed in Terminator armor via drop pod before, Barachiel is both excited to do so and slightly concerned, especially given the ferocity of AA fire here.

[DrK]

Aboard the strike vessel more serfs and servitors approach the 2 remaining drop pods awakening the spirits that reside within them as the marines board the vessels and strap activate the gravity restratint to allow them to survive the brutal re-entry and last minute retro thruster ignition.

On the ground its a world of fire and dust for the Raven Guard, spinnng and disoriented he plunges tens of thousands of feet before getting his balnace and dropping in the spreading debris field using the fragments of the pod as cover.

At the last second as the ground rushs up to crush him the jump pcak flares. A pillar of flame erupting down his spine as he lands with bone jarring force. The impact raising a 8" deep crater and small dust cloud in the grey ash. The rest of the fragments landing in a vast spread around him.

His enhanced vision can see the mighty figure of the Titan some 2 miles away to his left with its coterie of clearly Astartes vehicles close into it. The research station some 2 miles to his back as he's landed off to the Eastern edge of the town and the assault.

The landing has not been without observation as he he can quickly see through the shifting fog a pair of crude inustrial tech APCs and a bike racing towards the pod crash site- maybe half a mile distant at best so in bolt range within 20s...

[bluntpencil]

"Being us closer to the planet, in order to facilitate ease of communications." orders Euan to the serf-crew.

"Bring us to less than five hundred kilometres above Korbin's position if possible. Ensure our void shields can protect us from stray ion busrts. We can drop in from low orbit."He looks to Brother Argos, and nods to him.

"Can we mount sensor bafflers and chaff canisters on the Drop Pod? Failing that, can we attach spare parts canisters that can be jettisoned in order to draw missile fire?

You use your Martian arts to protect our entry, and I will guard it in other ways."
Once communication is opened, howling winds disturbing a previously quiet section of the vessel, Euan will speak to Korbin.

"Apologies for the psychic intrusion, brother. We request a situation report. Can you cause some damage to their anti-air, or provide us a safer point of entry?"
The voice Korbin hears is certainly Euan, but the tone is warped somewhat, tinged with the character of Sacris. Can he hear the patter of rain somewhere? Thunder... yes... but still the voice is clear.


Once within 300 500km, he will open Long Range telepathy. He won't use Astrotelepathy, as it is less secure.

Rolling until succesful
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Also, rolling Possibility Shield afterwards, which grants bonuses to allies. Casting at Fettered, giving the bonus to 3 1 ally. If possible, the +10 bonus to one roll per turn will apply to the Drop Pod itself, making it a 'lucky Drop Pod'.
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

[Bucklesworth]

Argos looked to the Librarian as he lapsed into silence.

"We will launch both pods. I will affix as much chaff as possible to the first pod and fill it with explosive munitions. The archenemy's missiles and AA fire will be attracted to the first pod and if it detonates the blast will blind them to our descent in the second pod."

"I agree we should move to a lower orbit, but we must be weary of the ion storms. We should not change position until the last possible moment to ensure our craft does not meet an ignoble end."



Tech Use [roll0] TN: 95

[LithiumBlossom]

Korbin pulled himself from the crater his landing had made. The fall had momentarily stunned him, even with the deployment of his jump pack but his enhanced Astartes biology withstood the trauma. An ache run up and down his spine but he ignored it, using the pain to fuel his hate.

As he notices the scout party coming to investigate his descent a cruel smile spreads across his face, flexing his power fist. The time was not right however. He turned his attention back up to the Titan. It was close now, he would not need much time to reach it.

More fire spilled into the sky however. Euans fears were likely correct. The anti-air assault that had successfully downed his drop pod could pose a greater threat to the mission if they were allowed to operate unchecked. They would be unlikely to expect an assault from the ground however, with some hit and run tactics he could cull their numbers in time for an assault.

His path was clear then. Take out the air cover then onto the Titan, he could have it done quickly if he put himself to it. The battle still in progress would help give him a distraction as he conducted his assault. Briefly he glanced back at the search party. Their time would come but not yet.

Activating his stealth systems he took off at a low crouch, bounding between boulders and debris as he made his way towards his new prey.



Concealment effective skill of 65
[roll0]

Silent Move effective skill of 65
[roll1]

[DrK]

On the Ground

The earth shakes and the skies are dark with ash dust and the plume of smoke from the constant explosions that auto-senses filter out the most if it.
The Raven guard, armour coated in dust and grime form the impact helping him to blend into the dust. Ducking and weaving he moved rapidly towards the armoured vehicles still pouring fire into the burning rubble of the hab domes. The return fire from the MOrdians slackening rapidly as their lives are extinguished. To the Raven's sharp eyes he can see the rapid moving shapes of a column of Astartes heading towards the ruins between a pair of chimera's- festooned with flamers and bolter turrets...

Closer to him the crude APC skidded to a halt in the middle of the wreckage of the drop pod some 200m distant now. The men get out- the remnants of skitarri uniforms and carapce body armour hanging loosely from their forms. Hell guns or bolt weapons clutched in hands as they searched over the wreckage. After a couple of minutes they shake heads, throw a couple of pieces of trophy wreckage back into the APC before continuing towards the Hab dome.

Still moving quickly the Raven covers the distance closing to within ~900m of the towering Titan. But problems abound. What once was the highway between the hab domes barring his path, the 50m stretch of bare concrete some 100m ahead as he crouched behind a low crater. Two chimera's parked on the highway seperating him from the body of the armoured hereteks, their troops lounging on the backs of the vehicles watching the bombardment some 2 miles away.

In the Sky

The strike cruiser drops low, the friction from the atmosphere glowing and hissing red as the void shields light up around the vessel. "500km as ordered my Lord." one of the bridge Serf's mentions. "We will be over this continent for 3 more minutes then we will have to either orbit and return or return to higher orbit."

[Whiskeyjack]

"Our Brother should be informed of the timeframe," Barachiel rumbles.

[bluntpencil]

Euan informs Brother Korbin of the time frame of communication.

"I can reliably maintain this link for but one hundred and sixty five seconds. Inform me of any change of situation, and if possible, damage the anti-air units: This is a secondary concern, however, adjustments have been made to the plan to accommodate the fact that they are well-defended."
As he communicates with Korbin, Euan lets the others know of his status.

"Brother Korbin survived the blast. The mission is continuing as planned."

[LithiumBlossom]

Korbin lurked in the shadows of the ruins, sitting motionless as a gargoyle upon a broken wall. His attention was fixed upon the gathering of enemy forces just ahead of him on the other side of the road. Using some of the valuable time he evaluates his options.

Crossing the road would be a real risk. Their attention was elsewhere for now which he could exploit. However there was no cover for a substantial distance, if he was caught in the open he would have to endure their fire. That being said he was swift enough he could cover that ground quickly if he put himself to it.

But then what? He could take down the tanks if he had to, cause a little discord for awhile. The Chimeras were not his main target though, such an attack would distract himself and possibly alert his foe.

He was close to his goal now.

With deep patience he sat and calculated his options, evaluating the battlefield.



Tactics (Recon and Stealth) effective skill of 38 to evaluate the situation, find the best path and work out any other relevant facts.

[roll0]

[Emperor Ing]

The Iron Hands Sargent looks to the Librarian expectantly, having heard a single word being enough to keep his interests.
Adjustments?
He inquires flatly, referring to any changes in the plan he was currently unaware of.

[DrK]

The Ash Waste

Crouched in the crater looking over the rim cautiously the massive titan sends trails of destruction into the hab domes and research spires. None of the presently failing return fire even scratching the beast's void shields.

On the roofs of the tanks at the heart of the warband the Raven guard can clearly see the his fellow marines. But the traitorous versions of them standing proud, the heavily armed Iron Warriors occasionally launching a missile of plasmablast at distant shapes within the belaguered Mordian lines. Mordian lines that seem to currently collapsing.

As for Brother Korbin- there does not appear any obvious way in...

[bluntpencil]

"No more than we have already made, my lord. Aside from compensating for their anti-air defences, we are now fully committed,"Euan tells their Sergeant. He takes his place in the Drop Pod, activating the magnetic function of his armour's boots, to prevent unnecessary jostling during their descent.
"Once we have entered the planet's mesosphere, I will again contact Brother Korbin, informing him to take cover, to prevent the first drop pod causing collateral damage."


The Iron Hand wouldn't have heard 'adjustments'... Euan was speaking to Korbin telepathically.

[LithiumBlossom]

Korbin gives a frustrated growl in the back of his throat. He was out of time. The direct route would have to make do.

He slid off his perch, crouching in the cover of the ruins. Silently he prepared himself for his burst of activity. His stealth field activated, obscuring himself from casual view. Every advantage could count.

Korbin charges forwards taking long strides, keeping low to the ground. Running almost like a hunting beast. With his Astartes strength he could potentially close the gap while the guards are distracted.



Concealment skill of 90
[roll0]

Silent Move skill of 80
[roll1]

[DrK]

The Ravenguard bounds for rolling and crawling until he reaches the drainage ditch by the edge of the smoky highway. The 50m of bare plascrete devoid of any sort of cover and monitored by the distants guns of the traitor Astartes as they sit atop their rhinos and predators. Heavy weapons zapping and blasting the distant Mordian units whilst most others watch the area as they form a ring of steel around the Titan.

The chaplin quickly realises that the last 400m or so to the Titan's feet are completely devoid of cover. Whatever terrain there was long flattened by the passage of the armoured vehicles. Many now driving into and in some cases literally through the barricades and hab domes....


"Enter the Filler Post" while awaiting the team decision"

Also liking my shiny my new Avatar from Emp' Ing :smallbiggrin:

[DrK]

The pressure to move and wrapped in the flickering masking screen and his own skill at dodging fire Korbin can feel his pulse raing before he decides that only the brave deserve to live and the ever popular Emperor protects and abandoning his Raven Guard principle he leaps forard bounding in massive jumps over the road, leaping over the pair of chimeras...

It begins to go wring there. Even as the clumsy heretics spray crude autogun and lasfire into air around him the gunners in the chimera's - slave linked by crude cybernetics into their machines move to target him. One of them misses as he jinks by but this leaves him exposed to the second and he can feel his armour crumpling around him as the impacts of the bolt rounds and las blasts send him off balance trailing blood as he lans clumsily. Undaunted by the wounds he leaps forward once more - the indescribable pain nothing compared to the potential cost of failure.

Sadly the traitor astarts spotted the movement and the heavy tracks of the predator rotate towards Korbin. Bolt rounds tear and split the air around him as the rosarious glows brightly illuminting his fall like a halo around a falling angel.

The bolt rounds tear great wounds in his chest and arms before the massive blast of the tank killing lascannon vapourises his right leg ina flash and the autocannon barks sending a stream of massive rounds into the flying corpse. THe rosarious protecting its owner beyond death even as another round tears a head sized hole through the Raven Guard's chest.

Even as the corpse lands to the derisory laughs of the Iron Warriors the teleoprt homer rolls free from a bloo soaked hand its light blinking a ______



Do you want the homer activated or not?

Aboard the vessel in the sky above Brother Euan lives through the action with the Raven Guard. Even strapped into the pod he can feel the impact of bolt shells and the searing heat as the lascannon steals his leg. Then the plunge into blackness as he feel shis brother's soul slip away.

[bluntpencil]

"No. Don't be reckless, little raven. Wait for a distraction.

No."
The Librarian loses his connection with Korbin, lifting his palm to his face as he does so, uttering but several words. His voice is cold, not betraying any emotion at the loss of a Battle-Brother. Grief is a luxury afforded only after victory.

"Brother Leonatos, you may have to recover Brother Korbin's gene-seed to send back to his Chapter.

Brother Sergeant Dannach; there are likely armoured units and Traitor Marines at our landing site, which is not as close to the target as hoped. If we can clear a landing area, a Thunderhawk could drop in our Land Raider.

We may have lost Brother-Chaplain Korbin, or he may be captured by the Enemy.

Hopefully the explosive Drop Pod will do its job..."


Will use Possibility Shield to grant the Drop Pod +10 to its tests (such as Dodge!). Casting at Fettered until successful.

[Whiskeyjack]

"Cyclone Missile Launcher: all runes green. I will prioritize anti-infantry armor followed by any Traitor Legion Marines. The Emperor protects," Barachiel says as the pods are ejected, screaming through the void into the atmosphere and towards the battlefield.

[DrK]

As the psychic connection to the chaplin fades away into pain and blackness the pods are slowly dropped free of the strike cruiser. The pods slowly turn over before jetting towards the atmosphere the vibrations and thermal shock leaving them trembling and shaking as they rock in their strangely womblike cradles.

The air ripples and crackles as they plunge through ionosphere leaving a vast trail of red fire in their wake. As they fall towards the scene of the battle the augers slowly come online. All show the same thing... a vast plume of smoke as the traitor forces move at full tilt towards the town launching a full assault and leaving you hundreds of metres of course. THe traitor marines wise enought to know a homing beacon when they see one.

As the two pods plunge down through the rocky air plumes of fire, las beams and rockets streak up towards them reaching out to blot them from the sun...



Against Pod 1 (Decoy)
Hyrda Tank:-
TN 21
[roll1] TN 21

Las Point Defence Turrets
[roll2] TN 23
[roll3] TN 24

Missiles
[roll4] TN 25
[roll5] TN 19


Against the Team's pod #2
Las Point Defence Turrets
[roll6] TN 18
[roll7] TN 17

Missiles
[roll8] TN 19
[roll9] TN 28

Pod 1 takes 10 damage
Pod 2 takes 14 damage and some drive damage (irrelavant with a falling pod)



The two pods burst through the hail of flak and missile and las fire both rocking and creaking as impacts and las blasts dent and tear their sides before the ground screams up and both pods slam into the ground some 25m from the fallen Raven.

As the doors of the pod pop open you can see the traitor forces streaking away some 700m distance and accelerating as they drive forward straight twoards the remains of the town and the last beleagured defenders.

Nearby - 300m distant you can see a pair of chimeras with a smattering of heretics lying prone in the dust and the predator that spelled the end of Krobin. Beside the predator a pair of Iron Warrios clutching archaic weapons that they train on you as the pod slams into the ground, sides peeling open releasing the elite marines within...



The chaos party saw the homer and drove away. Sensible really.

In the interest of speeding things up shall we do "good guy" "bad guy" and have team initiative?

So you nominate one person and they roll an average initiative for your team?

Chaos initiative [roll]1d10+4

[bluntpencil]

The Kill-Team burst from the Drop Pod with a speed that should not be seen in those wearing Tactical Dreadnought Armour.


"Strike Pattern Sacris!"

intones the Librarian, as they move with lightning speed, attacking like the speed of the thunderbolts that rake the surface of his homeworld and with the fury of the storm.


Activating Lightning Strike.

Cost: 4 Cohesion.

Effect: Surprise round AND we can roll Initiative twice, picking the higher.

[bluntpencil]

Before the Iron Warriors can even blink, the Storm Warden psyker's electric fury tears from his sword, a thunderous opening into the Warp itself sending an immense spark hurtling at the Predator, causing a current to pass through it in an explosive fashion.

A split second later, storm-force winds kicking up around the Deathwatch marines, lightning arcs from the tank, cascading onto all of the Traitors nearby, leaving them electrocuted wrecks, spasmodically thrashing on the ashen ground.


Boom.

Euan takes 1 Fatigue.

Thor himself would be proud, I think. Njall Stormcaller could learn something here.

[Emperor Ing]

Strike Pattern Sancris! The Sergeant repeats in a booming voice, either in acknowledgement or in order. With inhuman speed, the Astartes surveys his foes. His Assault Cannons will be useless against the Chimaeras and the Predator, but the heretics themselves will feel his fury.

Target the vehicles. PERISH!! The heretics that lay between the chimaera are beset upon as the veteran sergeant unleashes one of his rotating barrels of doom against the heretics.


Taking advantage of Lightning Strike

And firing on the heretic horde with one ascannon

Ascannon Target 101
[roll0]

Damage
[roll1]
[roll2] (24)
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]
[roll8]
[roll9]
[roll10]

Rerolls (tearing quality)
[roll11]

Devastating quality: 1 additional magnitude damage for every hit

[Bucklesworth]

"Into the fires of battle. Unto the anvil of war." Argus intoned solemnly as he acquired his target, aiming for the leftmost chimera. Squeezing his Firestorm's trigger twice he fires off two brilliant globs of melta energy.


[roll0] Target number: 66

Note: The firestorm fires Blast(2)

[Whiskeyjack]

As the pod doors swing open, the storm bolters of the drop pods come to life. The Machine Spirits of the pods assess the threat posed by the enemy armor and escorts, quickly assessing the infantry as the most logical target of their wrath as well as the most likely to be shredded by the fire. As the Kill-Team moves forward selecting its own targets, the pod bolters fill the air with a merciless staccato drumming, spraying the advance area with a hail of bolts to cover the disembarking Astartes.

2 Full-Auto attack tests with the storm bolters of the drop pods; 1 targeting the Traitor Guard Horde and the other spraying the area where the Iron Warriors are.

Pod 1 vs Traitor Guard Horde: TN 90 (50 + 30 Horde Size + 10 Semi-Auto): [roll0]
Pod 2 vs Iron Warriors: TN 60 (50 + 10 Semi-Auto): [roll1]


Barachiel quickly assesses the situation even as his brothers charge forward, slinging psychic powers and assault cannon volleys at the enemy units in place.

+++Astartes-class armor priority violet. Guard-class armor priority blue. Traitor Legions infantry priority indigo. Traitor Guard infantry priority yellow.

+++Preferred resolution versus enemy Astartes-class armor: limited disability, capture, and reversion to Imperial use for mission fulfillment. Preferred resolution versus enemy Guard-class armor: greater disability and capture or destruction.

+++Deathwing, engaging Traitor Astartes.+++


"Repent! For today you die!" the Terminator's external speakers blare at a volume loud enough to make a mortal's ears bleed at close range. The massive cannon on Barachiel's left arm trains on the cluster of Traitor Marines and opens fire, spitting a massive barrage of shells towards the Iron Warriors even as the Terminator relentlessly advances.


Roll vs TN 130 (BS 80 + 20 Full-Auto + 30 Surprise): [roll2]

[DrK]

In a storm of dust and smoke the two pods slam into the ground in a curtain of fire as the retro-thrusters fire in a vast plume of burning promethium. Both pods shrouded in ash and smoking plates from the re-rentry and anti-aircraft fire. Both pockmarked with las, shell and missile impacts but Emperor be praised both intact.

THe sides of the drops pods unpeel like some sort of hideous fruit unleashing the fiery cargo within. Assualt cannons roar, storm bolters chatter and multi-melta's sear the air. All of that is dwarved however as Brother Euan sends whirlwind of dust swirling around as colossal waves of lightning wash away from him crackling and engulfing the enemy predator that emerges from the inferno cracked and buckled yet still functional. One of the enemy astartes is hit by the crackling energy- an outline in the air for a second before he is atomised to a carbon shadow on the ground. The other one rolling sideways out of the wave of energy before he twitches and disintergates into a bloody mess as hundreds of rounds of explosive rounds from assault cannons and storm bolters slam into the vile being.

By the chimeras the heretics melt away. A dozen blown to chunks and gobbets of flesh as the senior Sgt's cannon hoses them down, joined in by the Storm Bolter atop the drop pod. Amidst the massive clouds of blood and smoke the multimelta blast goes awry sliding over the sloped front armour of the tank as the multi-laser turret begins to rotate towards the marines.

The enemy still reeling the marines continue to push on the advantage as they press the assault.


Surprise round down. Bring on round 1. Yuo guys go first.
You can see...

The Predator
2 Chimeras
The remains of the horde





The Predator takes "some" damage
The horde takes 11 magnitude damage (19 remaining)
Both traitor marines you can see (and one that you can't dies)
THe chimera survives as the multi-melta misses (had you removed the recharge time?)

[bluntpencil]

The storm does not subside. In the eye of the storm stands the Librarian, calmly carving runes into the air with his sword, as the wind roars around him.

Again, the storm seems to strike at the enemy armour with its own malevolent personality, bound only by the will of the Storm Warden.

A terrible bolt launches itself at the Chimeras on Brother-Codicier Euan's silent command, exploding on the hull of one of the vehicles, a dozen arcs magically conducting from its armour onto the other, frying a handful of the traitors that are trying to take cover by it.

Euan echoes Barachiel's command unto the heretics, the wind around him mimicking his voice. It is as if the storm itself screams his proclamation of doom, which booms like the thunder of Sacris itself,


"Aye, repent, for I am death, destroyer of worlds."


60 damage Pen 10 on the Chimeras.

Assuming Blast 10 attack on the infantry Horde too.

[Emperor Ing]

In an ironic animation, the normally silent Sergeant screams litanies of hatred at the heretics, flooding the battlefield with the hatred 10,000 years in the making.

The Emperor remembers the names of all who die for the Imperium, who will remember you, traitors?!

His second assault cannon then begins spinning, ready to join its twin in raining The Machine Spirit's judgment on the traitors. And that is exactly what happens, as what few survivors remain after taking a direct hit from the psychic assault of the librarian are almost immediately cut down by a supernatural flurry of flying steel.


Dual Ascannons targeting the horde! Target 91 each

[roll0]

[roll1]

Damage (targeting horde, damage is irrelevant. Deals 2 magnitude damage per hit)

[Whiskeyjack]

Barachiel's assault cannon barrels spin down empty, shell casings pattering on the dusty asphalt around him as the surprising speed of the Deathwatch assault gathers in momentum, the Iron Warriors just so much dirty blood-mist and tattered armor in the breeze. Ahead and to his right, the Deathwing notes the Iron Hand shred the enemy Traitor Guard further; the Librarian thunderbolts a Chimera, and the Sanguinary Priest rushes to seize the Predator.

Assessing the threat, Barachiel's sensors lock on to the remaining Chimera, the vehicle which evaded Brother Argus's Firestorm shots is turning to bring its multi-laser to bear on the Kill-Team.

+++Traitor Astartes neutralized. Engaging remaining APC. Deathwing, Fox Three.+++

On his shoulders, the launch tubes for the Cyclone Missile Launcher radiate open, the automated loaders locking into place and arming a pair of krak missiles. Barachiel sets his feet by force of habit, his HUD paints the target up in a firing solution, and the Cylone fires two swift missiles with enough kickback to pulp a mortal standing within a few meters. The kraks jet forth with pale white contrails, the backblast from their launch not even making the Terminator quiver, as integrated machine spirits home in on the enemy and bring the justice of death to the traitor.

BS vs TN 100 (Base 70 + Semi-Auto 10 + Size 20): [roll0]

[DrK]

Its carnage and blood. The horde vanishes violently comsumed in a vast storm of crackling lightning, explosive assault cannon rounds and the colossal blast of the chimera exploding. The predator esacpes just, the multi-melta blasst glancing off the carefully sloping front armour.

Even as the dust settles with the fragments of heretek steaming slightly the second chimera reveres slowly and carefully. The multi-laser and heavy bolter both spitting fire as the chimera stalls, the driver panicking. The lasfire crackling around the Salamander and the heavy bolter sending shells exploding arounhd the dark angel.


Multi-laser Vs the Salamander Artificer
[roll0] TN 44
Damages as necessary
[roll1] PEN 2
[roll2] PEN 2
[roll3] PEN 2
[roll4] PEN 2

-- All 4 hit. THough I don't think they will punch through the armour and TB

Heavy Bolter Vs the Dark Angel Barachiel
[roll5] TN 54
[roll6] +8 PEN 5
[roll7] +8 PEN 5
[roll8] +8 PEN 5
[roll9] +8 PEN 5

2 Hits that may do some damage.



Even as the chimera lays down a hail of fire the chaotic and heritcal predator slowly turns and into the fray. THe lascannons blasting out in vast beams of red ruby death reaching towards the Forgemaster and the grim faced Iron Hand whilst the twin autocannons twisting and barking and churning the ground around Brother Euan and the Deathwing.



Lascannon Vs the Iron Hand Sgt. [roll10] TN 60
- Damage [roll11] PEN 10

Lascannon Vs the Salamander [roll12] TN 60
- Damage [roll13] PEN 10

Twin Linked Autocannon Vs Euan and Barachiel [roll14] 75
(bonus 1 DoS from Twin linked. Alternating hits between the two)
- Euan [roll15] PEN 6
- Barachiel [roll16] PEN 6
- Euan [roll17] PEN 6
- Barachiel [roll18] PEN 6
- Euan [roll19] PEN 6
- Barachiel [roll20] PEN 6

-- So that's 5 hits. Better start rolling for those there force fields!



Even as the predator vanishes in the blast of las power and the searing smoke and ejecting shells of the twinned cannons the last Iron Warrior leans around the edge of the Predator, plasma gun hefted in his hands as he spins towards Brother Euan, fiery balls of blue plasma slamming into the ground around him


Attack Euan [roll21] TN 65
- [roll22] PEN 12
- [roll23] PEN 12
- [roll24] PEN 12

- Agains a surprising all 3 hits!

[bluntpencil]

Brother-Codicier Euan Douglas stands resolute, his iron will protecting him from the blasts that rock his Terminator Armour.

Lightning cascades around him as he raises his shield, stopping the plasma blasts in the air in front of him, the autocannon rounds slamming into his chest-plate for no visible effect, aside from a little smoke.

The sound of all the gunfire would be deafening, but even above this an unnatural howling can be heard, the noise of beings best left unseen. They would break the minds of mortals, but the Astartes stand firm, for, of course, they shall know no fear.

The Librarian grimaces under the helm of his ancient armour, thanking the Emperor for seeing fit to protect him from such an onslaught. He stands firm, hoping that his brothers can end the Iron Warrior attack quickly.

He stamps forwards, daring the enemy to try again. They cannot harm him, not with their puny weapons. His will is iron, and with it, his body.


"I pity you, heretics, for you are weak!"

[Whiskeyjack]

Blasts and shells spatter around Barachiel, who simply raises his shield to intercept the strikes. +++Seize that Predator, Chaplain. Direct the pod against the remaining heretic. I will end the Chimera.+++


Heavy bolter 1 - Storm Shield, TN 55: [roll0]
Heavy bolter 2 - Storm Shield, TN 55: [roll1]
Autocannon 1 - Storm Shield, TN 55: [roll2]
Autocannon 2 - Storm Shield, TN 55: [roll3]

A number of bolts and shells merely bounce off the power field wreathing his shield. And even though one bolt richochets past the shield and even bores through the Terminator armor and explodes, the Dark Angel's genetically enhanced frame shrugs off the hit effortlessly.

The only thing that got through the field was a heavy bolter hit. With additional AP from the shield and my own Toughness, all damage was negated.


Meanwhile, Leonatos has spent the last several seconds speeding towards the enemy armor, his winged jump pack burning a gold-red contrail behind him.

I'll assume that he took Forging the Bond after we harped on it so much. Fly 12 then Fly 18. That's a total of 180m. 1 Cohesion spent.

[Emperor Ing]

The Iron Hands Terminator Sargent focuses on his last foe. Already aware of the plans to seize the predator as a means of transport. The question is whether or not it can be brought into compliance for just long enough for its drivers to fall prey to the Chaplain with the jump pack.

Its destruction is inevitable, though it can be made to fire its last rounds in the name of the Emperor. In so doing, Sargent Dannach Lorarius unleashes his greatest weapon upon the chimaera. It is immediately beset upon by Sargent Lorarius' stare. A silent transmission of unimaginable hatred and anger that has crushed Astartes and driven lesser men to suicide.


SARGENT LORARIUS used MEAN LOOK
4 degrees of success on Intimidate

[Whiskeyjack]

As Leonatus continues to dash forward another 90 meters assisted with his jump pack, the drop pods spray a hail of bolts towards the remaining Iron Warrior and Chimera.

Barachiel joins their fire by drawing his storm bolter, dangling with fetishes and purity seals, the storm shield magnetically locking into place at his hip. His arm and the gun are virtually one, tracking the Traitor's clumsy attempts to avoid fire from the pods.

+++Terminating traitor. Cover the Brother-Chaplain's advance.+++

His targeting optics confirming a lock onto the Iron Warrior's head, Barachiel dials the gun over to Vengeance-pattern bolts and squeezes the trigger once, a grim smile on his face behind the Terminator helmet.

Leonatus has now moved 270 meters towards the Predator. I believe he's only 20m away from it.

Pod 1 Storm Bolter vs Iron Warrior, TN 60 (BS 50 + 10 Semi-Auto): [roll0]

Pod 2 Storm Bolter vs Chimera, TN 80 (BS 50 + 10 Semi-Auto + 20 Size): [roll1]

Barachiel will take a Half Aim and fire a single shot as a Called Shot from the storm bolter. Called Shot penalties negated by Talents. Storm Bolter vs TN 105 (BS 75 + 10 Master Signature Wargear + 10 Half-Aim + 10 Red-Dot Sight): [roll2]

I'll do damage in the OOC.

[DrK]

On wings of fire the skull face chaplin flies through the air bounding towards the predator. Even as that happens the Sgt - swinging both assault cannons roars his fury to little avail. The enemy marines- creatures of centuries of war that have faced down demons are unimpressed by a mortal.

The crew of the chimera - already going backwards don't really change. But the bolter and laser both spit a stream of fire at the flying angel.


Multi-laser [roll0] TN 54
-- [roll1] PEN 2
-- [roll2] PEN 2
-- [roll3] PEN 2
-- [roll4] PEN 2
-- [roll5] PEN 2

Heavy Bolter [roll6] TN 64
-- [roll7] +9 PEN 5
-- [roll8] +9 PEN 5
-- [roll9] +9 PEN 5
-- [roll10] +9 PEN 5
-- [roll11] +9 PEN 5



Even as the marines stride forth the Traitor astartes ducks into cover as storm bolter rounds slam off the ground and the sides of the massive tank and a glimmer of premonition causes him to duck as the storm bolter shell rips through the air where his head had just been. Popping back up he levels the plasma gun back at the Dark Angel and opens fire.


Attack Barachiel [roll12] TN 65
-- [roll13] PEN 12
-- [roll14] PEN 12
-- [roll15] PEN 12



THe massive tank remains still. Weapons turrets moving left and right spewing a torrent of fire and las death. One of the lascannons slamming towards the flying angel; the other towards the librarian. THe autocannon spraying colossal cannon shells at the cluster of heavily armed terminators.



Lascannon Vs Euan
[roll16] TN 70 Damage [roll17] PEN 10
Lascannon Vs Leonatas
[roll18] TN 60 Damage [roll19] PEN 10

Autocannon Vs the posse - [roll20] TN 75 +1 DoS
The Big Sarge [roll21] PEN 6
Barachile [roll22] PEN 6
Euan [roll23] PEN 6
The Big Sarge [roll24] PEN 6
Barachile [roll25] PEN 6
Euan [roll26] PEN 6