Only War: Twists In The Dark [IC] [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

LeSwordfish

2013-12-06, 04:40 PM

Only War: Twists In The Dark

http://25.media.tumblr.com/5bc35859ec1a0c759a54c1f68f15d477/tumblr_mucji3SolI1qhttpto3_500.jpg

It had started with the rumour of the angel, deep beneath the ground. They had been deployed here for nearly a year now, and they hadn't seen sunlight in eight months, and then the rumour about the angel had passed through the regiment, and the riot had started. At the end of it, twenty-two soldiers and nine overseers were dead.

They were arranged in squads on the "Parade ground", the open space that had once been the floor of a manufactorum. They had been lead from the cargo containers that served as barracks, and chained together- hands and wrists, to each other, to the person in front and behind, and to great iron loops in the floor. Overseers paced up and down the lines, whips in one hand, detonators for the collars in the other.

"You have shamed him!" Major Canton was declaiming, as he walked along the front of the rows. "You have brought shame upon the regiment! You have brought shame upon the glorious name of the imperial guard! You have killed nine good men! Not in the history of this regiment have we seen such behaviour! And it will not go unpunished!"

Down at the end of the factory floor, by squad one-one, the regiment's Commissar moved forward, followed by a pair of black-robed priests and two overseers. They craned their necks to see what was happening, but even Hob could see very little- the squad clustering around something, a brief scuffle and some shouting, and then the roar of a bolt pistol. Canton didn't even seem to notice. The Commissar and the priests moved on to the next squad.

The rumour had been this: an astartes had been sighted, in sector SH-SK-AJ. Bedecked in gleaming white power armour, the pure symbol of the emperor's might and power had appeared like a manifestation, like a mirage, and had been gone before the squad could confirm it. The rumour had raised spirits, generally- even the many amongst the regiment not given to spirituality had to admit, that from a tactical standpoint, the presence of an astartes here amongst the scrap and the darkness meant something good.

The very next day the rumor had returned, except that now the astartes had set upon Carruther's squad with it's chainblades, tearing them into shreds, leaving only a single, traumatised survivor. When asked about the rumour, the commissariat had refused to comment, and that was when the rioting had begun.

Above them, a row of lights flickered on and off, casting dim, dirty glow over the waiting soldiers. Even this was brighter than almost anything they'd seen outside the barracks. The old manufactorum was, in fact, the largest and most well-lit space any of them had seen for weeks. Filthy water dripped from the ceiling and pooled on the floor.

"What punishment can we inflict upon you? What blessing of the emperor will grant you the peace we demand? What can we do to you for you to see his light? To see the mercy he has offered-" Another single bolt round. "-offered you, by granting you life, and a chance to serve him here, instead of the death you justly deserve?"

"The emperor is merciful. I am not. Decimation! The death of one soldier from each squad. A lesson to each and every one of you: your blood spilled, as direct result of your grievous transgressions!"

OOC
This is your chance for an "introductory" post. I'm sure you know the drill.

Each of you choose a unique number from one to ten, please. Also, choose one for your comrade.

Recalcitrent

2013-12-06, 06:06 PM

Hearing the major's declaration of decimation, Hob loses his vacant stare and mutters to himself. "Decimation? That cant be right. We were supposed to be given a chance to fight to redee-" Aubray's kick to his shin quieted him. "Hob, you need to shut up right now!" he hissed to the big flame-trooper.

OoC:Hob will take lucky number seven for himself, and Aubray will have number nine as his.

Revanus

2013-12-06, 07:19 PM

Spoons did not hate the Commissariat.

It was the Commissariat that had deemed him a coward for being one of two survivors of an artillery barrage. It was the Commissariat that had sent him and Alice to starve and die in a penal work camp.
It was the Commissariat that stood before him now, ready to take his life for acts beyond his control.

Yet, Spoons did not hate the Commissariat. Hate was too dangerous--it often showed up in the eyes.

Instead, Spoons gazed blankly ahead, eyes unfocused. He didn't lower his head--that would be a mistake. A lowered head makes it too easy for an officer to choose you for a "selection." It practically begs for execution.

Spoons and Alice had been through many selections. Some were to weed out the sick. Some were to weed out the weak. Some were simply to keep food costs down. So far, their luck hadn't run out.

OOC--Number:Spoons is #3.

---

Rabbit clenched her teeth and stared ahead, just like Spoons. The riots had been bad. The smell of char and smoke still hung in the air. Some of the men had taken the opportunity of chaos in the night, settling old scores and running up new ones.

Some of them had turned bestial. Rabbit had broken a scrawny man's nose when he tried to tear off her shirt. Spoons had shattered the arm of the guy's companion--a fat pig who worked in the mess hall. Their screams and blood were gratifying.

As Rabbit saw it, it was self-defense.

Still, here they were, chained at the wrists with their lives in the hands of some damned Commissar. So be it. Alice wasn't afraid of dying--hadn't been for years.

It's hard to fear dying when you're already dead.

OOC--Number: Alice is #2.

Caimheul

2013-12-06, 07:35 PM

Diane stands in the middle of the squad becoming slightly agitated at the wait, but is otherwise unimpressed by the theatrics. "Rook, sit still damn it," she hisses to her old gunner, as he was determined to have been lax in preventing her from modifying the vehicle they had previously been assigned to. Diane missed those days, controlling one of the powerful war machines of the Imperium. These days, Rook had become addicted the issued combat drugs, causing him to have difficulty sitting still in between doses.

Diane - 6
Rook - 8

Raunchel

2013-12-09, 06:05 AM

Firona stands between her comrades, a lock of her long hair falls in front of her eyes, it is annoying and the commissar might take offense. But pulling it away might also draw his attention, and that is precisely what she wants to avoid. She hopes that he won’t notice her, that he just shoots one of the others. She wants to live, not to die. She partially hides behind Lsin’s bulk. The overweight woman had stolen a few too many rations for her own good. But still, she might be picked out anyways. She shivers, but not from the cold. No it’s fear. Not that she shows too much of it, but there is nothing in the galaxy that Firona wants more than to run away, as fast as her legs can carry her. But that is certain death, the itching collar reminds her of it.

Firona picks 4, Lsin takes 10. Just so the last of us won't have to take both of those, which feel dangerous for some reason.

Fibinachi

2013-12-10, 08:19 PM

I guess I'll pick number one, then... Ah, that feeling of dread.
Frankly, it'd fit Nathin's backstory anyway :smallbiggrin:
#1 - Sergeant Nathin
#5 - Zel
Boom.

Nathin squinted against the light, and sought refuge in memories. If you ignored the dripping of water and the filtered light, already old and grimey when the lights flickered on, this place was almost a worthy parade ground. A long time ago, Nathin had been the one marching up and down the parade ground, barking orders. Commander had been elsewhere that day, and they needed someone to brief the transportation crews. In truth, all he'd had really done was stammer when reading from a data-slate and get laughed at for pronouncing the regimental name oddly. On the other hand, in the fogs of memory, the lighting at the time had been a lot better and the environment decidedly more outdoors. Plus, it was his damn memory, and he could make those imaginary, giggling transportation crews do as many fething push-ups as he desired.

Boom.

He twitched, pulled from his reverie, as another bolter shot rang out over the dilapidated manufactorum, timed to a line about duty and sacrifice. Had to suppress the urge to smile at that. They were using ammunition worth more than every pretend-soldier in this place combined to execute people who'd all be dead in a few weeks. All for the rumors of angels in white and riots in the night. An angel armed with either the touch of death itself or a chainblades.
Ah.
That was a comforting detail to that story, a small speck of joy in a tale otherwise only good for chilling guts and making trigger fingers itch. Good death. To die, ripped to pieces by an exterminating angel, not shot by some lousy bolter placed at the back of your head by a man in an overwrought hat.

Boom.

Dreck.
It was actually coming closer, each reverberating booming sound just slightly nearer the back of his head, the Emperors mercy homing in. If he ran (And feth, just then, that was all he really wanted) they'd detonate the damn collar. If he stood still, rotten luck would conspire to make him the selected martyr of the squad. And, of course, if he asked Zel, that cocky bastard, to punch him out him, he'd never, ever be respected by anyone down here again, and then, in a hours, someone would shank him with a sharpened spoon to get his meal ticket. He wouldn't last a second after using up every speck of good will not getting shanked with a spoon in the previous riot.

It did seem as if Nathin's life had been easier before he'd overheard a few muttered conversations about Trooper Thompson. Less worries about cutlery, for one.

Boom.

Well, sod it all. You start with stealing a boot from a corpse, and you end up with a bolter to the head. Some part of his stomach dropped away, and the fear, so insistent until then, went with it, leaving sour after taste in his mouth. Nathin glanced around at the squad nearby, pulled his face into a quick half-smile and gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Had to a pick a moment just near a bolter shot, when no one was paying attention to one out of the multitudes of paltry prisoners. Then he could a single comment.

"Get a fast-route to the angels if lucky. Gets there first, spreads a good word. Deal?"

Recalcitrent

2013-12-11, 07:19 AM

Hob doesn't seem completely in this world, but he still responds to the unfortunate sergeant's comment during the next bolt round.
"There may be a few angels blocking my path, but I'll ask them to carry the word, for old times sake."
With that, he again returns to silence.
Do you hear that? Soon, you'll be able to stop chasing me. I'll be one of you, and you can extract your retribution then. Just, please, leave me my last few moments in-
*Blam*
Hob's face takes on a rueful expression.
...silence.

LeSwordfish

2013-12-11, 08:03 AM

And then it was their turn.

Commissar Klein was thin-faced and sharp-featured, built like a crag or tree. His bolt pistol was smoking in one hand, and he carried a riding crop in the other. Next to him, parson Walsh- rotund, red-faced, perhaps the only man eating well on the planet- huffed along, his book already open at, Nathin noticed with a jerk, the last rites. The overseers followed them, one of them holding a bundle of matches.

"Gentlemen." Klein said nastily as the overseer held out the matches for them each to take one. One by one, they chose a match from the thin man's hand.

The end of Alice's match was painted red. She stared fixedly at it.

"The lucky winner, it seems." Klein announced, and racked the slide of his pistol. Besides him, Walsh began the last rites, of penance and forgiveness. Even he didn't seem convinced by the last part.

"O, Emperor, our Father of mercies, through your death and resurrection..."

OOC
Another quick pause to pick up a reaction from you guys, particularly Revanus.

Raunchel

2013-12-11, 08:05 AM

Firona feels relieved. She knows that it is horrible of her, but she's so happy that she will live. She doesn't look at Alice however, afraid that she might look in a wrong way.

Recalcitrent

2013-12-11, 08:15 AM

A short wave of relief flows through Hob, surprising him. Am I still so attached to my life?
Glancing to his companion, Hob could tell that Aubray was barely containing a relieved smile, which caused a feeling of shame to pass through him. I shouldn't be relieved one of my squad-mates is about to be executed. I deserve to be here.

Caimheul

2013-12-11, 10:10 AM

Diane appears to be completely unphased by the results of the lots. Clearly the Emperor did not feel her supposed crime was nearly as heinous as the Tech-priests were convinced. And while there is life, there's hope...

Revanus

2013-12-11, 02:40 PM

Alice stared numbly at the match stick and let it fall to the ground. She smiled oddly, then. Almost as though she were relieved.

She had seen many deaths. She'd seen men die clawing at their insides to rid themselves of the shrapnel that had torn them apart. She'd seen death by infection, starvation, even rape. She could even still remember the awful howl those xenos sent up as they carved through her squad on that fateful day. There were far worse ways to go than a bolt round to the head.

Still, she wasn't exactly happy. She gave Martin's hand a hidden squeeze.

"Have fun in the tunnels, boys and girls."

She laughed, then. It was a light laugh, full of joy and humor.

Finally, she cleared her throat, and spit the remains into the Commisar's face.
---

Spoons glanced at Alice one last time--memorizing her face as she squeezed his hand.

Then he closed his eyes. He didn't want the Commisariat to see the hate.

Fibinachi

2013-12-11, 03:36 PM

Commisar Klein and his flunkies prepared their last rites, and the overseers nearby seemed to flex their whips in preparation of someone trying something heroic. Kicking broken people didn't seem to inspire righteous zeal so much as barely restrained anger or despair. There'd be resentment later, taken out on survivors by the people who now had lost companions and friends. A more quiet kind of riot. His composure lost, Nathin was staring fixedly at the match in his hand with a frown.
Something here clearly was not right, because he was not about to be shot. Throne, some damn time to get a lucky break. A break bought by someone else buying a bolter shot, admittedly, so not lucky by any stretch of the term. Nathin looked up from his match and pulled away from his private world. Someone else was about to die and, at the very least, Alice deserved to die in the open, with eyes on her.
And then Alice did something both very brave and very stupid. She laughed.
It sounded almost like the teeth of a chainblade.

Of course Zel, the bastard, had to go and ruin everything by running his mouth. Agitated, the wiry fellow tossed his match over his shoulder and rapid-fired of an interjection, hoping to finish before the overseers whipped him.

"Oi, pick me. Getting a out of this place by bolter-express isn't no punishment, it's a reward! Odds are damn well good I'll go meet an angel my self to shoo me out of this bloody dank pit. Rather here n' now than some mutant chewing of me face later!"

Nathin really should have strangled the bastard in his sleep a long time ago.

LeSwordfish

2013-12-11, 05:45 PM

Walsh stopped mid-sentence. Klein raised a single eyebrow, and wiped the spittle off his face, slowly. Even Canton stopped. The squad had the uncomfortable feeling of every person in the room looking at them.

"A reward, soldier?" Klein asked, and smiled. "Why ever would you think we would wish to give you that?"

And he shot Alice in the center of the forehead. The last curl of her laugh hadn't quite left her face.

The bolt round detonated inside her head, destroying the young woman from the chin up. Spoons and Diane were abruptly coated with gore- Diane felt a sharp, stinging pain in her cheek, and realised a fragment of skull had caught her jaw. Gore sprayed from the headless corpse as it spasmed for a second, and then crumpled.

"You want a reward, trooper?" A thin smile. "Earn it. Like any other." Klein turned and strode on to the next squad. Walsh made the sign of the aquila briefly, and then followed him. Canton paused, and then resumed his oratory.

Spoons
As Alice died, her hand had gripped his tightly, so tightly it had felt as if his bones were grinding together. As she fell, her grip had gone horribly slack.

Recalcitrent

2013-12-11, 06:16 PM

Hob let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He had already lost too many squad-mates to people who shouldn't be trying to kill them, and he had worried that Zel would join their ranks. His companions were criminals, true, but in the underhive, your squad was all you had.

Aubray seemed to notice, and gave a small punch to Hob's bruised ribs to get his attention. "Listen here, Hob, there's something you need to get through your meaty skull right now. We are all here to die. We are worth less than the bolts used to kill us. So quit caring so much. You wont last much longer if you don't."

Quit caring? Is it really that simple? Hob thought, as he watched the widening pool of blood that used to be Alice. Simple or not, I'm not sure I'm capable.

Caimheul

2013-12-11, 06:17 PM

Diane slips her unmarked matchstick into one of the pockets of her now blood splattered fatigues, as she smears the blood on her face and plucking the piece of bone out of her cheek. "C'mere Rook," she says, wiping as much of the blood as she can onto his fatigues. "Aww, come on Diane, that ain't nice," Rook starts before Diane silences him with a glare.

Fibinachi

2013-12-11, 07:14 PM

Looking down at the headless carcass slowly leaking blood into the manufactorum floor, Nathin blanched. The timed, slow pace of the proceedings had to have been deliberate in their measured crawl. Every squad would have to wait near the cooling body of their former friend, blood congealing around their boots, before they'd be let off to try to scrounge up some kind of respite. The blood itself was no problem, but waiting near the corpse without being allowed to pilfer it, nor pay proper respects? That was a punishment brilliant and cruel in its sheer, genius sadism.

"I'm... Sorry, Spoons. Alice was... " Keen on finding stray bits of equipment. Way too good at avoiding questions about past events. Either madly in love or deeply protective. "... She liked you. Her stuff's yours. "

Revanus

2013-12-12, 01:36 AM

As Alice's hand went slack, Spoons felt liquid streaming down his face. He kept his eyes closed, though.

After a few moments, he wiped the liquid off on his damp uniform. He heard Nathan say something, but it didn't really register. It was being drowned out by the sound of Alice's laughter.

After a bit, the sound changed. It became sharper--higher-pitched. It was almost a howl--the kind some sword-wielding devil might make. Alice used to talk about such things. It brought a slight smile to his face.

Spoons opened his eyes, staring straight ahead.

LeSwordfish

2013-12-15, 06:02 AM

The rest of the decimation passed in a blur, as Klein slaughtered his way down the rest of the line, and Canton continued to declaim. When it was complete they were lead like animals back to their barracks. They lived in cargo containers, their threadbare bedrolls, latrine buckets, and food pails thrown in with them. Dangerous criminals, see? You don't want them freely moving. Best they're kept locked up until they're needed. The light in their container had burned out last week. Nobody had come to replace it, so they lived in darkness.

That night, as the screams of other men's nightmares kept them from sleep, Spoons thought he smelled burning bodies.

That was ridiculous though. Bodies down here weren't burned, they were reconstituted. You didn't set fire to good corpse starch.

---

It was three days later that they left the container, lead by a black-suited overseer across the "parade ground" and into the "briefing room", a dingy office area with rows of hard chairs and a projector screen. It was considered unsafe to have the higher-ups brief them in person.

The projector flickered into life and Major Canton's face was cast onto the wall. Behind him, Klein was just visible.

"Squad two-seven." He didn't say hello. "We're sending you out on assignment, effective immediately." The screen flickered and changed to a map, showing a single larger, winding tunnel, heading up past several offshoots. Canton's voice continued over it. "This is Outflow four-oh-C. Used to dump waste liquid from the inner hive out to the plains. It's also the only source of water for several hundred underhivers, in several small communities."

"We think somebody is using it as a route into the hive to smuggle in supplies. Food, munitions, etcetera. The pale throng is under siege here, and to break them we must deny them all entry to the hive. We think one of these three settlements is their unloading point. You will be transported by barge: your task is to hit these three settlements fast and hard. Search the settlements. Search the people. Discover which of them is harbouring recidivists and transporting supplies. Wipe out any stored supplies and destroy the settlement with any force necessary. Civilian casualities are of no object to us."

The screen changed back to Canton's face.

"Are there any questions so far?"

Recalcitrent

2013-12-15, 08:47 AM

Hob stared at the projected images, letting them wash over his eyes, without consciously acknowledging them. He had been like this since someone mentioned they smelled burning bodies. As usual, Aubray had been the one to keep an eye out for Hob, making him eat and drink what little he was given. If previous experiences were to be believed, he should snap out of his reverie when they geared up for their mission.
Aubray had no questions, except how a fraking rock got into his boot when he had been locked in their "quarters" for three days, and it wouldn't do to ask the officer that.

Revanus

2013-12-15, 01:08 PM

Spoons stares straight ahead.

I wonder what Klien would smell like if he were on fire. Would he scream? I bet he would...

A slight smile touches Spoons face. Just as quick, it disappears. Smiles are dangerous.

Caimheul

2013-12-15, 03:30 PM

Diane spits on the floor near where she is crouching in the corner. "Yea, when do we leave?" she says simply, confident she'll be able to handle whatever this mission involves.

Fibinachi

2013-12-16, 02:06 PM

After three days in the dark, the bloody projector was a damnable eyesore, all mulled stinging lights and images that could only mean they'd be knee deep in waste and mutants both.
But if they were going out, they were getting gear - and that meant a chainsword. Nathin could preserve through the briefing for that. He'd sit through several, if he had to, in silence and blinking like some nightblind animal.

But the possibility of questions was tantalizing enough to speak up. Couldn't quite recall the last time anyone up on high had allowed something quite so capable of back-firing in a bloody manner. Days and months of pent up insolence could be manifested into anything, and Nathin's list of curses had grown truly staggering in his time with the penal legions.
Convicts got the best currs.
Best not. Let the memory of the decimation allow them to think one tenth dead meritted some tiny fear, stick to protocol, and then...
... something involving whirling metal.

"One... Sir. "

But which one? Couldn't ask about the hundred underhivers who'd drink bodies and burned villages, or the inevitable Water riot. Didn't dare ask about reinforcements or replacements for obvious reasons... Ah. The thing in his head spoke up about its favorite topic.

"Destroying a village by hand takes a while. Mutant scum'll flee in the meantime. Any chance of some ordnance? Catch more that way"

Being issued a few extra useless duds by some munitorum stooge might up their intimidation factor.

LeSwordfish

2013-12-16, 02:59 PM

"If you can't establish sufficient perimeter, that's your own lookout. You'll be provided with demolitions charges, which will remain in the care of Overseer Oberst until they are needed. "

The Overseer at the back of the room shifted slightly uncomfortably. It seemed he would be accompanying them.

"You'll be leaving immediately. A transport pod has been loaded onto a barge at the docks. Oberst will lead you there when this briefing has concluded."

Fibinachi

2013-12-17, 12:59 PM

"Oh, excellent. Thank you Sir."

Fantastic! An entire barge-ride down an outflow with pretentions of being a river to get to know the man in charge of high yield explosives. Such a tiny barge, so many spoons... Maybe Nathin's luck was less the downward spiral he had been assuming for years, and more the mad cavot of a deluded priest. Things were certainly almost, sort of, if you squinted, looking up. Feeling inexplicably pleased, Nathin allowed a bit of warmth to seep into his reply.

"Well! I doubt the squad has any further questions, sir. If there are no concluding statements or alterations, we shall happily follow Overseer Oberst to do the Emperors Work."

LeSwordfish

2013-12-19, 08:37 AM

"If there's nothing else, then you can leave." Canton said, turning away from the group.

"The emperor protects." Klein added as the projector cut out, leaving them in darkness again.

Behind them, Oberst straightened, and held up the detonator.

"Down to the docks now. Nice and slow."

---

The "docks" lay nearly a kilometer away, down and to the west, a series of rickety wooden platforms and sheet-metal buildings in the open shell of what had once been a generatorium or water-treatment building. Whatever it had been was long gone by now, and the liquid from three seperate outflows ran through.

A barge- low-sided, rusty metal, a choking, spluttering motor- was waiting for them, with a sealed transport pod taking up most of the space, and a small cabin at the back with another overseer in, his coat buttoned tight against the cold. The whole cavernous room was lit by the red running light in the cabin, making it hard to keep their footing- Aubrey slipped, and one leg went into the sludgy liquid up to the knee. Cursing, he pulled it out: acids in the water were bleaching his boot.

Oberst pointed up the ramp into the pod on the front of the boat. It looked like the cargo containers they lived in, but even smaller.

"Your equipment is in there. We should be arriving at the first settlement in twenty minutes. Until then, you stay in the pod."

OOC
My intention was to move you on to the first settlement today, but work means I can't get so large an update done today, and you'd been waiting too long already. Still, if you want to butter up Oberst, now is the time.

Caimheul

2013-12-19, 10:10 AM

"Alright... Sir." Diane quickly boards the transport pod, eager to be reunited with her equipment. She quickly grabs Rook's allotment of combat drugs, as otherwise the addict will just inject himself right away. "Awww, c'mon Diane, I just need a quick fix!" "You want the overseer to pop your head cause you're high? Shut it," she replies. "C'mere baby..." she says addressing her favourite gun, a heavy laspistol she was allowed to keep from her prior assignment.

Right, provided there is sufficient light, Diane should have enough time to attempt one customization... (takes 15 minutes per attempt).

Revanus

2013-12-19, 01:29 PM

Spoons grabs his Hades Assault Flamer and slings his lasgun over his shoulder. Donning the rest of the gear, he moves off to one of the corners of the shed.

With a spoon buried neatly his hand, he carefully carves "Alice" into the grip of his flamer. Once done, he slips the spoon back into his boot and continues to wait for the barge to arrive at Hell.

Recalcitrent

2013-12-19, 01:46 PM

"Yes, Overseer. Aubray, help me with Hawke?" the big flame trooper says as he picks up his heavy flamer, stroking the few color-changing moth scales on the promethium pack. The action seemed to do great work for Hob's confidence, the memories of home acting as a bulwark against his nightmares.

Caimheul

2013-12-19, 01:50 PM

Her laspistol securely strapped to her hip, and her various and sundry other bits of equipment secured about her person, Diane shoves a filter plug up each nostril and puts in her photo-contacts. She pulls out her combi-tool and looks around eagerly. "Right, who's turn is it?"

Fibinachi

2013-12-19, 02:49 PM

"Did the grease job on my piece last time, Di, so I'm out. "

Because I'm too busy to watch things, Nathin wanted to add, too busy by far enjoying the moment. The pre-combat check of gear was a joy that he was denied far too often, cooped up in a container with no weapons at all and the gnawing in his skull with its bothersome desire to start punching the walls until they bend and burst really could get quite irritating when he couldn't fondle anything sharp. But this, this little bit of peace in this shanty barge on this hellish river, that was enough to satiate him for a while yet.

Thinking of sharp things, Nathin turned to Overseer Oberst, chainsword cradled in his hand.

"Say, Overseer, chum, I was wondering - those demo-charges... You going to be carrying those in battle with us?"

LeSwordfish

2013-12-19, 03:23 PM

Oberst was a small, fussy-looking man, with hair combed over a balding scalp, and he frowned at Nathin. "Additional equipment- the demolition charges, and the additional flame cells we have requested- will be stored in the cabin with myself and our helmsman until they are needed."

Recalcitrent

2013-12-19, 05:03 PM

"You've already done fine work with Hawke here, Diane. I'll let someone else surrender their weapon to your tender care this time." Hob says as he respectfully nods to Diane.

Raunchel

2013-12-20, 07:01 AM

Firona tightly holds her lasgun, a weapon that she has truly come to like. she is especially proud of the inscriptions in it, Arathea's favorite prayer. She always said it before they went to sleep. She has nothing from that time, everything was taken from her when she was sent to the ninth. At least Arathea would be by the emperor's side, safe from further harm. But still, she misses those days, before the eternal darkness of the underhive. She puts in her filtration plugs, just like she had to wear them at home. Lots of people did it, the pollution in the laborer's districts was just too terrible. She breathes through her nose. Some people find it hard to never breathe through the mouth, but to her it is natural.

She whispers a prayer, taught to her before she could walk: "O divine lord and Emperor, close my mind to the seeds of evil, lead me across the path of service, I am yours, mind, body and soul, accept my prayer, I am a sinner, and beg for forgiveness."

Fibinachi

2013-12-20, 12:20 PM

"Additional equipment- the demolition charges, and the additional flame cells we have requested- will be stored in the cabin with myself and our helmsman until they are needed."

"Oh, good idea that! So once we need to burn down the town full of mutant degenerates, we shout for you to run through the deadly, shot-filled battleground and you wire the explosives while we keep them, snarling and mad, off your back? That is a load off my mind, Overseer, Sir"

Was he laying it on a bit thick? Could never tell with the fussy types. Either they appreciated the genuflecting troopers approving of their authority, or they found it odd to be the center of attention. Nathin waited a moment for the mental image to sink in, giving the overseer a conversational opening.

"... Just figured, you being in command and all, you'd want to stay on the barge while we get stuck in, Diane there putting her explosive talents to use, following your tactical directions. I don't really have that watchamacallit... "strategic overview", so maybe I'm wrong. I'm glad you're coming out to fight with us. Squad 27'll keep as many three-headed fanged slurping things off ya as we can."

And now, to hope that Overseer Oberst was both fussy-looking and possessing of a shred of self preservation instinct. And that Zel kept his bloody mouth shut for eight seconds.

LeSwordfish

2013-12-20, 05:37 PM

Oberst gave Nathin a long look. "Strategic overview. Quite right, Sargeant. I'd advise you to stick to the roughhousing and let myself deal with the grander picture."

He raised his riding crop, and Nathin and Zel followed the others into the pod. Oberst kicked the door shut, swung the lock sealed, and after a few minutes the engine of the barge throbbed into life, and they began to move.

Mission One: In The Dark Places

Inside the pod it was almost pitch dark, with a small red bulb giving the darkness texture. The barge shook uncomfortably as it moved, and occasionally they were jolted violently as it struck something below the surface. The stench of the water outside filled the pod, and their eyes were soon watering.

Twenty-three minutes later, with a particularly violent jolt, the barge stopped and Oberst opened the pod door. The barge was anchored in the main outflow pipe, which was only just wide enough for it, lit by guttering strip-lamps in metal cages on the ceiling. The liquid here was even more foul-smelling as it gurgled and oozed down, bubble bursting lazily on the surface. A second pipe entered at right angles, this one only just large enough for a trooper to walk along stooped, and it was this Oberst was gesturing towards. It was just below the surface of the liquid- moving up it, they'd be knee-deep in the sludge. Foul vapours hung in the air, and beyond a few meters in it was putch-black.

"First settlement is two hundred meters up here, above the waterline. Eyes sharp, gentlemen."

OOC
The pipe is only wide enough for one of you at a time, and leaning past to shoot will be difficult. As such, I'd like a marching order please.

In addition, i'd like a toughness test for each of you, at +10 plus the +20 bonus for filtration plugs.

Caimheul

2013-12-20, 08:29 PM

As the barge stops, Diane locks a charge pack into her pistol, twisting the power setting knob and grinning at the sound of the capacitor's hum. Now lets kill us some muties, she thinks as she moves to be in the middle of the pack, Rook in front of her. Diane leaves her lascarbine strapped across her back, preferring her pistol for tight quarters, while also leaving a hand free for the auspex.

Awareness: [roll0] TN 50 (30+20 Auspex)
Tech-Use: [roll1] TN 38 to scan for life forms up ahead, particularly mutants.

Fibinachi

2013-12-21, 01:58 PM

The door slammed, trapping them in the pod with the dark, the smell, and a group of soldiers criminally unfit for the Imperial Guard.

"... was worth a shot."
"Has that ever worked - "Strategic overview", really?"
"Figure it might some day, Zel."
-----

Twenty-three headache inducing minutes later, the pod door opened into a view of a latrine on a particularly terrible day. Murderous fumes sprung the first ambush of the day, and Nathin gagged, too used to nice, clean trench warfare to weather the fumes.

[roll0] v 35 + 30 = 65

The sickly light of the strip-lamps conspired with the photocontact's light-level adjustment to bathe everything in a fuzzy, washed out luminescence. At least whatever snipers laid in wait in the sludge on ahead might be at a disadvantage for that first shot.

The squad trudged on, through the muck, and Nathin took his position near the leading edge of the ragged line.

Revanus

2013-12-21, 02:21 PM

Spoons trundles out of the barge. He lazily joins the formation, flamer held loosely at the ready.

Toughness:
[roll0] vs. 61

Awareness:
[roll1] vs. 31

Stealth (once we get moving):
[roll2] vs. 43

Recalcitrent

2013-12-21, 06:59 PM

Hob squeezes and finagles himself out of the small pod door, with his heavy flamer hanging from its shoulder strap. Hob glances around, his eyes blinking at the slightly increased light level. He then flicks down his photo-visor to compensate.

[roll0] vs 73 (43+10+20)

LeSwordfish

2013-12-30, 06:07 PM

The tunnel was pitch-black after a few meters, their photo-visors throwing everything into ghostly green. The gaseous vapours danced in front of them as will-o-the-wisps, and the lag between the visors recieving and processing input made even the seasoned soldiers a little queasy.

The pipe sloped gently upwards until they were out of the liquid, and gently curved until they could no longer see their entry point. There were signs of habitation here now: the floor of the pipe was scuffed by footsteps, scraps of cloth used to plug holes and, in one case, a rotten old piece of wood laid like a bridge over a cavity that descended deep out of sight. Zel paused to kick a pebble in and watched it vanish. They didn't hear it land. No matter how far down you were, there was always further to go.

The first person they found was sitting in the pipe, wrapped in a cloth blanket, dressed in rags. They- gender was impossible to discern under the rags and dirt- were emaciated and thin. Bones were visible under pale skin thickly coated with sores, their nose and jaw appeared to have been partially eaten away by chemicals, and their left eye socket was shared by two bloodshot eyeballs, distorted and twisted out of shape. They were lying in the curve of the pipe, so still Hob presumed at first they were dead, but as the group approached, they turned their head slowly to stare at them.

"Who're you? 'mperials?" the voice was paper-thin and distorted. "'not done nothing. Leave's be."

OOC
A reminder for role-playing that you all have Hatred (Mutants).

Recalcitrent

2013-12-30, 10:18 PM

By the Throne, our first contact with the inhabitants, and it has to be an Emperor-damned mutant. Hob considers drawing his knife and putting the thing out of the squad's misery, but doesn't want mutant blood all over himself, so he settles for mumbling curses under his breath.

Caimheul

2013-12-30, 10:44 PM

Diane bites her tongue and keeps her pistol pointed at the floor while Rook gets excited at the possibility of combat, and more importantly to him, the drugs associated with it. She scans the room for any hidden threats.

Awareness: [roll0] TN 50
Tech-Use: [roll1] TN 38 scanning for hidden weapons or anything else not able to be seen unaided

Fibinachi

2014-01-03, 02:33 PM

Not done nothing.

Look at the triple-eyed perversion of the human form. Filthy, wiry, disgusting and using a double negative that actually meant it had done something, because they always had. Nathin's laspistol was raised before his reasonable side caught up. Maintaining trigger discipline was a harsh punishment, and his skull started pounding. Could just try cleaning this place a little.

The septic sergeant glanced at his squad, realizing he hadn't gotten around to asking any of his filth caked comrades if they'd actually come from a hive, back before all this. Someone who knew how Underhivers would react to heavily armed men trudging into their tiny town with orders to question and kill, and just how much of these pipe systems would be trying to kill them all.

Nathin took a breath, and regretted it, then lowered his sidearm. Waste of ammo, when he could just snap the neck as they walked past.

"Oi there, freak. Ain't here for you. Looking for town. "

Something burped in the darkness behind them, some gaseous release from miasma and Nathin realized another mistake. They didn't have a ready lie for any questions. Unforgivable. Years of easy words should have prepared him better for this. And since no one else spoke up, they were left in a pipe with the gas and the silence, fingers itching to get to grips with weapons. Nathin's skull pounded again, and for a brief moment he felt like punching the pipe. Had to get a grip on everyone here. Start with the addict, then the killers.

"Hey, Rook. Easy there. Soon, not now, yeah? Soon. Everyone, clamp a lid on it. Check the pipes. Look, freak, ya's on a traveled path, starving n' alone, so you're a spotter, spy, scout or squatter. Town up ahead? How far, and what do you do if you want to get in and talk about... "

... Think, Nathin. What'd be a reasonable try to get out out a group of filth covered troops to scour low towns?
Oh.
That'd do.

"... Talk about angels, in white armor?"

Figure spies'd know about the riot, figure squatters would be wary about angels.

If Peer: Underworld would give any kind of help (Criminal elements?) or Fellowship of 45... [roll0]

LeSwordfish

2014-01-03, 02:47 PM

As far as the squad could see, the tunnel was as empty as it had been before. The shrouded figure on the floor in front of them coughed up a gobbet of vile phlegm onto their stomach.

"'M a watcher. Watch the path fer Ado. You want speaks bout angels, speak ter Ado."

They made a brief gesture up the pipe in the direction the squad had been going. "Ado'd be thatway." They shuffled a little bit, wrapping their rags tighter around them. "Aint no angels down here. Leave's be."

They didn't seem to recognize the angel reference. Perhaps the rumors hadn't reached this place.

Caimheul

2014-01-06, 01:52 PM

Diane continues to glower at the watcher when she bothers to take her eyes off of the auspex.

Awareness: [roll0] TN 50
Tech-Use: [roll1] TN 38, scanning for hidden threats (gas pockets etc.)

Recalcitrent

2014-01-06, 06:29 PM

Stupid to let this trash distract me from the pipes. thought Hob as he focused his attention on the aforementioned pipes. Damn, the smell here is terrible. I wish I could burn all of the filth here, replace this horrible stench with the hot, clean smell of ash.
Hob watched the currently empty pipes, his head swiveling, trying to keep his eyes on all of them at once, but failing. Aubray walked to Hob's side, and said under his breath, "Keep an eye out for our fellows, Hob. We'll need as many of them as possible to survive here. And just watch the pipes ahead of us, I'll watch your back." Aubray backed off again to his normal position, satisfied he had averted an unhealthy amount of paranoia in the man in charge of the heavy flamer.

Awareness: [roll0] vs 30

Fibinachi

2014-01-10, 05:53 AM

"'M a watcher. Watch the path fer Ado. You want speaks bout angels, speak ter Ado."

"Aint no angels down here. Leave's be."

"Much obliged. Can we offer you the Emperor's Mercy afore we move on?"

Revanus

2014-01-11, 03:26 PM

Spoons sweeps his flamer left and right, prepared for any eventuality.

Hearing Nathan's comment, he lines up his weapon in the direction of the mutie. The pilot light of the flamer casts an eerie glow in the civilian's direction.

Only difference between a civvie and a rebel is a gun...

Raunchel

2014-01-13, 05:56 AM

Firona feels tempted to just shoot the thing, but that would be a little wasteful, and might draw attention. Maybe she should just slit his throat, it would be a mercy. But he doesn't deserve it, fithly thing.

LeSwordfish

2014-01-13, 08:39 AM

The mutant coughed out a sickly laugh. "'s funny how mercy seems from high up, eh?" He reached out beside himself and banged three times sharply on the pipe wall- a few seconds of diminishing echoes ensued before three further clanges reverberated back down.

"Ado know's you's coming now. Ask him what you got's to know."

Recalcitrent

2014-01-15, 09:48 PM

"If we arent going to clean this filth away, I suggest we spend as little time in this place as possible." Hob said.

Raunchel

2014-01-16, 04:48 AM

"Yes, I want to be away from here as quickly as possible, these scum could put a knife in our back at any moment."

Revanus

2014-01-16, 02:37 PM

Spoons hefts his flamer a bit and shrugs beneath his load. As rearguard, there isn't much he can do to get the group moving.

Caimheul

2014-01-16, 08:58 PM

"C'mon Sarge, sooner we get moving sooner we get to go back to our nice warm shipping container." Diane says sarcastically.

LeSwordfish

2014-01-22, 07:56 AM

Leaving the hunched mutant behind, they continued up the pipe. It was only a little further before the pipe sharply dog-legged to the left, and opened up into a larger cistern.

And here, here was the settlement. Made of rusting sheet metal and strips of cloth, several shacks barely large enough to lie down in had been erected in the curved base of the cistern. The place stank, of chemicals, and raw sewage, and decaying flesh. A single chemical lamp illuminated the place, lying on the floor in the middle: around it, the denizens gathered.

All were hunched, bleached pale by the darkness and the chemical light. Wrapped in many layers of rags, they looked at the squad with the same dull eyes of the mutant in the pipe. There were perhaps twenty of them, including two children and a bundle of rags that might have been a baby. Most of them were in some way mutated, only two of whom were standing. One of these was carrying a bulky shotgun, and as the squad entered he lowered it to the ground. His body was thin, and wizened, and longer and thinner than any human body should be. His face was skeletal, and his eyes were milky white. His nose- barely more than a decayed hole in the front of his face- quivered as he turned towards them.

"Chemicals. Promethium, ozone. You're armed, and you don't smell of witchery. Imperials. What do you want, imperials? We want to be left alone."

Caimheul

2014-01-22, 11:36 AM

Diane sweeps the area with her auspex, pistol held at the ready, pointing in a safe direction.

Awareness: [roll0] TN 50
Tech-Use [roll1] TN 38

Fibinachi

2014-01-22, 03:10 PM

Nathin

When command had used the word settlement, they had been lying. Not unexpected, perhaps, but the magnitude of the deceit was still staggering. Nathin had seen more livable cafeterias, or warehouses.

"Fan out, cover everyone"

No one looked well fed enough to be smuggling in supplies, and that single rusty shotgun wouldn't do for protecting an important choke point of resources. Then again, lies from on high. A thin veneer of misery might be best to hide something, anything, and hope that any impulse of disgust kept people from sticking their hands into darkened corners. Corpses still had useful boots, and no one liked rooting around on them.

"Diane? Anything?"

They could just kill them all. That would be the easiest way to deal with this. Fire and flame.

"You, Sharpnose. We will leave you alone, soon. Which one of you is Ado? Got questions."

Or he could just ask about supply lines, smuggling and scum. Then kill everyone. There was hardly a reason to spend effort in dusty quarters to maintain some kind of illusion of stealth and efficient behavior. Yeeees... No. Dammit man, answers first. One short mental break from turning into Rook here. The ma--- no, the thing with white eyes had emphasized one word. It was worth a shot in the dark.

"Those folk what smell of witchery? They're the ones causing trouble. You want to be left alone? Where's the lots that ain't "We" and want to cause a ruckus?"