The Lost Primarch (Squad 3)

[Sir Dancealot]

You've been deployed from the Grand Cruiser and are now hurtling towards one of the larger Orkoid ships. Soon, they will be fully visible, not just on you scanner, but through the 'window' of your ship. Your Thunderhawk shudders around you as you make your way towards the Ork fleet.

As you get closer, you can see the fleet fanning out from a central point, what appears to be a giant Warp Gate. That definitely cannot be good. If you can find a way, it needs to be shut down.

Along with a Warp Gate the size of a city, the Ork Kruisers are... Different. They are much more even and normal in shape. Your scanners identify them as Orkoid in nature, but your eyes do not. They seem... Ancient in a way. Reminiscent of the Cruiser you were in just an hour ago.


Roll Ancient History (Or Whatever it's called. I forget off the top of my head.) at a -30
If you Succeed that roll Xenos or Ork at a -40.
If you succeed that roll Archeotech at a -30

Arc, I need a pilot test please.

http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=17119683#post17119683

[bluntpencil]

Graeme opened his eyes, sighing in a resigned fashion. He was the leader, apparently. The Kill-Team had sworn fell oaths, to ignore the apparent human-like nature of the likes of the Eldar and the Tau, and to acknowledge that the Necrontyr, Orks and Tyranids were but monstrosities.

The fact that the Eldar, Orks and Tyranids were all drawn here, like moths to a flame, just like they, the Adeptus Astartes themselves, gave the Epistolary many troubling thoughts. They too may have been lured in by the psychic scream, or they may have heard something else entirely. It was, of course, very possibly a trap.

Regardless, such a possibility was still well worth the risk. The calculations took little time at all, in fact. Those privy to such knowledge were unanimous in their agreement to send the best of the best, living legends on a quest unheard of since the Great Crusade.

And still, it seemed to begin like many others. Standing behind the pilot of his boarding vessels, taking final tactical and strategic considerations into account for the assault. He hated to admit it, but the familiarity gave him some comfort, as he knew he was more than adept in such matters. This comfort almost sparked some hope in the brooding Librarian, too, but he was far too cautious for such yet.

He made a steeple with his armoured fingers as he silently stared across at the holodisplays. His eyebrows raised, just a touch. They were ancient, aye. That was... somewhat unexpected, but, then again, strange happenings would be part of the course for this mission.

Perhaps he had heard of such before?



Okay, 'Sharpening the Mind's Eye' is having 'Heightened Knowledge' selected (Assume Graeme always selects this, btw). That's +20 to Forbidden, and Scholastic, Lores.

The Oath that was taken, unless you guys are opposed, is Oath of Inhumanity.

Now, the Lore checks!

Scholastic Lore (Archaic or Legend): Standard TN is 100, at -30 it is 70.

[roll0]

If it fails, using one of my Int re-rolls: [roll1]

Follow-up, assuming a success:

Forbidden Lore (Xenos): Standard TN is 100, at -40 is 60.

[roll2]

If it fails, use an Int re-roll: [roll3]

Follow-up, assuming a success:

Forbidden Lore (Archaeotech): Standard TN is 90, at -30 is 60.

[roll4]

If it fails, using an Int re-roll: [roll5]


Edit: All are successful, one Int re-roll used, assuming that the high degrees of success earlier didn't make it easier.

[TheFallenSon]

Graz'el checked, then re-checked his gear. His helmet was off, a diagnoster from the great crusade, it was shaped like a roaring snub nosed drake. The helm, and his armor were a point of pride for him, sable black and almost unblemished. He had a gift for forge work, he could work metal and men into weapons for the Emperor. His bald scalp was nearly the same color as his armor, maybe a shade or two off, his teeth gleamed like a belt of stars in all that blackness, and his Eyes burned like giant red suns. He rolled his shoulders and settled the tanks of promethium a bit lower on his back. It was a good fit, it was all a good fit. He tested the pilot light on the Vambrace and ran a 14th check on his Narthecium, then his 50th check on his reductor. He said a quiet prayer to the Emperor that he would not need to use it, but thanked him, and the machine spirit for it's existence.

He moved slowly among the other marines, his wizened eyes looking for chinks in the faith or morale of the men he was attached to. He found none. He never found doubt, not here, not with this group. They were all hard men, cherry picked from across the Imperium to rescue a Primarch. He finally made his way to a window, glancing out and looking the orc fleet over. He was wholey un-impressed. He had fought at Armeggedon...this fleet would not stop them. Graz'el had faith, and he had a goal. There was a chance that the demigod they were rescuing was HIS Primarch...Vulkan...The Grand Forge Father. Vulkan Lives, it is known...but was today his return? Time would tell.

He turned his attention to the Epistolary, he willed the man to be up to the task.

"Those ships, they are strange brother...they seem...old, dare I say regal? I know that seems to jar with all any of us know of the Greenskin. Nonetheless there is something odd there."

[ArcturusV]

Malacai shrugged in response to the Apothecary's words. There wasn't more of a gesture he could really do, intent as he was on taking a good course for the Kruiser that he had marked out as "his bitch", ready to be crashed into the world, warp engine fires and plasma scouring a landing site.

Malacai himself seemed, odd at the controls. He wasn't a Mechanical Pilot, in that he didn't seem to follow strict procedures, the proper rites of appeasement to the Machine Spirits, everything done by the Book of Girlyman. Instead he was something of a rarity, outside of the Steel Eagles Chapter. A natural pilot who seemed to just instinctively handle the controls, correcting for mishaps just a moment before they would occur by some ancient, animal instinct. Movements were fluid and calm, easily performed, the Marine working the cockpit as if it were an extension of his body.

"It's no grand secret that the foul orks make a habit of stealing better, proper technology from weak men, unable to hold onto their possessions. Perhaps it they are ships of the Traitors? Or stolen from some ancient fleet in the time of Legend? Does it really change what we must do?" There was a note of an underlying eagerness to crash that ship into the planet. Not because the mission demanded it, but merely for the thousands, or maybe even millions, of Orks that would die in such a conflagration. A good first step.

[Sir Dancealot]

The Librarian stares at the ships for a long moment, his vast mind obviously processing the information.

You've heard of such ships before, long before the Imperium of Man was a though in the Emperor's mind. These ships are old. You've seen one book in the all of the Libraries of the Marines, and even that book was penned by Eldar. And the book was ancient even by their standards.

Indeed, these are not Ork ships of all. Of that you are sure. Even Orks that steal ships for themselves make them Orky. No. These are different.

You are almost positive these are Krork. These creatures are older than even the Eldar. Trapped in the Warp for who know how long. Who knows what they are truly capable of?

Closing of the Warp Portal has now become a Priority.

[bluntpencil]

Immediately, Graeme opens a telepathic channel to Watch-Commander Mordigael, as well as the leaders of the other Kill-Teams. As he communicates to them, he also speaks to his own Battle-Brothers verbally.

"Target priority alteration, due to Chronological Displacement Directive Theta. The Warp Gate's closure is now of paramount importance.

Furthermore, the Xeno fleet we are engaging are not Orks. I repeat, they are not Orks. They are temporally-shifted Krork, the predecessors of the Ork genus. They may have a very different temperament from previously encountered Greenskins, and may have entirely different goals. Gathering information on this species may offer key insights into the development of the Orks themselves.

Orders, Lord Mordigael?"


Using Long-Range Telepathy, as it is certain to work up to 350 km, regardless of roll, and won't cause Phenomenon.

[Sir Dancealot]

A moment later, Lord Mordigael responds.

"Recovery of the Primarch is still Objective Primus. If you have the chance to deal with the portal, take it. Otherwise, we will deal with it later. Ready yourselves brothers, we know not what these... Krork are capable of."

[TheFallenSon]

Krork? Sounds like an old wives tale. Green skins from before the Dawn of Man? Interesting indeed. Maybe they've come to battle those other pre historic throwbacks?

Have we received any other word in regards to the prime objective?. He finish suiting up, settling his dragon helm on his head, and flashing through the diagnostics. Everyone's breathing and enzyme/hormone levels were stable....well except Malacai of course. Long service in the watch had allowed our ancient apothecary to meet a few Steel Eagles...addicted to adrenaline, the lot. Excellent pilots though. They did lack a proper respect for medicine though.

Graz'el grumbled about young people as he made his way to the back of their transport. The tech marine, always made him queasy? The cyberman's silence now intrigued this old codger. He was probably counting his lucky stars. The Omnissiah just dropped tech from beyond time and space in his lap, hopefully his style of "repairing" and "offering the correct amount of prayer" would allow that gold mine to be plumbed.

His mind drifted to the Lost Primarch again. It could be anyone, and was likely a trap. However, Emperor willing, he'ld meet a Demi God today.

[ArcturusV]

Every child of the Imperium knows that Older is Better. Things from Ancient Days were just better in every way than the modern situation, be it the Technology from the past, the legends of Psykers from before the Age of Strife, or even how the Eldar used to have a galaxy spanning, stable empire not built upon trying to pick apart loot and slaves from Better Races before they tore reality a new *******.

Malacai hated Orks, as any true servant of the God-Emperor should, but his chapter had always respected them. They were a tenacious enemy, unlike the others. They lured you in with their brutish seeming nature, their low "Kunning" and seeming ineptitude. But there was never an end to them.

He had heard stories of people who had faced down the Tyranids, talking about endless tides and waves of Xenos who just ran fully into the fire of noble Titans, seemingly unending, days upon days of fire being dropped upon them with no breaks until finally the hive had exhausted itself and the biomass available to it.

Malacai knew that a full Ork Waaagh! looked much the same, but also much worse, as even the "ramshackle" Orkish "Mek" gave them a greater punch, and that they lacked the tendency to eat one another just because you shot a big one, falling upon one another in a frenzy. And even if you did wipe out the green tide... they'd be back. They always came back.

These two facts, their Truly Endless Assaults, and that Older is Always better, made the back of his mind itch in worry. He knew nothing of these Ancient Orks, oh he knew the modern ones well enough, had killed enough of them to respect them as an enemy and a threat.

He found his fingers itching, wanting to leave nothing to chance. Oh, he'd still accomplish his mission, but he wanted to risk Overkill versus Not Enough. How would his weapons fare against things so much older than his?

Trust in the Emperor, his Might will always make the difference. Foul Xenos are corrupt, and that corruption shall be their weakness.

"Makes me think after we're clear of this world, prize in our care, we should Exterminatus the whole thing. Take out those foul Corks and the rest, the only way to be certain that they will not recover."

[TheFallenSon]

I chafe to come to grips with these foul beasts. The anvil of war will find them brittle.He paced, his choler rising the longer the flight to the Kruiser took. He hated crossing the void in a hot zone, or crossing the atmosphere in a drop pod. He was helpless here, and it rankled his warrior spirit. Helplessness was not something space marines ever got used to...this he was sure of.

[ArcturusV]

This was not something Malacai was familiar with, as he was the one at the helm of the ship, instinctively juking and looping, DO A BARREL ROLL, and more to avoid being pasted by some point defense turret. He seemed at ease, relaxed and calm as he homed in on the Kruiser that had been marked out as their Bitch, and ticket to the Surface and the Death Star that awaited them upon it.

"Hate the Ork, or these Corks as the case may be, but respect them, as the most insidious and dangerous of the xenos plagues upon the galaxy," Malacai warned, "The rest falter and die, be it the Tyranids underneath the guns of the Imperial Navy and the Legio Titanicus. The Eldar have always been a wretched race, dying off year by year. The Tau are young and weak, a flash in the pan that will soon be extinguished, and the Necron are unthinking brutes, easily put down by liberal application of firepower."

"... but the Ork... the ork is relentless as the tides of war." Malacai's voice was grim, and Krieger padded up near his leg, paws up on the console, looking out at the approaching Kruiser.

"When you think you have put them down, they rise from nothing once more. They are perhaps our most deadly adversary, in many ways."

Malacai felt his finger flip the safety off the guns as the Kruiser loomed ever closer. He juked the Thunderbolt hard, throwing off whatever crude targeting the Corks might have been using, waiting for that one moment that 'felt right' to start his attack run on the Kruiser.

Kinda, just want to set up the "Attack Run" and our eventual crash in on the Kruiser.
Pilot Rolls:
[roll0] [roll1] takes the best with +1 DoS, vs 66.

Attack Roll, using the Guns to try to blow up a Point Defense Turret or two just for ****s and giggles...

[roll2] [roll3] takes the best with +1 DoS, vs 66 as vehicle weapons if I remember were used off Operate Tests in general. Lets see if I can pointlessly blow up a turret or two to give us an angle of approach!

But mostly I just wanted stuff to do to keep this alive and moving. :smallbiggrin:

[TheFallenSon]

The Apothecary grinned savage and true as the gunship jerked about. Battle had been joined and Brother Malacai had engaged the Kruiser. Soon, so very soon the would be tested in the flames of battle.

He rolled his shoulders the tiniest bit. Discomfort from where his newest set of brands had been seared into his flesh. The stink of cooked flesh still hung heavy on his senses, I reminder of duty, of purpose, of price, of violence, and most of all...a reminder of war. He pictured the still hot branding iron and smoking brazier in his cell aboard thw watch station. They only personal affectations he'd ever owned. He used them to tell his story of service to the God-Emperor. Simple things. His things.

He snapped back as he felt the weapons discharge under his feet, Malacai was zealous indeed.

[Sir Dancealot]

The vessel sweeps in fast under Malacai's masterful operation, going unnoticed by the tides of Krork ships. Perhaps their scanners pick your ship up as simply a piece of scrap metal floating towards them in the void. As you close in on the target vessel, the scanners show that the equipment being used by these Krork is archeotech in level. Were you a group of Rogue Traders, you would have seen this ship as a trove of treasure, and would have done everything you could to capture it intact, as it would be priceless. But, you are Space Marines and see naught but a target as you charge the interstellar vehicle at ramming speed. Fortunately, Malacai was able to find a weak point, which just so happed to be one of the Hull mounted turrets. Blowing the turret apart as he charged the vessel, he rams it at full speed, smashing into and through the hull of the ship. It's impossible to tell the damage done to the vessel, but the ship is beginning to lose atmosphere. This is most likely due to the massive hole now in the ship. Sensors indicate that the path to the bridge shouldn't be too far of a walk, as long as the paths stay in a generally strait line.

[ArcturusV]

Malacai, Keeping up Over The Top

As the las cannons slagged a turret, and the transport thundered through the hole they left, the marine yanked hard on the controls, causing the Machine Spirits to scream out in protest, but both Marine and Crafted seemed used to this song and dance, knowing just how far they could be pushed without breaking as the craft spun on axis, it's forward momentum carrying it into the turret's housing, the nose of the craft swinging around as bolters fired, retros firing to slow the craft as he hosed down the compartment. Conserve Ammo? The **** is that for? This was a one way trip to the planet's surface and he doubted he'd see this noble machine again. He kept firing until the guns were coming up empty, the craft had spun around a few times and slowed to a stop, and everything even resembling possible resistance or defensive installations in the LZ had been boltered to the warp and back.

Settling down the ship, he mused that the last bit of the voyage probably wasn't comfortable for the other Marines, unused to flyboy antics and who probably had marines who flew their transports level and careful all the time in Adeptus Mechanicus approved manner. It put a smile on his face even as he unstrapped himself from the pilot's seat, "Everyone out, the enemies of the Emperor wait for no man!" he called out as was almost ritual for him. He took a moment to check his gear, all strapped in, fastened and ready. Augur Scans? Careful Approaches? Were they SPESS MEHREENS or Guardsmen? He exited out the back, whistling for Krieger to come with him, the armored hunting feline stalking close to its partner. He had The Emperor's Retribution in one hand, his lightning claw in the other as the two disembarked from the vessel.

[bluntpencil]

"Gathering intelligence is of prime importance. We know almost nothing of our foe. Knowledge is the greatest of weapons."

Graeme is cautious, but ready, his sword and shield ready before him.

"Expect the worst. This vessel is less primitive than one would expect from the barbarian Orks. Truly educated Orks is not a threat I believe any of us have previously encountered."

[Sir Dancealot]

You step out into what seems to have once been a mess hall, but now it's merely a hall riddled with holes. Lots and lots of holes, the largest of which is even now being covered by a strange greeninsh light. As the light come closer to the center, your Armor's machine spirit notes the evening levels of atmosphere. It seem that the breach is being automatically sealed. The Armor reads it to be five minutes before the breach is sealed. You know the general direction of the bridge, and the door leading that direction conveniently has a lot of holes in it.

[bluntpencil]

Graeme stamps forwards, shield readied to his front, the lenses on his helm glowing ominously. His telepathic link with the others remains, awaiting updates on the situation. Something wasn't right at all. He just knew that there must be Necron involvement. He could feel it. He'd felt this before...

Should I join the other group?

[Sir Dancealot]

Graeme stamps forwards, shield readied to his front, the lenses on his helm glowing ominously. His telepathic link with the others remains, awaiting updates on the situation. Something wasn't right at all. He just knew that there must be Necron involvement. He could feel it. He'd felt this before...

Should I join the other group?

Probably a good idea. I should get a post up on it soon enough.