Deathwatch: Beyond Salvation

[Lycan 01]

Deathwatch
Beyond Salvation



=I= Chapter 0: Prologue =I=


It is the final century of the 41st Millenium...

The light of the Astronomicon flickers, but cannot be quenched. On untold worlds across untold stars, countless humans fight and die so that Man may live. Like wolves at the door, the enemies of Humanity - Xenos, heretics, and entities from beyond the veil - hound them at every corner, across the galaxy and reality itself. But as it has, and always shall, the light of the Emperor and humanity itself endures.

The Astartes, the Emperors Finest, have sought to ensure the continued existence and salvation of the Imperium for over 10,000 years. Chapters ancient and young carry this responsibility, though some perform it under banners not their own. Some Space Marines fight and triumph under a different banner - that of the Deathwatch. Chosen or volunteered, they take up new mantels and identities, new goals and missions. But their purpose remains the same - Humanity's salvation and survival.

Nevermind the cost...




------



The briefing room was cold.

The Watch-Fortress was not known for its cozy accommodations, especially in its briefing rooms. But the room seemed to be chilled intentionally, either for the inhabitants' comfort, or discomfort. The room's contents were rather spartan - a large table, multiple chairs, and various cogitators and data-displays for the purpose of mission briefings. In the dim lighting, two figures could be seen waiting for the Astartes.

One was a woman, tall and slender, clad in a black greatcoat with a fur-lined collar. Leaning against the far wall, her arms were folded across her chest, gloved hands hanging idly above the gilded rapier and brass plasma pistol strapped to her waist. Her hair was cut akin to a Sororitas, though the locks framing her face were an raven hue. It contrasted sharply with her pale features, and the icy blue eyes scrutinizing the other inhabitants of the room.

The other inhabitant, standing at the head of the table rather than seated, was a more squat and somewhat portly man. Clad in polished carapace armor inlaid with silver engravings, his dark greying hair was kept long and wavy, if somewhat messy, while the goatee gave him an almost roguish appearance. His tanned skin almost matched his hazel eyes, which seemed to hold a look of near-boredom. A light-framed duelist chainsword hung at his side, while a bolt pistol was strapped to a drop-holster on his thigh. A mix of form and functionality, it seemed.

Both humans were silent as the Astartes made their entrance. Once they had taken their seats, the man at the head of the table cleared his throat. "Ahem. Yes. Introductions are in order, as formality dictates," he stated factually, giving a small nod. "I am Interrogator Ismael Varquis. Inquisitor Bethel Ivanov-" he gave a small tilt of his head towards the woman lurking in the back, "And myself are pleased to make your acquaintance." The woman's expression remained cold and blank, her eyes slowly studying each Astartes in turn. The man cracked a polite smile. "We have read your data files. Extensively. But perhaps you would like to make your own... personal introductions?" he asked pleasantly, extending a hand in invitation.

[JNAProductions]

Gordon Gavstoksy, Scout of the White Scars. Or, I suppose, formerly of the White Scars. It's a pleasure to meet the both of you, Gordon says, extending a hand to each of them in turn before taking his seat.

I'm assuming the man is friendly enough to shake hands, but the woman is not. If that's wrong, let me know.

After shaking the hand of Ismael, and receiving cold silence from Bethel, Gordon takes a chair, smiling at the two Inquisitors. So, what are we here for? I'm eager to serve the Emperor and the people of our fine Empire.

[Seanfall]

Zorael gave a sigh before speaking. "Zorael, apothecary of the Blood Angels." Zorael was in basic robes at the moment. He had been fine tuning his medical equipment before being called to this meeting. He offered a nod of the head to the Interrogator and another to the silent Inquisitor before taking his seat. The bags under his eyes had deepened lately, so many things to go over when treating Astartes not of Sanguinius's blood.

[Emperor Ing]

Razael Odiar. The Astartes introduced himself, standing out amongst the other posthuman giants in the room in his tailored red tunic with gold embroidery, long pants similarly colored and embroidered. His long face appeared uninterested as he looked down on the Interrogator. His prominent cheekbones framed on either side by long, flowing locks of blonde hair that only just touched his shoulders, parted down the center along perfect lines, like parallel flowing waterfalls of gold.

Razael brushes his hair across his forehead as he continues. Beautiful Assault Marine of the Blood Angels.

[Talkkno]

Hakon was used to the cold, or so he thought. The chill of Fernis was of its roaring blizzards, hellish storms and the chill of endless ice, ever shifting, ever changing, always in motion.
This was something all together, staid, dead, sterile. It always bothered him to think there were men who willingly confine for their whole lives themselves to such a place with a thin skin of the void between themselves and death, much like the robes we wore. He shook his head as he pushed thought aside.
Hakon was small and lanky by the standards of most Space Marines, one could mistake him for a human if not for his fangs. He narrowed his eyes; a pair of deep set gaunt and grey with unkempt black hair that that was akin to bowl of fallen leaves.

He replied ruefully with a simple nod
"Hakon of the Vlka Fenryka."

[cybric]

Sher'kan enters rhe briefing rooming wearing a basic robe as rhe orher astartes did. Immediately his ebon skin and crimson burning eyes woukd make him unmistakably as a son of nocturne.

Although he is cordial and polite for a space marine he does not shake hands with the inquisitor or interrigator instead making eye contact with his new deathwatch team members.

Sher'kan battle brother of the Salamanders chapter. His eyes move from battle brother to battle brother. I am also eager to bring death to the enemies of mankind in order to sheild humanity from the bile that is the Xenos

[Lycan 01]

The Inquisitor makes no motions to shake hands, nor any real motions at all. She simply watches the Space Marines like some sort of stellar hawk, surveying them intently. Interrogator Varquis tries to hide his apprehension as Gordon extends a hand for him to shake. But he is courteous enough to accept it. He then also tries to hide his discomfort as the Astartes clearly has a much stronger grip than he is accustomed to. Forcing a smile and tucking his sore hand behind his back, he gestures with his other hand for the Astartes to take a seat.

"Yes, excellent. Now that we have formalities out of the way, I suppose we may get down to business," he states, his forced smile becoming a more genuine smirk. "The Inquisitor has requested you for this mission for due to your skills, experiences, and personality profiles. Your objectives may require a certain mixture of diplomacy, strategy, stealth... or outright violence," he states with a small nod. He then begins to type at a small data-board on the table, which soon brings up a holo-display in the center of the room, hovering above the table.

"In the 38th Millenia, Saint Alvia Hathberg was a Sanctioned Psyker attached to an Imperial Guard contingent. This regiment participant in the Crusade which wrenched control of a Korvax system away from a variety of the Imperium's foes. Orks, heretics, motley crews of renegades and Xeno filth..." he muses, as ancient mosaics of a gold-armored heroine flicker across the holo-display. "In time, she rose in rank and prestige, personally leading countless assaults and sieges across multiple battlefields. And in time, the Inquisition began to view her with suspicion," he states with a small scowl. "For you see, though she was indeed a Sanctioned Psyker, her abilities and powers were reportedly... negligible. She should have been, to be blunt, an expendable asset. Instead, later battlefield reports would include supposed accounts of her performing miracles. Miracles far beyond her reported abilities as a psyker. Unfortunately for her, she was eventually felled by in battle against a warband of heretics and Traitor Legionaries. However, her death galvanized the Imperial Guardsmen fighting alongside her, who saw her as a martyr for their cause and the Emperor's Glory. Their hearts filled with vengeful zeal, they fought with renewed vigor and determination; victory was won that day. A final miracle, some might say," he smiles wryly, stroking his goatee thoughtfully.

The holo-display flickers. The Astartes see a vibrant and beautiful Cardinal world, with gilded statues standing tall over picturesque vistas of emerald forests and hills. Robed pilgrims and faithful bow and pray before massive cathedrals, as penitents bath in sacred fountains overseen by Sororitas. Ecclesiarchs preach before throngs of thousands, holding aloft tattered scrolls, rusted weapons, and the occasional bleached bone. "Saint Hathburg's death won the agri-world of Verdan Prime from the clutches of the Enemy. In the centuries since that victory, the world inevitably became a shrine to her honor, and to the memory of the other warriors and martyrs of that crusade. The Ecclesiarchy awarded her sainthood, though they - naturally - downplayed her nature as a psyker."

A few more holo-diplays flicker. Large cathedrals and shrines, but also classrooms filled with young children, training fields with marching Sororitas, and a firing range with several stormtrooper cadets doing weapon drills. "There are several rather impressive cathedrals and shrines on the world, some of which double as Schola Progeniums. And it is one of those which you will be visiting. For you see, the Saint's body was destroyed in battle, but she left behind many relics. Her armor, her bolt-pistol, and her power sword. Each is entombed separately within one of these 'Shrine-Scholas.' The one you will be visiting is the one which currently holds her blade. And your mission..."

The Interrogator frowns.

"Is to recover it, through any means necessary."

[Emperor Ing]

Razael frowns in turn. While the idea of visiting such a Cardinal World delighted him immensely, the Interrogator was being vague.

What information exists about the thieves? He asks.

[Talkkno]

"...and such retrieval requires Astartes deployment on such idyllic world?" Hakon replied with a slight frown.

[cybric]

Deployment of a deathwatch strike team is a very strong...message to send interrigator it d does lead us to wonder what would require waits like us when you surely weild enough power to retrieve it a number of ways. How does the retrieval if this sword protect the imperium better?

[Seanfall]

Zorael turned to his Brother Blood Angel, "You misunderstand, we are to the be the thieves. That is what it amounts to does it not Interrogator? Dispatching a Deathwatch team to a Holy Schola to retrieve a blade. Do you suspect corruption?" The Apothecary was not pleased by this mission.

"I would assume you do, otherwise such an action might provoke other arms of the Holy Imperium, the Sisters of the Adeptas Sorotias among them."

[JNAProductions]

Well, we're heroes of the Imperium, are we not? Getting in should be quite easy-a pilgrimage from the Angels of Death, while unusual, would certainly not be a way to instigate aggression, rather adoration. Of course, getting out... Gordon says.

[cybric]

I agree with Brother Zorael if corruption is suspected give us a root and we will rip it out, if there is Xenos infiltration show us their nest and we will burn it, however this looks at face value as if you are intending to use us as exaggerated burglers invading a home in the night Inquisitor. It does not sit well on my honor or the honor of the deathwatch. Surely there must be more to the mission then you have let on. I would know more.


Trying out the rolling system. I'm hoping to get the interrogator to divulge more information

[roll0]

I'd like to be able to use my fellowship in order to be charming/ charismatic enough to have him tell us more then he would let on

Edit: Ah man I don't think that the emperor was with that roll to say the least

[Lycan 01]

The Inquisitor actually cracks a faint smile, though it is unclear as to what. It fades after a moment.

Interrogator Varquis holds a hand aloft, and smiles assuringly. "Do not be concerned, honored Astartes. You are not here to be petty thieves. For you see, there is a chance - a minor chance, but a chance nonetheless - that the Saint's blade may have been... tarnished. Tainted, in some way, rather than sanctified. Your recovery of the blade is integral to determining whether the Saint is indeed worthy of such an honorable title. Or, if there is any sort of taint to the blade, heretechical, Chaos, or Xenos, it must be determined whether she knew of its nature. In essence, your mission is to either clear the Saint's name... or condemn it," he frowns.

The Interrogator then nods to Sher'kan. "But yes. The Inquisition does wield enough power to easily pluck the blade from its resting place. But-" he nods to Zorael, "To do so would have created a schism between the Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy in that sector. And as you surely know, the Ordo Hereticus might have normally pursued such investigations. But naturally, few among their ranks would desire to investigate a dead and honored Saint, or raise the ire of the Ecclesiarchy and Sororitas with whom they tend to cooperate so closely. No, the file on her has laid dormant for several centuries now. But," he clasps his hands together, "Not forgotten. The Inquisition is patient. And now a golden opportunity has presented itself. One which you are each perfectly suited for."

Interrogator Varquis types once more on the data-board. The holo-projection once more flickers, and the beautiful imagery of the Cardinal world is transformed into something that likely fills each of the Astartes with righteous fury. The beautiful cathedrals have been replaced by smouldering cathedrals under the smoke-filled sky. Idyllic vistas replaced by miles of fractured earth, cratered battlefields, and sprawling trench networks. The pious and devout pilgrims and faithful, replaced by mud-smeared PDF and volunteer soldiers, gaunt-eyed but determined. And the final image is hard to witness, but easy to recognize.

A sea of green.

Thousands of orks, pouring from drop-ships and crash-landing meteors. Clad in varieties of ramshackle armor, wielding a myriad of weapons, roaring in monstrous delight as they lay siege to the holy world, for reasons unimaginable.

Varquis scowls. "For nearly two years, Verdan Prime has been under siege. At first it was a minor incursion, though to be a few stray Orks from a local system. The first invasion was easily repulsed. Months later, the returned, with far greater numbers. Local Guard garrisons were mustered from the adjacent planets, and it seemed as though it would be a simple war of attrition with victory inevitable. But... over the last few months, those adjacent planets have come under siege as well. It would seem the initial incursion was not the work of some stray Orks, but rather the probing tendrils of a developing Waaaagh!," he grimaces, as if the word is painful to speak. "The Imperial Navy is scheduled to transport a large contingent of Guard forces to Verdan Prime immediately, to stave off and repulse the inevitable Ork reinforcements. It is unlikely that the planet will fall, but there is definite risk to some of the holy shrines and relics found on the world. Items which the Orks would no doubt take alien glee in defiling, and which would bring great shame upon the world and its defenders. The battle lines have drawn closer to the Shrine-Schola where the Saint's blade rests; your 'official' mission is to recover it and transport it offworld for safekeeping, lest it fall into Ork possession."

He smiles knowingly at the Astartes. "You would be defying the Xeno their satisfaction, and aiding the Inquisition in a long-unfinished investigation. The sort of thing each of you would take great pride and honor in, yes?"

[Talkkno]

Hakon furrowed his brow as he ruminated on the information, gripping a hilt of a imaginary blade.
"If the battlelines draw so close, it seems likely that by the time we reach the planet the relics could have been lost to the greenskins before we reach Verdan Prime." He stated bluntly.

[Lycan 01]

"The Shrine-Schola is built like a fortress. By the time you arrive, it will likely be under siege, but even with a modest garrison it can hold steadfast for a minimum of several months. The Imperial Guard will likely reinforce it once the contingent makes landfall; it should be easy for you to book passage aboard mechanized or aerial transportation. If, however, the Shrine-Schola has somehow fallen..." His expression darkens. "Your mission remains. Recover the relic, and if that is not feasibly possible, ensure its destruction to keep it out of Xeno hands."

[JNAProductions]

Hakon furrowed his brow as he ruminated on the information, gripping a hilt of a imaginary blade.
"If the battlelines draw so close, it seems likely that by the time we reach the planet the relics could have been lost to the greenskins before we reach Verdan Prime." He stated bluntly.

Then we fight our way to it. An ork horde is no match for us! Gordon says triumphantly.

Though it might be in our best interest to try a stealthy approach, he admits, if at all possible.

[Seanfall]

Zorael's hand formed into a fist, which slammed down hard enough on the table to leave a dent in lesser metals. Rage indeed filled him, his worn and weary exterior melting away in a rush of blood boiling rage. "Now that is something that should have been mentioned sooner. The Ork scum have taken one to many Battle Brothers from the Angels. I assume after recovering the blade we may be allowed to...aid the Guardsmen?"

[Emperor Ing]

Ugh! Orks, such abominations. Surely our mission presents us with many opportunities to remove these hideous monsters from this lovely world. Razael remarks in thought, hand under his chin. Yet, simply "booking" a flight will not be simple, I imagine. Waaaghs! have aircraft, and anti-air. There's no guarantee the defenders will have air superiority.

[Talkkno]

Hakon brushed aside Gordon's bravado with a snort. He didn't like this, it all seemed...too easy to requires the intervention of the Emperor's finest. No there had something more, something the Inquisition was hiding. It was a natural reaction for the Space Wolf, the bad blood between the Vlka Fenryka and the Inquisition was legendary and this distrust was inherited as much was his geneseed as he focused on his senses for any signs of duplicity; the tinge of sweat, the beating of the heart, furrow of the brow and more.


[roll0]

[cybric]

Sher'kan was starting to get a feeling for the different characters of each of his new battle brothers. Tacturn, stoic, wrathful. Most of them came to the deathwatch from different chapters with drastically different cultures. The were removed from one another but they were united by their shared heritage in the emperor and in their dedication to the Imperium of Man although how they showed it was drastically different.

Once we arrive and have more real time data we'll be able to make a entry strategy. I'm assuming we'll have local contacts that we can liaison with that will provide us with intel to fill in the gaps?

[Lycan 01]

Another ghost of a smile across the Inquisitor's face. Brief, but visible.

The Interrogator nods along, seemingly satisfied with the responses and discourse. "Excellent, excellent. Yes, you should have contacts available," he nods to Sher'kan. "The Imperial Guard will be sending small strike forces to several key locations. We... may be able to influence which strike force is sent to aid in the reinforcement of the Shrine-Schola," he says, a sly smile forming behind his goatee. "After all, they will be aiding the Deathwatch in their 'mission,' so it only makes sense that you should have some say in what Guardsmen you are to be working with. From what our sources indicate, the main strike forces will be composed of veteran Kriegsmen, fresh Cadians, or a small unit of Militarum Tempestus stormtroopers," he explains. "Each, as you know, has their own strengths and weaknesses."

"The Shrine-Schola itself should have several key faculty members, assuming they have not been relocated or removed from the conflict." Or killed, but that goes without saying. "After all, teachers at such Scholas are often veterans of the Imperial guard, experienced members of the Ecclesiarchy, and other such individuals you may no doubt find helpful. Or useful..." he muses.

He then turns to Zorael, his smile fading somewhat. "Your mission is to recover the blade, and if possible, determine its true nature. Should the blade prove to be tainted, you will have two options - ensure it is delivered to Inquisitorial possession, or ensure it is destroyed beyond doubt. It cannot fall into the hands of the Xenos regardless. Now, should you come across opportunities to aid the PDF or Guard during your mission, and it does not endanger the mission, then you are free to carry out your honorable duty in assisting them. But defending the Shrine-Schola is not your objective. Assisting the PDF and Guard is not your objective. And if, for any reason, they prove to be an obstacle in your recovery of the relic...." His voice trails off, and his expression grows grim. The implications hang heavy in the air.

Recover the relic, through any means necessary.



Hakon

The Space Wolf inhales the sights, sounds, and scents of the room through his every sense.

The room is cold. Sterile. Unnaturally so. Void vessels are so much different from "real" environments. But as unnerving as the absence of natural scents and sounds may be, it makes it much easier to pick on what is available.

The Interrogator does not seem to be lying. He is slightly nervous, but that is easily chalked up to being in the presence is superhuman warriors that could easily rend him in twain should he accidentally insult them. Inquisition or not, he is clearly aware that certain precautions and etiquette must be maintained. Subtle pauses in his speech, small adjustments in his posture. He is definitely being careful and precautionary, but he does not appear to be acting deceptive. No spikes in heartrate, no sweating or rapid eye movements, no pheromones from stress... Indeed, he seems to be speaking quite truthfully thus far, aside from the occasional careful choice of wording so as not to offend or give wrong impressions.

The Inquisitor... is very cold. Her heartrate and breathing and normal, as if under perfect control. Her posture is stern and proper. She gives no signs of being under stress, or attempting to be deceptive. She is simply being analytical, not just of the Astartes, but of Interrogator Varquis. After all, Interrogators are Inquisitors-in-training, and it makes sense that she would wish to keep a keen eye on how he handles himself in situations such as this. She also smells very sterile. As if she takes efforts to keep her attire and person free of scents and indications as to her nature, where she has recently been, or other subtle details. That, or she knew there would be a Space Wolf present, and wished to keep him guessing about her.....




Group, OOC

You have a choice of what Guard unit accompanies you to the Schola. This can be decided in-game during an upcoming intermission, or you can decide on it OOC. Your options are:

Death Korp of Krieg - Obedient, expendable, fanatical. Trench warfare and siege experts, the men of Krieg act more like pawns on a chessboard then actual soldiers. They will follow orders without question, but are also lacking in... people skills. Their fanatical devotion to duty is both useful, and problematic.

Cadian Shock Troops - Well-trained and duty-driven, the soldiers of Cadia are the standard to which other Guardsmen are measured. These soldiers are devoted to the mission and the Imperium, though not nearly as fanatical as the Kriegsmen. They're certainly more... personable, though.

Tempestus Scions - Veteran warriors, trained in Schola Progeniums and hardened by battle. Rugged and reliable, their weaponry and training far exceed most Guardsmen, though their numbers are fewer.


Just a heads up. Feel free to discuss it in the OOC at length.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal takes in a breath. "....Yes your right. Forgive me, I...should not let my hate cloud my judgement." Zoreal looked to his hand, for a moment he swore he felt the weight of his pistol in his hand. The marine shook his hand and visibly calmed at the Interrogator's words. "I am sure that being told we are securing a relic will assuage the PDF and Schola defenders."

[Talkkno]

Like the grave itself Hakon thought as his senses confirmed his suspicions, but he said nothing. He simply narrowed his eyes for a moment at the Inquisitor when he discovered her efforts to fool him.

[Emperor Ing]

The Kreigsmen have experience, but they also have a well-earned reputation of suicidal fanaticism. Rumor is that Commissars attached to Kreig regiments are meant to reign in suicidal bravery rather than cowardice. Their experience would surely temper such fanaticism and they will be far more efficient than the Cadians, who surely will possess overwhelming numbers. However given their relative lack of experience, they are more likely to rout than the other options, even with a backbone of Astartes to rally around and inspire them.

To Razael, the most useful of groups would be the Stormtroopers. They will assuredly have the smallest numbers, but in a warzone that might be an asset. A small force is more nimble and attracts far less attention, and in situations where mobility is the key, a smaller strikeforce will cover more ground than a bulky, bloated strikeforce of troopers far less equipped than Stormtroopers. Razael has seen what a Hot-Las can do.

Stormtroopers can move more quickly, their smaller numbers attracting less attention, while dispatching those we do attract. Razael answered. What say you, Brothers? Though I must know...

Razael turns to the Interrogator. How shall we make our entrance? Drop-Pod behind enemy lines? Teleportarium into the heart of the Schola?

[Lycan 01]

Zoreal takes in a breath. "....Yes your right. Forgive me, I...should not let my hate cloud my judgement." Zoreal looked to his hand, for a moment he swore he felt the weight of his pistol in his hand. The marine shook his hand and visibly calmed at the Interrogator's words. "I am sure that being told we are securing a relic will assuage the PDF and Schola defenders."

The Interrogator nods. "Your zeal is natural, and shall prove useful in time. As I said, we have selected each of you for your strengths and skills. It is highly unlikely they will question the Emperor's Finest, though we did take care to leave Librarians from your squad. They would have likely raised suspicion or worse among the more devout defenders..."


Like the grave itself Hakon thought as his senses confirmed his suspicions, but he said nothing. He simply narrowed his eyes for a moment at the Inquisitor when he discovered her efforts to fool him.

When he narrows his eyes at her, the Inquisitor returns his gaze. Her blue eyes are piercing, a cold stare that seems to burrow into his very soul. Did the room suddenly get a bit colder? No, surely just his imagination...


The Kreigsmen have experience, but they also have a well-earned reputation of suicidal fanaticism. Rumor is that Commissars attached to Kreig regiments are meant to reign in suicidal bravery rather than cowardice. Their experience would surely temper such fanaticism and they will be far more efficient than the Cadians, who surely will possess overwhelming numbers. However given their relative lack of experience, they are more likely to rout than the other options, even with a backbone of Astartes to rally around and inspire them.

To Razael, the most useful of groups would be the Stormtroopers. They will assuredly have the smallest numbers, but in a warzone that might be an asset. A small force is more nimble and attracts far less attention, and in situations where mobility is the key, a smaller strikeforce will cover more ground than a bulky, bloated strikeforce of troopers far less equipped than Stormtroopers. Razael has seen what a Hot-Las can do.

Stormtroopers can move more quickly, their smaller numbers attracting less attention, while dispatching those we do attract. Razael answered. What say you, Brothers? Though I must know...

Razael turns to the Interrogator. How shall we make our entrance? Drop-Pod behind enemy lines? Teleportarium into the heart of the Schola?

Interrogator Varquis gives an aloof shrug. "That depends on the situation groundside. Assuming the Shrine-Schola is not yet under siege, it will likely be a mechanized advance. But if it is already under attack, my coin would be on an airborne insertion, likely via grav-chutes if the skies are unfriendly."

[Seanfall]

"Will we have time to decide on our support upon arrival or must things be in motion before hand? As I understand most of the Schola's are large sprawling structures does that still hold true? If so then the Kriegsman or the Cadian's would be our best choice."

[JNAProductions]

Do you have any more details? Exact numbers, floor layouts of the shrine, anything like that?

[Lycan 01]

"Will we have time to decide on our support upon arrival or must things be in motion before hand? As I understand most of the Schola's are large sprawling structures does that still hold true? If so then the Kriegsman or the Cadian's would be our best choice."

Interrogator Varquis gives another idle wave of a gloved hand. "Your transit will likely take several weeks, assuming favorable currents. Plenty of time to decide amongst yourselves and pass your recommendation along to the commanding officers, or perhaps even take opportunity to meet the Guardsmen and test their abilities yourselves before the battle is joined. Assuming you would make time for such things," he muses, unsure of whether the Astartes would rather spend the entire voyage in training or meditation.


Do you have any more details? Exact numbers, floor layouts of the shrine, anything like that?

He turns his attention to Gordon, and nods. "You will be provided with blueprints and maps of the Shrine-Schola and the surrounding countryside. Unfortunately, we have no reliable intel on the current defenders. The facility normally plays host to several hundred students, mixed between young Sororitas, Priests, Commissars, so on and so forth. Not to mention pilgrims and clergy who frequent or tend the shrine. It's presumable that a contingent of PDF troops have been stationed there as a precaution, though the exact numbers will likely depend on the threat the Orks pose when you arrive. They could be on the defensive, or..." He frowns, not wanting to finish that thought.

[Talkkno]

"Inquisitor, do you anything to add?" Hakon remarked quietly cutting through the existing conservation like a blade thrust into snow.

[cybric]

Hakon's words draw Sher'kans attention and his crimson red eyes turn to regard the Inquisitor leaning against the wall.

The fact that she had not directly addressed the Astartes was strange and Sher'Kan was interested to see how she would respond

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was about to suggest to end the meeting, then the Wolf spoke up. The Blood Angel looked from one to the other, waiting for a response.

[Emperor Ing]

With nothing to add, Razael stood still, eyeing the Inquisitor, a finger under his lip in anticipation and thought.

[Lycan 01]

The Interrogator looks slightly taken off guard, and does his best not to show it. It's clear that he wasn't expecting them to approach the Inquisitor directly.

The Inquisitor... smiles. Her eyes close, and for a moment she seems to wear a soft little smirk of satisfaction. Or is it simply just amusement?

She then steps forward. Her arms uncross, instead reaching behind her back so that she can clasp her hands together. She strides forward slowly, purposefully. She then stands next to the Interrogator, and though she is slightly shorter in stature, she almost seems to tower over him with her presence.

The smile fades, and her eyes open. "You have your mission," she states firmly, voice as cold and stern as the metal that makes up the void-fortress around them. "I have selected each of you with the trust that you will carry out that mission without failure or dishonor. I know that some of you may be incline to pursue vengeance upon the greenskins, protect the humans caught in their path, or seek glory and honor for your patron Chapters. But..." Her eyes narrow, their icy gaze slowly drifting from Astartes to Astartes. "You must not forget the mission. And I need you to understand something very important here."

Her mouth curls into a small scowl. "There is a very real possibility, minuscule or not, that the Saint's relic is tainted - and perhaps the Saint was as well. If you discover proof of this suspicion, it would mean the Shrine-Schola is a monument to treachery and deception, or worse. Thus, its defense becomes a worthless endeavor. Bear in mind, revealing nature of your investigation to the defenders would greatly endanger operational security; suspicion and uncertainty would no doubt unravel morale among the defenders and give the Orks the upper hand. In the event you discover evidence or proof of our suspicions, you are to immediately turn all focus towards extraction. Or the destruction of the 'relic' to prevent further corruption or threats to yourselves or others."

The scowl deepens. "Surely you realize how the defenders would react should you attempt to seize the relic and in their eyes abandon them to the Orks, let alone make any attempts to destroy it. They may prove problematic, if not outright hostile. Let me state this clearly, to put to rest any doubts or concerns you may feel if or when such a situation arises: you are authorized to use deadly force upon anything or anyone who stands between you and your mission, be they xenos or Imperial."

[Talkkno]

"Very well, you shall your relic, I have no more questions." Hakon replied.

[cybric]

I as well am satisfied with what I have heard. We shall retrieve the relic and if there is evidence of taint it will be contained. By the oaths of honor that we and our chapters have sworn to the Ordos Xenos this shall be done.

[Emperor Ing]

Such a terrible waste. Nevertheless, the relic will be returned. Either in whole or in pieces.

[Seanfall]

"As you say inquisitor. Either we save a relic and prove a saint innocent. Or we expose a dangerous corruption. I have no further questions, I Must begin reviewing my Brothers medical files."

[JNAProductions]

Where will you two be, while we are out in the field?

[Lycan 01]

Such a terrible waste. Nevertheless, the relic will be returned. Either in whole or in pieces.

The Inquisitor turns her gaze upon him, though her expression remains neutral. "If your mission goes as intended, nothing shall be wasted. As your brother observed, either precious relic will be recovered from foul Xeno corruption, or devout Imperials will no longer waste their lives defending heresy. A 'win-win' as they say, yes?"


Where will you two be, while we are out in the field?

The Inquisitor tilts her head to Interrogator Varquis. He coughs, resuming control of the briefing. "We will be attending to other matters. The watchful eyes of the Inquisition never sleep, alas," he says, cracking a dry smile.

He extends a hand in gesture towards the squad. "Now, unless you have further inquiries, we shall leave you to discuss the mission and how you may desire to approach it. We have authorized you to requisition a few specialized weapons or other gear for this mission, so you may wish to determine what would best suit the mission or you skills before you depart for the armor. And, of course, the traditional selection of leadership and swearing of oaths..." he muses.

The Inquisitor is already striding towards the door as he finishes speaking.

Hakon

As she passes by, your wolfen senses pick up the subtle whine and click of augmetics, and the faint scent of metal. The sounds and scents are not of a single joint or limb, but multiple. It seems that the Inquisitor has extensive prosthetic replacements or enhancements beneath her greatcoat.

She pauses at the door, glancing over her shoulder towards the Interrogator as she waits for the briefing to conclude.

[JNAProductions]

Alright. I've the most experience mounted, but in the shrine's tight confines, I'm not sure a bike would be our best choice.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal stood up after the Interrogator finished. "I believe I have what I need, I'll go over my supplies to see what is missing and submit a requisition request." Zoreal was already thinking of extra doses of pain suppressants, medical supplies, and the like. He was considering a bolter and several magazines of shredder rounds. Other then that he had all needed.

[cybric]

Indeed I'm in agreement with brother Zoreal. Id request that all the files relavent to the schola and the saint be copied to our ships library for review id rather avoid surprises and be done with this business

With that Sher'kan stands, tilts his head in a slight bow towards the inquisitor and leaves the room and begins preparing for the mission.

His first stop would be the watchs librarium to see if there were any materials related to their mission that the interigator perhaps had failed to mention or bring up.

In addition he'd request materials related to the chapters of his other team mates. While the overall characters of the chapters were known he was looking for more cultural information. Anything that could cause conflict with the team or allow him to better lead them could only help



Librarium scene is basically a excuse to know more about the other chapters than woukd probably other wise be known. If my lore is correct chapters hear kinda like rumors about each others culture but their not really familiar with one another most of the time

[Lycan 01]

The Inquisitor and Interrogator silently left the squad to themselves and their duty. Sher'kan would soon find the Librarium to be somewhat informative, though also vague. It contained many records of various Chapters' accomplishments and triumphs, particularly of their individual contributions to the Deathwatch, as well as ample clues to their cultures and values. However, it does not reveal information such as genetic flaws and other often-suppressed information - only Apothecaries would have access to such information, more than likely.

The requisitioning of the gear goes smoothly. The squad is granted access to several useful pieces of technology, such as a back-mounted vox caster and a Signum device. The Techmarines of the armory are also willing to part with an Astartes-pattern melta-gun, once they conclude the proper rites and wardings against catastrophic malfunction. With oil and prayer seals properly applied, the weapon is placed in a carrying case for storage aboard the ship. However, another item of interest is also placed aboard the ship for them, the squad soon discovers. It seems the Inquisitor has seen fit to requisition them a small stasis casket. Large enough to hold a single weapon, a small creature, or a severed Astartes limb. No doubt for the safe return of the relic...

Yes, it would seem that much of the squad's business has been attended to. As they enter the Watch-Station's hangar to board the transport which will carry them to the Imperial Navy vessel, they see the Interrogator and Inquisitor watching them from a distant catwalk. The former gives a small nod, a jaunty smirk on his face as he gives a sweeping gesture of his hand to bid them a safe voyage and successful mission. The latter simply stares, arms folded behind her back, expression as cold and distant as the stars themselves...



---------------------------- =][= ----- INTERMISSION ----- =][= --------------------------


Three weeks in the Warp had passed quickly for the Astartes. They had spent many hours, perhaps even days on end, training and working to create a tight and cohesive unit. Friendships and rivalries had perhaps developed, but regardless, they had become a team. And with only a few days left to the trip, they had found themselves with a few of time on their hands. Perhaps they would prefer to stay in their own quarters, but for the marines who opted to explore the Imperial Navy ship, there would be no lack of things to see or do. Especially with several regiments of the Imperial Guard aboard as well.

The ships Librarium was not as well-stocked or elegant as one might find on Rogue Trader or even an Astartes ship. It was certainly imposing, but many of the books, tomes, and data-slates which filled it were of the "archaic military scholarship" genre. There were a few noteworthy exceptions, such as the ship's own battle reports and action records, and several volumes of records on the regiments and passengers it had carried over the last several millenia. But should any of the Astartes visit it, they will find it very quiet and almost lifeless. A few officers sit in solitude, studying over old records. The older and more experienced ones seem genuinely interested, while a few of the junior officers seem either bored and beleaguered.

The ship's Medical Bay is also very empty at this point in the voyage. Mostly injuries stemming from training accidents among the Guardsmen, and work-related injuries for the ship's crew. And, of course, the occasional broken noses and concussions that results from foreign regiments interacting for the first time.

The Mess Hall is much more lively. Squads of Guardsmen from the various regiments partake in the finest delicacies that can be offered aboard an Imperial Navy troop transport, perfectly summarized by one Cadian corporal as "Mystery Paste." The soldiers do not seem to mix among the different regiments, and the contrasts between their attitudes and demeanor are readily apparent. The soldiers of Cadia raucously enjoy each other's company, while the sullen soldiers of Krieg huddle together and almost seem to hurry to finish their meals and put their gas masks back on. In fact, the Mess Hall is perhaps the only place where one might see a Kriegsman's face, as the surprisingly young soldiers stare blankly at their meals without a word. Meanwhile, the stormtroopers of Aurix Primaris, clad in their white and gold dress uniforms, keep to themselves and keep their voices low, though the occasional burst of laughter may be heard from their tables.

Meanwhile, the Astartes will find quite a bit of activity on the Training Fields. Deep in the heart of the ship, massive arenas full of obstacle courses, (reinforced) firing ranges, and running tracks can be found. There, it is easy to find several platoons from each regiment constantly working to hone their skills, though few of them seem to interact with each other. The Cadians seem to be focusing on hand-to-hand combat, while the Aurix Primaris stormtroopers practice weapon drills. The Kriegsmen seem content to work on their endurance, running through the obstacle courses or marching the tracks in full uniform.

[JNAProductions]

Gordon, entering the mess, surveys the three groups of people, and decides to sit with...

[roll0]
1-Cadians
2-Krieg
3-Stormtroopers

The stormtroopers. He pulls out a chair, taking a seat in an unoccupied spot, and says Greetings, gentlemen. I saw your work on the training field earlier-I must say, I was particularly impressed by that fellow there, at the end of the table. What's your name, son?

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was in the med bay, he had kept to himself during the voyage. Though he was with his squad during all the drills and practice he could be. The Blood Angel had also made a habit of watching the Guardsmen train. He was assessing each group, his choice still lie with the Kreigsmen. It was perhaps unfair that the Astartes choice would most likely be made last minute. They were all well drilled, still being chosen last minute could affect them psychologically. Zoreal shook his head and refocused on what was in front of him.

Deathwatch Apothecaries are highly scrutinized. All Deathwatch members were of course, but the Apothecaries especially. Perhaps only the Psykers were vetted as thoroughly. Because the Apothecaries are granted access to the knowledge of other Chapters Gene-Seeds. To know how to treat the Brothers of that Chapter and if necessary. Harvest the Gene-Seed upon death.

White Scars, First founding. A very old Gene-seed, surprisingly little mutation. Or perhaps not so surprising, since they were supposedly crafted by the Emperor himself. I wonder how many of those tales are true?

Zoreal went over Gordon Gavstoksy's medical file.

Nurgle Incursion, no signs of corruption. Vetted by his own Chapter and Chaplin. Still...exposure to such taint might have had long term effects that have yet to surface. Blood tests came back normal though, I'm just overthinking it.

Sitting the file aside he moved to the next one.

Hakon, Space Wolf. Small for an Astartes. 'Chooser of the slain'? Oh he's a scout, that's unique to the wolves. I see Canis Helix, don't see much chance of him becoming 'Wulfen' on this mission.

Again he looked at the next.

Sher'kan Halrik, Salamanders. Melanchromic Organ overreacted to their home worlds radiation and caused their skin to turn black as night. Not much to worry about here, naturally charismatic. He'll most likely be our Squad leader. I'm fine with that the Salamanders are a good chapter of Brothers.

He sat down Sher'kan's file and stared at Razael, it was the one he had been putting off. Rereading their files now was just another pretense for him to avoid going over it.

....No sense in putting it off. Razael Odiar, grew up on Baal like myself. I wonder if he was another at the contest I was at. Why am I bothering reading this? I'm more familiar with my own Chapter's Gene-Seed then any other so why am I...

Attached to his file was a pict of Razael's assault squad. Seeing them all sent his mind reeling back to the Ork's Assualt on Baal. And the first time he carried out his duty of 'mercy'. Zoreal sat the file down, and took in a breath.

To remind myself it seems.

After another moment he stood and made his way to the mess hall, suddenly recalling he hadn't eaten in a few days.

[Emperor Ing]

When he wasn't practicing with his new battle brothers or grooming, he observed the training of the Guardsmen. Towards this he came to many conclusions. However he quickly acknowledged how terribly his judgment was clouded by bias. The idea of these Cadians having any hope against Orks in hand-to-hand was laughable at best. Sure, three Guardsmen working in concert could reasonably be expected to fell an Ork in melee, but against Orks, the Astra Militarum's greatest advantage, numbers, was insignificant. To say nothing of the fact that although the Schola could be spacious, such a large unit of soldiers would undoubtedly slow them down and attract attention from Orks who have undoubtedly infiltrated the facility.

The Kreigsmen lacked the numbers of the Cadians and the quality of equipment of the Stormtroopers. In a way they were the worst of both worlds, with a pathological desire to die. Furthermore, when ever he saw them amongst themselves, there was a darkness about them. Some grim reality about them that made Razael uneasy, especially how they wore those ghoulish masks all the time. What are they hiding? There was nothing beautiful about them.

The Stormtroopers, however, shone brilliantly through the muck like a polished diamond. Their every movement was calculated, precise. Beautiful. Their dress uniforms were neat and pressed, nary a loose button or thread to be found. Their weaponwork, absolutely exquisite. They were Razael's first choice in who should accompany the Astartes, and their every action only served to reinforce the Blood Angels' confirmation biases.

Recognizing his own biases, however, he took a step back and attempted to assess each choice rationally and objectively.

Cadians: Overwhelming numbers. Useful in spacious and open environments. Most effective if inserted into Schola, and layout is spacious and open.

Kreigsmen: Average numbers. Excel in siege warfare. Endurance training. Experienced and brave. Most effective if insertion into Schola is infeasable and a counter-siege is required for entering the Schola.

Stormtroopers: Small numbers. Highly effective weaponry. Questionable hand-to-hand abilities. Most effective if inserted into Schola and layout is narrow.

He didn't like not having information about the Schola's layout and up-to-date battlefield information, but it was the Emperor's judgment that it be so.

[Talkkno]

The thin skin agaisnt the void Hakon thought as he sat in the mess hall, all alone in a far corner as he drank what passed for cold hard drink on the vessel, the asmeac sinking past his stomach with same kind of taste as stagnant water. Traveling through the warp was always something that made him restless, trapped in a metal coffin that could burst apart from its seams at any moment.
He pushed that thought aside as he decided to observe the reaction Gordon's presence had on the guardsmen.

[Lycan 01]

Gordon, entering the mess, surveys the three groups of people, and decides to sit with...

[roll0]
1-Cadians
2-Krieg
3-Stormtroopers

The stormtroopers. He pulls out a chair, taking a seat in an unoccupied spot, and says Greetings, gentlemen. I saw your work on the training field earlier-I must say, I was particularly impressed by that fellow there, at the end of the table. What's your name, son?

As Gordon strides through the mess hall, silence falls in his wake. The Cadian horseplay dies away, soldiers falling silent in the middle of jokes and insults as their gazes wander to the giant striding past them. Even without his armor, he sticks out quite clearly. The Astartes had only been seen sparingly, but word of their presence was all over the ship, and every Guardsman waited eagerly for the chance to see them. And when that chance arrived, it was like witnessing a miracle. One of the Emperor's finest, an Astartes. An Angel, walking among mere mortals. After he'd past them by, they quickly began to speak in hushed murmurs and urgent whispers, incredulous and ecstatic.

Even the Kriegsmen took note. Their automatic movements of eating in silence slowed, even paused, as their gazes drifted to the Astartes, lingering and staring. Their expressions remained dour and distant, but something flickered in their eyes as Gordon walked past them. Respect. Awe. Devotion. They were dead men walking. They did not deserve the honor of witnessing an Angel, let alone being mere feet from it. Once he was past, they gradually resumed eating and keeping their gazes low, though with some effort.

Arriving at the Stormtroopers' table, Gordon is greeted with surprised expressions, a few incredulous stares, and several subtle signs of the Aquila. "Ho-Honored Astartes," one of them, wearing the rank pins of Sergeant on the collar of his uniform, gives a courteous bow of his head. His right eye has been replaced by a gold-rimmed augmetic lens. In fact, many of the Aurix Primaris stormtroopers sport augmetics, often minor but elegant in design. Gold was a theme for the regiment, and the world they hailed from; it was a supplier of gold and other precious metals for many worlds in its system, and planets beyond. "We are gracious that you have chosen to join us, and to honor us with such encouragement." He then nods to the soldier Gordon had addressed.

"Speciali- I mean, Corporal-Specialist Lancelot Fedrim," the soldier nods, smiling warmly. He almost seems to grin, but restrains himself. "Thank you, Sir. We've each received extensive training with standard and 'hot-shot' lasguns, but I've always felt it was my duty to go beyond what our training requires of us. Any less might cost me and my comrades life or honor," he nods astutely.

"And that's why we made him a Corporal," the Sergeant smiles proudly, several of the other stormtroopers nodding in support of their comrade. It would seem the men in this unit are quite tight-knit...


When he wasn't practicing with his new battle brothers or grooming, he observed the training of the Guardsmen.

If Razeael is on the training field, he may overhear quite a ruckus. It seems that some of the Kriegsmen and Cadians are partaking in cooperative hand-to-hand training, in preparation for their combat against the Orks. Or at least, it was cooperative. Should he go to examine further, he'll see several squads of Cadians and Kriegsmen facing off against each other, a few soldiers from each unit scuffling on the synth-grass of the field. The Kriegsmen, he'll notice, seem to grapple and wrestle with cold efficiency, their Guard training leading them to fight with muscle memory as they pin down or chokehold their foes. The Cadians, adversely, fight much more creatively, even dirty. Ripping off gas-masks, using knees and elbows, even bearhugs and other brute-force approaches.

The highlight of the fight, though, is the Ogryn. Big, loud, and almost the size of an Ork Nob, the brute is clad in a Cadian uniform that is clearly the result of his comrades sewing several uniforms together. And he's utterly thrashing a whole squad of Kriegsmen who are trying to use numbers against him. Admittedly, the soldiers are using the proper tactics advised against large enemies like Orks, surrounding and flanking him and attacking in unison. But that doesn't stop him from just picking one of the Kriegsmen up and using the screaming soldier to smack down his comrades and leave them all in a jumbled heap, laughing quite jovially all the while. It's almost like it's a fun little game for the brute, rather than life-or-death training.

"Go Duggy!" "Get him Duggy!" "Teach 'em a lesson!" "If they can't handle you, those Orks will eat 'em alive!" His platoon cheers and jeers, urging him on against the Kriegsmen.

Meanwhile, several Death Korp officers are observing from a short distance away. Razael will notice that one of them is casually unbuckling the flap of his laspistol holster.

[JNAProductions]

As Gordon strides through the mess hall, silence falls in his wake. The Cadian horseplay dies away, soldiers falling silent in the middle of jokes and insults as their gazes wander to the giant striding past them. Even without his armor, he sticks out quite clearly. The Astartes had only been seen sparingly, but word of their presence was all over the ship, and every Guardsman waited eagerly for the chance to see them. And when that chance arrived, it was like witnessing a miracle. One of the Emperor's finest, an Astartes. An Angel, walking among mere mortals. After he'd past them by, they quickly began to speak in hushed murmurs and urgent whispers, incredulous and ecstatic.

Even the Kriegsmen took note. Their automatic movements of eating in silence slowed, even paused, as their gazes drifted to the Astartes, lingering and staring. Their expressions remained dour and distant, but something flickered in their eyes as Gordon walked past them. Respect. Awe. Devotion. They were dead men walking. They did not deserve the honor of witnessing an Angel, let alone being mere feet from it. Once he was past, they gradually resumed eating and keeping their gazes low, though with some effort.

Arriving at the Stormtroopers' table, Gordon is greeted with surprised expressions, a few incredulous stares, and several subtle signs of the Aquila. "Ho-Honored Astartes," one of them, wearing the rank pins of Sergeant on the collar of his uniform, gives a courteous bow of his head. His right eye has been replaced by a gold-rimmed augmetic lens. In fact, many of the Aurix Primaris stormtroopers sport augmetics, often minor but elegant in design. Gold was a theme for the regiment, and the world they hailed from; it was a supplier of gold and other precious metals for many worlds in its system, and planets beyond. "We are gracious that you have chosen to join us, and to honor us with such encouragement." He then nods to the soldier Gordon had addressed.

"Speciali- I mean, Corporal-Specialist Lancelot Fedrim," the soldier nods, smiling warmly. He almost seems to grin, but restrains himself. "Thank you, Sir. We've each received extensive training with standard and 'hot-shot' lasguns, but I've always felt it was my duty to go beyond what our training requires of us. Any less might cost me and my comrades life or honor," he nods astutely.

"And that's why we made him a Corporal," the Sergeant smiles proudly, several of the other stormtroopers nodding in support of their comrade. It would seem the men in this unit are quite tight-knit...

Gordon smiles broadly at Lancelot, (as usual) honoured and a bit surprised at how reverently he's being treated. You honour ME, good sirs-I've been given the best training and augmentation by the grace of the Emperor, and it would be foolish of me to do anything but serve in his name. You lot, on the other hand, fight with only human bodies-and fight well. If you are to be honoured by my presence, it only fits that I should be honoured by yours, for we're all comrades-in-arms here.

As for Lancelot, well... Gordon says, pausing for effect. How are your hand-to-hand skills, corporal? While I know you and yours work best at a distance, I'm afraid the orks are unlikely to give us the chance. Are you the type of man who excels in all fields? Or have you focused on one to exclusion of others? Answer honestly, son-there's no shame in either answer, so long as your comrades know and your team as a whole can work in all ways for Terra.

[Seanfall]

Though he intended to head to the mess hall, Zoreal stopped at the training field. He decided to get a look at the marines before eating. He caught site of Razeael and headed across the field to his brother. He noticed the commotion caused by the 'friendly' fight. But unlike Razeael was not privy to the unbuckled Laspistol.

"Brother Razeael should have known you'd be here."

[Emperor Ing]

Exquisite timing, brother! Razael allowed himself to be interrupted from his thoughts by Zorael, snapping his head to and beaming at the apothecary and his fellow Blood Angel. He realized rather quickly that rather than acting, he was hesitant by making sure he had the perfect decision rather than a decision, when timing was of the essence. Please follow my lead. Without any explanation, he began to calmly walk towards the training area. His steps unnecessarily heavy, as though he's trying to make more noise than he otherwise would.

An excellent showing! He clapped his hands as he walked in the direction towards the Ogryn, speaking loudly all the while to call attention to himself. A horrid beast if there ever was one, only Orks were uglier. Yet they were the Emperor's horrid beasts, and their effectiveness in battle was beautiful in its own way, like the twisted wreckage of a fallen Eldar Wave Serpent. He didn't expect the Ogryn to immediately listen but its death would be a terrible waste and would unquestionably cause tension between the two regiments. Diffuse diffuse diffuse the powder-keg! That was what was on Razael's mind. Stand down at once, Duggy. He said to the Ogryn, speaking calmly but firmly.

Fellowship check
[roll0]

[Seanfall]

Zoreal raised a brow at his Squad mate, but followed him anyways. Clearly he had noticed something that Zoreal had overlooked otherwise he didn't see why he'd intercede in this affair. "Yes we don't want anyone getting seriously injured before dropping into a Warzone, tends to affect Moral." Zoreal was of course speaking of the Ogyrn possibly doing lasting damage to the Kreigsmen. Again unaware of how quickly this situation could turn fatal.

[Lycan 01]

Mess Hall

The stormtroopers listen in rapt attention as Gordon speaks to them. They do not seem to have noticed the other two Astartes in the area, though it is a massive and crowded chamber, with hundreds of soldiers speaking and eating. Not that the other marines, especially Hakon, can hear their every word.

The schola-trained Scions have a reputation for being a bit on the arrogant side, especially ones from aristocratic words such as Aurix Primaris. Aurixians have a reputation for haughtiness even outside the Guard, and ones trained from birth to be apex soldiers? They tend to be particularly prideful. But in the presence of a true hero of the Imperium, it seemed their pride was faltering. And to hear such words of encouragement from an Astartes? Judging from the looks of awe and wonder, the bowing of their heads, and the lowering of their gazes, it seemed his words actually seemed to humble them a bit.

"Thank you, m'lord," Lancelot says, giving a small bow of his head. He then looks back up and offers a surprisingly meek smile. "I have trained myself to know my weapons both ranged and melee. I've trained extensively with bayonets, combat knives, and the chainsword."

"Every Guardsman who graduates from the Aurixian Scholas is trained to properly fence with a chainblade," the Sergeant observes with a small nod. "It goes beyond standard training; Aurix Primaris' nobility settle many disputes with honor duels, and the chainsword is a favored weapon."

"Though, if I had to be honest, my greatest skill is with the plasma-rifle," the young stormtrooper states, his smile turning more prideful. "It is not just a test of skill to wield it, but of mettle. And it is a challenge I am proud to accept, for the glory of the Emperor."

A round of murmuring and nodding in agreement from the other stormtroopers.




Training Field

"Wot?"

The Ogryn turns to see who is addressing him, a look of mild bewilderment and surprise on his brutish face. He sees the approaching Astartes, and grins excitedly. "Oi, lookie! Spesh Mah-"

He is cut off by several Kriegsmen who mercilessly tackle him the moment his guard is lowered. Strength in numbers proves overwhelming, and he is quickly dogpiled to the ground by the masked soldiers, who immediately begin to ruthlessly punch, kick, and stomp the downed Ogryn. To them, he is no longer a fellow Imperial Guardsman; he is a threat which must be neutralized, and nothing more.

The Cadians, naturally, don't take too kindly to this, and there is an immediate uproar among their ranks. Profanity and threats erupt, but rather than rushing in blindly, they quickly fall into rank and file. The makings of a bayonet charge, sans bayonets...

The Kreig officers' body language has shifted from indifferent observation to intense focus, and more than one has unlatched or primed their sidearm in its holster.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal's body moved faster then he could think, quickly he put himself between the Kriegsman and the Cadians, "ENOUGH!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs, if the Kreigsmen did not listen and continued to assault the Ogyrn, he could grab them by the nape of the neck and toss them like rag dolls off of the brute.

"I do not know what this is about, stand down now ALL OF YOU."


roll Fellowship
[roll0]

[JNAProductions]

Mess Hall

The stormtroopers listen in rapt attention as Gordon speaks to them. They do not seem to have noticed the other two Astartes in the area, though it is a massive and crowded chamber, with hundreds of soldiers speaking and eating. Not that the other marines, especially Hakon, can hear their every word.

The schola-trained Scions have a reputation for being a bit on the arrogant side, especially ones from aristocratic words such as Aurix Primaris. Aurixians have a reputation for haughtiness even outside the Guard, and ones trained from birth to be apex soldiers? They tend to be particularly prideful. But in the presence of a true hero of the Imperium, it seemed their pride was faltering. And to hear such words of encouragement from an Astartes? Judging from the looks of awe and wonder, the bowing of their heads, and the lowering of their gazes, it seemed his words actually seemed to humble them a bit.

"Thank you, m'lord," Lancelot says, giving a small bow of his head. He then looks back up and offers a surprisingly meek smile. "I have trained myself to know my weapons both ranged and melee. I've trained extensively with bayonets, combat knives, and the chainsword."

"Every Guardsman who graduates from the Aurixian Scholas is trained to properly fence with a chainblade," the Sergeant observes with a small nod. "It goes beyond standard training; Aurix Primaris' nobility settle many disputes with honor duels, and the chainsword is a favored weapon."

"Though, if I had to be honest, my greatest skill is with the plasma-rifle," the young stormtrooper states, his smile turning more prideful. "It is not just a test of skill to wield it, but of mettle. And it is a challenge I am proud to accept, for the glory of the Emperor."

A round of murmuring and nodding in agreement from the other stormtroopers.

Excellent! Gordon says. I myself favor the Power Maul-perhaps not a dignified weapon, but a powerful one. Now, what about the rest of you? Anything I should, any great talents?

[Emperor Ing]

A poor display, to attack a comrade while their back is turned! Razael intended to try and salvage what he can, but his Brother had already beaten him to the draw. Yes, getting backup was a wise maneuver, it seemed. He moved over to Zorael, speaking quietly so only his augmented ears could hear. It was thankful they didn't actually have bayonets, or this could have ended very poorly.

See the Kreig officers, their hands grasp to their weapons. I observed this just before you had arrived. A cross-regiment training exercise could have gotten out-of-hand and resulted in unnecessary casualties and damaged morale had we not intervened.

[Lycan 01]

Training Field

Silence immediately falls, as dozens of Guardsmen freeze in place. Many of the Cadians pale or stare in shock or awe. The Kriegsmen stand like statues, unmoving and unfeeling, their masks fixed unseeing upon the Astartes. After a moment, the Kriegsmen atop the Ogryn each take two steps back, before standing at attention. In fact, all the Kriegsmen are now standing at attention.

Duggy, sporting a bloody nose and a fat lip, doesn't get up, though he does give a thumbs-up gesture to the Marines from his comfortable patch of synthetic grass. "Thankiez," he grunts quietly, sounding more than a little appreciative.

A cough from a few yards behind the Astartes. One of the Krieg officers gives a crisp salute, before giving a small bow. "Our apologies, honored Astartes," he states matter-of-factly, almost speaking more like a machine than a man. "We will ensure disciplinary action is undertaken. And we shall speak with the Cadian officers, to make certain that such misunderstandings and cross-regimental friction are better avoided hencforth." The officers flanking him give small bows of apology and agreement.

The Cadians shift and grumble a bit amongst themselves, giving the Krieg officers a few dirty looks, though averting their gazes from the Astartes out of apology and shame for having allowed things to have reached this point.

[Talkkno]

Moving like a droplet of rain, unnoticed as he made his way to the training room his fellow Astartes were in, as they lectured and encouraged the guardsmen.
Pointless he thought for a moment as slipped himself with the space marines quitely, ruefully interjecting.
"Have any of you guardsmen even seen an Ork in the flesh before?"

[Seanfall]

Zoreal takes in a calming breath, then looks at the Kreig Officer. "I noticed a few of your men were considering taking aim with what I must assume are live weapons. Remind them that Cadians and yourselves are on the same side." Zoreal then approaches the 'Duggy', he kneels and looks the large brute over. After a moment he stands and points at one of the Cadians.

"YOU! Fetch your medical officers or get me a med-pack now. Have this solider checked for internal injuries at once."

Zoreal takes in another breath as he paces the room looking at each solider in turn. "GUARDSMEN! I am...troubled by what I have seen here today. I will leave it to your own commanders to see that punishment for this shameful display is meted out. A few months with no action and you forget so easily what you are."

Zoreal walks the line of Kreigsman, then the Cadians. "You are all of you. The Hammer of the Imperium. Soon you will be in the trenches, fighting against the Orks. When you look to your flank I want you not to see a Kreigsman, or a Cadian not even an Ogryn or a ratling. I want you to see, a Brother. An ally who will fight as fiercely and as without remorse for you as you would for them. That is all that matters on the battlefield that you are there to carry out your duty. Put this behind you. For The Imperium, for the God-Emperor. Now I ask you, WHAT ARE YOU GUARDSMEN?"

[Emperor Ing]

Razael extends a hand towards Duggy, intent on helping him stand. Are you well? He asks.

[Lycan 01]

Mess Hall


Excellent! Gordon says. I myself favor the Power Maul-perhaps not a dignified weapon, but a powerful one. Now, what about the rest of you? Anything I should, any great talents?

The stormtroopers begin to grin more confidently, their posture straightening and their shoulders squaring.

"I can field-strip, rebuild, and reload a lasgun in under a minute."

"I've trained myself to be ambidextrous with a chainsword."

"I was recommended for a bronze aquila in our last action."

The boasts and revelations continue. Some of the stormtroopers sitting at the adjacent tables even move to sit and join in, adding their own voices and accomplishments to the discussion. It seems Gordon has found a rather skilled group of troopers, though he has also found that afore-mentioned arrogance they are predisposed to...



Training Field


Moving like a droplet of rain, unnoticed as he made his way to the training room his fellow Astartes were in, as they lectured and encouraged the guardsmen.
Pointless he thought for a moment as slipped himself with the space marines quitely, ruefully interjecting.
"Have any of you guardsmen even seen an Ork in the flesh before?"

The guardsmen, already galled by the Blood Angel chiding them, seem to be further demoralized by this. Shoulders slump, and many looks of uncertainty are exchanged between the Cadians. A few of them offer meek shrugs and apologetic frowns. The Kriegsmen stand unmoving and silent, before one of the officer's present factually states: "Negative. These are fresh conscripts, on both parties. This is their first action."


Zoreal takes in a calming breath, then looks at the Kreig Officer. "I noticed a few of your men were considering taking aim with what I must assume are live weapons. Remind them that Cadians and yourselves are on the same side." Zoreal then approaches the 'Duggy', he kneels and looks the large brute over. After a moment he stands and points at one of the Cadians.

"YOU! Fetch your medical officers or get me a med-pack now. Have this solider checked for internal injuries at once."

Zoreal takes in another breath as he paces the room looking at each solider in turn. "GUARDSMEN! I am...troubled by what I have seen here today. I will leave it to your own commanders to see that punishment for this shameful display is meted out. A few months with no action and you forget so easily what you are."

Zoreal walks the line of Kreigsman, then the Cadians. "You are all of you. The Hammer of the Imperium. Soon you will be in the trenches, fighting against the Orks. When you look to your flank I want you not to see a Kreigsman, or a Cadian not even an Ogryn or a ratling. I want you to see, a Brother. An ally who will fight as fiercely and as without remorse for you as you would for them. That is all that matters on the battlefield that you are there to carry out your duty. Put this behind you. For The Imperium, for the God-Emperor. Now I ask you, WHAT ARE YOU GUARDSMEN?"

One of the Cadians quickly scurries off to find a medical officer. In response to the pep-talk, the Cadians give a chorus of "Guardsmen!," "The Hammer of the Emperor!" and other such responses. The Kriegsmen remain quiet. They have no answer; they are merely tools for the Emperor's use, and tools have no reason to speak.

The Krieg officer speaks for them, offering a small wave of a gloved hand in their direction. "They are Imperial Guardsmen, who shall do and die as ordered."

Charming.


Razael extends a hand towards Duggy, intent on helping him stand. Are you well? He asks.

"Thankiez," the Ogryn grins crookedly as he's helped up, looking a lot worse than he probably feels. "Duggy is good. Face hurts, be better soon. Spesh mahrines keep me from bein' hurt worst. They is right friendy," he grins happily. It seems the Blood Angels have made a new friend~

[Seanfall]

Zoreal actually cracked a smile for once at the Cadian's answer. If you listened closely you could hear the fabric of space and time split slightly as he did. "Good, do not forget that. Carry on."

He then turned to the Kriegsmen. "An answer worthy of respect. See to their discipline at your discretion officer. But I do not want a repeat of today's events. Dismissed." Zoreal made a sharp turn on his heel towards 'Duggy.'

"Is that so...err...Duggy? Well I want your companies medical officer to give you a once over. Ensure there's no internal injures alright? Just let them do their job so you can do yours." While he waited Zoreal whispered as Razael had to him earlier.

"I see what you meant about the Kriegsmen now. I am having second thoughts about them.

[JNAProductions]

Mess Hall

The stormtroopers begin to grin more confidently, their posture straightening and their shoulders squaring.

"I can field-strip, rebuild, and reload a lasgun in under a minute."

"I've trained myself to be ambidextrous with a chainsword."

"I was recommended for a bronze aquila in our last action."

The boasts and revelations continue. Some of the stormtroopers sitting at the adjacent tables even move to sit and join in, adding their own voices and accomplishments to the discussion. It seems Gordon has found a rather skilled group of troopers, though he has also found that afore-mentioned arrogance they are predisposed to...

Gordon, seeing their arrogance come to the fore, decides to test it, seeing if it's warranted. Well, if you're all so accomplished, how about a little competition? I won't be part of it-that wouldn't QUITE be fair, after all-but I will judge. Let's have each of you three groups-you, the stormtroopers, the loyal Cadians, and the Kriegsmen-nominate, shall we say, three champions. Then, each group of three will compete in contests of shooting, close combat, and one competition of their choosing. If you're all so talented as you say, you should win easily, of course-but if perhaps your boasting goes beyond your skills... Gordon trails off.

Does that sound like a good idea to everyone? he says more loudly, addressing the room at large.

[Emperor Ing]

Razael nodded in understanding with his fellow Blood Angel. We are all brothers-in-arms to bring the beauty and light of the Emperor to a heathen galaxy. He added to Zoreal's speech.

My brother is correct. He says to Duggy. Have a medic look you over. Make sure all is well. I want everyone at one-hundred percent when we face the Orks.

[Talkkno]

"This training is useless; a blow such as this is unlikely to kill an Ork" Hakon remarks as he deftly throws his combat knife soaring through the air, striking a headshot in one of cutouts in the training field depicting an comically small Ork used for target practice "..check your shots, and pray to the All Father that you never see the whites of their eyes." He finishes curtly as the knife found itself impaled into the surrounding bulkhead, going to retrieve it without looking back.

[cybric]

Sher'kan enters the mess hall and sees one of his team speaking with a group of storm troopers

He liked that his battle brother associated with the guardsmen. It was a duty and responsibly that many astartes took too lightly or didn't regard at all. These were the very humans that they had become more than mortal to protect risking their lives against the barbarian hordes of the xenos

Sher'kan eyes the cadians in the mess hall and approaches them knowing that his onyx colored skin and especially his glowing red eyes marked him as different astartes

greatings guardsmen. May i join you for a while and pass the time. We will all soon be tested against the anvil

[Lycan 01]

Training Field

Duggy offers a lopsided, toothy grin as he's helped up. He's actually taller than the Astartes, something they're likely not accustomed to. "Okie-doke, Duggy'll go see da doc." He tries to stand straight, and give a salute. His posture and poise are atrocious, but as they say, there is no substitute for zeal. "Lookin' forward to stompin' Orks wit' da Spesh Mahrines."

He then turns and stomps off, a couple of his Cadian comrades quickly moving to flank him and guide him towards a field medic. The soldiers are grinning and slapping him on the back as they quickly begin to banter and jest. It seems whereas the Kriegsmen have fanaticism to give them strength, the Cadians have camaraderie to aide in theirs.

Of course, when Ranek begins to make his remarks, Cadians and Kriegsmen alike turn their attention towards him. Even Duggy and his comrades pause their exit, turning to hear his words. When the knife is thrown, there are many flinches, jolts, and looks of shock and surprise. However, his biting words and "encouragement" seem to threaten their resolve. Many looks of concern and worry are exchanged, shoulders slumping and grimaces forming on previously-eager faces.

However, after a moment, the Cadians seem to remember who they are. A few of them grin, straightening their posture. "Alright, we'll just be sure ta frag 'em afore they get too close."

"Good thing we've been practicing on the shootin' range eh lads?"

"Can't get close if we blow their legs off."

The Cadians quickly regain their jovial fervor, their focus now geared towards strengthening their ranged prowess and avoidance of close-quarters combat.

The Kriegsmen continue to stare silently and soullessly, their officers eventually giving several hand gestures which are met by sharp salutes, regrouping, and marching in formation off the field.



Mess Hall


Gordon, seeing their arrogance come to the fore, decides to test it, seeing if it's warranted. Well, if you're all so accomplished, how about a little competition? I won't be part of it-that wouldn't QUITE be fair, after all-but I will judge. Let's have each of you three groups-you, the stormtroopers, the loyal Cadians, and the Kriegsmen-nominate, shall we say, three champions. Then, each group of three will compete in contests of shooting, close combat, and one competition of their choosing. If you're all so talented as you say, you should win easily, of course-but if perhaps your boasting goes beyond your skills... Gordon trails off.

Does that sound like a good idea to everyone? he says more loudly, addressing the room at large.

The Aurixians, for a moment, seem to turn their noses up at the prospect of facing Cadians and Kriegsmen as equals. A few frowns, furrowed brows, and looks of apprehension are exchanged. But after a moment, a few small sighs and shrugs are given. "I suppose we could partake in a little competition with our... peers," the Sergeant says, the words a bit bitter on his tongue. "It may take some time to find proper 'champions' for each unit, though..."




Sher'kan enters the mess hall and sees one of his team speaking with a group of storm troopers

He liked that his battle brother associated with the guardsmen. It was a duty and responsibly that many astartes took too lightly or didn't regard at all. These were the very humans that they had become more than mortal to protect risking their lives against the barbarian hordes of the xenos

Sher'kan eyes the cadians in the mess hall and approaches them knowing that his onyx colored skin and especially his glowing red eyes marked him as different astartes

greatings guardsmen. May i join you for a while and pass the time. We will all soon be tested against the anvil


The Cadians seem quite startled and surprised when Sher'kan suddenly joins them. Not only for his appearance, but for the simple fact he's an Astartes. "Er, uh, sure?" a mousy soldier says with an awkward grin, his uniform a bit loose on his frame. Obviously a fresh conscript, like many of the other young soldiers at his table, their hair buzzed short and their young faces clean-shaven. A few more grizzled soldiers sit aside him - veterans helping to guide the new blood, it seems. "Y-yeah, lookin' forward to the... testing..." he mutters with some fidgeting, before suddenly giving the Salamdander an eager smile. "Will you be joining us, S-Sir?" he asks, hope flickering in his eyes.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal smirked as the Guardsmen carried on. Though at Hakon's display he frowned. The Cadian's rallied while the Kriegsmen remained silent. He raised a brow and turned to Razeal. "Any idea what the point of that knife display was?"

[cybric]

Training Field

Duggy offers a lopsided, toothy grin as he's helped up. He's actually taller than the Astartes, something they're likely not accustomed to. "Okie-doke, Duggy'll go see da doc." He tries to stand straight, and give a salute. His posture and poise are atrocious, but as they say, there is no substitute for zeal. "Lookin' forward to stompin' Orks wit' da Spesh Mahrines."

He then turns and stomps off, a couple of his Cadian comrades quickly moving to flank him and guide him towards a field medic. The soldiers are grinning and slapping him on the back as they quickly begin to banter and jest. It seems whereas the Kriegsmen have fanaticism to give them strength, the Cadians have camaraderie to aide in theirs.

Of course, when Ranek begins to make his remarks, Cadians and Kriegsmen alike turn their attention towards him. Even Duggy and his comrades pause their exit, turning to hear his words. When the knife is thrown, there are many flinches, jolts, and looks of shock and surprise. However, his biting words and "encouragement" seem to threaten their resolve. Many looks of concern and worry are exchanged, shoulders slumping and grimaces forming on previously-eager faces.

However, after a moment, the Cadians seem to remember who they are. A few of them grin, straightening their posture. "Alright, we'll just be sure ta frag 'em afore they get too close."

"Good thing we've been practicing on the shootin' range eh lads?"

"Can't get close if we blow their legs off."

The Cadians quickly regain their jovial fervor, their focus now geared towards strengthening their ranged prowess and avoidance of close-quarters combat.

The Kriegsmen continue to stare silently and soullessly, their officers eventually giving several hand gestures which are met by sharp salutes, regrouping, and marching in formation off the field.



Mess Hall



The Aurixians, for a moment, seem to turn their noses up at the prospect of facing Cadians and Kriegsmen as equals. A few frowns, furrowed brows, and looks of apprehension are exchanged. But after a moment, a few small sighs and shrugs are given. "I suppose we could partake in a little competition with our... peers," the Sergeant says, the words a bit bitter on his tongue. "It may take some time to find proper 'champions' for each unit, though..."






The Cadians seem quite startled and surprised when Sher'kan suddenly joins them. Not only for his appearance, but for the simple fact he's an Astartes. "Er, uh, sure?" a mousy soldier says with an awkward grin, his uniform a bit loose on his frame. Obviously a fresh conscript, like many of the other young soldiers at his table, their hair buzzed short and their young faces clean-shaven. A few more grizzled soldiers sit aside him - veterans helping to guide the new blood, it seems. "Y-yeah, lookin' forward to the... testing..." he mutters with some fidgeting, before suddenly giving the Salamdander an eager smile. "Will you be joining us, S-Sir?" he asks, hope flickering in his eyes.

Placing his astartes hand on the soldiers shoulder with a surprisingly gentle touch.I will be where I am needed it most guardsmen. My brothers and I will be fighting where we can make the most difference and try to take as much of the fight off your hands as we can. I've fought many of the Emperors foes. Eldar, orks, scum of the galaxy that have been turned back time and time again by the stalwart men and women of the Emperors Guard and seen ordinary men and women turn the tide of battle. Looking over the other soldiers at the table Sher'Kan can clearly see that those at the table are fresh conscripts and have most likely never seen a battle.

If you'd like I can let you know some of the knowledge that has worked for me in the past

With that Sher'kan gives a few helpful hints and tactics that he has read about and implemented that aren't in the normal imperial guard tactics

[Talkkno]

Zoreal smirked as the Guardsmen carried on. Though at Hakon's display he frowned. The Cadian's rallied while the Kriegsmen remained silent. He raised a brow and turned to Razeal. "Any idea what the point of that knife display was?"
Hakon ears perked as heard the remark, quickly retrieving his combat knife, striding to Zoreal's side, remarking tersely.
"You know as well I to face the Ork in close combat is no task for ordinary men, better they know what they are up against then leave them them with the lies plastered about their foe." Pointing the laughably small ork cutouts being used as target practice.

[Seanfall]

"Fair point. Though again...was throwing the knife really necessary?" It was just something Zoreal wasn't going to get it seems. "I mean, Picts, descriptions of battle. Even carving a new larger target all would do the job..." Their seems to be genuine confusion in his voice. After a moment he sighs.

"Never mind it's unimportant, you achieved your desired effect. If you'll Pardon me Brothers I have eaten in quite sometime."

[Emperor Ing]

I wish to accompany you, Brother. Razael followed Zorael. If you would allow it. I furthermore wish to give my thanks for your assistance. Your timing was impeccable, and I fear the situation would have escalated on my own.

[Seanfall]

"We are lucky they listened to me. I am not known for my skill with words." Zoreal lead the two towards the mess hall. "If they had not heeded us it is likely our choice on guardsmen would have been made for us." He sighed as they walked, and after making sure they were out of ear shot of anyone else.

"As I said...that event is giving me second thoughts about the Kregismen. I knew they were single-minded but I did not understand the degree till now."

[Lycan 01]

Mess Hall


Placing his astartes hand on the soldiers shoulder with a surprisingly gentle touch.I will be where I am needed it most guardsmen. My brothers and I will be fighting where we can make the most difference and try to take as much of the fight off your hands as we can. I've fought many of the Emperors foes. Eldar, orks, scum of the galaxy that have been turned back time and time again by the stalwart men and women of the Emperors Guard and seen ordinary men and women turn the tide of battle. Looking over the other soldiers at the table Sher'Kan can clearly see that those at the table are fresh conscripts and have most likely never seen a battle.

If you'd like I can let you know some of the knowledge that has worked for me in the past

With that Sher'kan gives a few helpful hints and tactics that he has read about and implemented that aren't in the normal imperial guard tactics

The soldiers listen and watch with rapt attention. They hang on his every word, eager to here what words of wisdom the angel offers. They give the occasional look of surprise or confusion, as some of his advice or insight goes against the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer. But why would an Astartes lead them astray? They continue to listen intently, and should the other Marines enter the mess hall, they will see Sher'kan has the attention of several tables' worth of Cadian soldiers, conscripts and veterans alike. Rather than recoiling in fear or mistrust from his look, they look like they'd be willing to follow him into the drooling, toothy jaws of the Warp itself...

[Emperor Ing]

Beauty demands harmony. A single Stradivarius is no orchestra. Razael agreed, brushing his hair back with a hand. The execution of the Kreigsmen was exquisite. Before things turned pear-shaped, their attempts at tackling Luggy were textbook. Yet when their textbook failed, they could not adapt. They failed to use new strategies and were only able to bring Luggy down once I distracted him.

I am still partial to the Stormtroopers however the Cadians' numbers and skills in improvisation has its own beauty.

[Talkkno]

"They will do what is required of them" Hakon comments with a hint of impatience.

[Lycan 01]

Over the next few days, a small competition is put together between the regiments, in the name of bond-building and good humor. The Cadians, Aurixians, and Kriegsmen each select a "champion" for various contests, though the Kriegsmen seem noticeably lacking in enthusiasm, instead seeing it as just another challenge to tackle in service of the Emperor.

Under the watchful eyes of regimental officers and Commissars (gambling is frowned upon, after all), the contestants do battle in games of strength, endurance, aim, and wits. On the shooting range, the Aurixians emerge victorious, to the surprise of nobody. On the running track, the Cadians pull a surprising victory from Kriegsmen, no doubt due to their lighter kits and more competitive spirit. In hand-to-hand combat, the Aurixian contestant immediately forfeited upon seeing that the Cadian champion was none other than Duggy, bruised but eager to compete. The Kriegsman dutifully accepted the Ogryn's challenge, and was subsequently left unconscious after being tossed like a ragdoll 5 seconds into the fight. And then in the wildcard match, a Regicide tournament, the Aurixian's proved victorious and made sure the fact was well-known, much to the annoyance of the Cadian's and the utter apathy of the Kriegsmen.

The finally tally was 2 to 2 for Cadia and Aurix Primaris, and zero points for Krieg. This led to mild annoyance among the stormtroopers for not accomplishing total victory over the rabble, a bit of boasting from the Cadians who enjoyed getting under the skin of their "betters," and humble congratulations from the Commissar attached to the Krieg regiment, since nobody else cared.


Hopefully this makes the Astartes' decision easier, with arrival in the planetary system being only days away now...

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was making some adjustments to his medical equipment with one hand. With another he was writing a message as a page stood by. Once he was done he handed it to the boy. "See this is copied and delivered to the rest of my squad." He waved the page away and finished his work on his equipment.

The message, written in a rather beatific way, was a simple request to meet with his squad and make a final choice regarding the regiment who would accompany them. His reasoning is that whoever they decide upon should be allowed a day or two to prepare themselves. If it's dropped upon them suddenly they would not have the time to ready themselves, and be less effective. They had seen all they needed to.

[Emperor Ing]

You called for a conclusion to deliberation, no? Razael walked in, still brushing his long platinum hair. If so, I believe the choice is clear. The Cadians, correct?

[Seanfall]

"Indeed, At first I thought the Kriegsmen were the best choice. But I misunderstood their rigidness. It was not just devotion but an inability to adapt. That which does not bend, breaks. The Stroomtroopers are of course an excellent choice, but again I fear their numbers are to few. The Cadians are the best choice. They can adapt, are more cunning then I thought and gave the Troopers a challenge. They are...surprising."

[cybric]

Sher'kan having arrived first and having a conversation with the apothecary before our most fabulous of compatriots entered chimed his approval

Hmm agreed there is a fire in their hearts that lends them strength. It will serve them well in the coming battle.

I have spoken with some and though they are mostly unblooded they show a good deal of promise. Muscle and reflexes can be trained and molded but a fighters spirit that is something that you can not build in and i believe they have it

[Talkkno]

"The Cadians i do not believe will have the stomach to face the Orks, green as they are."

[cybric]

With a level tone Sher'kan turned his attention towards the tacturn space wolf.

They are indeed green though they show many qualities that could balance that.

If not the Cadians than who would you choose brother? Speak your mind

[Seanfall]

"Ah yes." Zoreal turned to the Wolf. "I of course forgot how we all are born already bloodied veterans." Zoreal rolled his eyes at Harkon's comments.

[Talkkno]

With a level tone Sher'kan turned his attention towards the tacturn space wolf.

They are indeed green though they show many qualities that could balance that.

If not the Cadians than who would you choose brother? Speak your mind
"To best accomplish our mission I believe the stormtroopers would best suited, for it is speed and decisive action will prove instrumental." Hakon remarked plainly as his gaze fell on Zorael with a harsh glare.

"Ah yes." Zoreal turned to the Wolf. "I of course forgot how we all are born already bloodied veterans." Zoreal rolled his eyes at Harkon's comments.

"Fernis is crucible of which each Space Wolf is tested at the moment of his conception, it is a world of ice and fire where serpents that encircle the world of what man is but a tiny speck, to be devoured at an moment from titanic leviathans that dwarf the largest squig, to be rend asunder from the glowing red eyes that stalk the frozen wastes and swallowed by the very earth itself. I trust that Baal is not so different from my homeworld in its inimical nature to human life." Hakon pauses for a moment as he points to the Cadians.

"They are being coddled and lied to and I will not mince words on how much blood it will cost them they hear the guttural battle cries of the Orks for the first time."

[Seanfall]

"..." Zoreal locked eyes with the wolf. "Worse I'd say. Because it's not the beasts that would kill you. It's the sickness growing within you." Their was a quickness to being killed by something else. Zoreal knew he'd much rather die in battle then ever go back to that slow death that was life before he became an Astartes.

"You expect me to believe you shot out of the womb knife in hand?"

[Emperor Ing]

The Magnum Opus of the greatest of mankind's artists began with a single stroke of the brush. Razael explained, brushing his hair back behind his ear. Permit them to demonstrate their beauty in battle. That is all that is asked of you, Brother Hakon.

[cybric]

On Nocturne we have a similar saying about forging a blade. Every blade begins with a single hammer strike. The Cadians will be tested in the forge of battle.

Turning to the group Sher'kan's eyes sadden then steel for a second.

Let us not forget the purpose of our mission. It is not to defeat the orks though we shall kill them where we can, it is the retrieval or destruction of the blade of the saint. If the Cadians perform well all the better for they do the Emperors work and kill the enemies of mankind but at the end of the day, though it pains my honor to say this, they are a means to a end.

[Talkkno]

Hakon snorts derisively "If one wants coddle whelps then so be it." he remarks, washing his hands of the matter.

[Lycan 01]

=][= CHAPTER I: FALLING ANGELS =][=

Any landing you walk away from is a good one." - unknown Elysian Drop-Troop officer


The Imperial transport is due to arrive in realspace in three days. The Astartes first notice something awry when their supernhuman senses detect a subtle shudder in the vessel's decks. Few humans aboard the vessel would notice it, save for veterans with decades of voidfaring experience. It isn't long before the Deathwatch Marines are sought out by a member of the bridge crew, her crisp white uniform accenting the pallor of her already-pale face. "Honored Astartes," she says with a small bow of courtesy and respect, "I bear news of utmost import. Our estimated arrival time has been shortened, to within the day. The tides we sail have shifted; the Captain surmises that we have slipped into the wake of another vessel. Or... vessels," she states factually, trying not to be betray any personal concern. "The commanders of the Guard regiments have also been informed, and several have given orders for their troops begin mobilization. Planetary transports are also being prepared and blessed by the Techpriests, and should be ready soon. As are combat dropships, for landing operations. Also, the Cadian platoons you requested to accompany you are in Hangar B, preparing for their deployment."

She forces a meek smile, despite her nervousness. Whether it's from the potential risk the ship faces, or the fact she is in the presence of legendary warrior, is unclear. "Is there anything I can further assist you with, sirs?"

[Seanfall]

Zoreal had been cleaning his late brother's weapon. Having partially disassembled it to clean and polish the weapon as much as was within his skill at least. It took hours, but luckily he had actually managed to get some decent rest. He had just finished reassembling the weapon when he was sought out like the rest of his squad.

Zoreal took in the information the woman offered and rubbed his chin. "No, thank you for the update. Carry on." Zoreal did not waist anytime and solemnly armored up. With aid he entered his power armor and activated it's systems. He ran through the usual checks, Diagnostor Helm systems check. Raising his right arm he ran through his Narthecium's systems and functions. Finally he stowed his gear, Pistol, Bolter, Chainsword and Reductor. They had provided the extra Pain Suppressents and deadlock he requested.

His armor was painted as one of the Deathwatch should be. However unlike most marines his right Pauldron usually bearing the mark of that Marine's home chapter was instead given to the symbol of the Apothecary the prime helix. With Blood Angel Iconography worked into it. His armor still retained the Blood Drop pendant on the chest. After making sure everything was working Zoreal made his way to Hanger B.

[cybric]

Sher'Kan

Sher'kan placed the tome down when the attendant announced herself. Knowledge was power as the saying goes and Sher'kan wanted every weapon at his disposal that he could muster.

The tome hit the table with a gentle thud as the astartes stood to his full height. Once more the test of the anvil of battled called to this son of Vulkan.

He nodded to the attendant and instructed her to have the techpriests prepare the squads armor for battle.

Piece by piece Sher'kan was fitted with his power armor. It was odd to see it's resilient plate colored the ebon colors of the deathwatch instead of the emerald of the Salamanders Chapter however seeing his chapters emblem emblazoned on the shoulder pauldron comforted him.

Sher'kan twists his wrists and runs through his armor system checks and uttering the rites of battle. He then placed his helm over his head the display inside humming to life and feeding him information over the squads tactical net. He blink checks over to the auspex which had been installed into the crusader helm of his armour and sees even more information coarse over the display. Radiation levels near by heat sources all registered on this display.

Finally Sher'kan's armor attendants bring him his weapons. He clasped his chain sword and bolter. Neither weapon had been gifted a name as they did not yet have a illustrious history as some other weapons within the chapters armories however they were both finely crafted instruments of death.

[Emperor Ing]

Each piece, every fragment, even the hidden servos and mechanisms concealed by plate were polished to an immaculate shine by Razael as every square centimeter was made to be nothing short of a beauty worthy of Sanguinius himself. He still wasn't sure how long it would take for him to adjust seeing his power armor wear the black plating of the Deathwatch, but nontheless, he would wear them gorgeously.

As his helmet was placed on, the armor's machine-spirit informed him of its full functionality. All systems green. He could already see the glyphs of his battle-brothers coming online.

As the last of the Rites were performed, he grasped his chainsword and bolter, and felt the familiar weight of the jump-pack strapped to him. His bolt pistol was similarly polished, but his chainsword featured a unique finish, that of a mirror's polish. Though highly irregular, the modification had long ago passed purity tests in the eyes of the Techmarines of the Blood Angels.

Razael lamented that battle inevitably tarnished the beauty he worked so hard to maintain. His chainsword becomes covered im the viscera of the alien, the only part of said alien that is beautiful, his armor is marked with mud and dust, he knew it was a battle he could never win. But in his heart, it was a battle worth fighting. How can he be expected to bring beauty to a galaxy so marked by the alien and heretic if he, himself, didn't make the effort to be beautiful?

Razael nodded in agreement with Zorael as he made his way to Hangar B.

[Talkkno]

The might of Astartes warplate was something all together a feeling Hakon hadn't had for some time. He grasped his fingers in a closed fist, responding seamlessly in kind, strength increasing tenfold but even with the assistance of black carapace it was nothing like the feeling of his own skin, for its power came at a cost of fine motor function he thought as he held his bolter tightly.

He normally eschewed the use of a helmet unlike his fellow space marines, for the plethora of senses that was made available to him naturally far exceeded any amount of auto senses could ever compensate for, but the fury of battle of a combat drop was a rare situation where the additional protection proved warranted.

As his armor's machine spirits enclosed his head, he felt muffled, yet another layer of artificiality between him and his perception like color draining out of a painting, leaving a monochrome world.

Regardless within moments Hakon adjusted; he was Astartes, a master of all arts of battle to which normal humans could scarcely comprehend, moving in uncharacteristic lockstep with Razael as they made their ways to the hanger.

[Lycan 01]

The Astartes stride purposefully down corridors and past bulkheads, Guardsmen and voidship crew alike bowing, saluting, or gawking in awe as they pass.

The ship is a flurry of life and action. Even after exiting the Warp, the journey to the planet from the edge of the system may still take several days or more. But when it comes to war against the enemies of man, there is no wasting of time, be it days or seconds. Every man, woman, and youth aboard the vessel is working to prepare the ship and its cargo for whatever may be coming. Diagnostics on weapon systems, blessings of dropships, final drills of green conscripts, fiery sermons of regimental priests, the list goes on. No moment can be wasted. For the Warp is fickle, and a day may be mere hours, or hours may be days. Best to be prepared, come whatever may.

When the Astartes reach Hangar B, they find its massive cavernous chamber filled by several void transports for moving vehicles, equipment, and hundreds of soldiers. Basilisks, Leman Russes, and other massive vehicles must get groundside somehow, after all. There are also dozens of smaller combat dropships, able to carry platoons and smaller vehicles for landing operations. There are thousands of soldiers present, from fresh recruits to hardened officers, as platoons try to muster and organize, officers barking orders until their throats run hoarse. On catwalks overhead, void crewmen labor to ensure that the vessels docked in the hangar are properly fueled, prepared, and blessed by the Omnissiah. The noise echoes off the cavernous walls and vaulted ceilings of the great chamber, making it all the more deafening. It's probably for the best that Hakon put on his helmet, lest his canine hearing be overwhelmed by the din.

As the Astartes enter, several figures approach them. Their sharp eyes can easily make out the rank pins and medals on their crisp uniforms. A Major, likely the leader of the Company that will be assisting the Deathwatch. A few junior officers are accompanying him, as well as the familiar peaked cap and black greatcoat of a Commissar.

The Major stops a few yards from the Marines, his retinue halting shortly behind him. His build is lean, and his dark brown hair is cropped short, though his tanned face sports a bit of stubble. His face also sports several scars, marking his chin and the bridge of his nose, as well as a notch missing from his left here. Shrapnel wounds, most likely. His eyes are a bright crystal blue, and betray a bit of... confusion.

It seems he doesn't know if he's supposed to bow or salute.

After a moment, he stands at attention, and snaps a crisp salute. "Major Felix Harlow," he states, his gruff voice holding a tone of courtesy and respect "I'm the Commander of Sigma Company. Command has decided that my platoons will be accompanying your mission to reinforce the Saint's Scabbard Cathedral." He pauses, before a small smile forms on his grizzled face. "My men are gracious for the honor of serving alongside Space Marines, and eagerly look forward to carrying out the Emperor's Work alongside you. No matter the cost."

His retinue of Captains and Lieutenants nods in agreement. The Commissar gives a nod of his own, though judging from the look in his eyes and his expression, he seems to be voicing approval - likely signalling to the Astartes that these men are sincere in their enthusiasm and devotion to duty.

[Talkkno]

"What's the situation on the ground." Hakon asks quietly.

[cybric]

Well meet Major Harlow. You and your men will indeed be accompanying us on the first step of our mission. I have had the opportunity to speak to many of your troops actually. They are quick learners it seems.

He glances from the commander towards the troops.

From your reactions and the reactions of your troops I'm assuming that you have not served with Astartes before? You'll find us a demanding bunch to be sure.

As brother Hakon has pointed out we haven't been briefed on the situation on the ground since we exited the Warp. As there been any Vox transmissions from the defense force with new information?

[Emperor Ing]

Though his immaculately polished armor made him stand out, Razael chose to remain silent and allow Sher'Kan to do the talking, intensely curious about the situation on the ground.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was listening to the Major and others converse, while at the same time letting his diagnostor helm connect to the other's suits. Their spirits speaking as his helm displayed their current status. The Angel refocused his attention on Sher'kan and Hakon as they both asked what were basically different versions of the same question to the Major.

[Lycan 01]

The Major gives a small nod as the Astartes begin to ask about the situation in realspace. "I'm afraid the latest Astropathic communique are over a week old, courtesy the ship's own Astropaths. From what they've been able to decipher, the Ork raids have increased. A few small Roks have been spotted in-system, even a light raiding vessel, though the System Defense Fleet made short work of them. They still managed to launch several waves of dropships and meteors before their destruction, all crawling with greenskins. The repeated assaults have managed to establish a foothold in some of the planet's remote regions, launching increasing assaults on population center's and holy sites. It's gone from the scattered skirmishes of months prior, to several real battles. Heavy losses reported on both sides, though the PDF and Guard garrisons have held strong so far, and rebuffed each assault with impunity. Still," his face darkens, "It doesn't bode well. We might be coming in on active planetary conflict, rather than a little slap-fight with some scattered xeno .."


He frowns. "Command's primary intent is to fortify the capitol and secure the ruling planetary governor and highest-ranking Ecclesiarchical representatives, then begin fortifying the other major cities and shrines around the planet. If the Ork positions have become fortified and entrenched, Command has begun enacting plans to strike directly and establish beachheads for rapid deployment and aggressive counter-offense. Direct assaults on Xeno positions will likely be led by mixed Aurixian and Cadian elements, while the soldiers of Krieg will do what they do best - dig in," he deadpans.

He looks pensive for a moment. "No recent reports on our targets. From what we've gathered from maps and the available intel, there's no serious fighting near the cathedral. But if I had to make any assumptions, I'd guess there's probably been a few skirmishes with greenskin scouts and raiding parties. Xenos love stirrin' up trouble, and a shiny shrine seems the sort of thing to get their attention. Hopefully we show up before they actually try knockin' on the door to see if anybody is home," he scowls.

[Seanfall]

"An informative response Major. The truth is our presence might draw them in. Orks are known to look for a challenge, and even if you slaughter a thousand of them and stand atop their rotting corpses. The one thousandth and one will still charge you." Zoreal didn't hide the venom in his voice when speaking about the Orks.

"Have your men been briefed on what we know of the Cathedral's layout?"

[Talkkno]

"An informative response Major. The truth is our presence might draw them in. Orks are known to look for a challenge, and even if you slaughter a thousand of them and stand atop their rotting corpses. The one thousandth and one will still charge you." Zoreal didn't hide the venom in his voice when speaking about the Orks.


"Then we best make our presence circumspect." Hakon replied impatiently.

[cybric]

Sher'kan took in the Major's words.

Indeed that was a detailed response. Command's thinking is not wrong and they are right to reinforce the capitol to allow for the evacuation of civilians. In our experience the greenskin is a insidious foe. Dumb as a brick but still smart enough to bash your skull in with said brick.


The defense of the capitol again is important however the Ordo Xenos has made my brothers and I aware that the cathedral can not be allowed to fall. The emperors faithful look to it as a symbol of the emperors might and it acts as a corner stone to the imperial citizens. It can not be allowed to be sullied by greenskin hands. My brothers and I will be deploying with ourselves and cadian elements to reinforce and defend the cathedral so that the filth of the Xenos does not defile that place.

[Lycan 01]

The Major shifts uncomfortably a bit, trying to keep a poker face as he senses the not-so-subtle disagreement brewing between the Space Wolf and the Blood Angel. He seems almost relieved when Sher'kan takes control of the conversation, nodding along to the Salamander's insights and remarks. "Aye, we've received a basic briefing of the situation. Holy Ordos don't want the filthy aliens defiling righteous grounds, for good reason. Sacrilege aside, it'd have a ripple effect on morale across the system," he scowls. "Me and my soldiers are prepared to fight to the last breath and the last drop of blood to keep the damned xenos away from the shrine and its relics," he nods. "We've been lookin' over maps of the target and surrounding topography. Depending on the level of xenos presence, Command has advised us to prepare for either an armored approach, or an airborne insertion. We-"

Metal groans. A dull, faint shudder runs through the ship. In the hangar, a few deck lights give an almost imperceptible flicker. The Astartes notice that many of the Cadians don't seem to notice it, though several of the veterans, the Major included, give uncertain or concerned glances around.

It would seem the Warp Tides are shifting quickly. Nothing the ship can't handle, of course. But it's certainly out of the ordinary, though only experienced soldiers and sailors with several Warp-journeys under the belt would likely notice or recognize the implications.

[cybric]

Sher'kan gives knowing glances to his fellow astartes they had all felt it.

Raising a hand to his ear Sher'kan plugs into the command net and hails the captain.

"Captain, this is Brother Halrik of the ordo xenos. Myself and my fellow astartes noticed a unusal pull on the ship. Is everything...as it should be? having travelled much Sher'kan knew better than to say normal when the warp was involved

[Emperor Ing]

What inventory of vehicles is there for an armored approach, Major? Razael asked. As much as he preferred an airborne insertion, anticipating the lesser of two options is preparation.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal ignored the wolf's remarks. As he would with any dog barking, he listened to Sher'kan he asked good questions and the Major had good answers. Then the ship groaned the lights flicked on and off. He began to grow worried, he raised his hand and repeated Sher'kan's action he didn't speak but he wanted to be aware of the conversation. Razael carried on the conversation, good that would keep the Major focused.

[Talkkno]

"We can secure the drop site if necessary" Hakon replied dryly, ignoring the tremor.

[Lycan 01]

What inventory of vehicles is there for an armored approach, Major? Razael asked. As much as he preferred an airborne insertion, anticipating the lesser of two options is preparation.

"Dozen or so Chimeras would be our best offer," the Major nods, giving a tilt of his head towards the section of the hangar where dozens of vehicles, mostly light, are organizing into a motor pool before embarking on the dropships. "We're ground-pounders, not mechanized infantry or an armored regiment. But we may be able to nick some more armor from the other companies, depending on how the wind blows," he says with a wry smile.


Sher'kan gives knowing glances to his fellow astartes they had all felt it.

Raising a hand to his ear Sher'kan plugs into the command net and hails the captain.

"Captain, this is Brother Halrik of the ordo xenos. Myself and my fellow astartes noticed a unusal pull on the ship. Is everything...as it should be? having travelled much Sher'kan knew better than to say normal when the warp was involved

There's a long pause on the channel, before eventually the Astartes' vox feeds crackle to life in their helms. "Vox-Officer Morro to Ordo Xenos," comes the response, firm and factually. "It'll keep it brief. Situation is of moderate concern. Navigator says the tides aren't right. The Warp current is with us, but stronger than anticipated. Could be the tail end of a storm, the wake of another vessel, or something... else. System arrival time and location may be..." There's a pause. An uncomfortable pause, where one should not be in a conversation such as this. "Unanticipated."

[cybric]

Tilting his head away from the conversation

Vox officer Morro clarify degree of unanticipation. Can your navigator land us in system or are we off course?

[Emperor Ing]

If they agree our need is greater. Razael didn't like that wink. Though the scrappiness of the Cadians was something to be admired, if it came at the expense of other regiments and their fighting efficacy, it was unacceptable. Best to discourage it. Though finesse is required. If they do not, then we shall not deny their need for heavy munitions, either. Such denial would be...hideous. The Blood Angel spits out the last word.

[cybric]

Understood bridge we'll move up our deployment readiness.

Turning back to the conversation Sher'kan follows up after the blood angel.


Indeed brother Razael the planet well need everyone of us defects at the ready. Major the bridge let me know that the warp has started begaving strangely. We are not in any immediate danger however we could arrive at our target sooner or later than expected. Later would be good but we should prep for sooner.
I want your people ready to deploy at a moments notice. If you need it talk to your fellow officers and get any transports or armor that can be spared. Whatever favots you might have now is when you should use them. If you knkw someone can spare them but their being a greedy little dung beetle come get me and ill have a little chat with them.

[Seanfall]

"At least we are still on course." Zoreal moved out of the formation the squad had taken to speak to the major. "My brothers are correct, Major. Those other regiments are the same as you are. Guardsmen. That said, Sher'kan has the right of it." Zoreal nodded to the Salamander. "In the meantime I have a few last minute calibrations and diagnostics to run on our medical equipment." That wasn't exactly true, he'd calibrated his equipment about as well as he could at this point. The only way he could do better would be if he was able to connect directly with their machine spirits.

[Talkkno]

Hakon listens to the conservation with disinterest, the tapping of his foot growing increasingly louder as his impatience grew.

[Lycan 01]

Tilting his head away from the conversation

Vox officer Morro clarify degree of unanticipation. Can your navigator land us in system or are we off course?

"We will be arriving in-system, but where in system may have some margin of error." Considering that star systems tend to contain any myriad of other worlds and asteroids and heavenly bodies, this could be some cause for concern. "The tides are becomin-" There's a loud burst of statis. "-nsteady. Navigat-" More static. "-able to arrive on target."


If they agree our need is greater. Razael didn't like that wink. Though the scrappiness of the Cadians was something to be admired, if it came at the expense of other regiments and their fighting efficacy, it was unacceptable. Best to discourage it. Though finesse is required. If they do not, then we shall not deny their need for heavy munitions, either. Such denial would be...hideous. The Blood Angel spits out the last word.

"But of course," the Major says with a meek smile. "We would only use resources in fashions deemed suitable by the Munitorium and tactics of the Imperium, as best serves the Emperor's Will. We would never nick anything from another regiment, especially when in comes to combat against the enemies of Man," he says with a shake of his head.

As the Astartes warn him to begin preparing his troops more quickly, he nods, expression turning a bit grave. "Aye, sirs. The troops are already beginning to muster and prepare for boarding. We should be-"

There's a low groan. The soft, reverberating moan of metal being strained and tested. Imperceptible to most humans, but the Astartes can hear it quite well. They can also feel the ship subtly shudder and shift. A few more lights faintly flicker. One of the Major's advisor's winces, and rubs his temple, as though hit by a sudden headache.


The Astartes' vox-systems hiss with a loud burst of static, before the voice of vox-master crackles through again. "Something is awry. Navigator says we are nearing the system much sooner than expected. Tides seem to be drawing us. Captain has ordered ship's weapon systems-" A louder burst of static. "-active. Suggests way to the nearest landing ship or Valkyries."

[cybric]

Understood bridge

Using astartes battle cant Sher'kan susinkly relays the information he recieved. He knew they would know what to do.

With a calm yet urgent voice Sher'kan turns to the Major

Major the bridge has just relayed information. We're deploying now. Get your regiment into their landing craft now. The warp has bright us to the emperors foes quicker than expected. Its a glorious thing. Prepare to meet the enemy.

with the Sher'kan affixes his helm and strides towards their transport

[Seanfall]

"Finally the waiting was beginning to annoy me."

[Emperor Ing]

The time for planning is over. Razael remarks somewhat glumly as he makes his own way to the transport.

[Lycan 01]

The Major and his advisors nod in agreement, expressions grim but determined as they quickly stride off to carry out their holy duty. It seems word has begun to spread among the regiment, as the flurry of activity begins to increase not unlike that of a kicked anthill. The groaning of metal becomes a bit more audible. A few soldiers can be spotted nursing headaches or nosebleeds.

As the Astartes make their way towards a transport, they occasionally find their path briefly blocked by a passing vehicle or marching squad. To make matters worse, they are carrying the stasis-case for the sword, a small grav repulsor helping to keep it gently floating and easily moving along with them. It would have been unspeakable if they had forgotten about it, or if anything had befallen the sacred-

As they find their path yet again blocked by a passing forklift carrying crates of ammunition, the group of Astartes suddenly find themselves joined by another stout giant. "Oi, Spesh Mahrines!" proclaims the somewhat bruised by ever-eager Ogryn known as Duggy. "Need help carrying yer metal rucksack?" he asks with cheer, ignorant to the true nature of the stasis-pod. Before he can wait for an answer, he simply grabs the heavy case - and hefts it up onto his shoulder with strength surpassing even some power-armored Astartes.

It may not be Codex-approved, but perhaps the Ogryn might prove useful? Assuming they can get him onto a Valkyrie with them. A nearby Commissar looks on with a scowl, and he seems to be taking a moment to adjust his cap and sash (best to look proper before the Astartes after all) before coming over to intervene...

[Emperor Ing]

Hello, Duggy. Razael greeted the Ogryn amicably, keeping his tone friendly, if only to keep the Commissar at bay, which he watched from the corner of his eye. Although his analytical mind did point out the perks of having an Ogryn on-hand, he also knew the rumors about Ogryn in enclosed spaces, such as Valkyries. We appreciate the assistance, and look forward to joining you planetside. Are you sure your friends among the Little Ones won't miss you? He asked.

[cybric]

I feel like I've been hogging the light a little bit so feel free to step in with our adorable duggy.

I'd love to have him along on the mission as he's been pretty solid so far.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was about to politely turn Duggy down, he didn't think the Ogyrn could lift...but then he did it anyways. The Angel blinked a few times, even that honed mind of his taking a moment to compute what he just witnessed. All that took about a half second, longer then he was used to. He moved along with his Brother Angel, he honestly wasn't sure what Razeal was getting at.

Yes he'll be useful, but won't he be with the Cadians anyways? Was their any reason to separate him when they'd be working so closely. Without understanding his brother's thinking he wasn't able to comment. This was his biggest flaw as far as he was concerned. He could speak to other passionately. At least a group, but actually understanding someone as an individual was...difficult. In his mind this was pragmatism. You needed a level of disconnection when making medical decisions.

Zoreal looked to Razeal and nodded towards Duggy. Head turned just enough to look questioning.

[Talkkno]

Hakon mutters under his breath as he ignores the Orygn.
"Enough dawdling

[Lycan 01]

Hello, Duggy. Razael greeted the Ogryn amicably, keeping his tone friendly, if only to keep the Commissar at bay, which he watched from the corner of his eye. Although his analytical mind did point out the perks of having an Ogryn on-hand, he also knew the rumors about Ogryn in enclosed spaces, such as Valkyries. We appreciate the assistance, and look forward to joining you planetside. Are you sure your friends among the Little Ones won't miss you? He asked.

The Ogryn gives a very toothy grin. "Friends gonna be happy that Duggy is helpin' the Spesh Mahrines," he nods cheerfully. "They talk lots about you. How you saves planets and kill bad zenos. Make the God-Emprah real happy. If Duggy can do somthin' to help Spesh Mahrines, he wants to," he says with cheerful enthusiasm, effortlessly hefting the stasis-pod to his other shoulder as he finds a more comfortable grip on it. "Uh... Where Duggy need ta put this?"

The Commissar looks a bit miffed, but it wouldn't be too hard to elude him among the maze of squads, cargo, and vehicles moving around the hangar.



If you want to try to lead Duggy away and lose the Commissar, you can use either Agility, Perception, or Intelligence to navigate the bustling hangar.

Or, y'know, Strength to chokeslam him or something. :smalltongue:

[cybric]

I'm just going to roll a int roll here if someone doesn't take the lead just so we can proceed with the drop lol

[roll0]

[Emperor Ing]

Razael thought ahead for a bit. Sure he could lose the Commissar for a bit, but he doubted the political officers would take kindly to Duggy wandering off on his own. Just follow my Brothers, they will show you. Razael explained. I must excuse myself for a moment, I shall rejoin you shortly. Making sure his HUD would allow him to find his squad again, he turned and walked towards the Commissar deliberately, not only blocking his attention and line-of-sight but keeping him at a distance.

Commissar, the Ordo Xenos is requisitioning Ogryn support from your Regiment for the duration of our mission. He looked straight into the Commissar's eyes through his helmet. Please return to your squad. Razael looks down at the Commissar, intent on staring him down until compliance was achieved.

Willpower
[roll0]

[Seanfall]

Zoreal nodded to Duggy. "This way I believe." Zoreal motioned for Duggy to follow as he attempted to navigate the bustling hanger. "So Duggy how did you come to join the Imperial Guard?"


[roll0] Int to navigate crowd

[Lycan 01]

The Commissar seems to weigh his options for a moment. He doesn't want to lose face, but he also doesn't want to actually lose his face. Even with his fancy hat, he knows that telling a Deathwatch squad "no" isn't exactly good for his job security or life expectancy. After a moment, he puts on a professional sneer. "Understood. The Holy Inquisition's needs must be met; he will not be considered as AWOL, nor punished as such." He tips his hat in a token show of respect, before he wordlessly turns to stride off, cloak billowing dramatically in his wake.

Meanwhile, the squad manages to navigate the mess and bustle of the hangar quite effectively! Granted, it's not hard since not many Guardsmen want to be in the way of an Ogryn or an Astartes, and especially not a squad made of both. "Oh, Duggy grew up on Cadia, with bunches of brothers and sisters," he nods with a content grin. "They all work in con-struk-shun and stuff. But Duggy wanted to join the Imperial Guard and stomp zenos and make God-Emprah proud. So they let me join since I was... zeelus? Zalus? That thing yeah," he says with as much smugness as an Ogryn can manage.

[Emperor Ing]

Razael nods back at the commissar before returning to his squad, using his HUD a lot, as the rest of the squad had managed to elude the two in the maze of crates and supplies. The Company was going to execute Duggy for desertion once we are extracted. Razael explained over the vox channel. Duggy is now requisitioned to our squad.

[Talkkno]

Hakon unseals his helmet, astonished at the chain of events, shaking his head as he spits on the floor near Razael.
"What do you exactly intend have him do?

[Emperor Ing]

Act beautifully. Razael answers back. For the Emperor.

[Talkkno]

"You seem to be taking the matter of this mission quite lightly, he will be nothing but a burden on our task"

[Lycan 01]

"Duggy is gonna be best burden ever!" the Ogryn says proudly.

A short while later....

The Deathwatch team makes its way onto a transit vessel, housed in the massive hangar. The vessel itself seems to be something of a mobile hangar or vehicle bay, with multiple Valkyries housed within its hulking belly. Designed to ferry the smaller transports through the void, it then disgorges them once in a planet's low orbit or upper atmosphere. The team takes up position within one of the Valkyries, though space proves to be quite cramped; only four of them can fit in the cabin with the stasis pod, and the dropship's assigned Techpriest - who is trying to maintain his composure while surrounding by power armor and rare weaponry. Gordon, the taciturn White Scar scout who has stayed oddly silent for the last few days, opts to ride in another Valkyrie along with Duggy. With transportation arrangements made, it now becomes a waiting game. Real-space reentry is still likely several hours-

Warning sirens begin to howl through-out the ships. From deck to deck, countless Guardsmen and voidsmen pale, grit their teeth, and make the sign of the Aquila. A short moment later, a strange shiver runs through every living thing on the ship, human and Astartes alike, as it feels as though someone - or something - is reaching into their chest and their skull at the same time, as if trying to clench some ethereal fist around the very center of their being or consciousness. Some Guardsmen vomit or begin to bleed from their noses, not yet used to the transit from the Warp to reality, and the strange sensations associated with it.

The Gellar fields deactivate, and the sirens fall silent... only to be replaced by different warning klaxons mere seconds later. The hangar's lights are bathed in a crimson glow as red warning lamps ignite to light. The loud and booming vox system in the hangar thunders to life: "All crew to battle stations. All crew to battle stations." The voice of the chief vox officer echoes across every deck, firm and commanding. "Enemy vessels have been detected. Hangar crews begin launch preparation. Gunner crews begin weapon activation. Techpriests report to assigned systems and begin rites of combat."

Aboard the Valkyrie, the assigned Techpriest (likely at the behest of the squad) manages to activate a pict-screen to receive feedback from the warship's sensors and auspex scanners. Images soon flicker to life, and the situation becomes much clearer...


The instability in the Warp has led to the ship being pushed - or perhaps pulled - forward into the system faster and further than anticipated or intended. Rather than emerging on the very edge of the planetary system, the vessel has emerged well within the orbits of several of the system's planets - and much closer to the target planet than would normally be safe or sane.

And whether intentional or not, it seems that the vessel has been pulled directly into an active warzone.

Verdan Prime, once a glowing jewel of holy sanctity and beauty, is now marred by the scars of several Roks that have impacted its surface. Clouds of ash and storm fill the skies as well, the surface and air of the beautiful cardinal world cast into disorder. Even the moon has not been spared - a massive Rok has smashed into it, cratering into the surface and now bristling with ramshackle orbital and defensive weapon emplacements to keep the planet's System Defense Fleet, a pair of Sword-class escorts, at bay. The defensive vessels themselves seem to be locked in a stalemate with several small Ork vessels, the rusty-bucket raiders harrying the wounded Imperial ships and trying to push them into the waiting jaws of the moon-base's "dakka."

As the Imperial transport begins to recovery its bearings and turn its bow towards the planet, the Ork raiders find their new prey more interesting and quickly abandon the limping SDF ships to make a beeline for the transport. Word quickly spreads across vox-channels; the Captain intends to smash his way past the vessels, unleash his cargo upon the besieged world, and then unite with the SDF vessels to keep the void-borne Orks at bay until reinforcements (inevitably) arrive.

A short while later, shudders run down the length of the vessel as it unleashes a broadside upon the Ork raiders, heavy ordnance smashing through hodge-podge armor and destroying the lead raider outright, while the other two quickly begin to trade salvos with each other - likely over who the new admiral of their "fleet" is. With the gunboats distracted, the transport quickly makes its way towards the besieged world; It is not long before the Astartes feel their world shifting and rocking beneath their feet, the heavy orbital transporter lifting off within the hangar, and making its way towards the opening launch-bay doors an into the cold silence of space.

The transporter joins with dozens of others as they pour from the ship, along with a cloud of void-fighters and interceptors to protect the transports from Ork attackers. Sure enough, the moon-base launches several waves of tech-heretical ships and missiles their direction, but the Astartes transport is able to avoid much of the crossfire and make its way into the atmosphere. Vox-channels are filled with a flurry of orders and intelligence updates; the world is under heavy siege, as the Orks invaded in full force several days prior. Intel is currently very spotty and unreliable, with the PDF and Guard garrisons constantly pushing back and forth against Ork lines. But it is confirmed that the capital city is fully encircled, with many of the other larger cities also under attack. Most of the shrines have held strong, though a few are under attack - the Astartes' target being one of them. Vox contact with it was lost yesterday, after the initial Ork skirmishers fell back to call for artillery support...

As the transporter breaches the atmosphere, releases its own cargo - the Kill-Team's Valkyrie and several others drop free, their own engines igniting to let them soar towards their target. The other Valkyries hold at least three platoons of Cadians to assist the Astartes in their initial assault, with more to come later, situation permitting.

The Valkyrie rattles and rocks against the atmosphere and the ashy storms the now plague it. As the Techpriest begins to mutter various rites and sooth the dropship's systems, the Astartes are left with a moment to gather their thoughts and prepare a plan of attack...

[Seanfall]

"Greenskins crawling on a Cardinal world. As we thought our target is under siege already. Risk a flyby to get a look or scout from the ground? Personally I suggest we land then get a look. They might have Anti-aircraft ordnance up already." Zoreal was surprisingly calm given his hatred for the Greenskins. You could thank Hakon for that, the cantankerous Wolf's comments were beginning to get under the angels skin. He of course wasn't going to let this affect his treatment of his fellow Astartes, that said he could always give him a lower dose of painkiller to conserve supplies of course.

[Emperor Ing]

These horrid beasts are shockingly well-coordinated. Razael pointed out before a thought occured to him. Even should we reach the sword, if they have anti-air, exfiltration will be quite a horrid display. In addition to the problems it would cause for the defenders to receive reinforcements.

[cybric]

Sher'kan heard his squad offering sound advice. His own chapters approach to war dedicated a methodical approach however circumstances had forced their hands. The priority was the sword at the cathedral. 5 astartes and a duggy were a formidable force but they were a surgical tool they could not fight the entire Waargh in the open.

The priority was the sword at the cathedral he tells himself as he thinks of the lives lost at the capital.

He pushes those thoughts from his mind.

All units form up on our valkyrie. We are making our push towards the cathedral. Due to our emergence from the warp we don't know what the enemy has in store for us. There is a possibility that they will have anti-air batteries. That does not concern you. The enemy is is tidal. This does not faze you. No matter what the enemy throws at you remember that we are the emperors warriors. We are the sword in his hand. We are the bane of all his enemies and they shall know fear when they see us.

Once he was done Sher'kan opens a comm channel to his squad direct. Using astartes battle cant he makes the aware of all the information that he has, his intention to storm the cathedral using shock and awe if the enemy is present, and the ever so slight chance of AA batteries so they should prepare accordingly.

Sher'Kan calls the techpriest towards him in compartment.

[Talkkno]

Hakon winces at Sherk'an suggestion of all out assault,
"The Guard will not be able to keep up with our speed and ferocity." He replies bluntly as he grasps his bolter tightly.
"Our strength is more then enough to clear any greenskin rabble manning their ramshackle batteries. I say we descend from the skies beyond their sight, rip out their fangs, so the Guard may make a safe landing for preparation for ground assault directly from the cathedral outskirts."

[Lycan 01]

The adjacent Valkyries dip their wings a bit, slowly forming up around the Astartes' dropship in a wedge formation. The wing is still an hour or so out from the target, well away from any front-line fighting, when the Astartes hear a faint whine in the air outside. Followed by another, and then a dull thock against the hull of their Valkyie.

The Techpriest tilts his head slightly. "It seems we are taking light fire from the ground. Small arms, nothing that poses risk to our blessed machine," he nods solemnly.

It seems greenskin scouts or patrols are taking potshots at the dropships passing overhead, high aloft and out of range as they may be. Though, knowing Orks, they may not even be able to make out whether they're Imperial or Ork aircraft; they could just be bored.

[Seanfall]

"The Wolf can be cantankerous, but I believe he is.." The dull thuds drew the Angel's attention, he was waiting to see if it got more serious. "...I believe in this case he is correct. Assuming we can get past their sight without their bigger guns locking on us. It's a good idea,
we act as the tip of the Spear."

[Lycan 01]

Time is running out for decision making, as the Valkyrie begins to rattle slightly. This time, it's not from the random greenskin potshots still occasionally zipping skyward. "Turbulence," the techpriest intones dryly. "We are entering a stormfront. Composition is primarily snow, intermingled with ash. Chance of engine failure below 10 percent. Systems currently optimal. The Omnissiah blesses our journey."

The dropship's vox can be heard crackling in the cockpit. The other Valkyries are attempting to keep formation as they enter what seems to be a snowstorm blanketing hundreds of miles, no doubt a result of the rok's damaging the ecosystem and weather patterns. Several of them are experiencing engine issues; one's engines flame out, and the dropship is left gliding without power. It's forced the ditch in the mountain range passing below, leaving its squad of Guardsmen at the mercy of the elements and roving Ork patrols; the Emperor protects.

The vox soon crackles with something else. Distorted messages, being broadcast across multiple channels. The words are hard to make out, though they sound like a stern man of old age. ".....eenskin.......uport....... atta........munition.......reinfor.......espera... ....mperor prot....."

The storm is interfering too much with the ship's vox systems to pick up the full message. However, some tinkering with the bulky vox harness strapped to the back of the temperamental Space Wolf might prove potentially fruitful. Time is of the essence though; the Valkyrie's are already setting up approach vectors with the target, with touchdown or insertion being just minutes away.

[Emperor Ing]

I could make out what sounds like a call for reinforcements. Razael said.

[Seanfall]

"We have no time for that, the storm changes our plans we land where ever we are able and make due groundside. It is time to act now brothers, our mission awaits."

[Emperor Ing]

It is an objective of convenience. Razael compromises. If they can render aid without compromising momentum, he will suggest they do so.

[Talkkno]

"It could prove critical to our successes." Hakon mumurs as he unhooks the vox caster from back of his power armor with a solid *thunk* of the claps unfurling. His knowledge of machine spirits was rudimentary, but in his experience, the ability to cut through the fog of war could count more then any amount of bolter shells, gently tinkering with the various knobs and blinking lights to coax the vox to life.


Int [roll0]

[Lycan 01]

The Space Wolf's ruminations and invocations of the machine spirits prove fruitful, as the vox caster's stronger sensors hum to life and begins to pick up the broken chatter. As he fiddles with the dials and scanners, much of the static and distortion fades.

"This is Abbott Mosgus of the Saint's Scabbard Cathedral. The greenskins have air support, but we've held off the latest attack. Ammunition and medical supplies are low. We are in dire need of reinforcements; our losses have been heavy, and the situation is growing desperate. There will be no surrender; the Emperor Protects," the man's voice intones, before the message loops for an automated playback.

The Valkyrie rattles as thunder roars outside its hull. It will enter the Shrine-Schola's airspace within the minute. Though armored and armed, the wing of transports may not be able to handle prolonged exchange of fire with Ork aircraft or anti-air defenses. The Astartes must decide quickly - land and fight through the Ork siege, or airdrop directly into the fray? Or perhaps they have a more creative solution...

[Seanfall]

"We can't risk losing more transports, land and let us take the fight to the ground." That was what the Blood Angel said, but at the same time he looked at his own bolter and those of his brothers. Along with the doors to the Valkirye. It would be foolish, and reckless but...it could work.

[Emperor Ing]

They won't see us coming because of the storm, either in the air or on the ground. Razael pointed out. The symphony of the storm will further blunt the storm of our approach. Bring us to ground. I would have us lose as few transports as we can, and drive our elegant spear straight through their hideous siege.

[Talkkno]

"I believe you need hear yourselves again brothers, you propose that we trek through miles upon miles filled with countless greenskins and break the siege ourselves? A fool's errand." Hakon grumbles, undistributed by the constant tittering as he packs his vox caster.

[Emperor Ing]

We need only pierce through enough aliens to get ourselves inside. Breaking the siege is not within the scope of our operation.

[cybric]

"I believe you need hear yourselves again brothers, you propose that we trek through miles upon miles filled with countless greenskins and break the siege ourselves? A fool's errand." Hakon grumbles, undistributed by the constant tittering as he packs his vox caster.
Sher'Kan considered their option. Each of the kill team had made good points however in the end the mission was what they were here for.

Hakon is correct. The mission is to secure the sword everything else is ancillary.

The fastest way in is through a air drop under cover of the storm. If the storm is causing trouble for us it will also definitely be causing trouble for the greenskins as well. Once we're in Razael you can carve those greenskins up into beautiful piles to your hearts content.

In the meantime we prep for drop. I believe aerial insertions are a specialty of the Blood Angels is it not. This will be quite the opportunity for you to show us how beautifully you can fall from sky.

[Seanfall]

"Fall? We will do more then fall, as we land we shall strike down as many of the Ork as we can." Zoreal looked to the transports doors again. "These ships are lightly armed are they not? Our armor possess mag boots...perhaps even from here we can support the others."

[Talkkno]

"Then we should continue our course, the difficulties we face in the storm should magnified tenfold for the greenskins."

[cybric]

"Then we should continue our course, the difficulties we face in the storm should magnified tenfold for the greenskins."
Precisely the idea. Pilot, stay the course for the citadel.

Switching over to the general comm channel Sher'kan lays out the plan for the remaining guard.

[Lycan 01]

The plan is set in motion. The other pilots give confirmation; in each cargo hold, Guardsmen check their las rifles, secure their harnesses, and make the sign of the Aquila. The storm continues to howl outside the dropship, though it occasionally passes through brief patches of calm and visibility between the swirling clouds and sheets of ashen snow. The occasional potshot or stray round zips past them or pings harmlessly off the hull. The Valkyries begin to drop altitude, lining up on approach vector for the besieged shrine-fortress. A few more stray rounds fill the air. The dull pings against the hull grow in number - and some sound a bit heavier.

The ship's auspex begins to ping, and the Techpriest tilts his head inquisitively. "Contacts," he states in a factual manner, a brief moment before a rocket roars just beneath the left wing of the dropship.

Warning sirens begin to wail, as the sensors flicker with multiple contacts. More rockets fill the air, as well as tracer rounds and even the occasional zapp beam. Some are hurled upwards from the earth below, but many seem to be coming from the sky ahead of them, no doubt from other aircraft. The other Valkyries immediately begin to break formation, attempting to make themselves harder targets to track.

Unfortunately, Orks don't aim to begin with; they simply fill the air with lead and hope that something explodes in an entertaining fashion. Which means that while the storm might provide cover against scanners and weapon systems used by other foul xenos and heretical foes, against Orks... it doesn't really change the odds much at all.

One Valkyrie is destroyed outright by a rocket to the cockpit. Another has its tail sheared off, the terrified screams of its pilots filling the vox for only a few seconds before it corkscrews into the earth below. Evasive maneuvers seem to just be a roll of the dice, and for many Imperials in the sky around them, their number is up.

The Kill-Teams pilot frantically wrestles with the control, their superhuman senses easily telling them of his attempts to forge a serpentine pattern through the sky, attempting to bring them closer to their target. His efforts are valiant. But they are cut short when the enemy finally makes its presence directly known; above the roar of the storm and hail of rockets and bullets, the Astartes hear the tell-tale rattle of a Deffkopta's engine and the whine of its rusty rotors.

They also hear the Ork pilot bellow a war-cry of "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!" just before smashing his ramshackle aircraft into the Valkyrie, colliding with the right wing and nearly shearing it off as the greenskin machine is outright demolished a cloud of fire and scrap.

The pilot and copilot both scream, frantically fighting the controls to keep the craft from nosediving, its aerodynamics greatly reduced and altitude rapidly falling. The Techpriest unleashes a tirade of binary shrieking as he attempts to calm the machine-spirit and reroute power to the engines to keep them aloft. The Astartes are left with a clear choice - ride it out, or jump.

[Seanfall]

"So far still not the worst air drop I've been through." Zoreal looked around at his brothers, his voice had been deadpan and monotone as usual. "This is why Apothecaries aren't encouraged to use humor." The Angel took a moment to take in everything that had happened. All in all it went to **** a little sooner then he had thought. Zoreal moved towards the vehicle's exit and laid his hand over the emergency open.

"Grab the pilots and get ready, this ship is going down."

[Emperor Ing]

Hakon, grab the stasis pod. Razael stated, checking his chainsword and bolt pistol to see if they were in order as he walked to the cockpit, attempting to grab the pilots from their seats. We're leaving. Hold on, if you want to live.

[Talkkno]

Hakon remained calm as secured the stasis pod that was thrust upon, strapping on a grav chute for an emergency exit stating
"Indeed"

[Lycan 01]

The pilot and copilot continue to wrestle with the controls until the Astartes pluck them from the cockpit. As they're grabbed, they attempt to pull the ship into a climb, realizing that more altitude would assist in bailing out. They're unable to finish pulling it up before they're wrenched from their seats, but they at least manage to steady the craft for the next few moments, allowing for an easier evacuation.

When Zorael hits the emergency access button, the boarding ramp drops open without ceremony, whirling wind and snow immediately filling the cabin. The storm outside will hinder visibility, and carrying extra weight may hamper the Astartes' grav chute precision, but they should be able to land safely. Whether they land in a good spot, of course, is uncertain.

Screams and disorder continue to fill the vox channels, as the sound of battle and vicious dogfighting fill the sky outside. It seems the rest of the dropships are making a blitz for the monastery, intending to deploy their human cargo before attempting to properly fight back or escape. As the Astartes jump free from their damned craft, a vibrant fireball illuminates a nearby stormcloud - another Valkyrie downed by the unrelenting hail of rockets and bullets filling the sky.

Hopefully the ground will be more hospitable?



Agility roll to land _together._ You'll be landing in No Man's Land regardless. Whether you land with your squad or a battle-buddy or a new greenskin friend is... up in the air. :smallwink:

Also, Hakon and Razael get -2 to their roll because they're carrying the stasis pod and pilot/copilot respectively.

And a -2 penalty to whoever decides to bring the Techpriest along, if they feel generous. :smalltongue:

[Emperor Ing]

Razael jumps out, leaping out of the Valkyrie with as much grace as an Astartes holding two humans can manage before activating his jump pack just before hitting the ground so as to soften the fall as much as possible.

Agility (Net 0 bonus)
[roll0]

edit: Razael seems to be jinxed

[cybric]

Sher'kan attaches his grav chute and unceremoniously grabs the techpriest as he prepares to leave the Valkyrie.

All the other Astartes are prepping to make the jump. No words or orders were needed as they all knew the score and what the next course of action should be here.

The door opens and Sher'kan leaps with a bound from the ship holding tight to the Techpriest. They would need as many assets as they could get now more than ever.


[roll0]

Let's see how this plays out.

Edit: Not so bad I suppose

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was the last one to jump, deciding to wait till all others were clear before leaping out his grav chute firing as he flew through the air. Their was always a small amount of vertigo with every jump as he realigned his senses.


Agility
[roll0]

[Talkkno]

"So the claws of Russ descend." Hakon murmurs as he takes the jump.


[roll0]

[Lycan 01]

The four Astartes' chutes deploy without much issue. However, the hail of bullets and buffeting winds force them to drift apart as they descend, and before long they lose visual contact with each other. Their helms' sensors crackle and waver as they try to detect each others' IFF signatures, but they can still pick each other's "dog tags" out even as they drift hundreds of feet apart...

Into No Man's Land the angels fall...



Hakon & Sher'kan

The two Astartes land a few meters apart from each other, boots sinking into snow and mud. Their keen eyesight immediately picks out signs of battle in the surrounding area - old craters, abandoned trenches, scorched trees. No sign of bodies, though, human or Ork. It seems this area has not been contested territory for some time - which means the Orks have pushed the defenders within a mile of the citadel's walls.

The Techpriest, having survived the evacuation and landing, immediately gestures towards the stasis pod. "It seems the device is intact," he nods astutely, focused more on the technology than his own well-being in a battlefield. "If I may be of service, let me know. It is the least I can do, honored Astartes." Oh look, it seems he hasn't deleted "gratitude" from his emotions yet.

Their HUD compass indicates that the fortress is likely due North. Ork bellows and gunfire can be heard all around, though much of it is distant and dull. However, the gunfire and roars to the West sound much closer.


Razael

The odds are againt Razael, as the the Orks send a whithering hail of gunfire skyward towards Razael. A few shells and bullets bounce and plink harmlessly off his armor, powerless against the might of an Astartes.

Unfortunately, his grav-chute and the two humans under his arms are not so lucky, and are mercilessly riddled with bullets. The pilot and copilot go limp, dying wordlessly in his grasp, while his grav-chute loses much of its functionality - he finds himself plummeting much faster and without much ability to steer.

With a resounding thud that rattles his teeth, he smashed down into a deep crater left by some sort of artillery shell. And it quickly becomes apparent that he's not alone. A small shack of rusty metal and scorched wood has been built into the wall of the crater, with crude Ork glyphs scrawled messily all over it.

About half a dozen small goblinoid xenos - Gretchin, no doubt - look up from their card game and blink in surprise.

They then promptly begin to scream, most of them grabbing makeshift knives, pistols, and other weaponry and charging the Blood Angel. One, however, grabs all the coins off the small table and runs back into the shack, apparently deciding he wants to at least die rich.

The 5 Gretchin charge like a pack of green piranha, pelting the Astartes with bullets from their tiny guns as they try to close the distance and ovewhelm him with their blades. But it's not like that'll work, right?


(Gretchin Mob attack: [roll0])



Zorael

Zorael's vertigo proves problematic, as that momentary lapse in focus is all it takes for the wind to push him off-course. Try as he might to right himself, his momentum is already bearing him Westward, rather than North towards the monastery.

As the ground rapidly approaches, he can hear gunfire. Loud, heavy gunfire, and the hollering, ecstatic war-cries of Orks. A moment later, he lands unceremoniously in the middle of a trench network, with a small sandbag bunker just a few yards away. A heavy machine gun, likely a bastardized Imperial autocannon, is being fired skyward by a pair of Orks, while a third looks on and laughs uproariously at their attempts to "aim" at the Imperial dropships overheard.

Of course, the thunderous landing of the Astartes nearby immediately gets their attention. The trio do double-takes, their red eyes going wide with shock at the sudden appearance of the beaky boy. The overseer roars in challenge, lunging behind cover to try and find a weapon. The two anti-air gunners roar as well, and attempt to swivel the gun towards him, firing all the while and leaving a vibrant tracer trail scything through the air.

(Ork MG team: [roll1]

[Seanfall]

Zoreal let out a string of colorful curses, most of which used anatomy in ways that were biologically impossible. His brothers might have been able to hear a snippet or two as the Angel landed rather ungracefully on bent knee. The Orks drew his attention, he sighed even as his blade appeared in hand as if it had always been there. His Armor was a Black Blur, as he zig zagged towards his attackers. Mud and snow kicked up as his legs plowed like twin pistons through the trench.



Roll Agility to dodge
[roll0]
Weapon Skill to cut some Orksies.
[roll1]

[cybric]

Sher'kan get's his bearings after the plummet from the valkyrie looking around seeing ash and snow. Looking around his immediate area he spots the techpriest, Hakon, and most importantly the stasis field generator.

He looked around and didn't see the blood angels.

He places his palm up to the side of his helm and activates the auspex that his chapters techmarines installed before he was sent to the deathwatch. The systems scan the surrounding area feeding information to him in a steady stream.

In addition to knowing about his immediate area he needed to know the status of the blood angels next.

Deathwatch sound off.



Turning to the techpriest Sher'kan says "The best thing that you can do is make sure that the stasis pod is operating correctly. It's operation is critical to our success. If you see anything that could help us or that you could use to our benefit that would also be a very keen way to help. Is there a particular field that you specialize in or have skills that could help our mission. Also what do I call you?"



Cocking his bolter Sher'kan turns to Hakon. "Brother Hakon it seems I'm in need of you trekking skills."

[Emperor Ing]

Things were not going beautifully for Razael. The wind was more intense than he imagined, and there was a veritable hail of bullets coming at him from below, enough to outright kill the humans he intended to save, and scratch the paint on his armor. May the Emperor guard their souls. lands

Landing in the crater, the Blood Angel quickly regained his composure and took stock of the situation. Gretchin, five, were coming at him, as the tags of his squad were yet many more feet away, leaving him alone for the time being. He lept out of the hail of knives and fire, not desiring his armor to be any more scratched than it needs to be.

Agility to dodge
[roll0]

He then unclipped the chainsword from his belt, and with the roar of the chainsword blade, swept it in an arc across the collection of alien filth.

Weapon Skill
[roll1]

[Talkkno]

"To our brothers I'd presume" Hakon replies, removing his helmet as a hiss of airtight seal was released, his senses free at last of the confides of metal, closing his eyes to reach for his other senses piercing the fog that clouded sight and autosenses alike.


Perception
[roll0]

[cybric]

"To our brothers I'd presume" Hakon replies, removing his helmet as a hiss of airtight seal was released, his senses free at last of the confides of metal, closing his eyes to reach for his other senses piercing the fog that clouded sight and autosenses alike.


Perception
[roll0]


Good intuition i meant to finish the post but my kid wanted attention so i posted what i had at the time

Id say imho priorities are as follows

ensure protection of the stasis pod
regroup
push for the citadel

[cybric]

[roll0]

not sure what bonuses the auspex would add to the roll or if I even need to roll for this but here we go

[Lycan 01]

Sher'kan & Hakon

The Techpriest bows his head respectfully. "Hezekiah," he replies in response to the inquiry of his name. "The aircrews often refered to me as 'Zeke' if this is preferable for you, honored Astartes." It's obvious they could call him "potato" and he wouldn't complain.

Hakon's senses are flooded with the stench of Orks, burnt gunpowder, scorched earth, and rotting human remains. It's very apparent that this section of the battlefield is well under Ork control, and has been for days. The siege has clearly not been going in the Imperium's favor. The wind whips and howls around him, making it harder to pick out exact scents and sounds. But somewhere not far off, he can hear the roar of Astartes-pattern chainswords, though he can't tell if they're together or apart...

Sher'kan's auspex sensors indicate that the Blood Angels are both separate. One seems to be off to the West, though his exact location is hard to ping exactly. The other's IFF tag is flickering somewhere to the South-West. It seems there's interference, likely a structure or earthworks.

The stasis pod hovers idly, apparently unharmed. The Techpriest gives it a look over anyway, muttering to himself in binary beeps as he performs rites of protection.



Razael

The chainsword howls to life, the revving engine drowning out the battle-cries of the Gretchin and the howling of the storm. It is a beautiful sound, but not as beautiful as the rending of flesh and splintering of Xenos bone as it easily cleaves through their alien bodies.

But still they charge, eager to bring him down. They duck and weave, ramshackle pistols occasionally finding their mark and chipping the paint on his armor. Their blades find no footing, even as they try to clamber onto his body and work the jagged edges into the joints of his armor. One brandishes a chain-knife of Imperium make, no doubt scavenged from a dead pilgrim, and leaps into the air with a tiny little yell of "Waaaaagh!" He aims to bring the whirring blade down into the Blood Angel's neck - only to be cleaved out of the air and split in twain in a shower of blood and viscera. The knife twirls through the air, and lands harmlessly in the mud.

Well that was eas-

Searing pain jolts up Razael's spine, as a las-pistol is fired point blank into his back. Though the armor holds strong, the intense heat and force is enough the bruise and broil the flesh of his lower back. Turning around, he finds a startled-looking Gretchin - the one who ran into the shack a moment ago - holding a looted Imperial pistol, the Aquila crudely etched over with an Ork face. It seems he used the rest of the mob as a distraction to retrieve it, and enact his cunning plan for glory and gain. The Xeno looks utterly confused as to why the oh-so-powerful weapon didn't bring down the towering behemoth.

Time to enlighten him?


(Gretchin Mob destroyed. Surviving Gretchin is too confused to attack. Razael is Wounded and takes -2 to rolls until recovered.)


Zorael

Heavy rounds chop through the air around him as Zorael charges the Ork team. His feet crush the earth beneath him as he thunders through the trench, towards the sand-bag emplacement. However, one round manages to strike true, the massive slug bouncing off his left elbow in a shower of sparks and bullet fragments. The force is enough to bruise flesh, tear ligaments, and crack bone. But even as pain burns up his arm, the Blood Angel continues to charge, quickly closing on his foes and swinging his chainsword in a wide arc to cleave both of them down.

The Orks, to their credit, are smart enough to know when to abandon their weapon and defend themselves. Both of them are clad in thick armor, the rusty metal and scrap plating intended to protect them from weapon malfunctions or misfires. It proves handy against the Astartes' chainsword, though, as they both turn their bodies so that the armor takes the brunt of the impact. Sparks and blood erupt as the two Orks are smacked several yards backwards by the roaring blade... but they both quickly regain their footing, and roar in challenge, even as blood dribbles down their bodies from the non-mortal wounds they've been given.

They then lunge forward with fists raised, roaring "WAAAAAGH!!" in unison as they aim to tackle the Blood Angel and beat him to death with their bare, brutish hands.

The third Ork seems to have disappeared into the storm. Coward.

(Ork MG Team Strength: [roll0])

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was a little surprised that neither of the Orks were dead yet. They were striking at him with their bare hands, had they been human or Tau Zoreal would have laughed. Orks on the other hand had the muscle to back those strikes up. The Angel had prove his speed before and he would do so again, spinning on his heel to avoid and dodge. His blade still roaring was brought to bare teeth flashing as he struck at the gaps in their armor.

During this time, Zoreal had said nothing. The only sounds coming from him were grunts of exertion. These foes were not worth wasting words on. To him they were refuse, trash, an annoyance that needed to be cast aside. Them and every greenskin filth in this galaxy.


Agility dodge.
[roll0]

Weapon Skill
[roll1]

[cybric]

Get'em Zoreal!

[Emperor Ing]

Razael cringed as the pain lanced through his torso. Who knew laspistols could be so powerful? Growling, he spun around and sent a swift kick on to the Gretchin's body, intent on enjoying the display of its broken carcass being sent flying through the battlefield for what it was worth. He knew he needed to find Zorael as he was not operating at peak capacity. If at all, as he remembered how sluggish and lumbering his movements have been since he fell. Concussion?

When the Gretchin is dispatched, Razael stood and climbed out of the crater, attempting to navigate the storm in the direction of his HUD's dog tags.

What will he say, that he was damaged by Gretchin? Ridiculous. A Nob with a Zzap Gun? Lootas with Plasma Deffguns, that's believable.


Strength (Kick)
[roll0]

Intelligence (Navigate)
[roll1]

[Talkkno]

"These Orks are stragglers, it will be quite an ordeal to make to our objective but our brothers are close. " Hakon comments as he hefts his bolter, adjusting his sight as a gesture of relax as he peers through his bolter's scope for sign of the enemy.

[Lycan 01]

Sher'kan
The Space Wolf slinks away, leaving the Salamander along with the Techpriest and the stasis casket. The cogboy is idly examining the hovering case, gently caressing it and muttering a few invocations of maintenance. "Such fascinating circuitry and intricate production. If I am to cease functionality on this day, at least the Omnissiah has blessed me with the chance to observe this technology with my ocular sensors," he seems to sigh contently. It doesn't seem to take much to make the Ad-Mech happy, does it?


Hakon

The predator begins his hunt. Stalking into the battle-blasted wasteland, Hakon follows the distant sounds of conflict. Yes, those are Astartes chainblades, there's no mistaking it.

A few minutes into his hunt, he suddenly hears the sounds of Orks grunting and snarling at each other in their guttural tongue. Peeking over the edge of a crater, he spots half a dozen Ork pointing in different directions and seeming to argue with each other, while a pair of gretchin hang back and cackle. It seems the Orks can't agree on which direction their patrol should go. It only takes a few seconds for one to throw a punch. One to throw a secon punch. One to pull out a knife. One to pull out a ramshackle pistol. And then all six of them to dive at each other and begin to punch, stab, pistol-whip, and otherwise brutal each other to determine who is right or wrong here.

Hakon could easily sneak past them at this point, since the patrol obviously isn't going to be finding him or his brothers soon. Assuming he can resist his own gnawing hunger for a proper scrap, after all these weeks of nothing but words and rhetoric instead of action...



Razael

The barbaric brute is beautifully bifurcated by the Battle-Brother's now-bloody boot.

Having dealt with the vermin, Razael begins his hunt for his comrades, though the pain of his injury continues to linger. The storm causes his HUD to flicker a bit, but he's still able to work his way towards the IFF markers of his comrades. He's able to work his way towards his squadmates without encountering any foes or obstacles, and he soon the vital-signs and ID tags of Hakon and Zoreal appear on his targeting display. Hakon is closer, but Zoreal's hearts are beating much faster. Is he in combat, or injured? Trying to hail either of them results in only static...



Zoreal

The brutes reach out to clobber and tackle the Blood Angel, but Zoreal avoids them with ease, even as his arm continues to burn with pain, the joint of his elbow crunching a bit as he brings his weapon up to bite back at the foul Xenos. Their fists find only empty air, while his chainblade finds its mark. Blood and sparks erupt from one's stomach as the Astartes' sword chews through armor and flesh. The Ork staggers backwards, trying to hold his guts in as blood pours down his body and from his mouth. He looks almost incredulous, before his eyes glaze over and he collapses into the mud.

The other ork roars definately, grabbing a heavy wrench from the mud before charging in with a fierce snarl of vengeance! He swings it with both hands, biceps rippling as he puts enough force behind it to smash Guardsman carapace armor like glass. Astartes armor would probably hold up to it, though the impact would still rattle bones and organs. Might not want to get hit by that...



(Ork Gunner Weapon Skill: [roll0])

[Emperor Ing]

Hakon was closer, but Zorael would undoubtedly appreciate the assistance, plus it was what Razael needed as pain continued to lance up his back with every step. Power through it. Razael continued onwards, moving to render assistance to Zorael and link up with him.

[Talkkno]

Hakon gripped his combat knife closely as he spotted the Orks, his eyes narrowing and tongue weft with the scent of a potential kill, but he stayed the wolf within him biting his tongue as caution would prove better part of valor today.


Agility
1d20+

[Seanfall]

Zoreal was Offended, yes that was the word. Their bare hands were at least meant as weapons but now some junk it picked up off the ground? Well it was time it learned what a real weapon could do. Zoreal did not dodge, rather his blade would meet with this impromptu weapon and hold it there. His free hand moved with practiced ease. Despite his wound his Bolt Gun still appeared in his hand as if it had jumped into it, within the same movement as he parried his foe. The familiar rapport of the storied gun sounded as he unloaded into his target.


Parry! (WS.) -2 so +0
[roll0]

Bang Bang! (BS) -2
[roll1]

[Lycan 01]

Zorael

Orcs are always stronger than they look. Something about the blasphemous Waaaagh! energy which fuels their damnable abilities, perhaps. But with shocking strength, the brute smashes Zorael's blade aside in a shower of sparks, the chainsword whining in protest. With a cunning grin, the Ork pivots slightly, changing the arc of his swing. Rather than smashing the wrench against Zorael's chest with a blow that would have pulped the organs of a lesser mortal, it instead smacks the Blood Angel's left forearm as he brings his bolter. Pain lances up the Astartes' limb, his fingers briefly going numb as his already wounded arm is further brutalized.

The boltgun flies free of his grasp, twirling harmlessly through the air.

The Ork leers wickedly, before swinging the wrench with both arms, aiming to smash Zorael's helmet through his skull.

(Zorael was Disarmed rather than further wounded. :smalleek:

Ork Gunner WS: [roll0])

Razael

There would be a certain allure to rescuing the grumpy hound. But the fraternal blood of the Blood Angels is a stronger bond that cannot be denied.

As he makes his way towards Zorael's ID pip on his HUD, Razael finds himself entering an abandoned trench network. Scorched earth, broken trees, and many other signs of battle litter the area, but there seem to be no bodies, human or Ork. Yes, the battle passed this point days ago, doubtlessly in favor of the aggressor.

As he draws nearer to his blood-brother, Razael can faintly hear the sounds of combat! The whine of a chainblade, the clanging of metal on metal, and the snarling of a foul Xenos brute! Just a few more turns in the trench, and-

Razael rounds a corner and discovers an armor-clad Ork hastily trying to load a crude missile launcher. It keeps glancing impatiently towards the sounds of the battle, an unhappy snarl on its face. It seems to be upset that it's missing the squabble - but it also seems to want to end the squabble. No doubt he's prepping the weapon to turn it on Zorael. It also has not noticed Razael yet - the Astartes has only a heartbeat to act!


Hakon

The Space Wolf manages to calm the howling hunger within him, and steady his body and mind.

Unfortunately, the battle-churned earth beneath him gives way under the immense weight of his armor. The side of the crater crumbles, and the Astartes is left fully exposed to the foul Xenos!

However, the Orks do not notice him. Even as chunks of earth and broken stone tumble down the side of crater and bounce near them, the greenskins are too focused on fighting with each other. In fact, one merely picks up one of the tumbling rocks and uses it to smash his comrade in the face, laughing uproariously in bloodthirsty mirth.

There is no honor or nobility in the way these Xenos make war. Only twisted entertainment and a gluttony for violence. Disgusting.

(The Ork Patrol still has not noticed Hakon, even though he is exposed.)

[Seanfall]

Zoreal didn't have time to be stunned by his turn of fortunes, the pain that shot up his arm wouldn't let him. He was without any weapons, luckily with a quick sub conscious movement he felt his armor flood his system with a dose of painkiller. His arm would still be limited by the pain was no longer a distraction. His brothers, sword tossed to the side, his bolter likewise removed. But it was the blade that angered him, red flooded his vision a righteous rage flooded him. It was not the black rage of the angels rather his own hatred and guilt finally exploding. And at the top of his lungs he let out a pained roar so loud and full of anger he almost felt his throat tear. He charged the Ork bringing his Narthecium to bear. Though a tool for healing it could never the less be used to harm.


Agility (Idea is he charged past the blow.)
[roll0] Don't know if the painkillers remove the -2 but banking that it doesn't.

WS (Do I get any bonuses for the all out attack and rage?)
[roll1]

comeon Dice!

[Emperor Ing]

Pain still lancing across his body, he paused and raised his chainsword as he saw the xenos beast raising its weapon. A horrid facsimile of the missile launcher if ever there was one, the patchwork construction looked like it would come undone if he simply looked at it too hard yet it remained painfully intact in the Ork's hands. Razael wasn't sure whether the patchwork weapon or the Ork continuing to have hands offended him more. Roaring, he bit through his pain and charged the Ork, his chainsword roaring to life as he sought to end the creature with a single almighty swing of his chainsword.


WS
[roll0]

[Talkkno]

Hakon curses as he gets up on his feet, his patience tested as the scent of the greenskins drew ever closer as his grip on his combat knife grew ever tighter, but he continued to stay his hand as his brothers were in need of his aid.

Stealth

[roll0]

[Lycan 01]

Zoreal
The Ork bellows its own roar of barbaric challenge as Zoreal lunges for him. It realizes mid-swing what he aims to do, and quickly throws the wrench free. His hands reach out to grasp the Blood Angel's outstretched arm,
grabbing the Narthecium in a vice-like grip. The brute tries to hold him back, roaring defiantly even as his feet slip in the mud, the Astartes' furious assault pushing him backwards. His muscles strain, biceps bulging as he tries to hold his death at bay. He roars again and again, defiant as Zoreal's fury threatens to overpower him.

The Ork gives a tries to give a final war-cry, but he's interrupted as the muscles in his arm are finally pushed past their limit, and Zoreal smashes the Narthecium into the foul Xenos' face. Time seems to slow to a crawl. The Reductor whines as the drill-bit bores through flesh and bone, and the Apothecary can recognize and name every section of the brute's brain being lobotomized. With a final sickening crunch, the Reductor smashes through the opposite side of the Ork's cranium, leaving his limp corpse speared on the medical device like a macabre trophy.

But there's no time for Zoreal to catch his breath, as he hears the familiar roar of an Astartes chainsword just meters behind him, and the roar of another Ork in response. One of his Battle-Brothers is near!

....there's suddenly a loud boom from the direction of the fighting, followed by silence.


Razael
Sparks and bits of metal fill the air as the chainblade smashes into the ramshackle bazooka, the Ork roaring in anger as it blocks the strike with its own weapon. It throws itself backwards, hands quickly smashing buttons and twisting knobs along the sides of the blasphemous weapon. With a sickening leer of crooked teeth that turns the Blood Angel's stomach, the Xeno tries to heft the weapon into a firing position.

The creature is clearly crazy, as it seems to be planning to fire point-blank at the Astartes!

And with a guttural grunt of something in its disgusting language, the Ork pulls the trigger - or whatever mockery of a trigger that weapon has, at least. Sparks and smoke hiss and sizzle from exposed wires, the rocket shuddering as its booster begins to ignite. Razael only has a moment to react!

(Rokketeer BS: [roll0])

The Ork suddenly evaporates in a cloud of fire and gore, as the ramshackle rocket explodes in front of his face. Bits of charred metal and burnt meat bounce off of Razael's beautiful armor, disgusting but harmless.

The Ork's legs are left standing, with nothing but oily smoke rising from above his waist.

Ew.



Hakon

The Orks continue their skirmish, beating the snot out of each other. After a minute or so, four of the Orks are left sprawled out in the mud, most of them having had several of their teeth knocked out. The sole Ork still standing on his feet - also the largest of the bunch - laughs sickeningly as he picks up the scattered fangs, before slipping them into his pockets. He then barks orders at the downed Xenos, who after a moment scramble back to their feet. They give him several begrudging glares, but cower a bit when he shakes his fist at them. They quickly fall into formation, and he gestures for them to follow him. The Ork patrols head back into the storm, with the two gretchin minions scampering after them - after picking up a few forgotten teeth, of course.

It seems they were too distracted (or stupid) to even look around for the Space Wolf. Hakon is free to continue on his way; his flickering HUD shows the IFF tags of the two Blood Angels are now adjacent.

The vox-caster suddenly crackles in his ear. It's stronger reception seems to be picking up something his Battle-Brothers' can't receive!

".....ike Force Scabbard.....hail...... ill-Team......urvivor.....copy?" a young man's voice crackles through the static, sporting a Cadian accent.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal didn't have a moment to take a breath as the boom drew his full attention. Only able to shake his arm to remove the excess Ork gore, he grabs up his own sword and Bolter as he takes off towards the explosion. However he does find time to leap onto the first disembowled Orks head with both feet covering his boots in even more gore and viscera. Rounding the corner he is prepared to charge into battle to protect his Brothers. Instead he finds Razeal standing a few feet away from a pair of smoking Ork legs and a blast mark.

Zoreal nods his head and turns to Razeal. "Impressive Brother."

[cybric]

I think that I said in a previous IC post that Sher'kan is looking for cover of a place to get out of the open with the stasis pod but I'm not sure I got a response.

[Lycan 01]

I think that I said in a previous IC post that Sher'kan is looking for cover of a place to get out of the open with the stasis pod but I'm not sure I got a response.



Sher'Kan

As the snow falls, Sher'kan examines the surrounding battlefield. Banks of drifting snow and thick mud cover much of the terrain, with deep shell craters pockmarking the land. It's not hard to find a good hiding spot, and the Techpriest is more than willing to help carefully guide the stasis pod to safety. It's almost akin to a normal human caring for a newborn babe, the way he fawns over the ancient device. Odd.

((Sorry I totally missed that. :smalleek:))

[Talkkno]

Hakon doesn't miss a step as he makes his way through the rugged terrain, replying in a low voice to evade the the orks behind him.

"This is the Deathwatch, statues?"

[Emperor Ing]

Razael was genuinely surprised by what had happened. While his mind had long ago accepted the insanity of the Orks with phlegmatic certainty, it came as a surprise when Ork technology did exactly what it looked like it should. Which is to say, either explode catastrophically, or simply fall into pieces. In the rare events when it did happen, it was beautiful.

Too bad his nice, polished armor now has charred chunks of Ork on it. Though beautiful itself, Razael preferred not to have it on his armor. At that point, it just becomes tacky. As Zorael came into view, he could see the Assault Marine attempting to brush off his armor, largely in vain. Good to see you too, Brother.

Come, let us rendezvous with the others. He said, following his HUD's indicators to the Space Wolf, while he absentmindedly cleaned the viscera off of his chainsword, shining the mirror finish to a shine.

[Lycan 01]

The storm begins to clear. Though the wind and ashy snow continue to howl and fall, the severity diminishes, and visibility gradually increases. The sounds of Imperial aircraft and heavy ordinance fade away overhead, with only the occasional rattling and wuppa-wuppa of Ork deffkoptas heard among the gales. It seems the Valkyries have either left the airspace, or all been downed...

The Blood Angels have no trouble making their way towards the Space Wolf; their injured bodies are able to recover now that they're less focused on exerting themselves in combat, especially with the Apothecary's oversight as needed. As they make their way over the broken landscape, they hear static crackling over their vox-units, as does Sher'Kan back in his hidey-hole. First, they hear the voice of their Space Wolf battle-brother.
"This is the Deathwatch, status?" Hakon's voice crackles over the airwaves.

The response is garbled, their armor's vox units unable to pick it up entirely. It sounds like a male Cadian though...

A few moments later, Razael and Zoreal spot the familiar figure of Hakon bounding over scorched earth and burnt craters, dutifully prowling towards them like a hound on the hunt. It seems the squad has been reunited, mostly.



Hakon
The voc-caster picks up the broken response, punctuated with the occasional bursts of static as thunder booms overheard. It sounds like a young Cadian, with a nervous timber in his tone.
"Stat.....port: Strike Force Scabbard has...the monastery with heavy loss.....Major Harlow and multiple offic...MIA or KIA. One Death......severely wounded. The Ork offense has halted....reinforcements. No response from higher command. What is....status, over?"

[Talkkno]

"Its good to see you well brothers; I've received a transmission that we all should hear" Hakon says boastfully as he tips his head slightly in acknowledgement of the bloodening the Astartes received, forwarding the message he received to their vox units.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal nodded to Hakon, his hand to head as he listened to the broadcast. "Things sound worse then I thought were, we need to find Sher'khan and make our way to those soldiers."

[Emperor Ing]

Agreed. Three is hardly a presentable kill-team. Razael remarks as he looks through his HUD for any clues to Sher'kan's wherabouts. We should move quickly, this increased visibility will surely aid the horrid Orks as well.

Perception
[roll0]

[Lycan 01]

It doesn't take long for the squadmates to reunite. With everyone regrouped, injuries and weapons are tended to, and preparations are made to get moving. The storm is beginning to break. The snowfall is less thick, increasing visibility out to a hundred yards or so, though the wind is still strong and the vox channels continue to crackle sporadically.

"The vessel is prepared for transit," the Techpriest softly observes, as he finishes painting a small cog symbol in oil on the surface of the stasis pod. "I have warded it to the best of my abilities. It should maintain functionality under duress, within logical reason," he states factually. "I am ready to move forward when the command is given."


Onwards!


The squad doesn't have much trouble moving towards the Monastery, though it lies over two kilometers away. Along the way, they pass by several signs of Ork patrols and long-fought battles - trenches, craters, ditches full of burnt bones and charred equipment, most of Imperial make. At one point the squad passes the burnt-out husk of a Chimera. One side is pockmarked with hundreds of bullet holes, and is smeared with multiple layers of dried human blood. A golden Aquila charm, one wingtip chipped by a bullet, lays half-buried in the black mud. Ork treatment of prisoners varies from Waaaagh! to Waaaagh!, and it seems this one has no use for them beyond target practice...

Any time for reverie or memorial is stolen by the sound of an engine. No. Engines.

The Techpriest tilts his head. "Combustion engines," he remarks, giving an astute nod of his hooded head. "Piston-driven, though mutliple cylinders are in dire need of tuning. The mufflers are damaged, as well. Or non-existent," he deadpans. "There are three of them." A small pause, before he tilts his head. "Three engines, to clarify."

Over the roar of the engines, something else can be heard. Is that... music? No. It can't be. It sounds utterly too horrid, and nigh unbearable (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQvGuSHMbMc). And to make matters worse, it seems to be getting closer. And fast.

The squad may be able to outrun them, but they would have to move fast - and the Techpriest is certainly not fast. Cover is not hard to find; the burnt-out Chimera, an abandoned trench nearby, and several deep artillery craters would provide ample protection.

Whether the Kill-Team wants to tango with three Ork vehicles and their occupants, though, is something that should probably be decided on quickly...

[Seanfall]

"As much as I want to cover the ground in Ork blood...it is best we hide to conserve our strength and ammunition. We will need them for our true objective." Zoreal had tended to his wound along with the others. It was a simple fix, only hampered by the size of his armor and the inconvenient placement of the wound itself.

[Emperor Ing]

Horrid abominations of vehicles. Razael spits in disgust at the gluttoral parody of engine sounds heard in the distance and he dashed for cover behind the Chimera husk. However we should conserve our strength, and trail them as they pass. Orks have such simple minds, they will move towards the nearest battle. We should trail them.

[Talkkno]

Hakon gave a rare grin with a gleam of madness in his eyes as he looked through the scope of his bolter, memories of saga of Ragnar Blackmane seared through his mind, the brilliance of the Wolf Lord's audacious deeds were well known among his chapter.

From acre to acre, the greenkins teemed
Among towering edifices of man's glory
debased
No simple sword's quarrel could stride such numbers
Ragnar cried, axe hewn with battle sweat
Mighty they were
The Sons of Russ could not overcome with simple strength
Gleaning his eyes among greenkins steeds
His eyes shone with brilliance
"We shall take upon the Ork guises in raiment of the iron wolf
He declared
Madness his companions cried
But strode onward they marched
for the power to turn away the plaguefather
No stratagem proved too bold"

"We should not be so quick to dismiss Ork vehicles brothers, their crudity can prove be an strength in this instance. Among my chapter Jarl Ragnar once infiltrated the heart of an Ork fortress by riding on their steeds, the Orks proving their typical dimwittness to scarcely notice, such for their joy for speed, they cared not for the rider for the thrill of the race. We should do the same."

[cybric]

Sher'khan is grateful to see that all of his squad are reunited they now had to make their way to the...he hears that engines along with the rest of the squad.

As his brothers make their opinions know he is not surprised to her the Space Wolf come up with a crazy but inventive option. It was quickly becoming a defining characteristic for him.

"It's not a glamorous option brothers but pragmatism might be the better part of valor here. Quick into the wreck, we'll let them pass us by and then make our way to the citadel. If they find us Hakon, we'll take them for everything they're worth."

Sher'khan motions for the tech priest to move the container along and scans the horizon with his bolter covering the squad.


Dude Hakon awesome idea and that is absolutely plan b if we're spotted. I just think that based on past results it might be more prudent to try and avoid a fight to get to where we need to be. But dude what I idea.

[Talkkno]

"Time is of the essence brothers, and this is the quickest way." Hakon insisted impatiently as he zeroed his scope on the ork driver that trailed the pack, one moment's trigger was all it took to send the whole convey careening into chaos.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal moved to hide among the wreckage, he stopped a moment as he saw Hakon taking aim. "WOLF! You have your orders." Zoreal allowed some of his past frustration with Hakon seep into his words. This was not the time for insubordination.

[Talkkno]

"Do not presume to pull rank on me, Zoreal." Hakon replies calmly, his words laced equal amounts of vemon, as he slowly skulks back from view.

[cybric]

Both of you fangs away. You can bloody each other after we we this thing to the citadel

The wolf and the angel. This had trouble written all of it.

[Lycan 01]

A long moment passes. The Techpriest cowers in the burnt-out hulk of the Chimera, crammed in the back behind the towering Astartes. He softly mutters a quiet prayer to the Omnissiah, hands shakily making the cogwheel gesture of devotion.

The earth begins to shake. The music grows louder, the thundering bass rattling teeth and bones as it draws closer. The engines roar, revving and shifting gears as they speed ever closer to their destination.

Out of the foggy snow and ash, they appear. An Ork buggy leads the pack, bedecked in rusted armor and emblazoned with Ork glyphs and sigils, as well as gaudy red racing stripes. A pair of exhaust pipes jut from either side, almost as if impaled through the bodywork itself, belching flame and black smoke with every rev of the engine. The driver seems to be nodding his head up and down violently to the pace of the "music," while a gunner smashes his fists repeatedly against the hideous twin-barreled gun mounted on the back. It's hard to tell if he's performing some sort of maintanence, or just enjoying the blasphemous sounds as well.

Behind it, a pair of hulking Ork Trukks trundle along, smashing through snowbanks and crushing war-scorched debris under their tusk-like rams. Both are heavily armored, with spikes and other decor jutting from the front to the back, also smeared with vibrant red stripes and splotches. Audio devices seem to be wired to the sides of them as well, pulsating with every thunderous beat of their battle hymn. Gunners man weapons mounted atop either vehicle - the gunner of the left trukk swivels a dual-barreled shoota from side to side warily, while the right vehicle's gunner is scrawling crude messages on his rokkit-launcha's ammunition. Judging from the raucous yelling and nerve-fraying chanting, both trukk's seem to have quite a few Orks packed into their ramshackle frames.

The greenskin vehicles don't seem to be slowing down. They seem entirely focused on gunning the engines and speeding towards their destination, and whatever brutal brawling and carnage it has to offer them.

It seems the citadel's attackers have called for reinforcements...

[Emperor Ing]

Unsightly abominations. Razael hisses in disgust as the 'vehicles' raced past their squad.

At least they had the good sense to make themselves easy to follow. Shall we, brothers...?

[Seanfall]

Zoreal gave his thanks that the Orks didn't take notice of them, so grateful was he that he did not mention how the Wolf's borderline Insubordination could have gotten them all killed, and left their mission undone. Instead he nodded to Razeal, "Follow at a distance, we can strike them from behind."

[Talkkno]

Ruffled but not yet wounded, Hakon asks the tech-priest
"Are you familiar with the machine spirits of vox equipment?"

[cybric]

Sher'kan will stay close to the techpriest and the container reminding his team mates that the mission is recovery of the sword not killing orks but not in like a grandious way

[Lycan 01]

The techpriest looks a bit shaken, and nods uncertainly. "I am trained in standard techno-rites, though vox-divination is not my forte, so to speak?" He looks at the vox-caster system wired into the Space Wolf's backpack system, his hooded head tilting analytically. "I can attempt to strengthen the signal strength, though the Machine Spirit of your armor may not take kindly to my trespassing. I am, after all, a humble Engineseer," he observes softly, giving a humble bow. "I am not worthy to tinker with the blessed equipment of an Astartes..."

The roar of the Ork convoy's engines moves further North. But just as quickly as they depart, new sounds reverberate through the snowy fog. More engines, from the south it seems. Stragglers, perhaps...?

[Talkkno]

"Then do so" Hakon replies curtly as he attempts to rouse the vox caster to life.

[roll0]

[Seanfall]

Zoreal growls in his throat as he hears the new engine roar. "Don't move just yet, let us see what approaches, if it's a smaller group we might be able to...commandeer their transportation."

[Emperor Ing]

Or requisition their assistance if they are Imperial. Razael muses.

[Lycan 01]

The Techpriest tries to assuage the machine spirits of the vox, quietly chirping in binary as he attempts to coax better information from them. It rewards him with a steady stream of static, and the occasional burst of noise. Bits and pieces of Imperial chatter, some of it longwave and not at all related to their current objective. But at least they now know that the Imperial forces defending the capitol are holding strong.

The auspex proves about as informative. It takes several long seconds to finally focus itself, and it only reveals the fact that a single vehicle is approaching.

And a short moment later, the familiar rattle and cough of an Ork engine thunders nearby, rapidly approaching. Definitely a trukk, though this one seems to sound a bit... different.

"They are not firing on all cylinders," the cogboy observes astutely, looking up from the temperamental vox system. "The throttle is also jammed. And the transmission needs work. Yes, their vehicle is in dire need of maintenance. Or a mercy killing, as some might say," he nods sagely.

[Seanfall]

"Not firing on all cylinders is perhaps the most concise description of Orks I've yet heard." Zoreal commented dryly.

[Talkkno]

"A perfect target then, a straggler." Hakon remarks gruffly as peers through his scope to get a closer look.


Perception [roll0]

[Emperor Ing]

Or a damaged Imperial vehicle. Razael suggested, but in the event he was wrong, he still drew his bolt pistol in the direction of the revving motor.

[Seanfall]

"Were we to be so lucky." Zoreal took a knee and raised his bolter aiming it in the direction the sounds emanated from. For once he and the wolf were of the same mind.

[cybric]

Either way it's our ticket in it looks like

Sher'khan holsters his bolter and draws his chain sword and plasma pistol prefering the stopping power of distance.

Sher'khan will also lend help with his signum gear which helps to coordinate fire between astartes squad members.

[Lycan 01]

The rattle and roar grows louder and closer. Though the haze, the outline of an Ork trukk can be seen, hurtling towards the Astartes' hiding spot without any signs of slowing down. The outline of a double-barreled shoota can be seen tilting and bobbing to and fro atop the jostling vehicle, though the gunner is hard to discern. It doesn't seem to be speeding quite as fast as the previous convoy was, and through the haze, movement can be seen atop and across it. Are those gretchin?



Hakon

The Ork trukk is crawling with gretchin, the Wolf discovers as he peers through the scope with his predatory gaze. They seem to be frantically trying to repair it, judging from the wrenches and oil cans most of them are carrying or tossing back and forth to each other. They're barking orders - or insults - back and forth, while the gunner seems to be slouching down against his weapon mount with a look of abject boredom and exasperation with the bickering vermin crawling all over the vehicle. Likewise, the driver is sulking in his seat, shoulders slumped and a rather dour scowl on his ugly face. In fact, Hakon can see his eye twitching as a gretchin knocks over his dashboard ornament - a crudely carved squig statue on a bouncy spring.

Strange that the Orks haven't bopped or outright throttled the smaller greenskins. Either they're too reliant on the pests to keep the vehicle running, or they've been given orders (or a bopping of their own) to keep their hands off the "pit crew." Strange indeed...

[Talkkno]

"This is the perfect time to strike" Hakon replies, letting his words hang in the air as he zeroes his aim on the driver.

[cybric]

Feeling the plasma pistol hum to readiness and his muscles start to flex in anticipation of a coming fight Sher'Khan shoulders dip slightly reading to burst from their hiding spot.

At your discretion brother


I'd suggest popping this guy before they get to us so that the momentum of the truck carries it to us and it either slows or crashes before it passes us.

Then once it's stopped we rush it.

[Emperor Ing]

Razael levels his pistol to the manned turret up top, ready to blast anything that attempts to climb on and gun them down.

[Seanfall]

Zoreal switches his weapon from full auto to semi auto. Not wanting to damage the Ork Machine more then he had to, he'd leave the sharp shooting to those more accustomed to long range. He was planning on wiping out the gretchin crawling on the hood. "On your mark."

[Talkkno]

Hakon gave a rare smile of self assured sastifcaiton, his fangs protruding with hunger, as he mumbles to his fellow Astartes
"3,2...1
A moment later his bolter cracked with the roar of shell to the driver of the trukk..
BS [roll0]

[Lycan 01]

The Ork driver never knows what hits him. In the blink of an eye, Hakon's bolt shell smashes through the windshield of the truck, evaporating it into a cloud of glass that shreds the gretchin scrawling graffiti on the dashboard. The shell smashes into the Ork's chest, punching through his sternum before coating the cabin with his pulped organs. His body slumps forward, a look of confusion on his dying face as his head hits the steering wheel and causes the trukk's horn to thunder. The vehicle begins to swerve wildly, veering from side to side and sending a few gretchin screaming into the snow.

The small greenskins begin to scream and clamor about wildly, several of them desperately clawing their way into the cabin to wrestle with the wheel and frantically look for any sort of brake. A fool's errand, knowing Ork vehicles. Meanwhile, the gunner seems to have been startled into awareness, and with a defiant roar he racks the bolts on his big double-shoota, before unleashing a burst of "dakka" into a nearby trench. He sweeps the weapon in wide arcs, a few stray tracer rounds flying over the Astartes position as he attempts to suppress an unseen enemy.

From the back of the runaway trukk, a chorus of war cries can be heard over the howling winds and clattering gunfire.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!!"

[Seanfall]

Zoreal turned his gun to the back of the Trukk, the gretchin had scattered it would be a waste to fire on them. Instead he fired at the first Ork to show it's ugly head.


Ballistic Skill
[roll0]

[cybric]

When the shots start being fired Sher'kan will barrel out of the hiding space towards the trukk. He'll prioritize taking out the gunner with his double shoota and if the spot is vacant he'll still blast the emplacement hoping to disable it


[roll0]

In addition can Sher'kan make like some inspiring battle cry to bolster the team or something? Would that be of benefit?

[cybric]

As Sher'khan continues to charge forwards he yells to the enemies of mankind

Come all you Xeno scum! Come face the one true might of the universe and wither under the Golden Throne's gaze!



[roll0]

[Emperor Ing]

Remove your blemish from the face of the universe! Razael exclaimed as he fired shots in to the bed of the damaged trukk, attempting to hit the gretchin inside, or at the very least, keep them suppressed.

BS
[roll0]

[Talkkno]

Sensing the overwhelming amount firepower was more then sufficent, Hakon delivers his shots towards any stragglers, the din of his shots could barely heard above the roars of his fellow astartes.

[Lycan 01]

The trukk finally swerves to a halt as a few gretchin in the cabin find an E-brake, normally reserved for dramatic swerving, more than likely. The small greenskins clamoring about scream in terror as several bolt-shells streak overhead, Hakon's fire suppressing them and causing them to flee towards the back of the trukk. At the same time, several Ork boyz leap from the back of the trukk, clambering out the back or jumping over the sideboards with weapons in hand. They seem to be mostly armed with shoota rifles, and are chanting some sort of cheer or war-song as they gang together and fire sporadic bursts of gunfire towards the Astartes. Zoreal's first shot dings off a rusty helmet one of them is wearing, scattering him stumbling to the snow in a daze, and sending several other Orks for cover in a nearby trench. They seem to be grouping up before making any sort of push or unified assault.

The gunner atop the the Trukk ducks as Sher'kan's boltshells explode against the barrel, scorching it but leaving him and his weapon mostly unscathed. Bits of shrapnel pepper his arms, but even as his blood flows freely, he continues to fire the weapon and turns its aim towards the burnt out Chimera, attempting to return fire on Sher'kan!

The gretchin all seek salvation in the back of the trukk - only for Razael's shot to strike true. The bolt shell punches through a gap in the arm plating, before exploding somewhere in the back of the vehicle. There's a chorus of tiny screams, before the gretchin all fall silent. One problem has been solved, at least.


Ork Boyz are too scattered to fire effectively right now.

Gretchin Mechanics are dedz.

Ork Gunner BS to hit Sher'kan: [roll0]

[Emperor Ing]

Hearing the splendid and satisfying sound of xenos detonations within the Trukk, Razael feels encouraged, and activates his jump pack, shooting into the sky on the fiery wings of the sons of Sanguinius as he shot down into the Trukk bed, chainsword flashing on the ork gunner.

The turret is in a beautiful position to rain fiery death on the Ork positions in the trench.

Jump Pack (Agility)
[roll0]

WS skill vs Ork Gunner
[roll1]

[Seanfall]

Zoreal lowered his bolter he should have known not to bother with the gun. And seeing his Brother Angel rush into the fray he decided to follow suit. His blade jumped into his hand as he charged the confused orcs. Slashing with his roaring sword at the closest one.


WS
[roll0]

....Can we still charge? I forget what it would do in the FFG game...Hmm..