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Death Watch [non-pnp]

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by DeranVendar, Mar 11, 2014.

  1. Brother_Draconion Draconion Well-Known Member

    Ears ringing, vision strobing, head pounding, Eraklion fights to get the inevitable twitches and spasms of the massive electrical attack under control, scrambling internally to compartmentalise damage and reroute glitching systems.

    "Vulkan's obsidian spheres, that stung," he mutters acidly, casting a venomous glare at the Ork artillery formation, just now being ravaged by Mathius' aggressive counterattack.


    "Good move, Brother Mathius - keep up the pressure on the support weapons, but do not allow yourself to be surrounded and cut off."

    Casting an eye - and other senses - about the battlefield to take stock, he notes Asvald getting well and truly stuck in with the looted Leman Russ, albeit to rather lesser effect than he would like. Casualties and heavy pressure on both sides muddy the waters, with no real advantage to either. Of especial note is the squadron of fresh Ork armour now waddling/trundling onto the field, threatening to swing the tide back in favour of the Orks. Fortunately, this is something Eraklion has anticipated.


    "Brother Asvald - close to melee and finish off that tank. I need a few seconds clear."


    Spotting the Hearthguard pursuing the fleeing Mek meet a spot of bother, Eraklion jumps on the problem with a vox to Aldric.

    "Brother Aldric - covering fire to the marked Hearthguard units. Engage and suppress all nearby enemy units until they have a chance to recover and consolidate."

    His augurs direct his attention to a serious close-combat clash, and his gaze pans around just in time to see Craven on the receiving end of a counter-charge from the sole remaining Butcha-Biker, intercepted on his way to intervene in the fight with the Warboss.


    "Supporting fire coming your way, Brother-Chaplain."

    Even before he is done speaking, his ranged mechadendrites swivel to target the Nob and his machine - treating the whole as one big target - pelting them with plasma bolts and flaming promethium.

    "Disengage from the Nob and go aid Brother Kormak and the, ah, folically-gifted Squat. I'll handle this one."

    And speaking of Kormak...

    Eraklion casts a disapproving eye the Blackshield's way and, with yet another exasperated snort, decides there is no point in issuing any orders that way, yet again.

    A blunt instrument has its uses, I suppose. Like a bowling ball. Or an Ork skull. Or an Ork skull used as a bowling ball.

    Turning his gaze back to the oncoming Ork armour formation, a mental flex causes the numerous baroque vanes, antennae and other less-identifiable wotzits and gubbins on his EWS to unfurl and swivel, like the sensory organs of a monstrous predatory polyp tasting the environment for prey.

    "Excuse the distraction, m'dears," he mutters, fixing them with the unblinking reptilian stare of a deep drake stalking its prey, "I'm all yours now...and by that, I mean you're all mine."

    Nothing appears obvious to the naked eye, but Adepts of the Martian mysteries would perceive the regional noosphere blaze to purposeful and violent life at this point. In particular, refulgent lines of data exchange link three points in particular - Eraklion, the Umbra Perpetua, and R.O.V.E.R. Triangulating the battlefield in three dimensions, they form the nodes of an impending massive informatic attack.

    Aboard the Umbra Perpetua, bridge consoles light up, the principal officers for cogitation, auspex, and vox singing out, alerting the ship and the entire theatre to Eraklion's request for the digital equivalent of a tactical nuclear strike. Down on the ground, R.O.V.E.R. zips across the battlefield, flying NOE to keep as low a profile as possible, even while the cheeky little drone takes close-range telemetry of local Ork technology, beaming the results to the other two nodes. Eraklion's EWS likewise takes its own measurements via its powerful augur array, double-checking the data and making bespoke alterations to the vicious reserve of attack viruses and kill-code constantly incubating in specially-secured memory banks. Meanwhile, the Umbra's own informatics suite calculates the optimal solution for beaming the final solution down across the entire battlefield, ensuring no alien machine more complex than a simple Choppa is safe, even down to a subterranean depth of ten metres under solid rock.

    When he judges the moment to be right, Eraklion triggers the attack cascade with a mental flex, pointing an ominous finger at the oncoming Ork armour.

    "The Omnissiah abjures you, xenos abominations."

    As an afterthought, almost as though embarrassed by the bombast of the previous sentiment, he adds, "Me, I'll settle for, 'Screw you.'"



    Asvald: Engage and destroy Looted Tank by all means necessary.

    Aldric: Give covering fire to Hearthguard stunned by Gearjaw's attack.

    Mathius: Continue to engage and destroy Ork artillery, retreat if in danger of isolation.

    Craven: Disengage from Butcha-Biker and charge Warboss.

    Kormak: Eh, carry on, buddy.

    Action Summary

    1.) Standard Action: Curse of the Machine God

    2.) Standard Action: Electronic Warfare (in combination with CotMG) [? CP cost]

    3.) Standard Action: Attack @ last Butcha-Bika w/Flamer

    4.) Standard Action: Attack @ last Butcha-Bika w/Plasma Cutter

    5.) Standard Action: Defence @ Self w/Servo-Arm #1

    6.) Standard Action: Defence @ Self w/Servo-Arm #2

    R.O.V.E.R.: Enhance CotMG

    Explosives: 2 x Krak grenades
    Special Ammo: Kraken rounds (bolt pistol)
    Other gear: Combat shield
    R.O.V.E.R.: 2 x plasma pistols
  2. Imperius matt23 Curator

    Mathius heard the order crackle through the vox from Eraklion. It was the plan he had already thought through, keep the support busy and allow the rest of the team to engage the bulk of the enemy forces. So, with the mortar team extinguished properly, the Blood Angel's eyes focused on the next support group. Engaging his jump pack once more, Mathius came crashing down towards the enemy's big gun. The bright green fire made it easy to target and so Mathius was quick to attack once more. Upon impact, Mathius would use the same tactics that proved effective against the mortar team. The roar of his chainsword came back to life as he slashed at the team in an attempt to disrupt their support fire and occupy their focus. However, being cut off from the rest of the group, Mathius kept his wits about him and watched for any signs of counter attack.

    OOC: Balanced. One attack on Big gun Zzap team. One defense on self.

    Craven, like any descendants of Sanguinius, had a pride few could match. And these xenos had done something few had done in the past, damaged his pride quite deeply. And, what made it even worse, the sound of Eraklion's voice telling him to break from the one whom had damaged his pride. However, though prideful, Craven was not about to jeopardize an entire mission of such a wound, but it would not be something quickly forgotten. These xenos would feel the weight of vengeance, one way or another.

    Craven quickly pushed the biker off of himself as Eraklion began to provide him supporting fire. The large, bulk of terminator then began a slow, lumbering charge at the warboss. It was the perfect target to exact revenge upon and Craven was not one to let such an opportunity by. And so, with the full speed his armor could carry him, Craven attempted to blindside the enemy warboss with a heavy blow of his Crozius directly into the xeno's back. He would then keep his Crozius at the ready for when the warboss attempted to retaliate.

    OOC: Disengage from the biker boy. Balanced. One attack on Warboss. One defense on self.
  3. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    Kormak's vision was blurred at the edges now, with each passing second the pain he felt was increasing exponentially. He half-heard the Squat tell him something, the sentence lost in the haze as his old chainaxe punched through the green flesh and nearly carved Warboss' heart in two. And then they were flying, the vehicle crashing against Emperor knows what and ending up on the ground was the last thing the Blackshield wanted. He was back on his feet in a heartbeat but the Ork was faster and he nearly crushed him with the wreckage, only for him once again eating the dirt. He hoped the strange abhuman died but that hope was obliterated once he spotted the creature once again lumbering towards the Ork, only for it to suffer similar fate like himself.

    He wanted to reply, to tell the midget all sorts of things, but nothing came out except a wet gurgle. There was some background noise that he faintly registered, the vox chiming before it was silenced by a ringing in his ears so loud Kormak thought his brain would explode. The suffering was familiar, his old companion haunting him for so many years and yet every time it reared its ugly head the Blackshield wanted to strangle it with his bare hands. If only he could fight such ghosts.

    Now however, he could vent his rage at the monster in front of him. When it came to melee combat, the way he was taught was to give all you got and hold nothing back, to get injured and ignore them completely until you were either dead or your enemy was. There was nothing between this, the line that separated sanity from madness passed long time ago.

    And so Kormak came again from the trench, running straight for the Warboss and pushing everything at the back of his mind. Plasma pistol was ready and the gout of liquid matter was ready to be fired at the leader of the Greenskins, Blackshield aiming for the wounded head as he ran, activating the chainaxe's engine simultaneously. Toothed weapon was raised and once the swing came, it was heading straight for the exposed chest cavity and the monstrous thing beating within it.

    OOC All out attack on Warboss with plasma pistol and chain axe.
  4. It will be done Asvald answered back, though he didn't like the idea of leaving their squad allies to defend themselves where he was supporting them. But they where strong and resolute, and his headlong charge back into the ork horde, would properbly take the attention of the savage xeno.
    With his shield already leveled towards, the looted tank, Asvald began a plodding charge, "Stand fast squads i will return" his speakers said, before then broadcasting a howl from within the ademantine tomb, as thundering steps carried him towards the tank, intent on a good old shield charge, though one of much greater weight than even the biggest arstartes could muster.
    Colapse, DeranVendar and Draconion like this.

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