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Night Falls - A Night Lords 30k roleplay

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Jorimel, Nov 12, 2018.

  1. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

    Smoke drifted through the air as chips of stonework rained down. Gentle pattering and the clink of cooling metal and ceramite formed a soundscape for the slanting pod as the doors burst open, a tall figure in midnight ceramite surging out to sprint across into the cover of the low wall of the nearest building. A raised hand gestured the squad to deploy. Across the city, several more blackened drop pods would be smashing into the urban sprawl, the locus factorum, the local spaceport. Kar Jeresh smiled. They could hear it in his voice.

    "This, my Brothers, is how Lord Curze fell to Nostramo. Let us bring this world what he brought ours."

    In the darkness of the world's early evening, the low rumble of a gunship heralded the searing rush of retro-thrusters. The Stormbird settled easily atop the flat roof of the nearest supply depot like a roosting condor, a precise and pinpoint landing.

    "Too fancy for a Kharybdis," someone muttered, low across the Claw's vox network.

    "Third Claw, to me." Jeresh's voice carried a familiar note: backs straight, eyes front. He stood tall as a dark figure stepped down from the Stormbird, lightning streaks patterning his armour, a sharper silhouette against the gathering dusk as he turned and, in strange contrast of grace, offered his assisting hand to the slight figure of a civilian in robes and a flak vest. She clutched the skirts of her dress in one hand, and a small pack of equipment did little to bulk out her obviously human frame.

    Jandur Kel was not, for an Astartes, an especially tall man. His dark hair and pale skin did nothing to mark him out from the average Nostraman recruit, and his age was unplaceable past a certain point as was common for an Astartes warrior. His high-crested helm carried dark bat wings, and a power sword on his left hip was of decent, but functional manufacture. A hard man to pick out from a parade. What everyone knew, however, was that Jandur Kel was not a man content with this state of affairs. He strode to the assembled Claw, the smaller figure in his wake. Dark eyes roved up and down the assembled Third Claw like laser sights. He turned to Jeresh.

    "Sergeant. Take Third Claw to the centre, find out what you can, report over vox once you have a secure position and something worth reporting." With a hiss of a seal he removed his helmet, reflexively shaking out his hair. Black eyes turned to the woman behind him.

    "This," he said to the Astartes before him, "is Remembrancer Nyktride Kersaara, whose Midnight Adagio you have no doubt heard. I expect to hear from her again. Therefore, you will try not to tread on her as you prosecute our just war. Mamzel, do you see those tall gentlemen in dark blue over there? Stay out from under their feet," he said, dryly, with what almost passed for a certain affection. Dark eyes scanned the line once more.

    "By the Haunter, you really are new. Are you sure the Scholam allows you out this late?"

    "Jeresh. Babysitting duty aside, get me solid information on what happened here and why, in the middle of a perfectly satisfactory compliance, we have radio silence and a sudden lack of anything resembling a reason. Claws Five, Eight and Twelve will secure the perimeter. You will puncture the heart."

    He stepped back, gesturing Nyktride forward with a sweep of his hand.


    The mission briefing had been scant. Myrtos 4 - more formally designated Seventeen Twelve - was a long-lost colony of old Terra found in the first push of the Great Crusade and marked as a promising world without need of military takeover. It had been classed as a secondary target suitable for Iterator-led compliance. Duly-trained Imperial representatives had been dispatched in due course, and Reason and the Imperial Truth had been well-received. Myrtos was not a warlike world, but it was a lonely one, all but convinced of its solitary nature in a vast universe save for a few scraps of legends of star-men and ancient warriors led by a man in gold. A familiar story among those worlds left adrift in Old Night. The planet produced a modest amount of agricultural surplus, a sufficient level of medium-tech industry and had no space travel outside low orbit communications satellites and, in a display of commendable efficiency, small ore-mining craft that captured asteroids from what was once no doubt Myrtos 3, a narrow belt around a blue sun. They did not wish for war, and in fact huddled under the sheltering wings of the Eagle like grateful lambs. It was therefore a surprise when what had been a textbook compliance had suddenly ceased all communication, at least to anyone not overly afflicted with paranoia. Or, to a Nostraman, an everyday level of caution.

    Eighth Legion troops had been tasked with overseeing Seventeen Twelve. Someone else, it seemed, either had suspicions about such a ripe fruit just hanging on the vine, or else they had been the closest of the Seventeeth Expeditionary Fleet to hand. It mattered little to Jeresh, who saw it as a chance to prove his youthful Claw. As one of the first Nostramans to be given the Night Haunter's gene-seed he was certain in his doctrine and sure in his belief. If a crime had been committed here on Myrtos, whether by the alien or the recidivist, his Claw would root it out. Humanity would be saved from sin.

    The city around them - really, a large town, with the green spaces of a few scattered parks and public recreation buildings - was not made for war. There was a central governmental hub, and the rest was mostly small-scale commercial and hab-units. To the Terrans it would look like the luxury of an up-Hiver's palace. To the Nostramans, the private villas on the edge of Nostramo Quintus would be the closest comparison. There was a little too much bright daylight on the Terran near-analogue for easy comfort, but no-one expected that.

    Street maps - basic, and taken from orbital scans - scrolled across every helmet pict-feed along with atmospheric data. The cooling night air was pleasantly low in pollutants. Immediate surroundings were damaged only by the unfortunate placement of one large Imperial drop-pod. It was dark, and it was quiet.

    Ideal hunting conditions.




    @Colapse @Casavay @Avenging-Angel @Uriel1339 @Vulpas @Kalle @matt23 @TuskatheDaemonKilla @dx144 @Kilrane
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  2. Jorimel Jorimel Well-Known Member

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  3. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    "Does something as primal as fear need any special introduction?" one of the legionaries spoke, taking a step forward and allowing the faint light of the city to illuminate his plate. He was large and heavily-built but where various trophies and murder tokens cling to the armor of such warriors, this one had nothing of it on him. Just the simple dark purple of his adopted homeworld and a winged skull motif of his Legion spread across his chest.

    Given the orders, Strah activated his jump pack and launched himself forward towards the nearest rooftop, his mind already focused on the first phase of the attack, or what some of the Night Lords called Stalk. There were no immediate enemies around but this meant nothing to him as the instincts born out of years of fighting for yourself in the dark places of the earth kicked in, telling the legionary to be careful. Of course, the other side of his mind insisted on finding the foe as quickly as possible and washing his claws with their life force.

    It was an ancient dilemma and one that would play out once again tonight as Strah searched out for the tallest building in their vicinity where he could take position and start observing the entire town for any signs of their enemy - or anything else that drew breath around here.
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  4. The remembrancer's name sounded familiar, tickling some hazy pre-Ascension memory in the back of Falchion's mind. The Astartes half-turned as a brother jetted off before facing the woman again, touching a pair of fingers to his helmet as though doffing a hat.
    "Mamzel."

    The interactions with the remembrancer concluded to his satisfaction Falchion set off in a slight swagger, triggering his chainsword every few minutes as he walked and letting the sound echo around the town in a clear and blatant challenge to anyone who could hear it: We have come for you and you can't stop us.
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  5. Imperius matt23 Curator

    Out of the dark, Elius emerged in silence towards the small human. Elius was by no means a hulking mask of muscle like some astarte, but he was taller than most which gave him a slightly taller appearance in armor. His helmet, that was held under his left arm,had sharpened human teeth on the vox caster and a skull painted over the rest. In his right hand was clutched a chainsword that had even more human and xeno teeth hanging from itself. However, where his brothers introduced themselves, Elius said nothing. Instead he leaned forward towards the woman, his black, soulless eyes looking her over before letting out a few audible inhales through his nose. Elius straightened back up before shaking his head while walking off and placing his helmet on his head.

    @Colapse
    Seeing Strah activate his jump pack to the nearest roof, Elius took a running start before following suit. His thrusters let out an eerie sound, almost as if their cries were that of the dying before quickly cutting off leaving Elius to fall to the rooftop near Strah. He quickly moved to the end of the building, taking a knee and looking out over the city. In a very menacing voice, Elius spoke as he continued to look over the city, "I hope you were not about to start the hunt without me, Strah. I would hate for you to start the cultivation of terror without me."
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  6. Kal Kalle Arkhona Vanguard

    The drop pod opened to the cool night air and Third Claw flowed out of its metal shell. As the squad unit formed up, Tarron Sarcarin felt none of that, as his helm was secured firmly and its environmental seals were operating to norm. It was only the atmospheric data feeding into his helm's display that informed him of the current conditions. As the night air was heated by the Stormbird's thrumming engines, Tarron found his place behind the Sergeant, turning to watch the descent, the landing, and the two emerging figures from the dropship's bowels.

    One was the midnight-clad figure of Jandur Kel. The other was Mamzel Kersaara. Sarcarin fell into line at Keresh's order, listening to Kel's introduction of their orders and the Remembrancer, though the latter was unnecessary for him. Once Kel had withdrawn to the Stormbird and taken off, Sarcarin approached the comparatively small Human woman. He was not one to decorate his armor with tokens and trinkets, but his helmet was painted in the grey likeness of a skull. "It is good to see you, Mamzel Kersaara," Tarron told her through the Vox filter. His voice came through clear and unaltered, except for the soft metallic echo of the comm device.

    Sarcarin's voice was something of an anomaly amongst his Brothers. While many could be described as deep, his smooth bass was best compared to distantly rolling thunder. While affection could only be inferred from Kel's tone with the Remembrancer, it was self-evident in Tarron's. "Don't mind my Brothers. They smell blood, and it makes them eager, but not very sociable. Stay close, stay safe." Even while he spoke with the woman, Tarron was slotting his boltgun into the crook of his elbow, letting it rest there while he talked, muzzle pointed down to the ground. Speaking a word of farewell to the Remembrancer, Tarron turned to follow his Claw, launching into a light jog as he advanced under the cloak of night.
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  7. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Perched over a ledge as silent figure looked out at the city they would be operating in, There eyes as dark as the void of space looked over it superhuman senses, Smell, and hearing listening and smelling for something out there to give away the scent of prey, or predator, Hearing there sergeant give a order Von would begin to move as silently as he could, Before turning to the human and approaching. The Midnight clad of his armor cleaned, occasional streaks of light seem to jump of his armor almost as if giving the apperance of lightning during a stormy night and the words Nostramo were clear across his breastplate. Von Tildan stopped infront of her looking down to her as he appraoched.

    "Von Tildan, Recconisance trooper, Third Claw, Son of Nostramo," Von Tildan said his voice deep and low as he spoke to the rembramncer before putting on his helmet and turning back to his brothers Sacrain already begining to be a distance away before he began moving, Taking out the auspex he brought along, and bringing up satlight imaging on his helmet's hud before moving forward with his squad, all the while scanning for life signaures, or heat signatures. Coridanting his movements he kept to the shadows taking ways that seemed less common used as he tried to keep up with his squad and keep a eye out for any signs of life.
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  8. Skell exited the pod and immediately activated his jumppack to get to a higher position, he couldn't stand being inside the cramped pod for much longer. He wasn't particularly large for an astartes, being more or less average all round but he hated small spaces like that. He couldn't say they scared him, his brothers would taunt him over it, but her certainly didn't like them. He few up into the air for a precious few seconds, his pack sounding off in a chorus of scream and breathing out a blue flame. His entire appearance was made to make up for his unremarkable stature, in the Eighth appearance was quite important after all. Appearance to strike fear into the hearts of lesser people, to strike loyalty into those who would destroy all good in the galaxy if given the chance. That is what the Night Haunter has taught his sons, that is what he has taught Nostramo.

    Once on the roof of a building and able to take in the wide open new surroundings he loosened up a bit and turned around. "I am known as Skell, Mamzel." He said with a bow to the Remembrancer. He can't say bringing an unaugmented human into a battle is a good idea but he recognized their being here as the order of someone high above himself. He wasn't going to complain about it, not yet anyway as long as they do stay out of the way in the coming scouring. He didn't like to call it a hunt like the others, it seemed to give scum too much credit. It was more like looking for and killing a few insects rather than any actually worthy thing that someone would hunt. He knelt down on the edge of the roof he was on to look around. His helmet having a ghastly face that gave no hint of emotion to the man behind it. Its empty sockets not even giving an inclination as to where exactly his eyes were looking at any given moment. Meanwhile he had the haft of his chain glaive in one hand and the business end resting on his right shoulder. "If no one comes out of the buildings can we burn this place?" He asked through the squad comms.
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  9. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    @TuskatheDaemonKilla
    "It's better if we find out whats going on first, before we start burning down buildings, The smoke and fire will give away our postion from where we are coming from, As well as be a waste of material's if no one is in them." Von spoke through the Vox to Skell through the Squad Vox, as he did he looked over to the buildings Skell was talking about and for a momment attempted to scan for any life forms inside.
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  10. Uriel1339 Uriel1339 Lord of Posts

    Kar Raxus marched out of the pod as one of the last ones. A healthy habit as an Apothecary with a bolter, and equipped with a survivalist spirit. The tattered cloak attached to his shoulders silently waved in the wind, helmet hanging on his waist mag-locked. Orders were given and one after another they introduced themselves to the remembrancer. "Madame Nyktride Kersaara." The average-sized Astartes said in what he would muster as the softest tone possible. Then, what would go as soft for a Nostraman street-made surgeon? He managed a smile, light reflecting from his metal teeth, perfectly crafted adamantine teeth, as Kersaara would be able to see - maybe a bit too well.

    @Casavay
    "I am Kar Raxus. Also known merely as Shadow Doc. I am an Apothecary. And thus, I see myself as your guardian. Especially since my brethren are more keen on the hunt. While I... Value life." Kar grinned. Not menacingly. Not as a predator about to feast on his prey. But genuinely. Maybe there was something his dark, cold eyes saw in the much older than himself woman. Or. Alternatively, it could've been the way the Astartes' own superior spoke of ensuring the survival of this mortal woman that made him realize the true challenge. His grin slowly disappeared as he slid his helmet over his head and then locked it, the satisfying hiss of the air-tight seal emanating.

    Certainly this world would see justice the same way Nostramo has experienced it, there was no dancing around that matter, else the Night Lords would have never touched ground on this world. Yet this human is important too. Her role meant the chronicle of what this world one day would honor as liberation. Vindication to their past, wrong life. And how the Night Lords rectified their mistakes, steering them into a new golden age. But those were matters as irrelevant as any potential plague was to the Shadow Doc. Only now mattered.

    He kept his eyes on his built-in HUD to see where the stalkers went. Especially Strah was a slippery one. A compliment for a hunter, an insult for a patient. In due time they always come crawling to the harboring shadow.
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