As a lone mechanical eye peered out of the place that had offered temporary respite for Valeforia, tracing the metal limb back to the body that played host to the metal snake-like tentacle would show that she herself was not in the best of conditions, but perhaps better than all those that had the (mis)fortune to be slain when the world had been burned to what were effectively ashes on Abaddon’s orders. Having been issued the task of erecting defenses that had been a moment of pride for the Techpriestess, only for her to witness her artifice be annihilated. It was perhaps a small,yet bitter comfort that she had managed to find some form of refuge inside what seemed to be the only bunker that had managed to survive, abid barely in a state that she’d call salvageable, let alone useful, as illustrated by the cracked concrete above her head. As for Valeforioa’s body, that would be found leaning upon a wall in what could charitably be described as a pile of bloodied flesh and broken metal. Her left leg laid disassembled as shrapnel from an errant grenade had torn through the internal servos, a turn of events that had forced her to limp to her safe haven, her utility mechadendrite working fastidiously to restore functionality to its mistress’ limb, alongside her own efforts as flares of light sparked from her own tools, even if some of her other metal additions had to be thrown aside in her efforts to gain sanctuary . With the Techpriestess’ more fleshy wounds, while they were appreciable in pain and damage she felt that they could have been worse than expected…. They still hurt and suffice to say she dearly wished that there was something close to make it not hurt as badly. Laying by her was a laspistol she had ‘borrowed’ from some cultist that thought a limping woman was easy blood to spill, and as evidenced by the bloodied dagger that looked inhumanly thin compared to the laspistol, and far more geometric in shape... That was not the case. Propped up on the wall was a lasgun that had a similar story as that of the pistol, a taken weapon from someone who had dared to raise their arms at her in the aftermath and paid the price for it. One cry of absolute frustration later and the corresponding thwack to the recalcitrant machine, and soon the woman’s leg was working again, having dislodged a stubborn piece of shrapnel that had interfered with the input from her body to the leg, bringing a moment’s elation to her efforts. Finally able to get to her feet without major issues such as legs that failed to work, she staggered over to a still open firing port in the bunker with her found weapons, and truly looked at the grim situation facing her, bringing an already dire mood close to developing a complex or three. Valeforia then immediately went looking for anything that could help her even the odds with the sentinel and a bunch of guardsmen, deciding that she was going to leave no (sane) method untouched in a bid to retain her life, forsaken nature be damned! Even if she felt it was worth having her more metallic eye watch out for anything trying to attack her, so that she wouldn’t be caught off guard. OOC: Action: Looking for anything useful (such as explosives, extra firepower, etc.) Otherwise on the defensive.
<Trenches about to receive more corpses> @Skarboy @Kalle @Maleth Valeforia spent couple of next seconds looking around the bunker, outside her own equipment she didn't find anything that could help her even the odds in her favor. However peering through the slit she managed to spot an autocannon emplacement which held the weapon that looked like it was in slightly better condition than other stuff lying around. Of course, all around the trenches she could spot discarded lasguns, different types of melee weapons, ammo packs and so on, but nothing that she could actually use, unless she was about to go creative (OOC Valeforia found regular guardsmen equipment outside belonging to the dead soldiers, no grenades that she could use and an autocannon on a small sandbag barricade). Although after seeing what came next, perhaps she didn't need to find new items when there were more of the survivors running around and about to make this day even more interesting. Geln didn't sense the stab and the poison entering his bloodstream, the cultist working himself up to reach that crazed state was thrilled to hear Xaviera's command. The moment she ushered those words he gestured for his two goons to get up and with a wild cry, they pounced from the trenches and tried to cross the distance of few dozen meters by running and shooting wildly. Perhaps not the best of the ideas given the circumstances but one could not question their determination. Xaviera was of course on it, but as she summoned the smoke from the sky it did little else but to confuse the Imperials a bit and more importantly, draw their attention towards the cultists. It would seem that Slaanesh was cheap on handing out his blessings today, the fact made clear as the psyker failed to sense that familiar sting of ozone and power running through her veins. All of that was now just a distant memory, the memory broken by the sound of gunshots. Geln charged first, guns blazing. Stub pistol barked and the round smacked one of the guardsmen straight in his head, dropping flat. Another guardsmen fell as the second cultist's shot pierced his chest, going through and killing the man on the spot. "FOR THE DARK PRINCE!" Geln shouted, the warcry answered by two of his comrades before the Imperials aimed at them and unleashed hell. Third cultist who was just about to open fire was introduced with four lasgun salvo, riddling him with fresh marks and turning him into a corpse in matter of seconds. One of the Guardsmen hefting a flamer came next and pressed the trigger on his weapon, a gout of blazing prometheum crossing the distance and blunting the cultist charge, Geln and his surviving friend having to jump into a nearby trench so they don't get immolated, but not before Geln's own clothing caught fire, the crazed cultist having to torn it off least he meats his end there. Before the flamer-wielding Guardsmen could point his weapon into the trench and finish the job his neck was pierced by a shot from a laspistol, Xaviera providing some kind of a covering fire to her lackeys. She managed to score a kill indeed but she probably wished she haven't as her firing caught the attention of Sentinel's pilot, who aimed his walker's autocannon and unleashed a deadly salvo of shells, destroying the cover Xaviera was behind and tossing her back into the trench. Her body was bleeding now from multiple wounds suffered, the biggest one being a from a shell that nearly ripped her left calf off. But then the Sentinel stopped firing as a bigger threat appeared right in their midst. Seizing the opportunity and the fact that the Guardsmen were looking the other way, like some kind of a ghost Attelus descended on the unsuspecting Imperials, aiming his charge at the walker. His superhuman speed allowed him to cross the distance almost in a blink of an eye, his paired swords working to bring the Sentinel down. Alas, he threw two strikes before realizing that the walker's legs won't bulge today, perhaps the damage his weapons suffered in the aftermath of the decimation was bigger than he initially thought, or perhaps it was some kind of a ploy made by the Changer of Ways to further humiliate the Speaker. No matter, it only meant that it had to be done the hard way. Using his strength rather than finesse, Attelus struck again and this time one of the legs snapped, Sentinel toppling over moment later as it lost balance, right on the head of one Guardsmen who was too slow to evade it. But the Imperials understood who was the main threat now and turned their attention on the Chaos Marine, although the initial salvo of couple of lasguns did nothing other than smearing his already dirty armor. However the second flamer in the unit was the one who made Attelus' life miserable as its wielder enveloped him in flames, his damaged armor not sealing his body completely and thus turning his form into a blazing fireball, cooking him inside out. Imperial survivors: Guardsmen: 6 (1F), Sentinel: 2 Attelus:7 (Burning) Valeforia:7 Xaviera:4 Cultists:1 Geln:2 Condition: Sentinel is immobilized and it cannot fire its autocannon. 2 HP it has is from its pilot's "health pool". Attelus will lose 1HP each round for 2 rounds unless he dedicates one defensive action to putting out the flames.
Lightning. The crack of lasguns and the relentless drumming of the rain. The slick, blood-soaked streets. Satharn scanned the darkness, the lenses of his armour compensating for the low light levels. Every flash darkening the view in an arrhythmic, scattershot pattern like a dying heartbeat. He glanced to his left, in time to see the Raptor explode in a shower of gore and fragments of bone as the missile - intended to take out a tank - made a spectacularly unlucky gift of itself to his squadmate. Satharn threw himself sideways with a curse, rolling with the shockwave, coming up chainglaive in hand. It would have been a textbook defensive manoeuvre, had the world not chosen to erupt in a punishing rain of skyfire and blood. Satharn had fought to a bloody standstill on countless worlds both greater and lesser than this, and not always at the Warmaster's pleasure. Nor at that of his bastard son. There was no way this one was going to be his grave. He ducked down in the shadow of a low wall and curled up as debris hurled overhead. Stone splintered around him. Mud and blood and corpses were scattered as the unnatural currents of accursed warpfire swirled like a nightmare whirlwind. Across the voxnet, the lifesigns of his Legion brothers winked out. Tal Varrus was the last to go, his cry of defiance lost in a thunder of gunfire. It was the scream of a Nostraman condor, a sound one fewer would ever recognise now he was dead. Satharn grunted. Not like he'd miss the carrion-eating bastard. He dragged himself upright, using the wall as a prop as he assessed the damage to his armour and limbs. Superficial; he was lucky. Satharn didn't feel lucky. He had had a command, he had some kind of contact with his own kind, and now Fate had taken it all away. Not that he expected anything else. Fate wasn't given to being kind to the sons of Nostramo, who to be fair usually didn't deserve it anyway. There was movement below. He perched close to a ruined wall, watching, tuning in to what he could of the sounds and sights. Khornates. The Night Lord wanted to spit in disgust. As if they weren't already surrounded by blood and skulls. "IF ANYONE OF YOU SHODS THAT ARE STILL ALIVE OF HERE WANT TO GET OFF THIS ROCK AND BRING GLORY TO YOURSELF AND THE GOD OF WAR OR WHATEVER GOD YOU PRAISE, THEN LET US SLAY THESE HOUNDS THEN WORK TOGETHER TO MAKE A TRECK BACK TO HQ AND SLAY ANY WHO GET IN OUR WAY!" It was loud and angry. Satharn was ready to dismiss it as more of the same Khornate ranting, but thought on it as the speaker gathered herself. Slowly, he began to move from shadow to shadow. He watched how she stood and where she was looking. He positioned himself a short distance away, chainglaive in hand. Poised and ready to join in if she looked like she was worth assisting instead of just another blood-crazed lunatic. [OOC: Preparing to aid Fera against the Cultists or Hounds if she ends up fighting them, waiting to see who else emerges if not.]
A world of pain. Xaviera's chest heaved, each breath rasping and half-choked as the priestess felt another dozen cuts and scrapes of shrapnel and, most of all, the blinding pain in her leg. She had thrown herself back from the autocannon fire but one of its shells had caught her leg even so. She was fortunate, amidst all the misery, that the salvo had not torn her leg clean off. It was a bleak sort of fortune, however, and the priestess knew that she must soon attend to that injury. She drew her psychic dagger --- functional, despite its greater purpose --- and slashed at the cloth of one of the nearby corpses, tearing strips off of the dead. She tied up her leg under the knee, so as to reduce the blood loss, and used the rest of the cloth to form a makeshift bandage. That would have to suffice. OOC: Two defensive actions to attend to wounds, prevent blood loss and infection, and simply huddle in the trench.
<Khorne's flakes with something extra on the side> @Vulpas @Jorimel @DeranVendar @Uriel1339 Whether it was Orghast's soothing voice or the fact that after eating some of the ingredients of Plague Marine's stomach made it friendlier than usual, the hound looked back at Orghast with its big eyes and bloodied teeth, and obeyed his command by ripping into one of the corpses, looking quite satisfied with itself. It ate a bit but after few minutes it rose its muzzle and growled in a direction of a flipped Manticore nearby, Ogrhast spotting the cultists and the fallen Sister before she began talking. Cultists also heard Fera and every eye was turned towards her, but none made any moves. However the remaining Blood Hounds weren't that smart and the biggest one of them, seeing Fera as a tasty meal, barked and charged at her, mouth salivating. Sister's heavy bolter barked back and the hound exploded even before it crossed couple of yards, remaining ones fleeing back into the maze of corpses and destroyed vehicles. Although that was only a momentary victory as another figure emerged from the wasteland, directly across from where Fera was standing and behind the small skull shrine. "WHO DARES KILLING MY PETS AND THREATENING MY LOYAL SUBJECTS?!?" World Eater wearing a broken power armor appeared and shouted at the Sister. Half of the plates on his body were peeled off, chest bare and with only one shoulder pad with the symbol of his Legion intact and a horned helmet, he indeed looked like some ancient gladiator. Adding to that was a working chainaxe and a chainsword which was cut in half, but nonetheless soaked in blood, turning this newcomer into a possible dangerous opponent. Seeing the World Eater, the cultists dropped on the ground in supplication, expecting what would come next and hoping that the blood spilled will sate the Lord of Skulls. "YOU THINK YOU CAN CHALLENGE ME, MALEK THE SCOURGE OF GETHSEMANE!? COME DOWN HERE AND LET US SETTLE THIS!" Malek the Mad was a man Valu was also familiar with, given the fact this particular Marine was a member of World Eater warband the Lactrymole had dubious honor serving under. They called him the Mad, quite a feat to have such nickname in a company of crazed berzerkers, and Valu personally saw him killing many serfs during the void travels for some ridiculous reasons such as looking at his boots the wrong way or walking too uptight. In any case, Malek was somehow still alive (probably even Khorne himself didn't want anything to do with him) and present, and things were about to become ugly. But as Valu peered from his hiding place his vision was suddenly blocked by a huge shape, as if night suddenly fell on this god-forsaken world. It was of course, no night but only one of her prodigal sons. Satharn, who up until then moved through the shadows in order to stay undetected and approach the proceedings stumbled upon Valu's hiding place and for an instant, the death's head helm looked straight into what seemed to be a mortal cultist of some kind, while the "cultist" looked back at what seemed to be a Space Marine armored in midnight blue power armor. Lost and the Damned: Khornate Cultists:15 Malek the Mad:7 Orghast:8 Friendly Puppy:3 Valu:6 Fera:7 Satharn:9 Conditions: Valu and Satharn are in the same spot at the moment, hidden from everyone but they can see each other. Depending on how they act their cover might be blown. Malek is challenging Fera to some kind of a duel. Cultists won't interfere if that happens but they will interfere if another person joins the fight. Orghast and his new pet are half-hidden by couple of broken tanks but they will be spotted during the next turn.
<Chaos HQ - Motor pool job> @WanderingJester @High_Adept_Zeth Changer of Ways looked like he was about to pull a prank on Sobek as one of those Black Legionaries approached the Rhino where he was hiding in. He grabbed the hatch but it failed to open, the lock the mystic placed on it working as intended but of course, he knew that it could only help him so much in case the Chaos Marine decided to "force it". Alas, then somebody shouted from outside and all four Legionaries inside the motor pool turned their attention away from the transport. At the same time there was a crack and hatch to another Rhino directly across from the one Sobek was in opened, another Chaos Marine giving thumbs up and entering it in order to try and get it going. Fool, because Sobek knew that particular vehicle still had to be repaired, its engine oil poured in and cooling system replaced for if it starts working now there was a 91% chance that the engine would shut down or even worse, explode under the pressure. Of course, Black Legion Marine couldn't possibly know that since he didn't look like a Techmarine, more like just a simple grunt. Not to mention they had more pressing matters to think about, such as those threats coming from the outside. "I know who you are Corbulus," a voice came from the inside of the pool, laughing back at Corublus' words, "You are that failed excuse for a warlord." Alpha Wolf couldn't exactly recognize it, but it was definitely one of Abaddon's dogs alright. "You're the one who's ship crashed down and destroyed all of our chances for victory here. Go back to your pups, oh wait - they are probably carrion food by now alongside the rest of your force. So I suggest you grab what little you have of your dignity intact and piss off or we will gun you like the dog you are." "I can't see them," came Nero's reply over the vox, "They are within the building, out of sight. I don't have a clear shot," he added finally, the same conclusion Corbulus would come with himself but it only spoke of Nero's heritage. He was an Ultramarine by blood, he had to be thorough. Black Legion GTA crew: 6/6/6/6 (bolters, chainswords) (Rhino:4) Sobek:7 (Rhino:5) Corbulus:9 Nero:8 Conditions: Black Legionaries are held up inside the motor pool, unable to be targeted by ranged weapons;. Three of them are facing the entrance and will have +3 on their roll if Corbulus decides to charge them. One of them is trying to start a Rhino. Sobek is hidden and he can attack them from behind if he wants. He would have +1 against them due to surprise factor. Also, he can interface with his vehicle, start it up and\or activate the storm bolter on top of it and use that as his weapon. <Chaos HQ - sacrificial pits> @Vlayden @Keidivh The sound of rubble being cleared brought the attention of three prisoners, who dropped the Iron Warrior corpse they were hauling and turned their heads towards the commotion. That's the last thing they did as lighting bolts zapped them, turning their bodies into piles of dust. Ausarius, no matter his injuries obviously, could still harness the anger he felt after the death of his comrades and turn it into a weapon to smite these mortals. Riding on the winds of power the Sorcerer felt his arms strengthening, the borrowed energy flowing through his limbs as he rose up from the rubble and stood out in the open. The dying of the nearby prisoners drove the rest of their friends towards Ausarius and as they spotted him, they opened fire. Most of it was small caliber weapons fire, not really enough to injure the Sorcerer however couple of lasshots waded through the holes in his damaged armor and he felt his flesh burn. Even being nothing more than insects, given the fact in what kind of a shape he was currently, they could seriously harm him if they get lucky. In total he was attacked by seven mortals, five of them were preparing to shoot again while two, perhaps crazier than the others, hefted clubs of some kind and charged him, thinking that they could best him in melee combat. Idiots. Angry mob: Prisoners:13 M. Scofield:4 Ausarius:6 Endred:7 Condition: Iron Arm lasts for 2 turns. Endred (@Keidivh ) can free himself from the pole and grab his crozius with your next post.
Corbulus smiled behind his Mk III Iron Helmet; he would get to kill at least one of these fools before the day was out. Before Corbulus gave the dog a moment of his time, he switched to a private vox with Nero. "Do not fire until you're sure you can kill one of them should they all charge. You get one first shot. Make it count." Corbulus paused. "But save the one that's talking. His skull is mine." Then he turned to the Black Legionnaires within the motor pool, giving a mocking reply every bit more superior than those inside that tried to taunt him. "You would speak of dignity while you hide in that building like some craven serv? You call yourself an astartes?" Corbulus laughed before snapping his fingers, something seemingly dawned upon his mind. "Wait, you're not even one of the legion are you? Just some foolish little worm who thought that he could put on the armor and paint of a real warrior and would inherit the respect of your betters earned through their blood and sweat." The Alpha Wolf placed the Crimson chainaxe on his shoulder, pacing as a parent might at catching a child with his hand in a cookie jar. "As for your 'brilliant' tactical analysis, it is obvious you were not there where we purged the Keylek from the galaxy. We lost our headquarters within minutes after one of the earlier battles started, and yet, behold! Do you see any Keylek today? Victory fled this world the moment the Arch-Failure threw a temper tantrum and decided to break most of his own toys before tossing them away," Corbulus smiled menacingly behind his helmet, more for his own pleasure, rather than to intimidate those that could not see it. "Now I don't necessarily have a problem with that, but he decided to break my toys as well. So I can't exactly show you what I can do with one Black Crusade, let alone twelve." With that Corbulus stop pacing and turned to face the motor pool building. "Enough talk! You have made your decision, and if you wish to call me a failure while ignoring your own pathetic master's, why don't you come out, and I'll show you just how successful I am at burying this axe into your skull." OOC: Same as before, unless talking is a free action, then 2 defensive moves. @High_Adept_Zeth
"I DO, Malek, you are weak enough that you linger here and not try to escape instead only erecting a shrine to the god instead of gathering your warrior and and leaving this place to wage war somewhere else and survive another day!, You are weak in ambition and mind!, I accept your Challenge!" Fera said Taking the initiative she began firing her heavy bolter from her position on the high ground on the manticore using her elevation and range to her advantage and environment. Another struggle another battle, this would be life or death and Fera new she needed to keep the range on marine, there skills especially the world eaters in melee she knew well and she knew in melee range she would be at a disadvantage. her bolter firing she aimed for the marines center of mass unarmored parts and his legs to slow them down, keeping a eye on his movements she prepared for the marines speed if he got to close she would need to blow a part of the hill to make it harder to make it up and slow him down so she could get a better shot on him. OOC All out attack on Malek the mad going for torso or legs and thighs to slow him down.
With seemingly the only thing of note being the Autocannon emplacement outside her safe haven, Valeforia instead looked at what was going outside, with a Marine intervening to remove the threat of the Sentinel walker and some other survivors taking the ill-advised course of attacking the guardsmen. Suffice to say the Techpriestess felt that the Autocannon offered a good chance to help turn around the battle for the Marine and other cultists, even if the lasguns did offer something she could do later, once the immediate threats are over. So she tried to remain as stealthy as she made her way to the Autocannon, not wanting to be spotted given her poor armaments and weakened status. Once she was at the emplacement, Valeforia ducked behind the sandbags, gripping the the Autocannon firmly as she quickly survey the disposition of targets and apparent allies. She then she took aim at the guardsmen, taking a moment before letting autocannon shells fly at the Guardsmen, focusing solely on attacking the Guardsmen even at the expense of her own safety given the power of the heavy weapon at her disposal, in the perhaps distant hope that enough firepower would terminate her foes before they tried to slay her. OOC: All out attack on the Guardsmen.
Orghast smiled with genuine fondness at the pup's response. Crouching down he stroked back along the hound's back, letting it eat in peace while he took stock of their surroundings. In short, things were a mess and not in the way he normally liked. The mounds of bodies and thousands upon thousands of dead were a nice touch, but the fact many of them had burned alive or been blackened certainly took away from the grandeur of their decay. Absentmindedly his fingers probed at wounded stomach, feeling out thinned new flesh and touching through what remained of the gaps between. Part of his transhuman mind struggled with the reality still, some of the rot remaining and none of it the resilient sort. Any moment now he might awaken to find all as it should be, Cultivator Asthos tending to his wounds and encouraging the growth of yet more blessed pestilence over what had existed before the bombardment. Alas, such was not coming and every minute that ticked by made it clearer. "Fresh meat." Orghast regarded Freya and her small retinue, briefly glancing down to his new companion when the World Eater started screaming. "Oh Malek, you card you." Chuckling deeply to himself the legionnaire rose, taking note of how the hound reacted to Malek's presence; head lowering and tail with it in a show of uncertain deference. Orghast started off, expecting the dog would follow. Racking his bolter mid-step the plague-less Astartes noted with yet more chagrin the stained rim of the barrel and an acid eaten gap in its side where a parasitic symbiote had at one point connected Orghast directly to the gun; feeding his own toxic secretions into each shot to better spread the gifts of Papa Nurgle. Oh well, no use crying over un-curdled milk. "Hail brothers and sisters! A fine day for an apocalypse is it not?" Raising a hand the marine waved, other carting bolter along one handed as if it were a pistol. "Malek, if you die, I'll take good care of your beasts for you, fear not!" Boisterous laughter followed, both amusement and the claim entirely genuine. For the time being he would ignore whether his new friend followed or not, well aware that between the presence of previous master and already having tasted his own gene-enhanced flesh that the animal could very well turn. OOC: No real actions, assume defense against anything that might attack.
