Corbulus laughed in replied to the taunting being cut off by bolter fire. It seemed that someone else in the motor pool had a differing opinion of Abaddon, went after the same prize as the weaklings within, or were sick of hearing the dull fool talk. Either way, he couldn't blame them; after all, he was after the same things within. Nero's voice snapped the Alpha Wolf out of his enjoyment, as an explosion occurred within the building. "Stay where you are and enjoy the show, pup. Not every day we can relax as our enemies are slaughtered before us," he replied over the vox, though his body language remained a warrior at ready. "Shoot them if they decide to charge out at us, by foot or by treads. Otherwise, stand ready."

Addressing those within once again, Corbulus laughed mockingly. "Whatever is the matter now? You swines tired of each other so quickly as to kill one another? Tell you what, I'm feeling merciful today: Not only am I going to let you live, I'll let you join my warband! All you have to do is kill the fool who was talking, along with anyone else who seemed similarly inclined at clinging to the heel of that arch failure Abaddon. Do that, and you'll find your lives the first of many rewards that you shall receive!"

OOC: 2 Defensive Moves as last time.

@High_Adept_Zeth

OOC: Apologies in advance. I did not expect it to be a long post. :/

After the blast, the neural feedback passed over Sobek, and he had to disengage from the machine before he got his brains cooked. It worked as intended, though the destruction of two machines left a bitter taste in his mouth - and it was not the amount of metal he had installed there.

Furious, as any caretaker forced to sacrifice his charges would, he utilized Rhino`s stormbolter mount with acceptable efficiency. He confirmed one fatality, and one wounding, and as inhumane recoil of the stormbolter shook his humble frame, adrenaline shook his nervous system. He never killed a demigod before - not directly at least. The fact gave him that bitterest of poisons - hope. Hope for survival.

His augmentics damaged he noted that his machine-speak is wrought with error having difficulty speaking cleary in fleshspeak too. The interface port at his neck was shizzling sparks and smoke of burnt copper and cooked flesh. Numbness spread from it to the shoulder like a caress of a seductive assassin or a spread of merciful poison - he knew what that meant.

@WanderingJester
Hearing someone from outside still speaking, but having difficulty understanding him over the din of firefight, he focused on the half-breed that was taking cover behind a Land Speeder. Every bolt he sent at the marine usually ended up in the hull of he machine he used as cover, the fact him like a stab to the heart. The Astartes returned fire and shizzling wave of static replaced high definition pict feed from the mount. The odds of survival suddenly lessened and even further so as one of the hostiles started hitting the hull above him, more specifically the hatch, attempting to hack it open.

With a sympathetic touch upon the Rhino, Sobek thanked the machine for protecting him for so long, guilt weighing like a clammped iron over his neck for misusing them in such a manner. They are warmachines. Death, even machine-death is the only outcome they can hope for.

Eyes widening at the sudden and bold realization, he questioned where such cold sentiment came and from what thought? Then he realized. It came from an idea. I infected myself with another perspective, of self-indepencence and self-will. Infected? Indoctrinated? Liberated? Yes...liberated!

With a sigh of relief that cracked in his throat and newfound confidence in this strange and alien train of thought, Sobek moved toward the back of increasingly warm interior, the air in the passanger compartment still dancing with heat of the explosion. Taking the protective coverlid of, he started ripping away at Rhino`s petro-chem engine. The vulnerable and well-known inner workings he knew so well, he now bent now not for some hellish rituals of a god that abandoned him, or for a will of a warlord that is eager to fulfil his craven ambitions, but he twisted them for his own making and goals.

With a burst of damaged and broken static, he sent a string of commands to his skull-probe. If all went well, he would wait for the last possible second and blast would open both the driver`s hatch at the side of the Rhino and the boarding ramp at the back, sending his skull-probe one way and opening his way the other, the body of the crippled Rhino inbetween him and the Astartes who took cover behind the Land Speeder.

Cycling thought the vox frequencies he noted one close and accessed it. He expected a more opportunistic behaviour from the shouter, the fact that he did not engaged the moment the firefight broke loose, spoke of his either regal bearing and thus arrogance or cunning not to interfere until the problem solved itself and they just come and pick up the pieces. Actually, that is the most opportunistic outcome he could think of, like a vulture. Sobek sneared before he croaked:

++"You speak as much as that corpse did moments ago. If you came to my workshop looking for more servile underlings, you came at the wrong place. I serve no man or god. Not any longer."++

With the transmission sent, and a deep breath taken at the things he just did, he blasted the hatches open and rushed out of the Rhino, Servo-skull mirroring his movement the other way, emitting hostile codes and signals to Astartes suits, giving warning runes to their displays as to the moving hostile.

A small smile threatened to curve at his not-mouth behind the beaked mask at the boldness of his plan. There were some good sides to being their caretaker for so long. He probably knew their gear better then the wearers themselves did. The servo-skull diversion should grant him a second of clear space before the half-breed that hacked the top hatch open noticed him runing the other way and turning him into red mist.

Hopefully he would get away before the rigged petro-chem engine exploded.

Rigged explosion.
Attempted introduction of rogue signal to the Astartes that is busy hacking the top hatch open.
Hopeful escape to cover.

"Oh well aren't you a treat." Approaching the woman a long arm that felt small within his own armor hung down and scratched at his pet's right ear, a few paces out from Fera Orghast knelt down and directed the dog's attention to its former master and bade it to go eat. "I will go where Nurgle wills it." Orghast instinctively breathed in deep, expecting the gurgle of pungent fluids flooding his throat to accompany his speech. Unfortunately such things were lacking. Despite Fera seeming fairly tall for a woman the legionnaire still dwarfed her by nature of his existence, something that had not been new for some many millennia. None the less he looked genuinely amused by her attitude. "And you deary? Quite the charming sort it seems." Gesturing with his own run down bolter towards Malek's corpse.

@Vulpas

Corbulus remained as he was as the third party spoke up, through garbled transmissions and a mechanical voice, undoubtedly one of the dark mechanicus. Though his body didn't shift, he sneered behind his helmet. "You presumed much, heretek. If you value your life, what I want is of no matter to you, and from the sound of it, you're much closer to joining that corpse than I am. So, if you will not make yourself useful, then stay in that building and let it be your tomb, or come out and die out here. I care not what you choose."

Then an idea came to the Corbulus' mind, and his sneer transformed into a smile. "Or, you can abandon this foolishness, pledge yourself before the dark gods into my service, and I will shortly provide the services of death that you seem to sorely need. Let me guess, there are at least two bolters pointed at your direction, with another chainsword or so flying towards your head? Easily solved with a determined attacker holding a chainaxe to the rear. What say you?" To be fair, given what the heretek said before, he fully expect the offer to be rejected. Still, perhaps there was a chance that their logic banks would override their pride, should the situation turn dire enough.


@High_Adept_Zeth

@Skarboy

Xaviera emerged from the trench. Her normally graceful gait was reduced to a lilting limp, her approach staggered by her injuries as she strode down from the little mound and onto the no man's land itself, gazing at the traitor Astartes who had intervened. She had seen autocannon fire but, seeing the desolation surrounding the Astartes, she was willing to gamble that whoever sat at the cannon's controls was an ally. She did not recognize the Astartes' markings, presumably due to their obscure origins, but she cared little for the fine details at this crucial moment. If not for her injured leg, she would have cast herself down to the earth before him. Instead, she bowed her head, strands of platinum blonde hair dangling down into her face and plastered to it with sweat and grime. She looked up to the Astartes again, stormy purple eyes fixing on the lenses of his helmet as though she hoped to divine his face through the barrier.

"My lord," the psyker greeted him. "It is good to see you healthy and whole," she said, sincerely. "If you would let me accompany you until we find a way off this world, I vow not to slow you down. In the meantime I will lend my power to yours."

His lips ceased in their dogged uttering of continued deceptions, his rage given no proper target as autocannon fire ripped into the Guardsman squad. As his boot planted into the chest of the sentinel pilot, the Astartes mag-locked his swords to his waist and set about patting out the last of the hungry promethium licking at his ceramite armor. The sigils and warp-speak adorning his armor writhed as if in agony, whether from the flames or his own touch was uncertain, their movements ever more erratic as Attelus put out the last of the flames. The silence was deafening as he was left to his own devices, no thoughts intruding upon his own mind was still a new sensation.

But then Xaviera approached, though not from the direction of their autocannon assistant. Blank lenses of crimson stared for a long while after she spoke, Attelus very much akin to a statue, a monument to the horrific battlefield that still scarred the planet beneath them. Yet again he was fixated on the silence. There was no whispering into his mind, no guarantee of knowing whether the mortal before him was speaking truth. At last a rumble emitted from the suit, deadpan coming through the vox-grille, increasing in volume so that their unseen aid could also hear. "Very well. My brothers are dead and you are deprived of comrades. We will find our way off world."

And open the Imperium's eyes to the Truth.

The moments of grief continued on as he ran through one of the Prisoners, not even bothering to remove the corpse upon his spear before slashing down upon yet another of the madmen, slicing effortlessly through from shoulder to hip, watching how his guts spewed from his body, the frenzied look on the human's face turning to shock as his mind still trying - and failing - to comprehend what had just happened.
Before the second body had fallen, Ausarius brought his spear up and pummeled the blunt end upwards into another prisoner's skull, uncaring as her crazed look was squished into oblivion and the contents of her skull leaking out, her body being sent sprawling, the first corpse being tossed aside, the trio flopping lifelessly onto the ground around him.

Ausarius could see the slight change in their demeanour as he dealt with their companions, tightening his grasp on the blade and bringing it up to lean on it - his muscles relaxing and his free hand now coming to grasp at his breastplate. Stinging pains ran through his core and stomach, ones that didn't dull; he knew there was remnant shrapnel inside, and as much as he knew he could do it himself... Such a thing was risky. And he'd seldom ever actually practiced such surgery, even when these things were plentiful and common amongst his homeworld.
And yet... That was ten thousand years ago. Ten millennia of adventures, of scouring the galaxy, of running, hunting.
Of surviving, not living. It sickened him.

The Sorcerer's lamentation over Prospero hadn't lasted long though, his gaze turning over to his dead friend once more, now kneeling and bringing a hand to close his eyes - if such things even were available. From here, he'd see to taking his helmet and clipping it to his side; perhaps as some, the bloodied equipment would seem like a trophy, whilst to him, it would remain more as a memento. His gaze through the helm flashed over to his boltgun that was out of reach, his free hand now reaching over to take it and his own other equipment - the magazines, the pistol and knife, etcetera. The basics.
Had your bolter been a few inches closer, I wouldn't have to be scavenging off you of all people. He thought to himself, taking the compact weapon and racking the bolt.

Half empty; may as well reload. He thought to himself as the Auto senses kicked in and automatically gave the ammo counter through the Boltgun's machine-spirit, linking into the magazine's supply. His index pushed at the release button and the heavy mag slid out, falling to the floor whilst the Prosperan slid in a new one with little difficulty; he wished that his Inferno boltgun had remained, such a thing he knew would be infinitely more valuable than most things he could find.
Still, Ausarius got himself up and winced a bit, now looking through the helm's HUD and clicking through numerous Vox channels. Some were filled with static from voxlinks crushed under rubble into a permanent 'on', never to let off noise again. Some were filled with inane, distant chattering from up above - yet most that he went through were silent.

Not even the ghosts of the damned wish to speak.

As he heard bolter fire in the distance, it gave a brief moment of unease; boltguns could be both a good and horribly bad sign, he knew. He knew that the Black Crusade had drawn the ire of the Adeptus Astartes, and among them he'd gotten very little respect - perhaps begrudgingly, in silence, but it never stopped them from shooting at him. Perhaps it even encouraged them to, their fear of respecting such a foe driving them to such lengths even quicker.
And yet, he knew it could also be other Renegades and Heretics; such thoughts to him weren't too comforting however, for he knew that at best, they may wish to lead him on a merry chase for their own selfish goals, none bothering to see wisdom and experience when it's right in front of them.
At worst? They'd shoot him as though he was the foe, no damns to give whether they were surrounded by Imperials solely because of selfish 'pride', and the obsession over their Gods.

Still, he'd not care much for it - instead moving onwards towards the sounds of gunfire with his damaged force spear in hand. Aesthetically it may not show too much as more than denting and scratches at a glance, and he hoped that it would keep them from knowing that he was at far less of an advantage - moreso the sheer reputation of the Thousand Sons themselves and their psychic might and knowledge, would hopefully be of use here to avoid bloodshed.

Once coming into view of the sight of the battle at hand, or at least... The carnage that had occured, the Sorcerer did his best to straighten himself up and activate his Vox-grills within the helm to help amplify his voice. Within he'd do his damndest to have a proud and assertive tone; perhaps not one that would be one that would take charge, but certainly a voice that made it clear he did not like to be tread upon. Something many Astartes tended to only show through bark and no bite; whereas Ausarius as a sorcerer of the Thousand Sons, certainly was capable of adding to the bite.

"What is going on here!?" He shouted into the Motorpool, tapping his force spear for emphasis of his presence. "We require to move, not to amble about snapping at each other's heels. Identify yourselves, lest I move on without your damned company to find others to get off this planet!"


@High_Adept_Zeth @WanderingJester

@Skarboy @Maleth

A long, lingering moment --- an eternity, perhaps --- before the traitor marine finally spoke up. "Very well," a rush of relief, "My brothers are dead," Alone, "And you are deprived of comrades," Fools, "We will find our way offworld." The bargain seemed struck. She did not know this marine or the particulars of his Chapter, but she had no better shot at finding an escort to see her offworld. She raised her hand and pointed a delicate finger towards the bunker from which the autocannon fire had roared over the battlefield. "We will need allies, and I believe that whoever decided to rain Hell upon our common enemies would serve," she suggested. He may not be Word Bearer but, for as long as she was denied the company of her lieges, she wished to be useful for this marine.

She started towards the bunker, attempting to bring herself to her full height, but it was a challenge with her injured leg. She finally came to a halt some yards away, about half-way between their original position and the bunker itself. "Blessings of the Gods to you, friend!" she called over the newfound silence of the battlefield. "We will seek a way off this world! Unless you wish to stay, you'd best come with us!"

@DeranVendar
"A daughter of the war god myself, Seeking now survival and a way off this rock to finish this struggle and challenge the lord of war has given to us, To survive this struggle and come out of it once more will make anyone who survives stronger," Fera said looking to the plague marine, "It tends to be a bit harder making charming those and getting them into a trust filled postion when some of them have have given all there sanity away or lost themselves fully to battle." Fera said a somewhat grin under her helmet.

<Chaos HQ - Motor pool> @High_Adept_Zeth @WanderingJester @Vlayden

Sobek worked fast now, with his death approaching and the outsider not really caring to interfere it all came down to his own ingenuity. Thankfully the Mystic spent a lot of time around these machines and if there was a person who could do it in this time frame, it was Sobek.

Both hatches opened at the same time the Chaos Marine on top hacked the entrance open and he caught glimpse of Sobek running away. Sadly his other brother was fooled by the servo skull and sent a salvo of bolts into it, blasting it apart. "IDIOT! He went the other way!" the one on top roared and pulled out his bolt pistol, opening fire on the Mystic as he tried to get away. Couple of shots exploded around him, one of them blowing a chunk of his shoulder away but before the Legionary could score a killing blow the Rhino blew up, sending the Chaos Marine flailing helplessly in the air with broken armor and one arm shorter. The explosion was enough to create a momentary distraction as Sobek made way for the exit. He heard bolts flying round his head but the death still haven't come to collect him as he burst out of the pool and into the open sky.

Around the same time Ausarius arrived at the scene and he spotted both the running Cyrabor Mystic and another Marine standing close by the entrance to the pool. Corbulus also spotted (and heard) Ausarius talking, but before he could respond Nero's voice echoed in his vox unit. "Some kind of a Sorcerer, Thousand Sons marking. Shall I take him out," the former Ultramarine remained hidden in his overwatch, obviously switching targets now that the new possible threat appeared behind them, however then all of them spotted Sobek trailed by a figure in black power armor. "One of the Legionaries is exiting the pool. Orders?"

Then suddenly, as if Gods themselves wanted to add a bit more chaos to the entire setting, another voice broke the sound of the gunfight, using the general channel the Chaos Force used during the assault. "Attention servants of the Dark Gods. Abaddon's fleet has left the system couple of hours ago and the Imperials are regaining control of the skies," the speaker was undoubtedly Astartes, but his voice was soft, almost pleasant. "By the end of the day, this planet will be locked tight and bombed anew until there is nothing left standing. I offer you a way out. Northeast of the main base terrain gets higher and ends up with a hill overlooking the area. Those of you who are worthy shall find me and they will be saved. The rest...have fun dying," and the message ended.


Black Legion GTA crew: 6/2/4 (bolters, chainswords)

Sobek:4 Corbulus:9 Nero:8 Ausarius:6

Condition: Chaos Marine number 1 is following Sobek out and will score an automatic crit against him if he doesn't get interrupted. The rest of them will also follow him out but won't have any automatic hits. Chaos Marine number 2 has his arm missing and will only have 1 action per turn. Due to his hidden position, Nero will also score an automatic crit on whoever Corbulus orders him to fire upon.


<Trenches> @Skarboy @Maleth @Kalle

Breaking the silence of the battlefield came a message from an unknown sender, using the general channel the Chaos Forces used during the invasion and which every member of it was familiar with. "Attention servants of the Dark Gods. Abaddon's fleet has left the system couple of hours ago and the Imperials are regaining control of the skies," the speaker was undoubtedly Astartes, but his voice was soft, almost pleasant. "By the end of the day, this planet will be locked tight and bombed anew until there is nothing left standing. I offer you a way out. Northeast of the main base terrain gets higher and ends up with a hill overlooking the area. Those of you who are worthy shall find me and they will be saved. The rest...have fun dying," and the message ended.

Location the voice spoke about was not that hard to spot really, to their left past all the bunkers and the trenches the terrain indeed started to rise and they saw a small hill, its top surrounded by fog. If there was indeed someone there they could reach it, but they had to start walking as soon as possible...


<Fortress Theta> @DeranVendar @Vulpas @Uriel1339 @Jorimel

Similarly like everywhere else on the planet, the same voice sent the same message across the general channel the Chaos invaders used during their attack on Schindlegeist. "Attention servants of the Dark Gods. Abaddon's fleet has left the system couple of hours ago and the Imperials are regaining control of the skies," the speaker was undoubtedly Astartes, but his voice was soft, almost pleasant. "By the end of the day, this planet will be locked tight and bombed anew until there is nothing left standing. I offer you a way out. Northeast of the main base terrain gets higher and ends up with a hill overlooking the area. Those of you who are worthy shall find me and they will be saved. The rest...have fun dying," and the message ended.

Hill the message spoke about was a bit farther to their left, past the ruins and the trench lines, so far out in the distance they couldn't really see anything different about it other than what seemed to be a fog or a mist covering its top. If they wanted to go there they could either walk or use that damaged Chimera as a means of transport, Fera could probably make it work with a bit of luck. As for Valu and Satharn, who both saw what transpired with the cultists and the newcomers, they could either join with them or make their own way towards the hill (or even remain on the planet and hope that the voice was lying) using their own two legs.