@Jorimel

"It matters little. He is our superior. We were purchased to serve as machines of war. We must know our place in the greater machinery, just like the other enlightened Primarchs acted under Horus without a doubt to his word, despite their own achievements. Despite their prides, desires and agendas. We must act as one, and whatever Lord Terix and Arch-Lord Osterios decide, whatever they order. We shall be their executioner." Dyromedes said, with slightly bittered voice and a nod of determination.

"I was irritated, with the lack of a definitive answer, Raven," Terix said to his left, and then glancing to the Horusian. "Your competency wasn't what was I scolded, but the lack of an answer; we don't always get to know all the angles of our decisions, and sometimes we have to decide on something all the same simply for what it is, for their base value; perhaps we have plenty of food? Yes, then you would decide on the armouries available, and vice versa if we had many troops and weapons but no food. However, remember that here we have nothing whilst the enemy has everything. YOU can survive many months as is. However, if you are to take humans under your leadership, food is always vital. You can trade for it; what would a Dark Mechanicum world be if their thousands of slaves or workers were to starve? What if a desperate warband was to attack us, however, on the way to someplace to trade? We'd have no weapons - we'd be relatively defenseless compared to them. The 'what-ifs' always end up being something that you can drown yourself in."

"You were purchased for your qualities. Our sorcerer, within The Hateful Storm, had said that those we'd take from this pit would be of magnificent use for all their qualities. Minds, bodies, swords or bolters. See only that if I ask or say to do something, that it is done; The Dusk Lords wish for results, first and foremost. Any embellishments on top of that are always bonuses, so long as the first part is completed; the entire galaxy is an unknown. All we can do, at this point until we get more resources and manpower, is go with what our gut tells us."

The Thunderhawk's ascent continued onwards without a fuss, its engines lifting the transport higher and higher before - without too much warning, once they were clear - roaring onwards, zooming into the skies and then, out of the atmosphere. One of the two 'Guards' moved towards the Terminator Lord, the two of which now spoked to one another out of range of the Newbloods. The Champion stepped back and leaned himself against the wall, a sudden 'hiss' echoing through the transport as mag-locks were activated, the Astartes' boots firmly clinging to the floor.
"Bumpy ride; I'd recommend you do the same." The remaining guard had said, his MK IV helm turning to stare at the floor and bringing his boltgun a bit closer. Sure enough, the turbulence got a bit stronger, making standing on one's own tricky. All the same, it didn't lessen the speed that they traveled any, another handful of minutes going by before the vehicle slowed and soon they felt the slight 'tug' of artificial gravity as they entered a hangar.
"Landing in twenty - lowering engines, unsealing transport bay, deactivating all non-essential power." The pilot spoke, the Thunderhawk slowly but surely moving towards one of the landing areas - and with that, a violent 'stomp', the vehicle landed itself, the front doors hissing as seals were unlocked, and then the whine of servo-motors while the ramp lowered.

The Dusk Lords were in - from what the High Gothic above along the walls said - Hangar 3C. Scores of vehicles - primarily 'human' in origin, being Valkyries, Thunderbolts, Vendettas and so forth - ran along the walls and hung up near the cieling, catwalks going between them with ladders stretching downwards; some big enough for proper Astartes, while many others were made for smaller, normal humans to use.
Osterios and the two Astartes that came to his side were the first to get off of the Thunderhawk, the Lord speaking to Terix soon afterwards, "I will speak to The Sorcerer; get them to the lodgings, and we shall move to our next destination." A nod was all that Terix gave, now gesturing to the Newbloods to follow.

The halls were gargantuan, to say the least - easily seen to be something made for Astartes within the Great Crusade. Dozens of men and women walked past the recruits with their own tasks, or talking to one another - some stopped and stared in awe, whilst others ignored them with their duties in mind, and others whispering things to their friends once (presumably) out of earshot.
"Osterios had said to bring you to your lodgings - and while we shall, where you will be remaining for the time being will be the~... Training Grounds." Terix said, passing a larger doorway and tapping the hatch in question with his knuckles. "--Here it is. Simple accomodations, a footlocker for each, but we'll be seeing to your physical capabilities."
Another small eternity of walking went by, before they found themselves at another, smaller 'hangar' - almost a warehouse in size, with square pits and walkways going above them. Lining the walls of each pit were combat servitors as big as the space marines themselves, each with their own array of weapons - even of meant to be 'non-lethal', they could bludgeon one into submission quite easily if given half a chance.

"Now-- all of you. Set your weapons to the side, and pick one of the training blades, and get down there. We'll see how you fare against them." ​

Dyromedes was not impressed, but definitely surprised. He imagined more, yet as well less. It was an awkward feeling. And he cared little for the words of Terix he had shared on the Thunderhawk. His explanations did not matter anymore since he pushed him physically. There was a disdain, faint hatred, hurt pride, disrespect. Something the Horusian could and would not forgive or forget. And he was not planning to.

Once seeing their room, he wondered about it's purpose. It was going to be mostly useless. A false room of camaraderie. His place was among the armies, mortals or Angels of Death. Sure they needed sleep, but would he retreat here? Maybe. The others clearly were not made to work together, having thrown him before the wolf - so to speak - when he wanted to act in their interest and appear as a cohesive unit. Maybe he was too foolish to assume that because they were born and raised together that there was a bond of brotherhood. It appeared to be as much a lie as that of freedom under the Emperors' rule.

Dyromedes shook his head and kept following. Training Blades? He is a man of the bolter! A blade was non-sense to him. "I hope you do not expect to judge a fish on it's ability to climb a tree." The Son of Horus grunted at Terix, handing off his Bolter to trade it for a training blade and went down into the arena. An idea for combat already formed in his head, considering he got a good feel of the personality of those in his squad. The question was going to be... If they would act accordingly. But his expectation was that they were utterly going to get a beating based on the lack of cohesiveness and not playing off each others strengths. Yet, with the universes grim humor there might yet be a chance to victor over the more experienced warriors they were to face.

"No, but I do expect a wolf to both climb mountains and still be able to swim to some degree. Unless you're one of the Ultramarines, I see no reason you'd be a fish."
@Uriel1339


"And, Kitten, we'll care very little what the other warband may think; if we act right, we'll be able to take whom and what we need and leave without them even noticing."
@WanderingJester

He couldn't have heard me. Nykton knew it. Was he being spied upon? Bugged? Then it came to him. Certainly the Astartes Lord hadn't heard him, but he had seen him lean in and talk to Lezan. It wouldn't take a Tech-Priest to work out what he was likely talking about. The pale Raven's Son coloured very slightly. What a fool he'd been. Worse, a fool in company.

He should stick to what he knew, which was being silent and shooting from afar. As luck would have it, his first assignment was to be a test of melee skill.

"... we'll be able to take whom and what we need and leave without them even noticing." Terix finished, which was a little more promising. That sounded like his kind of fight. Nykton didn't say anything, but he did straighten up a little and stop trying to blend into the shadows of un-notice quite as much. Marching into the quarters assigned to the group, he chose a bed in the darkest and most discreet corner possible, though given the harsh glare of the lumen strips that wasn't saying much. He placed his small bag of personal effects (tooth care is important - tooth pain makes a poor marksman) on the pillow to mark it as his own, and carefully stowed his bolter in the associated footlocker. He kept his combat knife on him out of habit and, once he was at the training room, took up training weapons as instructed.

Combat servitors were tough and there was no knowing how high the bar had been set as far as difficulty went. Nykton knew he wasn't a swordsman of great note, but he was agile and had a knack for being where he wasn't expected to be. Taking up a basic sword and a shorter combat blade, he stepped up, preparing to feint and dodge until he got the measure of his opponent's setting. Then he could dart in and take advantage of any perceived weaknesses. Or ...

"He didn't say anything about it being a duel," he said, softly, to Lezan. The Lion's Son was a swordsman, at least if his choice of signature weapon was anything to go by. "What about seeing if you can distract one from the front while I attack from the back?"

As the others discuss Terix's response to Dyromedes, Lezan remained silent. It was well within their leader's right to feel peeved at the non-answer the Son of Horus gave, yet now the astartes seemed to find it necessary to explain himself to the much more tempered Dyromedes. Did he falter in his conviction, and wished to backtrack now? Or was Terix really that bored that he would amuse himself with such an interaction with them, explaining why they were purchased and the world around them? The young astartes did not question it, paid attention to the explanation even as he heard Terix's answer to his earlier question.

A comfort settled with Lezan; they would not be expected to go on a suicide mission then, at least from the briefing. With little to no actual battlefield experience, they would be hard-pressed to fight a veteran astartes with selected and well kept equipment and weapons, let alone a leader of a warband with what they have now. He ignored the nickname Terix gave him: the young astartes was sure that their leader heard their introductions, and chose to ignore them. If getting called something other than his name kept him away from trouble, then more power to him, though he did ponder on the Terix's hypocrisy in his words. He chastised a vague answer from Dyromedes, and in turn spoke in a roundabout way when he could've just said 'no.' Lezan merely gave a slight nod to the answer.

As one of Osterios' guards spoke up, Lezan locked his boots to the floor of the thunderhawk, all the while reaching up and grabbing a handhold, even as the vessel began shaking. He took note of Nykton's words to Dyromedes from before but said nothing. The Raven's Son didn't address him, and so far as the young astartes was concerned, it was really none of his business. The ride was nothing too significant to tolerate, and soon the turbulence was over, and the entrance to the transport opened. Following Terix and a few others off, after Lord Osterios gave his orders, he looked around the busy hanger quickly as they passed out of it.

Many humans roam this vessel it would appear. Lezan kept his eyes open and an ear to the ground as they went to their new quarters. Humans, while not a threat by force, often were unpredictable, and with enough numbers can drag even a space marine down. The relatively large number of them present was, at the very least, something to be aware of. Soon, single beds greeted them, along with footlockers to each. He saw Nykton choosing one in the darkest part of the room. The young astartes himself walked to a bed in the corner, one of the two closest to the door. It provided some security and maintained a good distance from the exit; close enough to leave quickly, far enough and at an angle that a breaching blast would shoot past him, rather than at him. Having nothing too valuable, he stored what little private possession he had in the footlocker, but deemed to keep his weapons on him; they were on an unknown vessel after all.

Continuing their journey through the strike cruiser, the group arrived at another hanger, converted into a training area of some sort, with square pits and combat servitors to each. Terix gave his instructions, and Nykton and Dyromedes both seized their training weapons quickly. Lezan followed at a measured rate, first carefully pulling out the chainsword on his back as well as his bolt pistol and combat knife, before setting each aside in a clear spot in the weapons area carefully. His movement mimicked that of a father placing down a newborn child, and while the weapons hold no great significance to him, they were also the only things keeping him alive in this new world, and, along with his armor, his only real valuable possession.

Walking and looking through the racks of training blades carefully, Lezan repeated the procedure that he used when selecting his chainsword. His eyes roamed, though every once in a while would give one or two pieces some more time than others, even as he strolled amongst the selection. In a methodical manner, he chose a training blade that seemed the most balanced out of the rest, as well as two astartes sized training daggers that had a ever so slightly shinier gleam to them, before tucking them away on his persons. Just then, Raven's son addressed him once more, and the helmed astartes turned to him, visor flashing in the light of the room as he listened to Nykton's proposal.

Seemingly considering the idea, Lezan turned and gave the room a wide glance, then scanned their 'squad' once over. Slowly turning back to Nykton, a measured tone emitted from the helmet. "No, he did not. Yet he might simply throw each of us individual into our own pits, and force us to fend for ourselves." Then he tilted his head over at the son of Angron, before continuing. "However, if we're all within a single one, I have no doubt that the Red Angel's scion would be more than adequate to capture the enemies' attention, leaving you with the opening that you seek." Another pause, though whether, in contemplation or something else, none but Lezan could tell. Finally, he spoke, very carefully, as though each word had been hand selected for the sentence. "I shall advance upon the closest target near me when the battle commences. However, should one of the enemies wishes to engage you before you have an adequate position, I shall also do my utmost to divert its attention."

At that, Lezan looked upon Nykton, such that the Raven's son can almost see the green eyes behind the helmet's visor. "My patience does have its limits; do not tarry with your work."


@Jorimel

"Each of you is going to fight your own servitor; you're going to pick up a combat blade, and you are going to fight. You are not going to fight together, yet. You are not going to use any boltguns. You are not going to use explosives. You will not attempt to exploit auto-target systems. Treat this like you'd treat an Ogryn. They will fight, they will smash and they will try to clobber you until you can't move." Terix moved from side to side behind the Newbloods, his arms held behind him.
"Under most circumstances, this would be done without your power armour; however, we're not here to fight honourably or dutifully with the foe. We fight to survive so that we can get to even footing with the Imperium. As such, if the foe themselves cannot handle that, then so much the better. We've... 'upgraded' the Servitors, to be able to withstand the blows. Even these heavy models before were at least capable of being damaged substantially by power armoured opponents."


"Now-- get in there, and let's see what you have."

Inside the pit were well over two dozen combat servitors, with some basic form of power armour -- vaguely looking akin to modern MK VII, though the haphazard assembly and the mismatching plates made it clear that it wasn't the genuine variety. Some servitors were bare handed whilst others were equipped with their own combat blades. Large axes, mauls, polearms and more, each dulled down enough to not be able to cut no matter how much one tried.
"Pick one - step in front of whichever you please, or two if you're bold. From there, you'll learn what to do next." Terix then ordered - a hint of a smile heard in his voice. This'll be good, he thought to himself.



Nykton: 50 -- Dyromedes: 50 -- Durek: 50
Lezan: 50 -- Shabran: 50


Heavy Combat Servitors:
N:40 -- D1: 40 -- D2: 40
L: 40 -- S: 40

Each of you, as Astartes, start with three combat actions; use them wisely. You are equipped with only training weapons, and may fight as you wish. If an additional servitor is what you wish, add an OOC prompt such as this at the end of your post, along with your actions.

@Taec @Uriel1339 @Jorimel @WanderingJester @Grall_Stonefist ​

@Vlayden

Dyromedes ignored the comment, obviously Terix was incapable of seeing anyone else's vision, thoughts or mind other than his own. Having the need to make snarky and all-knowing, supposed superior comments and thought process. Probably typical to a slave turned slavemaster. Wanting to turn his own pains upon those around himself to 'feel better'. What pathetic fool such man was, and it made the Son of Horus realize that Terix was not going to have any of their back. He was going to be a blockade if anything.

What he was curious about, and tempted to test is... Would he actually let anyone of them allow to die from this mere excercise? And more interestingly, what would the punishment be for failing a fight against such lowly lifeform? After all, he most likely did expect them to beat the servitors. Maybe not easily. But then maybe he hinted at their dictated failure due to the upgraded Combat Servitors.

Before Dyromedes walked into the arena, he grabbed a second blade. He then continued weighing the blades, making some test swings and moving them around in his hands. He also thought of his brethren. Nykton who seemed to not care much about glory, but rather to simply not disappoint himself. The Lion wanted respect, not so much glory, prioritizing his survival - so was the Horusian's conclusion. And of course the Gladiator, potential Berserker, who desired in fact glory. The quiet one... Who knows what his agenda or motivation was. But he cared not much for the outside world for sure.

Then, he self-reflected just as the fight was about to begin. He realized he already made a fool of himself in their eyes. And if he wanted to stay in the ranks of a shooter than a blade swinger, he might as well intentionally fight like an amateur. Surely Terix would handle him directly and their real lordship would hear of his failure. But ultimately, there would be no real consequence. Their purchase was expensive and to break Astartes with such potential as theirs on a ship that was built mostly on humans. They would not be able to afford to turn one of them against themselves. Unless of course as sending a statement to the others to not tolerate failure.

Maybe affected by the malicious thoughts put into gears from before, he felt tempted to test his luck. A grin formed on his face as he and the Servitor now started to charge at one another. He would move just in a real situation, but when his blades were supposed to connect with his foe, he would in the last moment just aim a little too high or a bit too far to the side, and in the evasion movement just move a bit too slow.


OOC: Uhhhh... I suppose Charge. But well, as the post describes above, fake.

Lezan listened to Terix's instructions, one of his eyebrows raising behind his helmet. Their leader should have put them in individual cages if he wanted one on one fights between themselves and the servitors, and yet he preaches on survival? Survival meant doing whatever was necessary; if that meant fighting multiple enemies at once, or fighting one enemy with every one of your allies together, then that was the cost of survival. There were no rules except one: be the one standing when the dust settled.

Lezan noted the advanced modification of the 'new' heavy servitors, but paid little heed to the rest. Their enemy, mock versions of their loyalist counterparts, vaguely resembled their shape. Still, to hell with the instructions; he gave an oath and he intended to keep it, the consequences be damned. Following the Son of Horus into the pit, the young astartes watched as his counterpart grabbed a second blade in his off hand, before charging the servitor closest to him. Surprising, considering that he had expected the would-be World Eater to rush forward first with his gene-sire's heritage.

Lezan twirled the blade in his hand, and saw one of the servitor approaching him. It had a maul for an arm, the targeting cogitator within its skull locked onto the Lion's Son. Being a blunt force weapon, the maul actually didn't lose much of its combat capabilities after being dulled. Offering a bit of caution, he stepped cautiously forward, before moving with the speed and precision of a typical swordsman, feinting an uppercut with the training blade before bringing it down in a diagonal slash into the neck of the servitor.

Just then, Lezan spotted another servitor with a blunt axe approaching the Raven's Son. Remembering his promise, he dove and rolled, attempting to avoid any retaliatory strikes, in that direction. Raising up, the young starts brought his sword up and to the side, aiming for the mid section of the servitor. Regardless of the hit's effectiveness, upon making contact with the servitor, he would leap back onto his feet. Coming face to face with the combat servitor, Lezan stared it in the face, visor to targeting cogitator. His training blade raised in a defensive position, his vision covering both his original target and the one he covered for Nykton. Lezan could push the attack once Nykton began his own flank attack, but he would fight conservatively at the moment.

"Your fight is with me, servitor."


OOC: Charge on Lezan's servitor, Attack on Nykton's servitor. Defence on self.

Terix had other plans and, the young Raven was beginning to feel, a love for the sound of his own voice. It would have been simplicity itself to just direct each recruit to a servitor and have done. But Terix wasn't the only one with other ideas.

Nykton had equipped himself with a pair of blades, one longer than the other. He was a passable swordsman, as were all Astartes, but melee wasn't where he shone. His plan to work with Lezan was not only a way to see if their incipient camaraderie translated itself well onto the battlefield - allowing bonds to begin forming within a squad of diverse individuals - but also an adaptation of his skills to the demands of the moment. Tactical flexibility was a virtue drilled into the Raven Guard. Nykton had expected to have to do most of his work on his own. So he needed to be able to think on his feet.

That skill, however, was about to be just as vital as he'd predicted, if for different reasons. Just as he'd been about to shoot Lezan a look of shared sympathy/disappointment that their plan had been disallowed, the Lion's Son went ahead and did it anyway. Touched by a minor chord of disbelief, Nykton nevertheless grinned beneath his helmet. He stepped up and moved to get behind the servitor that came for him as it was deflected from its attack by Lezan's blocking blade. He was aiming to disable the recycled machine man with a strike to whatever passed for a limb joint, preferably to a leg or other mobilising part. If no. he'd settle for an arm. But, just as Lezan wasn't _attacking_ his servitor, he'd refrain from any moves against the Lion's own opponent. Once the advantage to get behind enemy lines was there, he'd try to stay that way, working to keep on the blind side of the servitor or moving fast enough to stop it from landing a blow.

He isn't fighting for me, he's defending, Nykton's thoughts flashed through his mind, let's hope Terix sees it that way. If not, he should at least commend his initiative on defending his Battle-Brother. The Raven had a feeling that Lezan's action wasn't stubbornness. He couldn't fathom it quite yet - plus if he spent any more time on thinking rather than reacting, all his head would be full of was enemy blade.



OOC: Stealth move using Lezan's distraction to the flank/ rear of servitor. attack weak point preferably limb, second attack on the neck joint if vulnerable or another limb if not.