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They Cometh From Iron

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by DeranVendar, Mar 11, 2017.

  1. Tiro turns his flamers point towards the remaining servitors, seeing as how the others are focused on either the horde or the enemy astartes. If he could end them here, then next turn he could fully focus on the true enemy.

    OOC: All Out Attack on Servitors.​
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  2. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    Big Battle, Big Boys, Big Toys
    Kicking off the first real effort to slay the traitors aspiring Librarian sends a krak missile spearing up towards the platform. Both traitors retreat away from the ledge, laying low and letting blast waste itself on underside of man-made landing pad that had already proven sturdy enough to withstand bombardment by a Vindicator. They emerge once more, peering over chipped corner of the platform with bolters glinting in the dim sunlight.

    It was Alexander's turn to steal a kill from Tiro this time. Shotgun sends Servitor rocketing over wall's edge with a trailing shower of scrap. Flamer unit only manages to lick the air where the organic las-gun platform previously stood. Attentions aim higher with the Servitors slain, leaving two traitors firing down upon them and the horde of frenzied thralls and their blades grasped in trembling drugged-up grips. Attempting to curtail the efforts of both groups Charon calls upon his otherworldly powers for their first true test on the field of battle. Tapping into the discipline of Geomancy, Charon tests not only himself but the wisdom of Chief Librarian Alexander whom made a point of starting all the Dawnbringers' young mutants on the path to mastery over earth and stone. Unable to simply send great shards of stone spearing up through the base of the walls, Scout settles for raising multiple shards of slate the size of their torsos into the sky, pulling them closer on ethereal ropes to form an irregular hedge around his squad.

    Two slate slabs erupt in a spray of solid slivers, Thunderhawk turning its lascannons on Squad Kenemon's short lived cover. The filtered chuckle of a traitor above is all Charon hears before a bolt smashes into his abdomen. Psyker is floored, follow up detonation blowing open his carapace and leaving a fist sized bruise that sizzles with spare blast heat. Prone and vulnerable it would be a simple matter for either bolt or blade to take his head in those moments, were it not for Aridan and Arrauth anyways.

    On the platform above a traitor jerks to the left, bumping into his comrade in Chaos. Shoulder plate is cracked along the upper curve, a solid munition fired at long range and high velocity having damaged it and thrown off both traitors' shots. While one turn to seek out a source the other winds up another finishing shot on Charon. Aridan chases the IIIrd's aim away next, spray of bolter fire failing to actually hit, but suppressing none the less. Legionary fires back with own bolter, Scout weaving away and into cover. Poking his head back up to return fire from a defensible position the younger astartes discovers just how wide skill gap between him and his opponent is. A pair of bolts spark up on edge of an empty munitions crate, blinding Aridan mid-rise. A third shot pounds into his arm and blows it wide open, flesh torn and bone chewed into by a blast that would of popped a lesser man like a zit. Traitor had read him like a book, perhaps centuries of experience allowing him to predict Aridan's movement.

    Thunderhawk screams overhead, heavy bolters belching up countless rounds of mass reactive death. A storm of brass blankets the battle field below, showering Kerberos Company and the meat shields currently used to lock them in place. Not a single loyal casualty yet, Cataphracti plate proving proof to even heavy anti-personnel fire. Bastard of Terra lobs another bunker busting shot into the fray, somewhere out of the Scouts' sight another dozen Servitors are flattened by the blast.

    "Your skin, it is so sturdy and strong, I shall use it to make a grand cloak for my masters!" Several thralls push through the spray of shrapnel, shrieking in bliss as their blood is let and flesh split. Alexander's grenade has done little to friend or foe, a mixed blessing. First to close with the shotgunner is booted back into another of his maddened fellows, third makes it forward with a zweihander. Stomping down mortal braces himself before thrusting long blade forward and driving it deep into Alexander's hip.

    "PRAISE AND EXALTATION TO THE FIRST of SLAANESHES FAITHFUL THAT TAKES A HEAD!" One of the Emperor's Children roars it from above, joyous and proud. A whole new wave of hysteria grips the squads as they abandoned what little concern for self preservation they may have had left and give themselves over entirely to their battle lust and perversion for butchery. Alexander only just pulls himself off of blade before blade thrall can rip it free himself. Barron, meanwhile, remains alone in the thundering heart of the mob.

    Guard set the young astartes catches sickle, cleaver, scimitar, and a knife between blades teeth. Bracing a hand against the tip of his chainsword Barron shoves upward, lifting several of his opponents off their feet and driving them a few feet back. Just enough space for the young warrior to right himself and take a single broad swing. Woman that had already hacked apart of his scalp away dies first, cut in half and forgotten in an instant. Blade carries on and breaks several ribs in another thrall, ripping apart heart and lungs in passing, and moves on to tear the throat from a third man whose chain mail coif does nothing to stop Imperial steel. Heretic goes down, face screwed up in pain and anger, eyes stinging with hot tears of rage at his own impotence. What a sucker.

    A traitor drops from above. Maximus armored suit is riddle with holes and a mixture of combat drugs and discolored blood pours from the wounds. Suit and wearer smash into the edge of the wall, snapping the corpse in half and bending one of the raised barriers that lines outer wall tops. Anyone with time to spare for looking high sees the other legionary that had fired at them doing his damnedest to dodge the back and forth sweep of a scythe formed by solid slugs. It avails him not in the end, spray of bullets trailing off as one of Kerberos Company lumbers forward and uppercuts the son of Fulgrim with a power fist, sending another body cartwheeling down to the ground. Hoisting up assault cannon the veteran begins pouring fire into the thrall horde. Before all is said and done the thralls are nothing but steaming piles of meat surrounding the Scouts in a carpet of gore.

    "Along with you young brothers. Our squads are overdue in reporting to Captain Maximillian and we will not be capable of calling in support until communications are established. The First can carry the lions share of combat out here, never you fear that." Veteran turns head and assault cannon towards a location further down the wall behind the team. Three enemy astartes with bolters and a plasma gun approach, likely part of the same squad that had been watching the gates. "Go swiftly!" Terminator begins firing upon the trio, forcing them into the confines of a bunker similiar to the one Arrauth neutralized earlier. Wounded and more weary than many would like to admit, Squad Kenemon bolts off; save for Barron who is left with a moment of indecision, within reach of the surviving Hydra's firing console... perhaps he could make things easier on Kerberos Company by at least dealing with that Thunderhawk?

    Nothing Good Lasts Forever
    Arrauth watches his brothers book a swift retreat across the walls and back to ground level where Kenemon can also be seen moving to rendezvous with them. Amidst the greater fighting, where ten Terminators and a single Vindicator still hold their own against roughly thirteen traitor legionnaires and at least a hundred of their adoring mortal slaves, the team goes unnoticed. Same cannot be said for him the sniper himself. First warning that he has company is growing roar of an assault pack, perhaps one of the hunters from earlier that caught wind of him through allied reports or just a lucky glimpse of Arrauth himself. Instinct and common sense tells him to flee, seek cover, prepare a counter-attack, but pride as a Dawnbringer and perhaps a bit of youthful brashness keeps his eyes glued on the distance battle; and a golden opportunity...

    Enemy Thunderhawk is lining up a fresh strafing run. Homing in on the landing pad its battle cannon swivels toward the Tactical Terminator squad currently dug in at the apex of vehicle ramp leading up to the platform. Damaged cockpit leaves him with a very narrow view of the pilot. It would be a difficult shot, one that would leave him on the back foot defending against whatever trouble is coming his way; but if he could make it then not only would he of performed a feat worthy of honors, but also save the lives of some of the Dawnbringers' own heroes. All he had to do was hit...of course that personal glory would be worth very little if incoming company slaughtered him. Company that was very close, floor rattling beneath Arrauth as someone quite heavy landed on the floor below, no doubt inspecting his warren of escape holes.

    Digging In
    Tiro's flamer washed over several tech menials slavishly working to coordinate the efforts of their legion masters. Their screams sounded less of agony and more of woe for their failure, fingers coated in boiling fat still working away at cogitators and rune panels until bone went black and there were no nerves left to carry command impulses. Kenemon steps past the scout with an approving grunt and moves to the nearest console. Somewhere in the background Alexander's shotgun blasts and a comically over the top scream follows.

    "Squad, dig in and hold the hub against all aggressors. It's going to take me a minute to link up with the Astra Drakon, and even longer to transfer all these reports. Considering there is a Techmarine nearby, I am willing to bet the enemy will notice real quick that we're fugging their comms." Now was the time to put all that training regarding traps and ambushes to good use. The communications hub consisted of two layers: first the outer ring that was entirely hallways, three main entrances arranged like a 'Y' if one were looking at a structural map, a web of Servitor maintenance tunnels, and a handful of now defunct turrets. Inner layer was the meaty core of actual devices, cogitators, operator stations, and transmitters, complete with three entrances into the room. Without power armor and only minimal ordinance they were bound to have a helluva fight ahead, but such were the battles that the Emperor's finest were made for.
  3. Redthirst Redthirst Eternal Battles Moderator

    Arrauth was just looking for another target and considering whether it was worth to waste ammo on a Thunderhawk for a small chance he can actually hit the pilot when he heard a sound that was way too close than any sound should have been. Part of him wanted to stay and see how good of a shot he actually was, but the old instinct of survival took over. Crawling through yet another hall in the wall as quietly as possible, Arrauth stops to fashion a crude trap - a krak grenade stuck onto the wall below the hole, just outside of vision, with a string connecting the pin to a piece of furniture.

    The hole itself was made just large enough to let the Scout slip through, so a larger Astartes would have to adjust it to his size or just walk through the wall, hopefully triggering the trap. A mortal human could slip by, but a mortal human is much easier to deal with. As the heavy steps were approaching his old position, he moves deeper into apartment, at least as deep as he could without breaking more holes. Finding a half-decent angle, Arrauth waits for his attacker, or perhaps his target, to come in view - even if the trap won't work he should be able to get a few shots off before sniper rifle becomes useful. And if it does go off, then he should be able to get a good shot off to guarantee that his enemy is dead.
  4. Talvisota RuinaImperii Active Member

    My, what a conundrum. His fellow scouts could definitely use the extra hands, that much was undeniable. They were but scouts in the midst of a battle of the Emperor’s finest after all. The only question that remained now was where Barron’s hands were to be placed—upon the familiar hilt of his sword, to serve as the vanguard of defense for his brothers in arms, or were they to be used for the purpose of controlling some foreign weapon, especially one no doubt designed for someone who was a better shot than he?

    That was in jest.

    There was no question about it. Barron had all but launched himself into the gunner’s seat in mere moments. There was something poetic about the whole thing, Barron noted. Something circular about how his initial decision to intercept an enemy aircraft has inadvertently led to him sitting in this seat, here and now. But that’s how it goes sometimes, he supposed. Wheel in the sky keeps on turning and all that.
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  5. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member

    The Scout merely nodded once he was told 'dig in', a small spark coming within him, something he didn't quite understand but was pleased of all the same. He looked throughout the complex and set to work, taking wiring and string along with his entire reservoir of ammunition - and if he could, he'd ask Aridan ( @WanderingJester ) for a magazine or two if he so allowed it, of bolts - to create traps of all sorts.

    Most were of simple design, using the crumbling and ruined nature of the world to his advantage as he set shells into crooks, attaching them via wire or string along flooring or stomach height (for the particularly thin threads or wires), so that they would explode upon breaking - some would be aimed backwards towards the rear of the trap, as though to blow open to anyone behind them, whilst others were set to damage the person who set it off themselves.

    Others were more hidden however, using sharp pieces of the environment and setting them in holes in the floor so that they would act as makeshift mines - merely stepping on them would push them onto the pointed object beneath, setting them off and in the cases of mere mortals, obliterating their leg, whereas in Astartes (even power armoured ones, with such force being kept under a thick sole), removing or heavily damaging their foot.

    Still, he knew he had his krak grenades left, and as such he saw to setting one as a tripmine at one of the entrances to the inner layer, deciding instead to keep the last krak for personal use if needs be.

    Still... He looked to the turrets with a small bit of longing, opening up the vox briefly to his teammates - his question was brief, quiet and blunt, as he usually was.
    "...We using the turrets?"
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  6. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Charon, Began thinking as he looked at there own situation wondering if he could use his own powers to help mold there outpost into a better defensible situation, Hearing Garrick he responded, @Vlayden "Might be possible to use them if we can repair them, Maybe I can give them some juice to see if they can turn back on, Though who knows how they will respond if my juice activates them." Charon responded over the radio, as he did he looked down to the lower levels and then began attempting to use his power to bring the earth upwards to make, Barricades, Cover for them in time for a enemy attack.
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  7. KnightReborned WanderingJester Well-Known Member

    Aridan saw his librarian brother go down, and immediately popped up and returned fire with his own bolter against the traitors. Unleashing bolt after bolt, he managed to only attract the traitor astartes' attention for a moment, and the two engaged in an all-out shootout. Ducking under a nearby cover, the scout popped a fresh clip into his weapon before coming out to fire again. Unfortunately, it was here that the first shots blinded him, and the third one made a hole in his arm that made him wonder later how the apothecarium managed to save the arm. Still, even with one arm working, he managed to fire the bolter through sheer force of will.

    Of course, it did little, but the shots did at least fly towards the platform. However, it was 1st company that managed to get the kills on the two traitors from above. Before he knew it, Aridan was securing the comms hub as their next objective. Still, with only one functioning arm (or one he would rely on anyway), he heard Alex asking for a few clips, and tossed two bolt clips towards him, before heading over to one of the entrances. Ensuring that no one was around, he began setting up explosives to cave in the entrance, knowing that if they could deny one of them to the enemy, it would make their lives easier in the long run.

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  8. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    "Steps too soft for power armor, but not soft enough to escape my ears little boy." Voice rises through Arrauth's previous mouse hole, but it is the floor directly beneath himself that erupts. Splintered wood and broken rockrete rattle across the apartment's floor, Scout joining the shower of debris in short order, even when things settle there is to be no quiet; only the roar of a chainweapon. Dawnbringer finds his feet in time to stare up the barrel of a bolt pistol aimed from a few feet away. Rolling aside he catches only the barest glimpse of the legionary standing with his boots spread to either side of the freshly made gap in the floor. Side arm tracks him with unnerving accuracy, trigger squeezed once and loosing a shot that craters another foot of flooring behind the young warrior. Chainaxe screams after him, heavy sweep carving through a fine wooden door and obliterating it and much of the ceiling in a single solid strike. Woe betide Arrauth if something like that so much as clips him.

    Arrauth: 8 Assault Legionnaire: 12

    Autocannons crane their barrels to the sky like the heads of predatory birds. Barron pecks away at the controls for targeting cogitator, aware that time is running short before Thunderhawk, or the trio of traitors, strike again. From lower elevation and side view of the aircraft's trajectory Barron sees what Arrauth could not: Thunderhawk targets none of Kerberos Company, not directly at least, and instead is lining up its dorsally mounted battle cannon for the supports of the landing pad itself. Somehow the Scout doubted that even the vaunted First and their Terminator armor could survive the collapse of several tons of steel and stone, let alone the swarm of assailants that would no doubt pile in on their prone and buried forms.

    Team Wingclipper:
    Barron: 5 Brother Helekine: 25 Support Struts: 3/3/3/3
    Conditions: If Barron wishes to turn the Hydra on the three legionnaires he must spend a turn lowering the guns and re-orienting.

    Emperor's Children:
    Thunderhawk: 5 Legionnaires: 12/12/12

    What Are We? Imperial Fists? Hah, Hah....hah
    Two distinct blasts drop parts of ceiling and upper doorway in on the Eastern branch entrance. Aridan could not have asked for better timing either, off on the other side of the bodies piling in against Kerberos Company, eyes spied the burning tails of assault marines advancing on their location. Falling back to join the others forming up in the central room, Aridan spies Charon chanting and Tiro standing on a cogitator unit, using it as a foot stool to reach a wall mounted multi-laser turret, one of two stationed in the room. Psyker demonstrates an entirely other worldly ability to coax life into the spirits inhabiting the broken guns. Tiro brings a more down to earth touch to the machines, harvesting scrap and spare parts from broken machinery nearby, and several slain cyborgs that had been heaped into corners of the room. Together they coax life back into three battered turrets, two with multi-lasers and a third with a heavy stubber.

    "Well that explains the giant traffic jam of civilians. Half the upper city is engaged in a civil war between PDF that went turn coat and a bunch of sorry bastards who are probably only fighting because they can't escape. One of the main shelters has a Sorcerer running loose in it, and the legion controls almost all of Espanza's communications." Kenemon clicks his tongue, fingers punching at the same runes at regular intervals. "Also..." Sergeant switches to the squad's channel. "Barron, where in the Warp are you? Also Arrauth, you got eyes on any trouble?" Alexander steps back into the room, right in time for the first of his traps to go off. All too human screams signal that they did not hit the jackpot of blowing apart any astartes. Presumably scared the thralls crowding around near the entrances allow servitors to march in next. Both models are more heavy combat patterns with shock mauls fused to the right wrist and a riot shields strapped to the left arm. One blunders mindlessly into Alex's krak trap and sets it off. Amniotic fluids, old blood, pale skin, and barely functioning flesh splash the walls and floor, but it marches on towards them with dead eyes and maul raised.

    Squad Kenemon:
    Aridan: 3 Tiro: 5 Charon: 3 Alexander: 5 Multi-Laser Turrets: 3/3 Heavy Stubber Turret: 3
    Conditions: Aridan had to use both krak grenades to cave in the entrance. Charon: Blessing of the Machine Spirit active for 2/2 turns. 7/7 CD. During this time all critical failures for attacks using mechanical weapons are re-rolled once. Kenemon will require 4 turns to transfer all relevant data to the fleet.

    Horde Tongue Biter:
    Blade Thrall Horde: 16 (80+) Heavy Gun Servitors: 8/4
    Conditions: Part of Wave One has been delayed by the destruction of an entrance.
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  9. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Charon as he finished smiled and patted the machine for a moment as they came on line, Thank the emporer and the machine spirits that worked, Listening over to Kenemo as he gave his orders he took out his launcher and prepared for a defense. " A civil war ey? so there a possibility these cultists fellows have there hands on heavy armor? There any names for targets for us to go after we send these files?" Hearing that there was a sorcerer running loose made him wonder, If there was team after him or if Kereberos company would be dealing with it. Leveling his launcher down on the horde he spotted several big targets coming through, some more highly armed servitors that were defiantly something that they would need to stop before reaching there firing barricades. Raising up his launcher he took aim at them and fired aiming to stopping them before moving to the horde.

    OOC Balnced attack one Defence on charon one krak missle attack on Heavy gun servitors,
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  10. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member

    A flicker of a smile came over Garrick's face as he heard his first shell explode, a slow exhale coming out as he waited for more; well over eighty traps being set with shotgun & bolt shells, along with the krak grenade - its sudden 'crack', as its name implies, going off near the incoming servitor - was enough for Alexander to not feel displeased with his work. He knew he could do much better had he time, but for now, he saw this to suffice.

    All the same, he knew he'd have to use his weapons for this, bringing his shotgun up and pulling the pump back to check if he had the shell loaded in, before lowering it and taking aim; his view was mostly blocked by the Servitor, and for a moment he contemplated firing to deal with them immediately. If anything, it may be a proper choice, given the mauls they were equipped with.

    That hesitation was enough to get a bit of a clearer shot, of course - or as clear as one could get with a shield like that - and he decided to take his chance; one single shotgun blast, before he darted to the side with his cloak about him, light dancing off of it and distorting his silhouette.​

    OOC: shot at the wounded servitor with shotgun, trying to stealth
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