Okantakht was not pleased. Now that Nurrahk had made his declaration, the old Phaeron was required to answer as well, or else He would be submitting himself to his guest. And that would serve no purpose. Okantakht thought about the fastest way to get this Eldar off his bridge, while also preserving his honour, preferrably avoiding failure of this agreement and having to converse with this dumb creature as little as possible. After determining that that was not possible, he eliminated the least important part; avoiding confrontation. He really was not pleased that he had to force reason on two lesser beings in such a short time. Although he much preferred the human. "I have already condescendet myself to further this quest. Accept this fact or cause your failure. Again." None of the Eldar's actions or threats impressed him. Instead he found her kneeling quite appropiate, and her obvious fear of death almost amusing. Her attempt to stir fear was no less fruitless. None of them could fear death. Inside one far end of his mind, a sinister countdown appeared. Three.
@Maensith @RuinaImperii @Jammysod Once again, Santana found himself being halted by the words of the Eldar, his vox growling with irritation, as he'd turn to stare down the group. The words that came from them would only further anger, as from what he heard, they wished to slow down, await further reinforcement, when there was no time to be lost. As such, he'd offer them a swift retort, as he did not intend to stand idly by while men and women died in the defense of the ship. "If you wish to abandon the defense of the ship, then quit the field, xenos. I will have none of it, this navigator is vital to our operations, and I will see it so the enemy does not come to control it, with or without your support." He cared little whether or not they'd follow, he had a job to do, and the Imperium did not need the blessing of alien powers in order for him to do it. However, opening up a vox link, the Crimson Fist would send a message towards the wayward Deathwatch, who might be in a place to do some damage. "Dark Angel, the enemy moves to claim the Navigator of the ship. If you can manage to reposition yourself, assistance would be appreciated." It was not much, but Santana was running out of options, and needed to try everything he could to get the enemy away from their only way to steer through the Immaterium. Following this, the Astartes, rounding a corner, would then re-open a link with the humans he'd directed towards the defense of the Navigator, hoping the soldiers of Armageddon would be making good time towards their destination. Looking to provide some steel to their motions, the Space Marine would offer only words of encouragement. "Soldiers of The Imperium, stand fast against the enemy, for we are the bulwark against terror. On this day, The Emperor is with us, and we shall know no fear." As a side note, he'd provide brief intel to the sergeants surviving to keep aware of Eldar forces, and to not engage them at this time. Their grudge with the xenos could wait until the renegades were purged from the ship.
Victus was about to reply to the Berzerker before him when he got Santana's message. Switching off the systems in his helmet's grill that amplified his voice for the outside world to hear, Victus answered Santana while making his apparent silence to the Berzerkers simply look like he was a little dazed by the explosion. "Very well, I shall try but no promises. However I must warn you that it may come with an unpleasant surprise... that, and I am about to say something that will sound very heretical on your end, I'll explain on the way to wherever I end up going." As he finished with Santana Victus turned the grill back on, pulling all the barely repressed anger from just moments before as he addressed the Khornates before him, keeping the line to Santana open. "Bah, damn the bridge! Their pathetic skulls can wait for now. instead go and claim the ship's Navigator! Let's see those Imperial weaklings resist us when we control the very being they need to travel to safety as we butcher them to the last! Blood for the Blood God!" Before the Khornates could respond Victus immediately turned the grill off again to continue to speak with Santana. "As I was saying... heretical sounding things... and nasty surprises if this works... as I previously stated I'll explain on the way." Victus was really wondering how he would explain this to his fellow loyalists. Xenos illusions, Khorne Berzerkers, no rifle. He was really in trouble now...
@Jammysod 25 remaining berserkers emerged from the nearly destroyed corridors and hallways adjacent to the main armoury - all of them were battered and angry at the sudden explosion that killed so many of their brethren - they jostled in the corridor where Victus stood, unsuspecting that the very source responsible for their casualties was standing right in the midst of them. Three gargantuan Terminators emerge the last, dwarfing the other khornates with their immense bulky forms. One of the chaos sergeants inclined his head as if he was listening to someone and, suddenly, headed directly towards Victus, scattering berserkers from his path like bothersome insects - they growled menacingly in response but none of them was foolish enough to challenge a Terminator openly. The towering colossus approached Victus and inclined his tusked helmet, staring at the disguised Dark Angel. "You, what did you say about the Navigator? The captain has already despatched a task force responsible for his capture - explain yourself immediately and who the hell gave you orders to gather these explosives?" the Terminator growled with his bestial rasping voice and tightened his grip upon a giant power maul - several khornates standing nearby Victus sensed their sergeant's tension and closed around Victus, cutting him off any potential retreating routes.
@Maensith As soon as the terminator came up to him Victus turned his helmet grill on and started his retort as soon as the lumbering behemoth before him was finished. "Hah, mindlessly following orders is a thing only the Ultramarines do. We are no dogs of Guilliman, Khorne is our one true master and he wants nothing more than blood, skulls and the shrill screams of these loyalist welps! It matters not how we do it or where, only that there be rivers of glorious blood when our work is done! Should I wait for your approval before every time I slide my blade between the frail ribs of this scum, too!?" Victus stared up the Terminator and his breathing sounded more like a low growl than anything else as he leaned closer. He knew only three things could save him at this point. Either the sergeant buys his ruse and they carry on, the Shadowseer saves him somehow or some combination of the two. Right now it was just a question of whether that would happen before they saw through his disguise.
@Jammysod Santana would listen to the words of the Dark Angel, and from across the link, Victus might almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding from the words he spoke. The foul words of a traitor came pouring from the mouth of one he'd considered an honoured cousin, and even if this was merely a ruse, the very action disgusted him. Indeed, Victus would have explaining to do once he arrived, yet for now, Santana would simply cut the vox link, unwilling to listen more to this trickery. A Son of Dorn would never sully himself to such means as attempted to mimic the enemy, even if it meant facing them head on, yet, Victus was no Son of Dorn, and a member of the Deathwatch, so perhaps this was merely a method of training and belief that had been enforced by their teachings. Regardless, he'd keep moving along, knowing that through the actions of the Dark Angel, the twenty coming towards the Navigator's chamber might now be reinforced due to the actions of the other Astartes, further feeling his frustration rise. For now, he'd simply focus on the task at hand, looking to see how he could hold the enemy away from the Navigator, yet quickly coming to a conclusion. He would not be able to keep them away for long, and as such, an extraction would be needed, to pull the important member of the ship away from the clutches of the enemy. As such, he'd look to begin planning a route to deliver the Navigator towards the command deck on the bridge, the last bastion. If that chamber fell, then the action would be over, and the ship truly lost. He'd need to be swift, for, as always, time was racing against him, and he would not be found wanting.
@Schalli Sabios's ship emerged from the Empyrean with a slight deviation from previously established exit coordinates but still its auspex systems detected the Sword of Orion's presence within an acceptably reachable distance. There was no trace of the Necrons' cruiser and Sabios wondered whether the xenos actually concurred with his plan or simply went on their own once their parley was over, certainly they wouldnt bother themselves by warning him on their true intentions. Whatever the reason was Tandreus's orders were clear - board the Sword of Orion as soon as Sabios returns from his mission and contact Tandreus's forces for further instructions. What captain Sabios hasnt known yet is that the Sword of Orion's hangar doors were still closed and he couldnt get inside the cruiser from the front door. @Jammysod @BruticusTheGoreHound @kanila @Schalli @GoreWrencha @Aedric @Wata @BlackNecron @Avenging-Angel @TuskatheDaemonKilla @RuinaImperii (tagging all of you so that you know how many berserkers are remained and how they distributed their forces across the main fronts) "You, petty wretch...." the sergeant barked and prepped to turn the disguised Dark Angel into red paste of messed flesh and bones when a giant gauntlet gripped his shoulder pad in a calming manner - another Terminator was standing nearby him and he let out a booming short sound which normal mortal creatures used to laugh. "Calm down, brother, calm down, save your rage for the imperial scum still swarming this place. When all of this is over you're free to butcher him as soon as you wish, but not now, not until our objectives are complete," the Terminator addressed his brother and Victus would never know that he owed this nightmarish creature his life that day. The sergeant who was about to strike Victus down relaxed his pose and turned his helmet to the other Terminator. "He proposes to attack Navigator's chambers in greater numbers instead of storming the bridge," he snarled. "Well, I must admit there is logic in this decision - the command bridge is useless without a creature able to navigate through the Warp, even should we capture the bridge without this mutant there will be a little use for us - they cant destroy their own ship's systems, but they can kill the Navigator and deprave us of the only means to leave this sector as soon as possible. Unless, of course, you want to send a distress call to the nearby imperial planets and await the rescue missions," the chaos sergeant spoke as calmly as a blood-crazed monster possibly could, showing a strategic understanding of his warband's position which would surprise anyone who would simply look into the face of this creature. Many foes paid with their lives for treating his kind as nothing more than dumb killing machines without any military strategy behind their actions. "How many forces we have at our disposal?" he asked after a small pause. His fellow Terminator silenced for several moments consulting his statistical data from various battle reports flickering inside his helmet's display. "50 units are with us now, 30 are with captain down in the hangar, 20 are heading towards the Navigator's chambers and four squads each of 15 warriors are below the mess hall, heading towards our position and ready to reinforce any of our main strike groups - 160 in total, brother," the towering brute replied. His fellow sergeant activated his vox and consulted with two remaining sergeants and their captain before giving an order. "Very well, we are moving to capture the Navigator while captain's warriors move towards the bridge - 70 units for the first front and 90 units for the second one, now move out!" he ordered and one of the three Terminators separated from them, heading towards his captain so that the number of sergeants on both sides would be equal. The one who has unwittingly saved Victus's life lowered his helmet and looked at the Dark Angel again, "consider it as an informal promotion, brother. Now, since you've proposed such a plan, give these explosives to your brothers and move into the first lines - you'll be honored to spill imperial scum's blood first"
@BruticusTheGoreHound @Maensith Victus nodded at the Terminator looking down at him, letting out another low growl. "Yes, brother. Many of the loyalist weaklings shall fall screaming before me!" With that Victus quickly walked into the horde to distribute the charges he had, taking the detonator from the bundle and stuffing it in an ammo pouch on his belt as he searched for ideal candidates to bear the explosives. Victus made sure the three Berzerkers he gave a charge were spread out from each other to ensure maximum destruction when he detonated them. He would have set them off then and there but then he would likely be killed in the explosion himself and even if he did survive any left over Khornates would surely see through his ruse after that. Once he was done with distribution Victus made his way to the front lines, once again turning off his helmet grill and re-opening the comm line with Santana. "I bring both good news and bad news. The good news is that they bought the ruse and now I know the numbers and distribution of their forces. One hundred and sixty in total, originally a hundred and forty were going to storm the bridge but now it is only ninety... unfortunately the twenty that were originally coming for the navigator now have the support of the other fifty so twenty has become seventy. In both forces there are two Terminators leading the assaults. Now I have distributed demolition charges among the group coming for our navigator and I managed to hide the detonator on my person; when the time is right I'll send all these bastards back to their 'Blood God'. They lived to fail the Emperor and when we're done they'll die failing Khorne like the filth they are. However there is one more problem... they moved me to the front so I'm going to be among the first coming at you. Here's to hoping you don't accidentally shoot me. I'll be closing the line now but I trust you'll inform Rackham of the enemy's intentions. Victus out." Sighing, Victus closed the comm link. This was bad but the plan was still salvageable. If Victus knew anything it was that the night is always darkest before the dawn and this night was very dark indeed...
" Our pact was made as I said, wretch. We will assist you and you will die only when this endeavor is over. " Nurrahk was, as far as one could tell, blatantly unworried by her rather obscene attempt at threatening them. She wasn't unlike a child or youth who viewed they had some sort of power they could lord over others. " Your attempts to scare us only showcase your ineptitude. Begone. " Nurrahk was done speaking to the orphaned thing that had dared to threaten them. While others of her species would have acted with some tact, she had chosen a more brazen path. The theatrics would have worked on lesser species but it was lost on Nurrahk and his kind. They didn't fear death or feel emotions anymore. All her threats did was give them more to consider and plot against. If she began tearing things apart, would the automated systems apart of all Necrons teleport their broken remains to safety? Would the other Phaeron, Okantakht, have some sort of plan regarding the saving of his vessel? The amount of variables extended far past those particular two and none of them were cause for any real concern. Nurrahks two vassals approached and stood beside their master. The Lychguard and Cryptek spared glances to one another while most likely have an entire conversation to themselves. Protecting the Phaeron and assisting his every whim was the only goal in their immortal existence. If it meant fighting the immaterial projection of a perfidious Eldar then so be it. For the guard, loyalty and service came before all else. The cryptek on the other hand, had his loyalty ensured through continued patronage. Nurrahk being a Phaeron, had both a considerable amount of material and subjects for any of the crpteks needs. Still leaning against his Warscythe, Nurrahk continued to analyze the situation as only a Phaeron could. The Overlord would more than likely be doing the same right about now. Even though he wasn't the type to take trophies of the slain, Nurrahk would make an exception for the Eldar. When their pact was over and all loyalties severed, Nurrahk would make good on his promise.
Even with all the screaming and howling and booming that the battle in the mess brought, the noise was somehow even worse now that they were out of the thick of things. The air ducts weren’t usually slated as the main evacuation route of… well, anything, but the relief of the guardsmen crouching within its confines was more than evident in the silence. No guardsman would be stupid enough to breathe a word of it, but when the order came to fall back, the line suddenly stood a just little more reassured. They were soldiers, after all. Men who’s watched their own die to a force none of them has even considered before. The red tide just would not stem. It swelled around their dead–what little casualties they seemed to be taking, that is–and never seemed to waiver. The men gave it all they had, but there was only so much a group of foot soldiers could do against a horde of chaos marines, even with a Marine of their own. Cherno would barely note the Astartes’ presence, to be honest: her only concern had been taking down as many of those heretics as possible. It was mere coincidence that the Space Marine happened to wear blue rather than the traitors’ red. Besides. The man was obviously more than capable of taking care of himself, judging by the way berserkers collapsed at his feet seemingly on a whim. Her shots would be better placed where there were no Space Marine holding the line. The line wouldn’t hold forever, though, even with the carefully laid field of mines that separated the desperate defenders from their foe. the plan had gotten off to a good start: the minefield had hobbled the horde’s advance, if not completely slowed it. The rumble of the blasts had been reassuring, each detonation sending a jolt of cautious confidence through the soldiers. It took just about every damn thing they had, but these bastards could be put down. It wasn’t until the big one came charging in that Cherno remembered to be afraid. The day was not improving as the plan had slated for. The… The thing tore through the minefield as if it were a spiderweb, the same explosions that had once sounded so encouraging transforming instead into a death knell. Who remained of the guardsmen shook. The retreat had already begun then, with the denfender’s ranks slowly shrinking into the ventilation shafts behind, but the appearance of the champion had warranted a second’s hesitation. The thing was massive, dwarfing the sea of faux-Astartes from which it seemed to rise, and Cherno couldn’t help but think back to the Wrecking Crew’s Chrimera as she took in the champion’s stature. It was hard for Cherno to decide what the thing actually was: it was big and it seemed to be living, but she’s never seen anything but an ork grow to that size. As much as the warrior wasn’t an Ork, however, Cherno would feel her clutch tighten around the trigger as a familiar feeling rushed back around her and engulfed every thought. Fear. Bone-shaking fear that almost threatened to drag Cherno down to the ground or perhaps back, back into a safe, dark place where she could shut the door and disappear–if it weren’t for the rage that accompanied it. The anger coursed through her for the first time since they’d left Armegeddon, that same rage that had haunted her in every corner she’d been backed into. This was it. Death was near. But she sure as hell was gonna go down fighting. The woman’s knuckles turned white beneath her gloves as everything else blissfully faded from view and hearing, leaving only herself and the newcomer in a field of red. Her heart began a frenzied rhytm, but she’s never been more focused. She wanted him. She wanted to see him bleed. She wanted to see the way a heart would beating through a mess of ribs and flesh and judging by the way the shots of her allies poured down upon the enemy like a torrent, they did too. The guardsmen’s efforts had somehow redoubled in the face of this foe, a primal yearning for blood grasping each man by the throa “I said, MOVE OUT!” Cherno stumbled backwards at the sound of the words ringing in her ear–though, in hindsight, it might’ve been Hot-Rod’s grasp on the nape of her neck that tugged her back–and was immediately shoved towards the air ducts by an anonymous pair of hands. Whatever impulse had claimed Cherno faded as she rushed towards escape’s dark maw, already echoing with the footsteps of others. It was rather difficult to think after that encounter, especially with the shakes coming in, and the ducts’ heat and noise didn’t help much, either. Half blind (and possibly half deaf), Cherno stumbled through the passage, Melta haphazardly dangling from her left hand as the right reached forth, tracing the ridged wall surrounding them. The woman travelled blindly, attention focusing occasionally as a command or instruction rang out from Hot-Rod in the back or the other Sargent up front, but not paying attention to much more. She was just as surprised as the superiors were as the group finally burst into the pub and scattered, just glad to be free from the blasted noise, and the head count had yielded no more than 32 men of the original 78. A thousand questions and answers fluttered through Cherno’s mind as her mental recollection of that brief encounter of chaos spun through her thoughts, over and over, but each and every one of those were forgotten as the woman collapsed onto a stool and exhaustion finally poured over her like a sandstorm. She wouldn’t be able to do much but numbly obey as their precious moment was interrupted almost immediately by a crackle from the sergeants’ voxes, and yet another order came down the bloody line and the group was forced back on their feet. They were bound for the Navigator’s chambers, the message came as the somber party began to move out. Does anyone even know where that is? This was way above her pay grade.
