OOC Meanwhile on the fortress of light ^-^ still got you alldoom sorry for the name so close to yours IC: "Ready to drop sharr but only when you your sure you know i dont like to drop to early"
As their Thunderhawk departed the docking bay, Yuri gazed upon the void before him, decorated with the awaiting worlds. They would have their time, but for now an Orbital Station was in need of new masters. Little could be heard in the transport save for the soft murmur of his men as they chanted behind, seeking the victorious path through the warp. His plasma pistol hanging to his side hummed with the power of its deadly payload. To Yuri, such a tool was more of a conduit, a vessel to channel the cleansing flame of the immaterium. OOC: So yeah, I'll be part of the orbital assault, just waiting for some details on the facility.
Forfoz is also on the Thunderhawk, after he had gotten orders to assist Yuri with the station, he had quickly Walker to the hangar and joined them, his two combat servitors stod by the side of him equiped with flamers for small area fighting... "Finally, some interesting work to be had" Forfoz smiles under the metal mask as he slightly leans on his power axe.
Yuri turned to regard his companion, the metal creature formerly of the Machine Cult. Such a purveyor of technological prowess could be of great use to the seekers of truth, but he would have to mask the disgust he felt for such an embodiment of rot and inhuman mechinations. He was thankful the creature did not perceive warp signatures as his associates did, as Yuri new his distaste hung upon his essence. "Indeed Forfoz, we mustn't waste such an asset," speaking to his men as much as the corrupted techpriest, "attempt to preserve as much of the facility as possible, we will have to wait on specimen acquisition, destroy any crewmen you come across lest they attempt to sabotage our prize."
Forfoz don't really listen, he picks out his data-sheet again and enters some commands. Some schematics for diffrent battle tanks shows up on the screen and he nods slowly. He uses one of his mechanical fingers to Connect to the Data-slate. Slowly new information is added to the schematics. "Indeed, as little technology should be damaged as possible... I don't want to waste time repairing uneccecary damage" He pulls out his finger and switches to schematics of some basic defence turrets, he spins on the image noticing weak points and flaws incase the station has defence systems. He nods again and puts the Data-slate inside his robe and looks at Yuri. He never really liked those that used the warp as a direct weapon... Far too unreliable and they often had a tendancy to not be trustworthy.
His smile vanished at the quip the Techpriest made. One of the men growled in a chuckle again, halting when he received angry glances from his brethren. Ramiel remained calm, quick to suppress a flash of anger washing over his face. He made sure to spit towards the worshipper of Nurgle's way as he left. The globule of acid hit a few inches from his feet, sizzling and popping as it ate away at the hull floor. Forfoz seemed oblivious to it, and simply kept going on with his duties. Rauk'r, one of the warriors in his squad, leaned over. "Sire," he said. "It is almost time." Ramiel turned to regard his squad. They all quickly forgot the encounter, their faces focused on the task at hand. There were ten of them in total, all armed with a pistol and a close combat weapon, all of varying types and designs. He saw all manner of chainswords, chainaxes, and a few sets of power weapons. Each member had inscribed their own litanies and oaths into their weapons; oaths of vengeance and litanies of death towards the corrupt Imperium. And though they were not yet familiar with Ramiel on the battlefield proper, he had sparred with them in the training facilities and duel cages. The time for training was over, however. Now came the acid test. They exited the armory when all was prepared, and traveled to the landing bays, where the Thunderhawks were held. Along the way, they entered a state of meditation. Ramiel led their musings upon the Dark Gods, praying aloud for their blessings in Colchisian. The warrior took from a side pouch a number of litany papers. When they reached a clearing in the field, where very little activity occurred, he walked amongst them in a circle and affixed these litanies to their armor. As he did so, he gazed into each Marine's eyes, and grasped their wrist in reverence; then, he whispered to each of them, "Glory to the XVII." Their armor was thus blessed, their weapons ready and fully stocked, their minds focused. All that was left was for Sharr to approve of their plan. They were to board one of the secondary defense stations and hold, and lead the charge. A mob of cultists would run in front of them, ensure the enemy wasted their ammunition upon mere cannon fodder, so that more of the true Warriors of Chaos could reach their objective. Ramiel also understood that two coteries with holy bolters would bring up the support. Should they run into serious opposition, a squad of Terminators could be called upon for support. While this strike force was somewhat small, and the enemy could easily overwhelm them with sheer force of numbers, Ramiel was confident the deed could be done. He had faith in his force. And what was the only thing that truly mattered but faith in the Gods? They waited, silently, moving not a single muscle. All awaited for Sharr to give the word, and they would board, bring glory to the Gods on the battlefield, the true place of worship.
OOC: sorry for the delay folks. Had too take care of some real life things. Give me a moment and i'll kick this party off right
Sharr left the Armoury, his chain blade maglocked at his right side. He could feel the daemon of Khorne stir within it’s confines. At his left hip was a sleek and thin sword encased in a black and gold scabbard. Sharr approached the bridge of Vindex Gladius, Malgus doing what he could to keep up as they arrived. Two Word Bearers stood guard at the doors, like statues they guarded the entry. The Lord of the Host entered the bridge, without ceremony. The servators and crew busily prepared the ship for war. The ship master bowed before Sharr from his command throne in the center of the chamber. Looking out through Occulous Sharr watched as the Warp splashed across the bayous of his fleet. “How soon before we exit into real space, Charr?” “Any moment, my lord, all weapons and assault craft report ready.” “Excellent, once we are within range begin transmitting the security code to their orbiting stations. Sound the ship wide alarm, have all warriors report to their stations.” The Ship Master nodded and returned to his throne. He barked the orders throughout the chamber, Crew officers acknowledged and Servators clicking their compliance. The Alarm blared with an almost monstrous growl over the ship wide Vox. Black Gate Fortress, One of the orbiting stations around Rorke Primaris. It maintained its defensive line against the raiding parties of Orks and the onslaught of the Tau for millennia. Much of it’s hull was still damaged from the campaign with the Ork fleets of GoreBash. Servators and Techpriests oversaw the repair rites around the clock. The Astropath flinched at his console and waved to the deck officer. “Deck Officer Pines, I am detecting an incoming fleet. Baring 2142 mark 5 Gamma.” “What, now? The Merchant fleets aren’t due back until tomorrow.” “It’s not the Merchant fleet, sir. I’m detecting multiple ship signatures traversing the Warp.” “Xenoes?” “No sir, I’ve become familiar with their stench.” “Is it the patrol?” “I don’t believe so sir. From what I can tell, they appear to be Astarties class warships. But the veil of the Malestrom makes it difficult to get a proper identification.” Pine rubbed the Imperial Aquilla around his neck, a nervous habit. “Well, keep an eye on them. Let me know the minute they enter real space.” “Aye, sir.” The Chaos Marines of the XVII Legion marched one by one through the halls of the Grand Cruiser. Full Squads entered their ThunderHawk Gunships for the assault on the Orbiting Stations. Hordes of Legionaries armed for their return to the Long War whispered prayers and praises to the dark gods. Sharr’s Vox bead broke out with the acknowledgement of his Host. He addressed the warriors boarding the Thunderhawks. “You are to take those stations as prizes. Leave their defensive intact and seize control of their command stations. We’ll leave a few Cultists on board too oversee the stations. Once they are secured, make for the planets surface. Coordinates will be delivered to the pilots. He switched channels and addressed the warriors boarding the Dread Claw drop pods. “Kill all who stand in your way. We must secure a landing zone for our reinforcements. The enemy will have ground defenses installed, bunkers, trenches and defense turrets. We must size them all before proceeding further into the Hive city and the Govenor’s palace. Our Cultists will make themselves known once we begin our attack. Should you encounter an Imperial of command authority, bring me their head. I have plans which require their…contribution. Yes.” Activating the fleet wide Vox channel he addressed the Host. “Brothers, We march for the Glory of Lorgar! We go to spread the truth. Destroy the idols of the Corpse Emperor. Let Khorne watch as you spill the blood of the Imperium in his name. Grant the gifts of Nurgle to the rotting dead. Offer Slaanesh the screaming souls of the damned. Praise Tzeentch for guiding us to victory.” The Ship Master turned to Sharr, “My Lord, we are entering real space.” Like a rip in reality, the fleet of the third Host arrived. They approached like a pack of sharks towards Rorke Primaris. Deck Officer Pines watched from the Occulous as the fleet entered real space. He had never seen an Astarties configuration like that before. “Vox Master Helra get me in touch with that Astarties fleet that just broke Warp.” “Aye si….Sir, the fleet is transmitting the pass code.” A scroll of paper spat out from a nearby terminal. The Servator on station read the digital print out. Vox Master Helra leaned over her monitor examining the coded message. “Sir, it legitimate. But…” “But?” “There’s an additional message with the transmission sir.” “What does it say?” “It strange sir: “We come with the word of truth.” “Odd. Perhaps it's a recruitment for a Crusade?”
From the command deck, still tapped into the ship wide Vox, Sharr unsheathed his chain sword and aimed it towards Rorke Primaris. With a shout of passion he spoke the final message: “FOR LORGAR AND THE DARK GODS!” With that the Thunderhawk Gunships launched from the Vindex Gladius. Like a swarm of Crimson they broke off in two groups, making for each of the Fortress stations. The Fleet making their approach. Through the Occulous, Deck Master Pines watched in horror as the squadron of Gunships approached both stations. “Holy throne…” he muttered before turning to the Vox Master, “Sound the bloody alarm! Target those Gunships!” The Stations Vox Wide channel immited a blaring alarm, turning the internal lights blood red. Helra tried, but the console did not respond. She cursed as she reentered her authorization code. Still it rejected her. “Sir, somethings wrong, I can’t activate the defense turrets.” “What in Throne’s name are you saying, damn it!” “The message sir, it was carrying something inside the transmission. It…its taken over our systems.” “Then plug another damned Servator in the sockets and while you’re at it, alert High Command while we still can!” “Sir, our transmissions are jammed.” She looked through the Occulous behind Pines and felt her heart skip a beat. Pines turned and felt the same fear grip him as the massive Grand Cruiser blocked out the sun. Taking orbit over the planet. As the fleet took positions over the planet, Sharr entered one of the Dread Claws and strapped himself inside. A wicked smile ever on his face as the hatch to the pod closed with a sharp whine. ~’I can sense your excitement, Sharr.’ “Do not stand in my way.” He spoke only to the Whisper, though his words seemed as a threatening order to those around him. ~'When have I ever?' The Dread Claws launched from the bellies of the fleet. They made for planet fall, breaking through the smog of the Hive City. Towers that pierced teh shroud were splintered by the fast approaching pods. They boomed through the air in a roar that herald their coming. The sound almost defining as they appeared. To those at the Governor's Palace it was like a meteor shower. Landing off in the far distance in the Residential Hab Blocks. For those close to the Hab Blocks it was a rain of massive metallic tear drops. Each pod crashed in the far edges of the Hive city. Shattering the lush towers of the over city and splintering the living quarters of the population. Some landed outside the city gates, others around the Imperial Barracks of the Praetorians. The Thunderhawks swarmed every access level of the two orbiting Fortress Stations without loss. The Landing bays were enourmous cathedral like interiors, each housing an Imperial fighter and bomber. Now it was slowing turning into a war zone. The alarms blared inside the stations as the defending Praetorians took arms. The first wave of Gunships unloaded a batch of Warp crazed Cultists and grotesque mutants. They screamed and howled waving primitive weapons from large wrenches to ceremonial daggers and sabers. Others appeared in torn Imperial uniforms, baring the eight pointed star on their uniforms, each wore a contorted mask and carried armaments of the Imperium. They ran into the Praetorians firing lines, taking the first of their defensive fire. The first waves were quickly dispatched, but that couldn’t stem the tide of mad men. The traitor guard took firing positions in the hangar bay, firing their autoguns into the Praetorians. Soon the gunships ferrying the Chosen Host delivered their assault squads. The Praetorians watched with horror as the towering Astarties charged out from their ships wielding the hollowed weapons of the Emperor’s Finest. Firing Bolter rounds into the closest of the Praetorians with deadly accuracy. The mass reactive shells reducing them to nothing but red mist and severed limbs. Others torched the Praetorians behind their protective barriers with Flamers and chemical spewing weapons. The Praetorians called to Fall back. But the Legion roared their coming. As the curious population and armed Praetorians approached with caution around the unknown pods, the lower hatches opened revealing an inner light of something sinister. A Praetorian Sergeant approached the pod with caution, his squad behind him in cover ready to support. Sergeant Nai was always the first too face whatever appeared, no fear no doubt. Yet he wished he had sent one of the lads out instead, as one of the inhabitants dropped from the pod standing before him. The warrior was a Space Marine, clad in Astarties power armour, painted the color of congealed blood. A massive tome was braced against his shoulder pauldron and an emblem of a howling daemon visage on the other. He scowl down at him with eyes that burned with the promise of violence. The warrior went for the Chain Sword at his hip. Nai was to slow as the screaming teeth of the weapon sliced the upper part of his head. Sharr took a brought is sword down again and again and again into the body of the Sergeant until it was nothing but a bloody, mangled heap on the ground. He could hear the shock of the nearby Praetorians cowering behind their protection. One of the warriors took aim and fired the direction of Shar just as he knelt down to retrieve the severed head. OOC: Well, time to start the bloody mayhem.
