The Sin of Pride - Deathwatch

[Caimheul]

"Agreed. Their failure to return reeks of the foul machinations of the enemy." Naaman replies, as he checks his ammunition.

[DrK]

The Watch Captain nods twice, once to each marine. "Draw what arms and equipment you need and find your wayward Brothers."

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2 options

1. Just head out now and Blunt can activate his marine
2. If blunt doesn't want to do that, then a Requisition 30 mission and away you two go...

[Starbin]

Conall nodded to the Watch Captain. "Yes Watch Captain. We shall find our brothers, or rip the ship apart in trying."

As they were dismissed, he turned to Naaman. "To the armory, yes?"

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Just a filler post ... not sure what bluntpencil wants to do, and Caim is probably still a little 'distracted.'

[Caimheul]

"At least to replenish spend ammunition." Naaman replies handling his heavy bolter easily.

[DrK]

The chapel was strangely empty. Conall looked about. The serfs, or at least 80% of them had departed already with the majority of the armoury and attendant systems. The strike vessel Icon of Wrath docking for 2 days whilst the transfers were completed. Now the chapel stood quiet - only the ancient stone statues and the stars shining faintly through the stained armour glass windows keeping Conall company and three small chambers beyond that had been set aside for the Kill Team's use. Much smaller than the entire sections they had occupied with the Deathwatch Garrison aboard.

The Watch Captain approached Conall silently - the hulking giant of a man clad in his plain robes, studs denoting centuries of service adorning his temples. "Brother Conall. You have done well. Your service eradicating the xenos was exemplary. You are to be rewarded. With the Inquisitor disembarking you must be wary of the corrupt aboard this vessel lest the xeno flourish once more. In the war you journey time remember to honour the Emperor and purge the xenos."

With a short salute the Watch Captain went to catch his thunderhawk off the Sin. Leaving Conall alone in the chapel - at least for a short time until with swishing robes and the mechanical trundling of half a dozen serfs and servitors pulling equipment trolleys and the sealed and holy containers for their armour the new members of the Deathwatch Team Omicron Omega arrived.

[bluntpencil]

'Always be prepared' was a good motto, so Brother-Sergeant Ontario made a point of entering with his armour worn. Of course, his helm was under his arm, and his weapons by his side, so as not to imply a lack of trust in the crew of their new vessel.

This reveals his face to be, as expected, looking like a statue, like one of the heroes of old. His countenance is noble and regal, his hair dark, his eyes a bright, silvery, grey.

On seeing Connall, an experienced member of the ship's Deathwatch contingent, he offers a salute, fist to chest, bowing slightly to show his respects. He offers a formal greeting, hoping to befriend this new acquaintance, so as to serve alongside him better,

"Battle-Brother Connall, of Sacris, the Storm Wardens and the Imperium of Man, I have heard of your exploits aboard the Sin of Pride. It is an honour for me, Battle-Brother Devin Ontario, of Badab Primaris, the Astral Claws and the Imperium of Man, to call you 'comrade'."

He does not make mention of his rank of Sergeant: Devin knows that Kill-Teams pick their own leaders, so doing so would be insulting. That being said, his Red Skull rank markings are visible, of course.

[Caimheul]

Another space marine, this one outside of his armour, with extremely pale skin and jet black hair ghosts into room behind the fully armoured Astral Claw. Notably, he has chosen to carry a single sacred weapons case himself. "Seim Helitis, Raptors Chapter, Devastator Specialty," he outlines simply with a salute. "Heard tell that your team dealt with a genestealer cult that was setting up shop here. Underdeck fighting on your own ship. Nasty business," he says shaking his head.

[Monivey]

Cibran made his way through the corridors of the ship, crewmen parting to make way for the massive figure, unarmored but still towering over even the largest deckhand.

He was glad to be back to starship-based duty. The Crimson Fists had been a fleet-based chapter for most of his service. He'd been planetside too long, assisting with the establishment of the chapter's new home on Rynn's World. Before that he'd been tied down in the long ground campaigns of the Voltigern Crusade. The sensation of artificial gravity was refreshing, feeling like a homecoming.

He turned to one of the serfs following him "See to my medicae facilities. Ensure everything is properly stocked and sterilized. And let Lord-Captain Kuchenko know I'll be needing priority access to a stasis vault." He did not wait for a response, confident that his orders would be fulfilled.

Stepping into the chapel, he tried to identify the heraldry of the battle-brothers already assembled. Who would be his charges?

A Storm Warden and an Astral Claw, by the looks of it. He really didn't know much about the history of either chapter, both relatively young. Did the Claws guard the Maelstrom? Perhaps the Deathwatch would provide an opportunity to teach as well as learn.
And a Raptor. At least there was another Second Founding chapter represented. Rynn's World was not far from Deliverance, and he'd heard nought but praise for the Raven Guard and their descendants.

Still, he'd hoped for at least another son of Rogal Dorn. But this was a learning experience, after all. Unfamiliarity should be treated as a welcome challenge.

Apothecary Cibran Sanchev, Crimson Fists, nodding to the others, I look forward to bringing death to the Xenos with my newfound brothers.

[Caimheul]

The devastator ducks into his assigned quarters, carefully placing the bolter sized weapons case he carried in a place of honour. Leaving his serfs to unload the rest of his armament, he rejoins the rest of the squad in the main area. "You wouldn't happen to know what the training facilities are like here, least as far a range goes would you?" he asks of the Storm Warden. "I know space is usually at a premium in a starship, but I'm hoping I don't have to outside to get any sort of decent distance between me and my target."

[Starbin]

Conall slapped a salute to the Watch Captain. "Service is its own reward, Brother Captain. Vigilence." With a bow, he watched his former leader depart with the others, including one he had come to call friend in Naaman. Of course, friendships were always fleeting in their world, since at any moment a marine could be returned to his Chapter ... or fall in service to the Emperor.

Waiting patiently, he watched as the new group arrived. The first was a senior Astral Claw. He nodded in greeting and snapped a salute by way of greeting. ""Greetings, Sergeant Ontario, and be welcome. I look forward to training under your tutelege." It was obvious the scarred Storm Warden knew his place, full well, and had no issue with authority.

At the approach of the other two, he saluted both, nodding to the Raptor and the Crimson Fist. All new faces, all new specialities, all new opportunities to forge themselves into a devestating weapon for the Emperor. "Greetings to you all, Brothers. I am sure we will serve the will of the Emperor. Fortunately, I have found that time with this ship has been anything but boring. Look well to all the old adversaries ... and I am sure we will find new ones."

He snapped a salute to the Seargeant, then waved for Helitis to follow him. "If I may, Sgt, I will show you our facilities ..."

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Sorry for the delay, but there's the greeting ... let's get it on!

[bluntpencil]

"The cannons wake, and they roar, Brothers. Don your plate, and arm yourselves. We shall be needed before the hour is up."

Sergeant Ontario states the obvious, but cements what the Astartes should be doing.

"One assumes that we shall be engaging in boarding actions shortly, in order to assist in an escape. That would imply that we should be targeting enemy thrusters in an attempt to hinder their mobility."

[Caimheul]

"I didn't see a teleportarium among the ship's systems, so such an action is likely to be one way." the Raptor says as he calmly and unhurriedly finishes the cleansing rituals over his bolt pistol after yet another target practice session. "May end up repelling boarders instead. But, I'll go where I'm needed as today is as good as any to die in service to the Emperor." he says with a shrug, seemingly unconcerned as to the nature of the forthcoming battlefield.

[bluntpencil]

"One would assume we'd make use of assault boats, brother. At short range, they may be unable to stop us."

Devin Ontario does note the suggestion made by the Raptor and agrees,

"Aye, we may be repelling boarders."

[Caimheul]

"Still rather have the teleportarium for insertion and extraction. Quicker, and ya can catch the enemy off guard. Those I've fought have always found surprise to be rather lethal, Brother. Well, that and a bolt round to the head," Seim says, punctuating this last by noisily chambering a round into the recently cleaned and reassembled bolt pistol before returning it to his holster. After appeasing the machine spirit of his heavy bolter one last time, he set about opening the sacred seals on the boltgun case, pulling forth a well made Stalker boltgun, purity seal adorning the stock. Seim begins a slightly longer ritual, affixing a targeter that he pulls from a pouch that was around his neck to the rifle. Pre-combat rituals complete, the now fully armed and armoured Devestator begins meditating before the shrine in the barracks, waiting for further orders.

[Monivey]

We need information on the nature of the foe. Send word to the bridge. Tell them we need as much information as possible.

Turning to the Storm Warden,

[COLOR="Dark Green"]Brother Conall, you have served alongside this Captain. Any observations on his combat style?[/COLOR]

[Starbin]

Conall shrugged. "Arrogant, cocksure, aggressive on the verge of reckless. But the Emperor favors the bold, and he has been successful thus far. I think 'madness' is his method."

Conall waited with the others, already clad in his his armor and bearing his standard issue. Of particular note was the hilt of an enormous blade rising over his shoulders, adorned with the sacred markings of the Storm Wardens.

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I didn't say anything inaccurate, did I BP?

[bluntpencil]

Having heard the Captain's request from runners, begging their assistance should boarders arrive, Sergeant Devin Ontario informs his fellow Astartes that he'll be organising and providing leadership for the ship's armsmen in the defence of the vessel. He lets them know that their assistance would be most welcome, but he does not issue orders as they have not elected him their leader.

"I shall see to the defences. I'll take command of the armsmen, and take the fight to the foe should they board the vessel. You may assist the Lord-Captain as you see fit, of course."

He stamps into position, never having been seen before by the majority of the armsmen. Still, he is very obviously a figure of import, a commanding individual. He holds his helm under one arm, and salutes with the other fist.

"Armsmen of the Sin of Pride, the Enemy think they can board your ship, loot your home and enslave you. Show them how wrong they are. Show them that this is their Sin of Pride! Show them their wages of hubris, men of the Imperium!"

[Caimheul]

"Well, I reckon I don't have anything else planned until we hit dirtside, might as well see about getting some practice in with reactive targets," he says laconically, slipping the bolter magazine he's been loading back into one of the receivers on his Stalker. "I'm thinking of setting up shop near the life support. The crew might appreciate being able to breathe."

[Starbin]

Conall nodded. "I shall show you the way, Brother Seim. Follow me ..." The huge warrior led the way to the Life Support section, his weapons in hand.

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Conall is not going to 'vote' for a leader, since he'd expect that would have been taken care of by the Watch Captain. However, since he's a Sgt, it might be assumed he's the defacto leader. So order away!

[Caimheul]

"On second thought brother, I think my skill could be better utilized in the prow plasma batteries. Better plan is to keep them off the ship in the first place."

[Starbin]

Conall stopped, and turned pointing in another direction. "Then we wish to head to that section."

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I'm not sure what Conall can do in-between ... unless I'm helping with "Put your backs into it ... or else!" Or emergency repairs. So let me know when/where the brute's assistance is required!

[Monivey]

Before the group separated, Cibran left the brothers with some words of advice.

I'll head to the infirmary. I've managed spaceship triage dozens of times. Should any of you need assistance, fall back to somewhere safe, and stay there. Send word to the infirmary and the bridge. I will find you.

And remember, even all our conditioning can't save you from a depressurization, so keep those helmets on!

He wasn't sure how they'd take the advice. If they're of prudent mind, they'd know that already, and if they're from a brasher chapter, they'd likely pay it no heed. But it was worth saying anyway.

Storming into the infirmary, he blew past orderlies to find the chief medical officer.

Apothecary Cibran Sanchev of the Deathwatch. I'll be taking command of this operation. We'll be doing a complete restructure of this setup.

With a series of quick gestures, he delineated triage areas,

Burns and chemical injuries over here, void exposure, crush injuries and amputations, bullets and blades. Anyone else is likely either past saving, or only basically healthy. Either way, not worth the time and resources.

Treat deckhands in the corridors. If you can't get them stable in six minutes, don't bother. Spend the time and resources on those you can save. Reserve the core facilities for high priority individuals. Pilots, officers, Mechanicum adepts, you know the like. You have ten minutes to make them stable.

[Caimheul]

The heavily armed and armoured marine does his best to ghost into the weapons bay, sidling up behind the nearest weapons officer. Peering over the woman's head at her station, the sudden shadow cast over the console causes the crewwoman to begin to turn "Who the feth is blocking my light! Move you inbred son of a ..." the last word is gulped down as she finally notices the Space Marine towering over her like an avatar of the Emperor's might. "Beggin' your pardon sir I..." "To maximize the effect of your shot I recommend you adjust your aim by 0.00002 degrees to port." Seim interrupts her, noticing a rounding error in her calculations. "Sir, respectfully I..." she begins reflexively, before her brain catches up with her mouth. "Er, that is to say, thank you sir," she finishes weakly, making the relatively minor adjustment, silently praying the marine will move on.

[DrK]

For the heavily armed marines the carnage begins in earnest as the battle is joined and the vessel they joined enters battle with all the fury of a young assault marine!

-------

For Seim the damage to the section is colossal, a huge section of the control system now empty and to the void. The magboots active and securing him to the deck he had managed to put on his helmet as the air rushed out and with his superhuman constitution was none the worse for wear. The same could not be said for the frozen corpses secured in their chairs or the even more unfortunate ones that had been sucked into the void where they could not even receive the dignity of a proper memorial.

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Will he work the Plasma battery himself? Or will he escape the damage and now sealed section?

--------

The carnage was impressive to behold but Cibran strode through it all without breaking a sweat. The colossal marine followed by 6 cutters that tagged the wounded as black or green without a question, mutely accepting the marines direction. The corridor outside filling with the black tagged that now lay dying in their tens.

Inside the blood had soaked the floors and piles of amputated limbs and used medikits littered the once pristine white floors. But wherever the Astartes walked he inspired the medics, A hand here, a suggestion there or a pair of massive hands with surprisingly gentle touches adding a suture to a heart valve ensuring that another crewman would live. The infirmary was doing superb work and saving the lives of hundreds!

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8 crew restored is very impressive!

------

Conall's world shook as the nova cannons detonated and the Sin of Pride trembled under the impact. Moments after that as he regained his footing he could hear the sounds of gunfire and shouts and screams of war. An Arbite team at the corner led by a hard faced white haired Lt saluted him. "Lord Astartes. I'm Lt. Solarii, we have met before. The enemy are boarding through 3 bridge heads. We've severed one with melta bombs and the second is holding but they are risking breaking through on the nearest. Can you as... BOOM! a massive blast shook the corridor tumbling the Arbites to the ground as the bulkhead at the end of the corridor some 30m exploded outwards revealing a vast surge of chaos heretics and warped mutants. Flesh flowing like water, tentacles instead of arms and twistesd hate filled drooling maws seeking food.



Two of the arbites turned to flee but the other 8 stood firm as Solarii screamed "For the Emperor"

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You have a magnitude 40 mob 30m away. You have the initiative

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The towering Sgt strode down the corridors followed by an entourage of low ranking Sin officers that enacted his every command as he boosted their morale and organised their defences. Strongpoints, sandbagged stubber nests, kill zones were all set up under his careful eye.

It was going well if only he had had some more time. The blast of the Nova shells had barely subsided before the deckplating beneath his feet ruptured in a cloud of gas and steam as a massive harpoon the size of a reaver totan pierced the hull two decks below.

As the debris cleared he could looks straight down 2 decks - a tear in the interior plating some 2m wide and 6m deep as a strange semi-metallic, semi organic tentacle slammed into view. The warped boarding tunnel boring through the tens of metres of armour to disgorge a vast mob of heretics and evil doers into his ship! Even as they begin their charge they are met by a hail of autogun fire and las blasts from the ship's armsmen.

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You are 6m above where the docking pod has penetrated the hull. But you can see the 30 string horde charging out! Horatio at the gates anyone?

[bluntpencil]

The Sergeant grins, and simply levels his heavy flamer at those beneath him.

He yells to the armsmen at his back, his voice ice cold, like the frost forming on his black armour, due to the void spilling into the ship.

"On my signal, men of the Imperium, frag grenades and fully automatic fire."

The mighty Space Marine activates his magnetic boots and runs down the wall, stopping in front of the invaders, feet planted firmly on the deck in front of them.

And with that comes the signal.

The cold of the void is replaced by a rush of heat, what scant oxygen that is left being sucked into the maelstrom spewed forth from the holy flame projector in the Space Marine's grip, scorching the bastard traitors, leaving them howling in terror.

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Damage roll (2d10+6)[3][5](14) Pen 6
Magnitude Damage (1d5+8)[9] (This should do enough damage to force a WP test on the Horde... which is probably a Blood Soaked Tide...)

Also, a Command test for the armsmen to lay into them with rapid fire...

(1d100)[72]

[Starbin]

Conall looked about, his helmet at his waist as the ship suddenly tilted almost 30 degrees. Raising an eyebrow, he caught his balance when the sounds of fighting drew his attention.

Stomping forward, he turned the corner to find a group of Arbites, led by a familiar looking woman. She was in the middle of her status report when the bulkhead down the corridor blew open, knocking down the humans as a mass of tentacles and writhing flesh poured through the hole, their inhuman screams echoing down the hall.

Solarii leapt up with most of her troops, firing and screaming their hate for the adversary. Two troops, however, took off in the opposite direction. Without even a look, Conall threw a frag grenade past the loyalists to land in front of the fleeing men. In those seconds before the explosion, no one would ever know if the cowards repented or regretted their decision. All that could be said is that they would never again turn their back on the will of the Emperor.

Glancing to the Arbites, he nodded briefly. "You and your men serve the Emperor well, Lieutenant, but go secure the other bridge. I will attend to this rabble."

Turning with freakish speed and agility in a being so large, Conall ran a few steps then leapt into the air, igniting his jump pack once he was clear of the humans. He smashed into the mass of mutants and worshippers of Chaos like a melta bomb, his fists and feet crushing skulls and breaking backs. Then he began to lay about in earnest, his seven foot blade carving through the enemy like a las-cannon through an Eldar's skull.

Death had come to Section B4L.

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Alrighty ... time to do this thing.
Thunder Charge (1d5+1)[2] unarmed attacks
- Damage: Minimum of 15I / 0 Pen for each ((5d10)[6][1][10][7][8](32) for RF)
Attack w/Claymore: (1d100)[19] vs TN 74; Min damage of 18R/Pen 2((1d100)[36], (2d10)[3][1](4) for RF)
Wrathful Descent: (1d10)[10] damage to magnitude

EDIT: Looks like 13 damage to magnitude

[Caimheul]

Seim looks around the now voided room, empty of all except a few floating, bloated, frozen, deformed bodies that were strapped in or became trapped against equipment in the section. The only sound that reaches his ears is the hiss of the air from his armour's life support systems., driving home just how isolated he is right now. Just how he likes it. He glances at the nearest console considering the possibility of running the weapon by himself. Without this weapon, the Sin of Pride's ability to inflict damage upon the enemy would be hampered, and any support he could provide from here would be of more aid in the battle than dealing with individual cultists, a job his Brother marines were surely undertaking even now.
Seim moves a chair from in front of one of the consoles, and tunes his vox link to one of the shipboard frequencies. "This is Seim Helitis reporting from the fore plasma cannon control room. I am the only survivor, awaiting target," he reports in simply.

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Edited in response to DrK's response

[bluntpencil]

"Understood, Lord Astartes!" is the response from the bridge.

"My Chief Gunner reckons you can't cripple the other transport with a single volley, but I bet a bottle of my best that you can. What do you say, mm?"

The Captain then clears his throat, and offers further information to the Space Marine, this time with a less playful tone of voice.

"Regardless, repair teams should be there shortly. Kuchenko out."

[DrK]

Infirmary

The infirmary is busy as Cibran patches people up easily. The preferred method of amputation and cauterisation being done quickly enough that some armsmen can actually return to the battle, their body filled with stimulants and faith in the Emperor. Even as the apothecary moves to treat some more of the wounded he grows concerned - a trio of men all missing limbs, but limbs that have been torn free by teeth not weapons. Demonic creatures now pace the halls of the vessel!

Hecuter Control

In the plasma battery Seim calmy tears the control chair out, the metal rivets no match for his strength and squats down in front of the controls, a switch to manual allowing the control column to activate as he sights manually on the transport. Minutes pass as the order to fire is relayed, deep in the bowels of the turrets lining the forward section of the hull the thousands of gun handlers wheel the tanks sized shells into the their cradles, cranes lift them slowly up into the gigantic barrels of the Hecuter battery before a brush of a finger sends them on their way. The explosions as the void shields collapsed and the thousands of bodies and traitor tanks flung into the void a joy for Seim to behold.

1st Docking Breach

By the first breach the towering Sergeant drops a massive sheet of flame down onto the onrushing horde consuming them in white hot promethium leaving only twitching partially molten bodies. The retching sound of some of the armsmen behind their barricades an unimpressive sound to the hulking Deathwatch marine.

Others rush forward with chain blades, boarding pikes and autoguns blazing as the dregs of the enemy scatter, the flames too painful even for the incensed khorne worshipping warriors to charge through. With a cheer one of the armsmen with the stripes of a midshipman looks up at the hole where the flames came from. "My Lord. The breach is taken, we've melta charges arriving to destroy the breaching coll...." The words cut off as the man is blow apart in a hail of blood and gore. The crunching sound of a mechanised construction approaching loud even of the gunfire that tears through 8 of the crew as more cheers of more heretics can be heard....

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Enter a Magnitude 30 Khornate horde (naked and feral with chain weapons and bad attitudes)

Enter a mechanised hulking corrpupted mechanical spider monster of Khorne (think a defiler but hulking rather than massive with 6 legs for automotion, two big choppy spinning chain blades and a mouth with a heavy bolter in)

- They aren't quite visible yet to Devin as he is still on the floor above and they are ~10m back up the boarding tunnel.

Near 2nd Docking Breach

Conall smashes into the oncoming horde. The jet flames of the jump pack igniting a pair of the traitors even as his crushing bulk smears another 3 along the wall tearing bone and flesh under the impact. The claymore flashes down hewing left and right clearing a space for him to step forward as he crushes the bones of those who have fallen under his feet.

The enemy care not - incensed by devotion to the blood god and almost worship of Conall's prowess they crowd forward over the bodies of some 12 of their comrades. Chain weapons hewing and slicing at the marine as they scratch and chew at his ancient suit of battle armour

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Attacked in melee by the horde
WS attack (1d100)[39] TN 54 Damage (2d10+6)[20] Pen 4
WS attack (1d100)[22] TN 54 Damage (2d10+6)[18] Pen 4

Shots from behind Conall send up gouts of blood form the enemy as Lt. Solarii and her men begin to lay down a hail of fire, another 3 of the enemy falling as shotgun rounds and autogun fire begin to make its mark...

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Horde reduced from mag 20 mag 17

Other din of the battle Conall can hear the shouts and screams from further ahead. One long piercing shout echoing over all of the others "DEMONS!" the scent of ash, bromstone and blood almost overpowering as 20m further up the corridor a massive hulking brutish, lean of body, long of arm and formed of tangled muscle and hate creature leaps upon two armsmen, a black obsidian blade of dark fire searing their flesh even as it steals their lives... Its companion a wolf life creature if being of evil scales and teeth can be wolf like and the size of a large horse is upon another. The hound easily tearing the man's head and chest free from his body as the las fire deflects harmlessly off its aura of wrongness.

The blood letter looks up, eyes glittering with the hellfires of Khorne's own domain meet Conall's steely gaze as it raises its blood soaked blade in a unmistakable challenge....

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You have a big beefy bloodletter and his pet flesh hound up ahead...

[bluntpencil]

Melta charges? Perfect!

Ontario rushes to where the armsmen brought the melta charges, and retrieves one with his right hand, holding his heavy flamer at one side, running at the armoured monstrosity, hoping to attach the melta to its body, hull or whatever you would call it.

"Hit their infantry with fragmentation grenades and automatic fire as you retreat from this section; I have the armour, armsmen.

Once you have fallen back, seal the bulkheads, then cut off all oxygen. The fools are naked and without void protection."

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Burst of Speed!

Charge Attack Roll to plant melta charges on the spider thing?
(1d100)[49]

Edit: That should succeed, especially with its size?