14th Black Crusade - IC

[Mekboy]

Alicia gleefully leapt forward, piling into the mob of crewmen. Their deaths would make the officer's so much sweeter. Another head for the rack.

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Attacks against the horde:
WS: 53 +10 (frenzy) +10 (hatred) +30 (berserk charge) +10 (best quality weapons) -10 (two weapons)
Power fist: (1d100)[53] vs 103 7 degrees of success(4 extra hits) and power weapon (+1 hits), therefore 6 hits.
Chainsword: (1d100)[35] vs 103 8 degress of success (4 extra hits), therefore 5 hits.

Total of eleven hits, which will pretty much certainly do damage (14+2d10 or 8+3b1d10.

[watupwithdat]

A chokepoint. was Qaeviir's first thought when he saw the scene infront of him. He purposedly stayed a bit behind the guardsmen and power armoured heretics, as to use them as a shield for himself. He had no plans on running out into some kind of potential pincer. The enraged khornate woman warrior did not appear to have such considerations for herself, though.

The Magister moved up a bit, see if he could catch a quick glimpse of whatever force they had to bear on the right flank. He could not offer much in direct fighting prowess, but he had his mind, and his mind was powerful.

With his back to the wall obscuring him from the mob the khornate woman just charged in a rage, he could see several arbites and one who he assumed was their superior behind a makeshift barricade. They did not seem to react to the presence of the Magister, curiously, though that could just be because of what else had caught their attention.

[Unbeknownst]

Clomping just a couple of meters forward so that she has a better view, Mortia fires her combi-bolter into the crowd of people, hoping to clear the way towards the leader farther back so that one of her more combat savvy companions could get through.

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Ballistics 41+30(Horde)+10(Short Range)-20(Firing into melee)= 61

Can't use infamy to reroll cuz I'm a Nurglite. Bah.

Lets see how this goes

[Emperor Ing]

Nephthys strides forward, firing off three shots into the crew members

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Ballistics (Single shot) Semi Auto
Target 91
(1d100)[7]

[DrK]

The hallway disintergrates into violence and bloodshed within seconds as the heavily armoured and armed aolytes push through the crew dogs and reavers. Ignoring the hail of that cuts down the pirates to her left and right Alicia plunges bloodily into the mass of crew. Her rage and hate almost as effective as her chain and fist at blocking and parrying attacks as she carves a bloody path through the crew leaving a trail of broken bodies and twitching blood soaked severed limbs in her wake. A half dozen crewmen struck down in seconds.

The crewmen are sorely pressed further as with a mechanical rumbling both Mortia and Nepthys, the latter's tail filling the air with a strange and sticky gooey musk push up the corridor slowly. Bolter and combi-bolter spraying toxic death and explosive into the crewmen chewing through them with brutal efficiency as the walls were soon painted red with fresh blood.

Its too much for the bonded armsmen. Despite the screams and shouts of the officer the shcked and wounded survivors turn and flee as fast as they can, several too slow to move die as the frenzied Alicia carves out the back of their head or tears out their spines with sword and fist.

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18 mag damage and a failed WP check means "flee"

The officer- the last one left hacks down the nearest reaver with his power blade before leaping foward to engage Alicia, "For St Annard and Glory" - his pistol blazing away and his power sword hacking at her...

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Charge and attack Alicia
Power sword (1d100)[94] TN 53
-1 DoS damage (1d10+8)[12] PEN5
-3 DoS damage (1d10+8)[14] PEN5
-5 DoS damage (1d10+8)[14] PEN5
Autopistol (1d100)[51] TN 41
- Damage (1d10+4)[11] PEN 2

Even as the bloody hail of fire fades away the corridors echo with screaming and shouting as a wall of reavers slam into the arbite line, a crackle of electricity as the shock shields are activated and then the puffs of red mist as the arbites unleash point blank shotgun fury killing many and holding their line. THe reaver crew still rushing and running about as they pour onto the Penal Transporter... Seeing the crew break and flee you can hear a muttered curse from the Arbite leader as he shouts an order to his men - the order lost over the roar of the throng assaulting him as with a last blast of the shotguns leaving more dead and wounded they double time fall back keeping shields up and close together... the revear pack following close behind.

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Arbites double time it back - falling 8m back - 23m away from the T-junction
- vanishing from view as well
- THe Reaver crew runs onto the ships so the corridor going left and right has a goodly pile of reavers in as well

[Henry the 57th]

Vul grinned beneath his helmet as he watched the miserable mob of Imperial wretches flee. Excellent work, Alicia

With those fools gone and the pathetic officer soon to follow, that left only the Arbites for extermination. But of course the cowards were already fleeing. Typical Imperial fools. Did they really think that would save them? Vul shook his head. It mattered not.

Vul released his spell of protection to speed his step, moving swiftly out of the pod and intersection. He smiled maliciously as the Arbites came into view. So what if a few reavers where in the way? That was their fault, for standing between an Astartes and his prey.

"Burn, slaves of the dead Emperor!"

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Drop Telekinetic Shield. Half Movement 6. Half Action to fire the flamer at the Arbites.

[Mekboy]

Laughing, Alicia easily evaded the officer's swings. The poor deluded fool. Glory was for the mighty.

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Try and feint, then swift attack with powerfist/lightning attack with chainsword

Opposed WS test for feint: (1d100)[68] vs 53, with 1 extra degree of success

Chainsword: (1d100)[47] vs 53. 2 hits.
Power fist: (1d100)[4] vs 63. 3 hits.

[Emperor Ing]

Feeling particularly uplifted, Nephthys grins at the thought of the corpses being left where they lay, where the dead may fester and rot, bring glory to Father Nurgle. In his desire for additional bodies he turns and trains his bolter on the apparent leader of the Arbites. He takes aim, and lets loose several bolts to pound against the fools. And fools they are, there's no way they can survive at a pace like that.

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Half Action 1: Take Aim (+10 to fire)

Half Action 2:
Bolter (Semi-Auto)
Target 71: (base 51 + 10 (close range) + 10 (aim)
(1d100)[34]
damage (+2 from...crack shot I think? I KNOW I have the bonus damage talent)
DOS 2
(1d10+11)[9](20) Pen 4
DOS 4
(1d10+11)[6](17) Pen 4
DOS 6
(1d10+11)[1](12) Pen 4

Rerolls (Tearing quality)
(1d10)[6]
(1d10)[3]
(1d10)[6]

[watupwithdat]

With the reavers and his makeshift 'companions' surging forward, Qaeviir strode into the open of the corridor, not fearing any stray shots from whatever the imperials had left against them. As the arbites and their officer had retreated back from the incoming horde and terminator-clad Astartes, Qaeviir figured that way would lead to a more important, and assumably interesting, section of the vessel.

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Qaeviir moves right towards the retreating arbites. Obviously not in the line of effect of Vul's flamer.

[DrK]

Alicia and the Officer exchange wild and rapid blows, the khornate renegade gaining the upper hand as the chain blade hacks deeply into the officer's leg in a torrent of blood as he drops to one knee cursing and tears forming in his eyes.

To the right death reigns supreme. In a vast pillar of flame tha burning promethium engulfs the corridor as 5 of the arbites begin to scream, their bodies living pyres of molten flesh. The ballistic surcoats only prolonging their agony. The dozen or so reavers caught in the vast wave of flame all screaming as the corridor immediatly fills with twitching, screaming melting flesh!

Even as the officer leaps back from the flames, his plumed helmet marking him out he is blown off his feet twitching weakly on the ground as the nurgleheim marines casually hoses him down.

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Arbite Officer - takes a Crit 5 body hit
- (1d100)[86] TN 55agains blood loss
- knocked prone
- (1d5)[4] fatigue

5 arbites - all take 13 wounds (crit 1 energy hits)
- Half action next turn (but they are all on fire so its not good anway)

The Heretek is still to take actions.

There are 5 burning arbites, a still active arbite, and a downed arbite officer to the right
To the left there is a wounded ship's officer battling Alicia (and losing)

[Unbeknownst]

Clomping foreward, Mortia watches as the horde of men flee and Alicia tearing into the officers leg. Turning, she watches as most of the arbites are turned into flaming torches, one somehow ignoring the blast al together, shrugging lightly in her suit, she fires at him.

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(1d100)[83] v 41+10(Close Range) = 51

[Emperor Ing]

Aaa pox upon theeee...joooin your brothers in caaarrion... The Plague Marine brings more bolts to bear, this time against the standing Arbites

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Half Action 1: Another Aim (I'm assuming they don't stack)
Half Action 2: Semi Auto Bolt Target 71
(1d100)[24]

(1d10+11)[2](13)
(1d10+11)[8](19)
(1d10+11)[4](15)

Tearing
(1d10)[2](2)
(1d10)[7](7)
(1d10)[7](7)

[watupwithdat]

The gaut of flames engulging the reavers and the arbites in the narrow corridor lit up Qaeviir's mask. Maybe such a sight would have frightened someone else. But this Magister Immaterial was unfazed.

As the flamer stopped spewing promethium, Qaeviir could see the officer had somehow avoided the flames. Such luck. Maybe the Weaver of Fates has a special place for him? Let's put that theory to the test. The Magister Immaterial raised and extended his free hand towards the officer as he moved towards him, the fingers all separated like he wanted to feel the air, and manifested several jolts of lightning leaving his fingers making their way toward the arbites officer.

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Half action, move 3m towards the arbites. Should be ~14m from them.

Half action, Unfettered, Neural Storm, +0 Willpower Focus Power test (1d100)[37] vs 85
Psychic Barrage, 5 DoS (= shocking & haywire 5), 3 hits, rolled in OOC.

[Mekboy]

Even as the officer fell, Alicia did not abate, still raining down blows. "You die kneeling before your betters, corpse-lover."

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Lightning attack/swift attack again. Half action aim if he's still alive, move one down the corridor if not.

Chainsword: (1d100)[60] vs 53
Power fist:(1d100)[57] vs 63

[Henry the 57th]

Vul laughs like a madman as the Arbites burn. "Yes! Yes! Death to the False Emperor!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

Vul strides purposefully forward, firing again at the Arbites.

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Half move of 6, fire the flamer again.

[DrK]

Even as combi-bolter rounds miss the last standing arbite the others collapse to the ground rolling and writing as the flames burn them slowly to death and the surviving reavers reach them and take great glee in unloading long and brutal blasts from thei shot cannons at point blank range blowing chunks of meat off the arbites. The last of the arbites going down in a welter of bullets, fists and mono-blades screaming.

THe officer is the worst off... his mind and body melting as his neural pathways are fried and melted by the psykers powerful mind. THough its short lived as again the mighty flamer enguilfs the corridor burnig another dozen reaver crew to death.

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No point rolling, they are doomed!

THe reavers, many of them, look at Vul with trepidation taking in the corridor of burning and steaming bodies and his flamer. Cursed marines a comment more than once mentioned.

The officer has time for one last lunge at Alicia before he is overwhelmed by attacks from the Reavers that savage, stab and pummel him horribly to death.

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All out attack (1d100)[99] TN 63
Damage (1d10+8)[10] PEN 5

Even as the bodies soak the deck the screams and shouts as Reavers continue to pour onto the vessel bounces around the corridor and echoes from other decks above and below where other boarding ramps penetrated the penal transport's hull. You see one of the Last Hope's officers pausing near you... "Get down to the prison pens. We'll get 50 thousand slaves if we get any!"
Looking at the burned bodies he screams at Vul "You kill any more of my men and you'll be breathing the void bastard. See how long you last when the Hope's main guns blows you to little pieces

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Edited after PC actions

[Henry the 57th]

Vul walks over to stand in front of the little human who was threatening him, his Terminator frame towering above him. "You are threatening a sorcerer of the Black Legion?" Vul says quietly, raising an eyebrow beneath his helmet.

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Intimidate: (1d100)[31] vs. 60

[Mekboy]

This wasn't enough. Even the the taste of blood on her lips, the scent of burnt flesh in the air and the screams of the dying ringing in her ears, it wasn't enough. And these... rodents dared strike the final blow! With an inarticulate shriek of rage, she swung into the reaver hordes surrounding her.

[watupwithdat]

The officer most likely tried to scream, though prevented by the neural attack of the bio-lightning, as he was drowned in flame. Qaeviir now knew the answer to his question. Of course, he has not.

The prison pens. A lot of souls for the taking. The Magister Immaterial did not mind going there at all. With some static crackling between his fingertips he started walking in the direction the pens were in, assuming the rest would follow and go ahead soon enough. He had little intention of leading the way there.

[DrK]

The man pales slightly but still sneers back, we leave you here warlock.you still dead. you burn one more of us you and your friends all die now or maybe see how long you can breathe void eh?

Even as he speaks the throng of reavrers stares at the heretics. Vengeful malice in their eyes.

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resist/intimidate you
(1d100)[31] TN 108

[Henry the 57th]

Vul looks at the reavers and considers the odds briefly, his helmet keeping his expressions concealed.

After a moment, he says. "Very well. I shall take more care to avoid your men in the future. At present though, you would be well advised to do something about that." He points a taloned finger of his chainfist at the rampaging Khornate.

Vul strides towards Alicia. "Stop this at once!"

[Mekboy]

As a handful more of the impudent rats fell to the floor, wounded or dead, Alicia's fury dissipated. Breathing slowing, she lowered her weapons. "He was mine." she replied by way of explanation, dispassionately glancing down at the corpses, clearly believing herself justified. "He was mine, and these vermin interrupted."

[watupwithdat]

Qaeviir stepped over the charred bodies, careful not to dirty his fine robes crafted from rare fabrics on Q'Sal, evidently being the only one actually moving towards the prison pens, the rest having some kind of argument. The Magister Immaterial had not been listening to the shouting, his thoughts instead on all the souls for picking. He stopped and turned around, waiting impatiently for the other of his 'companions' to actually start making their way there and catch up.

[Henry the 57th]

"Nonetheless, it would behoove us not to kill any more of them - the seem rather angry about it, and they do control our ride. It would be most inconvenient to have to get to the system without them." Vul says.

Reaching out with telepathic hands, Vul carefully snatches the temporarily disabled force field from the officer's corpse.

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Fettered Precision Telekinesis: (1d100)[41] vs. 77

If it fails, he rolls again until it doesn't: (1d100)[35], (1d100)[13], (1d100)[98], (1d100)[70], (1d100)[30]

[Mekboy]

As Vuul takes the force-field from the corpse, Alicia grabs for it. "And you too try to take what is rightfully mine, witch! I slew the man, I take the pickings."

OOC

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Sorry if this is a little abrasive, but I imagine Alicia getting very protective of stuff she percieves hers (i.e. on corpses she considers her kill). Also you do kinda have terminator armour defence-wise while I have carapace.

[Henry the 57th]

"Then take it. I suppose you'll be wanting his sword as well?"

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It's fine. The character isn't you, and you should roleplay their personality.

[Mekboy]

"But of course." Taking the sword from the battered corpse, Alicia, crouched down to remove the officer's head. Another offering. Almost as an afterthought, she took up the corpse's now somewhat bloodstained cap. The looted symbol of authority, one of those little shows of power against the hated foe. Impaling the fresh head amongst those of older foes on the mass of spikes mounted on her shoulder, considered the marine. Still an oddity - far more direct than any other warp-witch she'd been forced to acquaint with before. And the nerve to try and steal from her. Nevertheless, there were more important things on hand to worry about than some presumptuous Astartes brainjob.

"I believe we have some slaves to acquire."

[Henry the 57th]

"I believe we do." says Vul, as he considers the little human. Brash, arrogant, and with an inflated sense of her own self-importance in the universe. Vul snorts softly at the thought, his helmet concealing the gesture. What possible true importance could such a tiny, short-lived creature have? None. She will be just another in a long line of humans he has used and replaced when they inevitably expired. This list of such names is great, and Vul long ago stopped bothering to keep track of it. Cultists who assisted him in hiding from Imperial authorities, mercenaries sent before him to absorb enemy fire, psykers who aided his search for artifacts... Vul shrugs mentally, remembering many humans he has used up over the long years of bitter exile, not caring one mite for their expiration in his cause.

The fact that she can work up the nerve to stand up to him without any backup is somewhat impressive, but that is most likely because she simply doesn't realize how easy it would be to dispose of her at any time. No matter - she seems to be useful, and shouldn't be so hard to control as long as he can provide her with enemies to slake her bloodlust.

Qaeviir though... Vul narrows his eyes. The psyker is another matter. He is physically weak, but his mind and powers are strong. And the disciples of Tzeentch are notoriously hard to predict. Vul resolves to keep a close eye on that one, just in case he should start to consider any kind of treachery. Tzeencth is not known as the Lord of Lies for nothing, and Vul knows little of Q'Sal and its denizens. His agenda is too unknown for Vul to invest too much trust in him, for the moment.

"Let's be off, then." says Vul, striding towards Qaeviir.

[Unbeknownst]

Mortia turned full to face the captain as they traded threats. Annoyed with the captain, she decided to let his threats go for now. If she had the chance, she would kill him later, if only for thinking he could attempt to kill one such as herself. With that, she turned at slowly stomped her way after the small group, her internal auspex scanning for anything technologically interesting as her armored feet simply crushed any stray bodies in her path.

[Henry the 57th]

Vul himself will be keeping an eye out for any chapels, shrines, or other artifacts of the false worship of his accursed grandfather. If he sees any, he will stop to go and defile them brutally and thoroughly, smashing statues, icons, windows, artwork, and any other signs of the ridiculous superstition. Finally, a great Eye of Horus will be crudely cut with the powered claws of his chainfist into the most prominent area of the shrine - a preview of sorts to Vul's intentions for Terra.