Only War: Armoured Fist

[LeSwordfish]

Only War: Armoured Fist

OOC

Mission One: Operation Shatter

It had started raining shortly after they'd made planetfall, and had continued to do so ever since. Thick, sickly yellow droplets splattered on caps and epaulettes, and those tanks forced to wait in the open while a berth was found for them were soon coated with mud.

"At least we don't have to camo-paint her." Harkon, the handler of Nox Noctis Equa, joked, checking the oilcloth tightly stretched over her turret mount. When he dropped down from the turret, yellow mud splattered up his uniform trousers. "You think they'll give us wet-weather gear, or just order us to dry ourselves on enemy lasbolts?"

It had been nearly a month in transit, the massive troopship bellying through the warp along the spinward front, finally emerging in the halo of the Darien system. Darien, they had been informed, was a forge world. Grinding out tools and weapons for generations, the world had been quietly labouring under the yoke of the Adeptus Mechanicus, until the PDF and small guard garrison had declared the planet independent, slaughtered and imprisoned the Mechanicus presence, and set the PDF commander in place as de facto governor. The landers, and the force they carried, were the second wave of the imperium of mankind's response to that.

As they were ordered into one of the cluster of warehouses, they could see the primary forge of the world. From here it looked like a volcano, a mountainous metal shape broken up by the bright red rivulets of actinic outlet pipes. The city around it stretched across much of the continent, and they had deployed onto the northern edge of it. To the south was the forge, and then far beyond that the other imperial army, stalemated in the mudflats and hills around the river basin.

There was the usual organised chaos that accompanied a deployment, with nearly a thousand guardsmen and support staff to be settled in the grimy warehouses. The crew and squad of Nox Noctis Equa- third platoon, second squad- were nearly settled in, when the platoon commander entered, leading a red-robed enginseer behind him.

"At ease, men." Lieutenant Salo offered. "Don't unpack too much. I need you all combat-ready in an hour. We may be a long way from the front, but there's a few targets of opportunity in the area we want to hit before they begin bringing in reinforcements. For now though, make ready, make any requisitions you need, and... well, be ready to move. Mustering point Warehouse three, in an hour."

Seeing a few of the squad casting confused glances at the enginseer, he coughed and apologised. "Sorry. Squad, meet Enginseer Varuck. The Mechanicus can't be here to take back their world themselves, so they've sent us a full complement of cogboys instead. Varuck here is assigned to Nox Noctis Equa." He checked the clipboard he was holding. "One hour, combat-ready, warehouse three. The one with the three on it."

And with that he was gone. For a Mordian, Salo had never been one to stand on ceremony.

[watupwithdat]

Cronyn was sitting on an unloaded crate doing some light maintenance to his sniper rifle, the weather not the best for moving parts. He did not like when equipment malfunctioned if he could do something to avoid it. In this case that was keeping it fairly clean.

An hour? That's not a lot of time to get ready. Not that I should expect anything else. He inspected the enginseer from his position a bit away from the rest of the squad. "Do you do weapons modification?" he asked the cogboy, going straight for the most important thing to ask one of those. He had not had time to have his current weapon customized since he recieved this replacement rifle. The grip needed some minor adjustments and that could be achievable in an hour he figured.

[Caimheul]

The mud and rain appeared to have no affect upon Nathin, but then when one is regularly covered with the blood and guts of his fellow soldiers, what's a little mud? "You kidding? With our luck they'll stick us with bug netting!" he jokes with Harkon shaking his head at the failures of the Munitorum.

The announcement that his squad was getting saddled with a cogboy was greeted with a sigh, babysitting in combat could be heck on a squad, not to mention the presence of a Mechanicus representative would likely put a hamper on looting, but at least field repairs would be easy to come by. "Right, me and Mord are heading over to the quartermasters, start making our faces known. Anyone need anything while we're at it?"

[DrK]

Doyle slid out from under Nox his body liberally coated with mud."Hey gunz. I need the number 6." The near mute and morose gunner looked at him coldly pulling on the lho stick before tossing down the large spanner.

"22000 folk in the regiment and I get stuck with him... Doyle mutters to himself as he slides back under the chimera. Tapping and tightening the loose nut he crawls back out looking happy. "Tight as a Soratias chastity belt Harkon. No problem with the mud now eh."

Seeing the Lt he leaps into an approximation of a salute. An hour sir. Yes sir." Before with a glance at the smirking gunner. You could have warned me!"

As he wipes off some of the mud he glances around at the medic. Not sure I need anything. Think I got everything at the minute."

[RandomLunatic]

"We could always get you dry," Torin said, affectionately patting body of The Help. "Warm, too," he added with a grin and chuckle, and then went back to carefully wiping yellow mud from the flamer's soot and carbon blackened muzzle and igniter.

Looking up at the medic, he said, "Not really. I think I'll go see what the Emperor hasn't provided myself."

[DaedalusMkV]

The Enginseer steps forwards, saluting precisely as Lieutenant Salo introduces him. "I acknowledge the unit assignment and orders, Sir. Omnissiah bless your actions this day." After the officer's departure, he listens quietly to the squad's comments, head cocked at a slight angle as though considering a difficult problem. Like most of his kind, Varruck seems to be more machine than man. His mouth and throat have been replaced by a metallic grille, and the portions of his arms and legs that emerge from the robe seem covered in mechanical grafts, though the majority of his body is obscured. A spindly Mechadendrite emerges from his back, appearing to be carry some sort of small lascutter, or perhaps a miniaturized las-weapon of some sort. The only part of his body that is both unmistakably human and visible are his face and eyes, which observe with cold dispassion. His voice is slightly metallic in tone, though there is a definite biological component to him. Whatever the machine replacing his throat does, it clearly hasn't completely replaced his voice box. "I am fully trained and authorized in all Munitorum-approved modifications to infantry weaponry. I will undertake all efforts necessary to ensure that the equipment of this unit performs at maximum combat potential. Please submit a list of requirements at your earliest convenience along with your weapon and I shall do all that can be done in the allotted time."

In response to Nathin's comment, the Enginseer replies, "I have not yet been issues a Multi-key adapted for this world's Machine Spirits. I would greatly appreciate if you were to submit a requisition form on my behalf while I am engaged in initial maintenance work."

Finally, with what his not entirely sociable mind sees as the necessary social interactions out of the way, the Enginseer turns his attention to the Chimera, quickly inspecting it while clicking to himself, Servitor in tow. When satisfied with the vehicle's condition (not quite pristine, but close enough that he doesn't feel he can benefit it in the time available), he begins to examine the customization requests brought forwards by his new squad-mates.

[RandomLunatic]

Torin's eyes went wide and he snapped up the flamer, clutching it to his chest. "Nuh-uh," he told the Enginseer. "Last time I gave my gun to a cogboy, he broke it. And I caught hell for it. And I'm not falling for it again."

Spoiler

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Status
Wounds: 0/11
Fatigue: 0/3
Other: N/A

Ammo
Lasgun: 60[4]
The Help: 6[4]
URGL: 1(Fire)[?/?]
Frag: 2
Krak: 4

[Elricaltovilla]

Corporal Bringer was already unloading his big, beautiful missile launcher and beginning the inspection. It was probably the only part of the Departmento Munitorum's inspection procedures that he felt was worth listening to, but considering his love for large explosions, it was hardly surprising.

"Anybody got a lho-stick I can bum?" he asked as he scratched the permanent stubble that covered his chin. Corporal Bringer was short, stocky and hairy, he usually kept his upper lip covered by a waxed moustache, but the rest of his face could hardly be kept clean shaven for more than a few hours. "Hey, Private Dipstick, gimme a lho-stick." he said to his browbeaten comrade. Private Dipstick, who would probably be forever trapped with that unfortunate moniker, grudgingly supplied one.

[DaedalusMkV]

The Techpriest looks at Torin for a moment, head cocked again. "Maintenance work on all Regimental equipment is to be performed by Mechanicus Adjutants and designated Armoury staff initiated in the lesser mysteries of the Machine Spirits. Troopers are not authorized to perform unlicensed modifications or maintenance work with the exception of simple field maintenance and benedictions. Private Torin should re-examine all relevent regulations as laid out by his Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer before bringing any concerns to Munitorum officials for proper consideration."

[Caimheul]

"I'll see what I can do, might take a bit of doing though. The munitorum seems to be worried we'd commandeer anything that wasn't on fire and nailed down if they gave us a key to the city." Nathin replies to the enginseer's request, flashing the cogboy a quick smile. "Course, if I'm going to do that for you, I'd be mighty appreciative if'n you could incorporate some metals from my old lev into my las pistol while I'm busy filling out forms..."

[watupwithdat]

He did not really expect the cogboy to tell him that he couldn't, it was more a way to quickly get the foot in the door. He'd prefer to have an optimal performance rifle before setting out. Sub-optimal equals less chance of survival or success.

"Here. Customized grip. Specifics on the slip of parchment." he said as he walked up to the enginseer and handed over his fairly new sniper rifle and a bit of paper with modification details he had prepared during the last bit of the transit to the forge world. The only thing he had managed to fix on it already was the stock, but the grip was still not what he wanted. Now he had a chance of getting it fixed too.

"I'll go try get a few things myself in the meanwhile. Hopefully. They never to seem have what you want anyway. Or want to give it to you." Cronyn scoffed a little and left the squad for now, gesturing to Trenn to keep an eye on his weapon while he was gone.

[Caimheul]

"Bloody bureaucrats." Nathin agrees. "Once you learn who to talk to it get a bit easier though."

[RandomLunatic]

"Weren't you listening?" Torin snapped. "I did give it to a cogboy. He's the one that broke it." He muttered something indecipherable and went back to cleaning.

Spoiler

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Status
Wounds: 0/11
Fatigue: 0/3
Other: N/A

Ammo
Lasgun: 60[4]
The Help: 6[4]
URGL: 1(Fire)[?/?]
Frag: 2
Krak: 4

[DrK]

The operator looks at the others as they scurry out towards the supply depots and he shrugs. "Hey Gunz. Fancy getting me one them fancy sharp lasguns them fancy boyz have got?"

Gunz looks at him, flicks the lho stick at him and heads off towards the Ninth and the 51st rifles with a crafty look in his eye.

Spoiler

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Check for the long las VS ~35 -some rarity (1d100)[52]
Check for a camo-cloak VS ~35 - rarity (1d100)[80]
Check for a red dot sight VS ~35 - rarity(1d100)[7]

Even as they wander off he looks at the chimera stroking the side of the beast gently as he carefully wipes off some of the mud. "Hey there girl. Just you and me eh?"

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Just waiting to head off

[LeSwordfish]

The mustering time rolls around, and with their new toys fixed in their webbing, the squad lined up outside warehouse three. The one with the big three stencilled on it.

"Alright, chaps." Salo began. "We're hitting an unusual target today. An archeological dig, in the city suburbs. Tac intel inside the city says that the dig sites are important to the people. Knock only knows why. Knock only knows why heretics do anything. Anyway, we're going in mounted and armed. Sniper cover from the nearby buildings, while the tanks and foot-mobiles clear the place out. Mostly prefab buildings and tents. Likely minimum resistance."

He pauses and clears his throat. "You'll be assigned extra grenades, and those of you with missile launchers should get a couple of special shells. We'll also be giving each squad an auspex. Scan the area a couple of times with this auspex. Not your vehicle-mounted one, this one. Interference, apparently."

"Any questions?"

Spoiler

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Mission Assignment rolls: (1d100)[6] vs 25 +10 (Ordinary) -10 (Violent Impasse) +0 (Minor importance)

(1d100)[24]
(1d100)[22]
(1d100)[10]

A few random rolls

Two degrees of success, you recieve a duplicate item. You each receive: 4 firebombs. As a squad you recieve: 2 mysterious Auspexes, four Scatter missiles. These will be given to you after the end of the briefing.

Common Lore (Tech) roll, from anyone who has it, please.

[watupwithdat]

A dig? Cronyn inserted one of the rounds into the open top the sniper rifle clip and expertly pressed it down into the clip with a low clicking sound.

"How open is this dig if we got sniper support from the nearby buildings?" He pressed another round into the clip with his thumb and threw the now full clip to Trenn to carry. He only carried one of the three extra clips on his person.

"I'm assuming we don't have to go underground to clear the place out?" He didn't feel like going underground in a dig site. It cramped his style.

[LeSwordfish]

"Its a surface dig. One-four meters deep, we believe. No tunnels involved."

[DaedalusMkV]

The Techpriest listens through the briefing silently, holding his dataslate in one hand and taking notes on the mission, though it turns out to be simple enough that there was little need for memory aids to begin with. "They defile the mysteries of this world... Do you have one of the Auspexes in question on hand, Lieutenant? I would like to familiarize myself with its Machine Spirits." The tech-priest seems curious, knowing as he does how difficult it can be to actively interfere with such venerable equipment.

Spoiler

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Common Lore (Tech) vs 45. (1d100)[40]

I can also give you tech-use and Forbidden Lore (AdMech), if it'll help at all.

[LeSwordfish]

Salo laughs. "You'll get your chance to play with it when it's given out. But there's nothing special. just a signal booster."

[Caimheul]

The squad's medic only half pays attention to the briefing. Regardless of what the mission is, his job essentially boils down to putting the other soldiers back together again, at least enough that they'll live long enough to reach the medical tent. his right hand rests fondly on his newly customized las pistol, the familiar metals newly incorporated into its frame providing him with a reminder of home. "Any word on what kind of weapons the heretics will be shooting at us El Tee?" he asks, in order to prepare for the kinds of wounds likely to result from a hit.

[watupwithdat]

Cronyn hit the bottom of the clip to make sure it was fastened properly in the rifle. "I'm guessing lasguns. Lots of them, Doc." the sniper interjected with, convinced he was being funny. He really wasn't. He gave Trenn a sour stare when the latter didn't laugh.

[RandomLunatic]

"No, that's a good question. What opposition are we expecting?" Not that intel ever got it right, which did make him wonder why he ever bothered asking.

[LeSwordfish]

"Lasguns is the smart money. Some squad support weapons, most likely stubbers or autocannons. Small chance of light armour. Darien was primarily a civilian forge world but reports from the first front suggest that some areas have been retasked as weapons and armour manufacture. We're facing off against the rearguard, but on the first front, they're reporting stormtrooper-grade gear, heavy artillery, and aircraft that we know for a fact weren't on-planet at the rebellion. I'm not going to lie, sooner or later, some of that will find its way over to our end."

"The gear is of comparable grade to stormtrooper gear." Emestos said. A mid-level magos attached to the command squad's chimera, he had stood almost silently besides Salo. "But the lack of the omnissiah's blessing curses them to inferiority." Emestos's forehead was metal, but his lower face was natural, allowing the squad to see his heavy jowls quiver as he spoke; combined with the wing-like cluster of mechandrites bolted to his shoulder blades, he looked like an angel with the face of a bulldog.

"Though i don't know how much that will affect their battlefield use." Salo offered diplomatically.

[Caimheul]

"Right, so likely just standard battlefield horrors." the medic replies, as he double checks his medkit for the usual treatments of las induced burn wounds, and forcibly created holes in limbs and torsos.

[DrK]

Doyle looks at the others and salutes the Lt before turning back to the chimera. Givinger her a stroke he murmurs "I still reckong your auspex is better sweetheart." Hopping he opens up the drivers console and the navigation cogitator. "Lets get going eh?" and suits the action by hitting the ignition and waiting for the rest of the squad and the sarge to embark.

[LeSwordfish]

Salo looked over the platoon and grunted. "I hope everyone's settling with their mechanicus representative well. You're stuck with them, remember." A small chuckle from the crowd, a dissaproving shift of the mechandrites from Emestos. "Collect your gear from the munitorum depot and meet at muster point nine. Primary vox-channel is four-oh-three, secondary is five-two-two. Objective sheets and maps will be given out with the gear, and may the grace of the god-emperor go with you."

A flurry of salutes. Emestos clicked his hands gently into the cog-wheel symbol.

---

The munitorum depot was a pile of crates set up in one of the larger warehouses, manned by an ex-soldier called Quaggs with an augumetic hip, and a group of servitors. Cronyn offered the requisition chit to Quaggs, who passed a scanner over it and grunted, before turning to the servitors and shouting quick instructions to them. Two began hauling heavy crates of clinking fire-bombs packed in plastek over to Nox Noctis Equa and strapped them onto the outside, another dumped a stack of bulbous scatter missiles into private Dipstick's surprised arms.

"Also, the auspex. I guess you'll be wanting this?" Quaggs offered the auspex to Varuck, who took it eagerly.

"There's one of them already in the box." Harkon called from the chimera, where he'd been checking the box of firebombs, but Quaggs had already turned away to shepherd a group of servitors carrying a pallet of autocannon rounds with gleeful disregard for the laws of physics.

Harkon jogged over to Varuck, and compared auspexes. Both were normal size and shape, but the aerials were heavier and chunkier than most, and they seemed to have at one point been painted Mechanicus red. They didn't have the usual dial for changing modes: just the one setting. Varuck turned it on; it took a second to warm up and then the needle lazily scrolled around the face. Whatever it was searching for, it didn't find it: no contacts were reported.

"This one's broken too." Harkon reported, giving it a slap on the side. "Looks like there's something written on the back."

[RandomLunatic]

Eagerly awaiting the box of Fire Bombs, Torin helped open it up. Noticing the somewhat less-than-functional state of the auspexes, he called to mind the usual rule for dealing with Munitorum. On time, done right, and useful. Pick two. Wisely, Torin kept the minor heresy to himself.

"Well, you got any idea what this hunk of..." Torin started to ask the Enginseer, taking one of the Auspexes and holding up the device facing him/it, but trailed off as he noticed the writing on the bottom. The script reminded him of what he saw growing up in the Noble's estates back on Mordian...

[Caimheul]

"Y'all didn't sign a chit for the spare didja? Might be useful having a replacement should something happen ta the other in the field. Course, if'n our dully appointed Adeptus Mechanicus representative took a notion in their head to pop it open in order ta get a better understanding why these fancy gadgets are supposed ta work better than the one on the Nox, I wouldn't say a word. Observing the proper rituals of course." the medic drawls, wondering if such a device has any intrinsic value that would come in handy for bartering later.

[SlyJohnny]

Sergeant Jarren strolls over to his squad as they prepare the Chimera. He's looking a good deal better since the last time you saw him, writhing on an operating table back on the navy ship. He'd been convalescent after a flamer exploded next to him, leaving him screaming and awash in promethium. Now his blue uniform is neatly pressed and cleaned, and his skin doesn't even have burns or scarring; his muscled frame ripples strangely as he moves. He has a massive, two-handed chainsaw slung over his back, of a type you've sometimes seen the more fanatical priests carry in to battle. They tend to charge enemy tanks with it and get awarded medals of valor posthumously. He wasted his time requisitioning that?

He moves over to Wolfe, clapping him on the shoulder. "Doc, I never did thank you for pulling me out of that mess. Couldn't want for a better medic. You're the salt of the damned planet." he says, his distinctive voice ringing out over the bay. His Mordian accent is a curious blend of underhive dialect and the High Gothic he was taught from birth.

He looks out over his men, and nods. "Gentlemen! It's really good to see you're all still here. I was worried I'd be breaking in a bunch of new blood. In the interests of doing this operation with a lot less fire than previous, I'd like Corporal Doyle to crack open the spare auspex, so he can take a look and tell us all what the hell is going on with it, and why Command thinks our normal gear isn't going to cut the mustard."

He glances over, spotting the new tech-priest, and adds, "...After apologizing to it and supplying the necessary prayers and supplications, of course. Perhaps our new tech-priest would like to assist in this... routine inspection, of our issued gear?"

He's staring impassively at the tech-priest, at this new, strange addition to the well-oiled machine that is his squad of trusted allies, not sure what to make of him.

[DrK]

Doyle looks up as the Sarge wanders back over to the squad. His head popping up out of the viewing slit before he nods and potters across. "What's going eh? A new toy?" His lasgun with a gleaming red dot sight on it he leaves beside the cramped driver's seat.

Spoiler

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Tech use (1d100)[41] TN 39

Even as he looks at the auspex he glances up at the Sarge and jerks a finger to the "She's fuelled, loaded and ready to rock"