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Conall noticed the doors and signs, wondering if any ships were in the loading/fueling area. Nodding in the direction to Naaman, he moved towards it as quickly as possible, least the remaining heretical cowards attempt to flee via spacecraft.
Spoiler
Moving towards the doors, looking for a way to open it (assuming it's not into open space). Guessing there's basically a room between both hangers to handle fueling and weapons arming activities (even though the loaders appeared to be in the last hanger ... maybe I'm missing the point yet again!)
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
Conall noticed the doors and signs, wondering if any ships were in the loading/fueling area. Nodding in the direction to Naaman, he moved towards it as quickly as possible, least the remaining heretical cowards attempt to flee via spacecraft.
Spoiler
Moving towards the doors, looking for a way to open it (assuming it's not into open space). Guessing there's basically a room between both hangers to handle fueling and weapons arming activities (even though the loaders appeared to be in the last hanger ... maybe I'm missing the point yet again!)
Spoiler
The loaders were little 500gallon fuellers or small trolleys carrying a dozen or so missiles. The space in between the two hangars is where the main ordinance and fuel stores are that supply all 4 squadrons. The stuff you've been wandering around and blowing up are the ready stocks that are brought out into the flight deck as having the main ordinace stores or main fuel lines in the same place as lots of moving void fighters would be a poor plan.
The marines approach the very large and well reinforced door to the fuel control centre. 3 large fuel trucks parked beside the door a clear indication of where the door leads. A selection of key cards in the fuel trucks may allow easy access to the fuel depot- sloppy discipline.
The door slides open revealing a mass vast fuel tanks, huge 3 metre thick fuel pipes dripping forst and water vapour from the liquid nitrogen cooled sheathes around the promethium lines. Both of you pick up movement within the maze of pipework as shadows dance in flicker in the faint glow of blue and red status and warning lights...
Conall approached cautiously, eyes scanning the shadows that moved. While it seemed most unlikely that the remaining elite troops would rush to hide here, the Storm Warden refused to assume the threat was negligible just yet. The weapons and fuel stores here made it an ideal spot for sabotage.
Spoiler
Awareness 44 (54 vs sight/hearing-based checks): (1d100)[31]
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
The two marines pause on the threshold of the maze of huge ice coated fuel pipes looking for movement. Helmets cracked and battered and blood blisters in his eyes Namaan can see nothing. Conall however is not as wounded and can see more clearly, the crouched shapes of maybe 10-15 armed guards all trying to hide out of sight, but all carefully aiming guns at the two marines in the doorway...
Spoiler
Its a magnitude 30 horde of tech-related troops hiding out in here. All wearing thick polar gear to cope with the cold. Armed with bolt guns for the most part.
The fuel is both valuable and dangerous so tech-priests and their guards reside in the area to keep it safe.
Makradon engages his servo arm, attempting to pry open the doors so he can chase the fleeing navigator.
Spoiler
(1d100)[43]
assuming success (Servo Arm is S75 with Unnatural x2)
As the doors tear open, he call across the room "Librarian, follow the navigator! YOur jump pack will let you descend fast. I will be right behind you."
Conall continued to scan the darkness, but under his breath he growled to Naaman, "There ..."
With little warning, he launched himself forward, charging the group of troops with weapons at the ready.
Time to bring Death to the enemy once more ...
Spoiler
Charge failed!
EDIT
... unfortunately, the pipes and hoses kept him from reaching his target, slowing his speeds so he didn't accidentally slam into a fuel line. So close, and yet so far ...
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
The massive storm warden gets tangeld up in some pipes as he jets forward, landing in a large cloud of steam and vast plumes of nitrogen. The heavy insulated guards in the room cut loose, sprayiny vast clouds of bolter fire at both Namaan and Conall...
Spoiler
At Namaan Full auto (1d100)[93]TN 65
Dodge (1d100)[90]TN ~40 Damage 1 (2d10+5)[18] or (2d10+5)[11] PEN 4
Damage 2 (2d10+5)[11] or (2d10+5)[15] PEN 4
Damage 3 (2d10+5)[14] or (2d10+5)[12] PEN 4
-- Missed
At Conall Full auto (1d100)[21]TN 65
Dodge (1d100)[26]TN ~40
Damage 1 (2d10+5)[8] or (2d10+5)[20] PEN 4
Damage 2 (2d10+5)[15] or (2d10+5)[15] PEN 4 Damage 3 (2d10+5)[18] or (2d10+5)[15] PEN 4
- Hit 4 times but dodged 2
Conall growled as the terrain fouled his plan to lay into the heretics, leaving him vulnerable to their bolter fire. One pierced his armor, tearing into his forearm. Growling, he gripped his blade and launched himself forward yet again, this time making his way with deadly accuracy into the heart of the remaining troops.
The hail of bolter shells criss cross the fuel pipes and fuel lines striking sparks off both of the marines as the return fire tears apart a dozen men in carefully controlled bursts that see all the bolts rip and tear through flesh rather than fuel lines.
The battle goes even worse for the guards as an 8ft tall armoured monster with a 6ft plank of razor sharp steel lands amidst them and in a whirl of destruction cuts through another half dozen shattering the morale of the small horde...
Spoiler
Well with over 26 magnitude damage in a mere 6 seconds they (1d100)[74]TN 36 break, the last couple fleeing into the depths of the piping...
As you butcher some more hapless guards you can feel the ship shudder under your feet as the plasma engines light up on the Goliath. You hear warnings rattling and crackling on your helmet voxes "Boarding clamps failing... goliath break away... recall.. fall... pride...
Conall glanced around, looking for more victims, but found his foes had all fled. Searching the hive of pipes, he wondered where the tech-priests for this area resided. Surely the would have valuable information concerning the ship and it's heretical origins.
A beeping from the helmet at his waist attracted his attention. Pressing a button, he listened to the crackling vox transmissions, face passive in response. Glancing at Naaman, he raised a single eyebrow, waiting for Brother Librarian Kol to speak.
Spoiler
Seems appropriate to wait for the Mission Leader to speak up first ... of course, if we don't hear anything quickly, Conall will be inclinded to feel the others that went to disable the engines / bridge have not yet been successful - that would be his next objective.
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
The vox crackled with static, an ominous silence lasting a few seconds too long. Nothing had been heard from the rest of the Kill Team, and while there was little that could stop an Astartes both Conall and Namaan bore heavy wounds from the battles they had seen in as they'd ravaged the bowels of the ship. Still both could feel the dull thrum of plasma drives firing up and faint creaking from the where the two great vessles brushed against each other...
Kol and Makradon
The transport tube plunged downwards, still visble in the dark sight lenses of the armoured helmet, the readout rapidly increasing with a track of descent of the lift that had centred in his targeting sensors. hearing nothing but silence from the Librarian he galnced back and saw the massive mechanoid captain toppling backwards slowly even as the Librarian sunk to his knees exhausted by the titanic battle... It would have to be up to him.
"Lion preserve us," Makradon whispered as he leapt into the void after the descending tube. As he fell, his servo arm whipped out pressed against the wall - driving his boots into the opposite wall of the shat, creating a small amount of friction that slowed his descent to hopefully survivable speeds.
Conall waited the appropriate amount of time for a response, then turned to his brother. Standard kill-team protocols suggested that the rest of the team was either out of effective vox-range, or were unable to reply due to EMCON requirements. There was always the possibility that their brothers had been killed, but the probability that three Astartes had been slain over the course of this boarding seemed very low.
Regardless, there were still objectives to be met, with or without the others. Most notably the Primary Objective was to Secure or Disable the Goliath. Looking to Naaman, Conall nodded towards the doors they had entered through. "Bridge or Engines?"
One way or another, the Emperor's will would be done and justice delivered to the heretics aboard this ship.
Spoiler
Not sure which one makes more sense ... disabling the engines should definitely disable the ship, but if there is another place where the pilots would be besides where Kol and Makradon headed, that's where Conall would want to go.
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
Conall nodded. He agreed with the point, but also knew it took more effort to watch after the wounded than it took to leave a body behind. If the intent was to control the spacecraft for future use, disabling the engines may not serve that overarching perspective.
At least not the way Conall and Naaman practiced the art of 'disabling.'
Either way, standing still was serving no purpose but to let the Goliath attempt to move further from the battle. Reloading his bolter, Conall moved with Naaman towards the engines.
Spoiler
Hopefully this makes sense ... if the plasma refinery is a more appropriate place to disable the ships movements, then we can head there. However, I think Conall and Naaman are seeking to lay some 'disabling' on the engine section. Whether that's people, places or things remains to be seen - but seeing as how Conall doesn't have a Tech Use skill, I imagine it will be rudamentary (and destructive) in nature.
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
The half ton weight shatters the inside of the lift shaft tearing strips of metal and twisted wiring from the walls as he lands on the roof, the 10m call being absorbed by the shock absorbers and heavy armour plating - the marine's muscled frame ignoring an impact that would have shattered a mere mortal.
From inside the lift there is a Yowl of terror and fear...
Conall and Namaan
As you leave the shattered hangars and turn sternwards you encounter a few small pockets of enemy resistance who melt away and flee before the onslaught of the two marines. The ship continues to vibrate and shake as the engines strain against the boarding grapples and all of the troops from the Sin of Pride that they encounter are streaming back towards the bording collars in good array, laying down coverin fire and pulling back proud of their actions.
As you push sternwards the corridors change in tone, becoming darker and less finished with more exposed plating and conduits. The sound of the engines becomes louder and your temperature monitors start to inidicate a rise in ambient temperature...
As you pound down the corridor you can hear voices ahead and a cackling insane voice raised in prayer. he sound echoing from around the next junction.
With a whispered apology to the machine spirits of the ship, Makradon lashes out with his Servoarm, seeking to create an opening in the ceiling of the lift that he can enter by.
Conall readied his blade, listening to the voices as he approached the corner. Certainly the voice sounded fanatical, which aboard a ship such as this called for direct measures.
Conall peered around the corner, looking for the source of the ranting, anxious to deliver his own brand of fanaticism to whoever was waiting on the other side ...
Spoiler
Not sure if you need anything roll-wise, but Conall speaks Low and High Gothic, if the speech is in either tongue.
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
The top of the lift transport tube peels back like a can of ship's rations. THe navigator lies beneath, a look of terror on all 3 of his eyes. The 3rd one snaps open, a blazing light of pure chaos streaming forth to engulf the techmarine in the blazing light of pure warp energy...
Spoiler
WP test (1d100)[49]TN 54
1d10 eneryg per D.O.S (or maybe 2 D.O.S I'll check in a bit) (5d10)[8][10][6][3][3](30)- should cover all eventuallities
Conall and Namaan
The scene around the corridor's edge is a worrying one. The hereteks on board this vessle have clearly readied themselves for a battle at the sanctified adamantine doors to the vast chambers holding the plasma drives. A huge hallway beckons youm some 100m square. In the centre a vast spinning holographic depiction of the ship, hugely detailed and still mostly translucent with massive steel curtains decorated with images of the corrupted tech priests hanging down the walls. On the far side of this strange temple to technology lies the huge doors into the engine chambers, and in front of that an improptu defence line.
Standing behind hastily erected barricades lies a veritable horde of what can only be called 40-50 ex-skitarri. A motely collection of cybernetically enhanced warriors with backpack powered hellguns in all encompassing carapace body armour, long red dress overcoats with a huge grinning steel skull emblazoned on the front and large goggles and respirators covering their faces. Behind them lies a hastily modifed dreadnaught of sorts. A cargo-lifter dominating the room, a full 3 times the height of the man with armoured plates still glowing warm from the welding. Massive crackling claw on the left side and a hastily welded and assembled auto-cannon on the right. In the piloting chamber a cowled figure with long cybernetic tendrils worming into the modified lifter....
Spoiler
Basically a cobbled togther tech priest dread knight and a large hored of 60 magnitude.
Conall, seeing the long expanse of corridor, moved quickly towards the foe, using any and all cover to limit any defensive shots at him. Here, patience was the order of the moment, and trusting Naaman to whittle away the horde of heretics as he himself closed the gap.
Spoiler
Not sure how long it will take, but Conall will use tactical movement as much as possible, assuming he cannot reach the horde quicker.
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
As the storm warden bursts out from hiding the massed ranks of Skitarri and the mechandrite wielding techno-mages commanding look up, rapidly followed by dozens of red lasrer targeting icons that paint a light show of flickering red beams around the massive storm warden...
Spoiler
There is very littled cover across the vast cathedral like space, they tried to make an effective killing ground.
Falling through the blaze of raw energy from the warp the techmarine thudded loudly into the base of the crippled lift car. Servo arm and massive power armoured gauntlets grabbing the struggling human who writhes and thrashes like a small beast in a giant's grip...
Spoiler
Opposed strength test as he struggles against the Str75 servo arm (1d100)[67]TN 33 VS (1d100)[12]TN 75 +1 DoS from the unnatural ness.
The techmarine crawled out the shredded transport tube the navigator unconcious in his servo-arm as the he pulled himself out into the burning remains of the bridge. THe librarian still stood slumped, sunken on one knee, force sword lodged into the metallic cyber-augmented skull of the enemy captain. Both sheathed in blood and vicseral fluids. The techmarine's auspex flickered into life displaying a wealth of warning sigils as it tracked the signals from the mechandrites connecting the captain to the ship.
HERESY! The foul heretek had become one with the ship. Now with the death of the captain the ship was beginning its death throes. As the marine went to warn his fellows over the microbead static buzzed in his ear- the heretek's last gift as comms black out washed over the ship trapping the invaders and crew alike in the rapidly dying vessel.
Makradon knew his duty. Navigator in one arm he seized his Blood Angel fellow and returned to the transport tubes striding through the ruined corridors in a trail of death laced promethium reaching a boarding collar just as it disengaged as he joined his the rest of the crew on the Sin of Pride...
Ivar
An officer in tow the space wolf approached a console. A swift blow with a combat knife removed the officer's arm, the still smoking barrel of the heavy bolter cauterising the wound. THe hand activated the hololiths and the data retrival system as the Scout marine captured what data he could from the ships archaic and corrupted systems before stealing back towards the boarding collars and reboarding the Sin of Pride as the call to fall back happened...
Conall and Namaan
The two marines unleashed hell in the vast echoing shrine to the faith of Mars. Conall plunged through the air on plumes of fire battling the dread knight as autocannon shells and lasfire superheated the air around him, his sword carving a hole through the troops in his way. The dreadknight clashed with him, ten tons of metal battling the will and arm of one super-human Astartes. In moments it was over- the slow lumbering metallic monster no match for a marine honed with centuries of violence, the claymore hacking through the autocannon before a second hack crushed the pilot.
As Conall battled the dreadknight the devastater stalked across the floor of the room unmindful of the danger. The lasfire bouncing off his armoured hide sending it glowing red hot again as he spewed death from the heavy bolter- metal storm rounds sending chunks of human and cyborg across the large room as he cut down dozens of the heretic troops.
Minutes later it was over the two marines, leaking blood from wounds in their battle scarred armour surrounded by the steaming bloodied dead. As the marines opened the doors into the heart of the engines static crackled in their helmet microbeads...
THe engine room was a wall of plasma flames and fire as the reactors began to overload as the unseen dying Captain consigned the the ship to a fiery death. THe marines trapped in the engine room surely would have no chance...
An hour later...
Sensors on the Sin of Pride chimed on the 14th deck starboard forrard emergency hatch. The nearby warrant officer, still compiling the damage reports, activated the security pict recorders summoning the nearby security forces as sounds of metal on metal echoed into the corridor.
With a hiss of smoke and the wail of void alarms the emergency air lock swung open... a disarmed torpedo floating away into the nebula as two scarred and smoking battle damaged giants advanced onto the vessel. Assumed dead by all Conall and Namaan strode down the corridor, the glare from the battle damaged helms leaving the guardsman trembling and terrified. Angels of Death indeed, even the plasma explosion of a dying warship unable to kill the super human creatures....
Spoiler
All marines gain 800XP
I'll work out renown a edit in a bit,
Conall strode forward, removing his helm and fixing his eyes straight ahead as he made his way towards the Deathwatch quarters. The mission had been successful, until their adversary had cravenly destroyed their own ship. The final dregs of resistance had at least offered them battle, but it felt hollow, given the self-destruction of the ship.
Now was not the time for personal reverie, however. He was focused on returning to his brothers for the debrief they would no doubt be entrenched in right now. Glancing back to Naaman, a faint smile spoke volumes of his perception of the Dark Angel's actions this day, and the trust Naaman had earned with his ferocity and steadfastness.
"Glorious," was all he said, but it was more than enough.
__________________ 4-day weekend with no wi-fi. Posting will be via cellphone - sporadic and short. Back on Tuesday!
DM: "Why do you have so many characters?"
Me: "Because I never embraced the strategic value of running away."
Makradon is perturbed by the heretekal nature of the enemy ship's command systems, but he maintains his compsure. Ignoring the humans around him, he carries the limp form of the kill-team's librarian to the chiurgical chambers attached to the chapel where they were barracked. Makradon knew only enough of the medicae arts to strip Kol's armor and place him where the medical servitors could scan him.
The massive sanctum cathedral chapel has been cleaned as the battle scarred marines re-enter the vast space. Only a few blood smears scraping the floor reveal where the enemy boarding party had made a terminal mistake.
Still in the shadows cowled serfs of the deathwatch in their black robes directed servitors and began to reconsecrate any of the sacred figures of the Saints that had been despoiled by the heretic blood.
Medical servitors move forward to collect Kol, the Librarian's body being born back to the medicae bay with utmost respect, his chest still moving faintly. In the chapel other armoured statues stood, such as Ardelan once of the Angel's Encarmine, nodding respectfully as Makradon, Namaan and Conall returned. Their personal serf's coming forward to take and care for their dented and in Namaan's case still smoking heavy bolter.
Watch Captain Ragal glanced at the returning marines, Brother Ivar already awaiting them, his armaments already taken away to be cared for by the chapter servitors. "You have earned honour and claimed the blood of the heretic. Lord Theocles has sent words of thanks and respect for our aid in the battle"
Spoiler
The returning marines each earn 4 renown for their actions.
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Re: The Sin of Pride - Deathwatch
