|Topic Review (Newest First)|
|04-11-15 05:20 AM|
The jostling and throttle of the Revenant as it broke the atmosphere of Isstvan shook Corvis from the reverie of imagining the doomed planet below. Even from above in space, Isstvan flared with the bright eruptions of flame as the backs of three Legions were broken on its surface. A primarch also lay dead, if the half-rushed chatter was to be true and yet this was only the beginning. An Imperium of lies still needed to be crushed and Corvis would follow his Primarch to the vengeance that would be theirs. Lost in malicious thought, Corvis opened his eyes to finally examine the rest of First Claw assembled in the Revenant as she raced through the void to the waiting Maiden of Sorrow.
Battered, bloody, but unbroken, First Claw looked a grim but determined sight, as well as the Iron Warrior with the perpetual smell of oil and grease. Examining his comrades, the Young Blood halted his gaze on the new blood in the Claw, Kesh. “A month till that hairless brute trips and blows his feet off with that plasma gun” Corvis wagered in his head as he snickered his empty grin. The Young Blood did not know why Xandrek had seen fit to allow some half-cocked destroyer into First Claw, but he knew better than to question Xandrek’s motives. Besides, it would appear First Claw would need some fresh blood in the short term if the crippled Champion was any indication.
Mangled and covered in his own drying blood, Azrael looked a pitiful sight, the stumps of most of his extremities being seen too by Veptus and Xheng. “The foolish Terran would probably prefer death after the ministrations of those two” Corvis mused, thinking back the condemned Legionnaire Shen, the sight of Xheng hovering over him like a crow not ready to wait for his prey to die before swooping in. The Young Blood still did not know what had transpired between the Champion and Xandrek down below on the surface, but he made a point to find out. The politics of the VIIIth Legion were as volatile as they were shadowed; and if Night Lords were masters of any one thing, it was operating in the shadows. No other Legion could make that boast in front of Konrad Kurze’s sons, at least not without losing their tongues. Not the Alpha Legion and its incessant need for planning, not the Raven Guard and their inane attempts at subterfuge, and most certainly not the mechanical automatons of Perturabo.
Thinking of the unwelcome guest, Corvis turned his pitch black eyes to the foreigner strapped into the Revenant with the rest of First Claw. While it was true for Legionnaires of separate Legions to detach themselves from their companies and serve under a different Primarch, now that Horus had openly defied the Emperor and set the galaxy aflame it seemed a rather ill time for exchanging brothers to different Legions. “Besides, what does that Olympian know of Kurze’s way of war” Corvis silently mouthed, the sound of his voice lost beneath the rattle of the hull as it closed in on the Maiden of Sorrow. Iron Warriors are merely a hammer to break upon the enemy. And if Corvis was brutally honest, and he was anything if not honest, Rogal Dorn and his Imperial Fists were far better at siege warfare than the sons of Perturabo ever could muster. Still, if the Lord of Lies seemed to deem the Iron Warrior of use, then Corvis would not challenge his Lord. Watching the Olympian lost navigating the lightless halls of the Maiden will at least provide some entertainment in between warzones, Corvis thought, enjoying the image of the brutish Astartes stranded in the black depths of the cruiser. Who knows, maybe an accident might befall the stone faced marine down there, where no sound will ever be heard.
Gripping his harness, Corvis could feel the Revenant slow as she landed in the hangar bay of the Maiden. Hitting the release, Corvis unhooked his harness and stood as the rest of First Claw began to rise from their seats. A fresh scent wafted up the Young Blood’s nose as he waited for the ramp to lower. Senses heightened by gene-seed implants and years of training were unnecessary for one used to the violence of Nostramo. One of the astartes in the Revenant’s hold was losing a lot of blood. And judging by the strong metallic tang to the scent, Corvis guessed that the Iron Warrior had suffered more damage than he appeared to be letting on. “At least Azrael will have company in the Apothecarium” Corvis mused, barely caring to notice the unconscious Terran as the hiss of hydraulic gears lowered the ramp. Walking down with the rest of First Claw, Corvis took in the sight of the Maiden’s hold, oddly glad to be back in its lightless embrace.
"Veptus, Xheng, Pelegon, Azrael get yourselves to the Apocatherion and get yourselves patch up. Veptus you are to make sure Azrael is ready for bionic replacements of the limbs he has lost, but see to Pelegon first." Xandrek ordered before abruptly departing.
Clearly dismissed, Corvis began to make his own way before being stopped by Apothecary Xheng as he was leaving with his charges. “Return to the Apocatherion when you are ready 'Young Blood' and I will once again see to that face of yours, with any luck I might be able to salvage some of your original appearance though you wouldn't win a Beauty contest with one of the Phoenician's powdered peacocks." Xheng wheezed. Corvis stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Xheng making a joke. “It’s good to see I’m not the only one on this ship with a sense of humor” Corvis said to no one as he watched Xheng retreat into the Maiden’s halls.
Rather than waiting for one of his fellow Claw, Corvis strode off on his own down the halls of the Maiden, putting the Apothecarium from his mind for now as he had a different destination in mind. Traversing the lightless halls was comfort to Corvis he always took for granted. Only in the pitch black gangways and veins of the Maiden could Corvis remember Nostramo, now a charred husk of asteroids floating through space. His nostalgia carried him through the halls of Maiden, passing crewmen making their way carefully by what little light was available to them, and into the sweltering furnace of the armory.
The cacophonous noise blasting throughout the armory assaulting Corvis’ senses almost threatened to overwhelm him briefly. Tech-marines hammered armor back into place, sat hunched over fine-tuning explosives, directing servitors carrying crates of munitions, and everything else that kept the Astartes aboard the Maiden capable of waging war against the False Emperor. Carefully stepping in between servitors and other Astartes doing business down here, Corvis finally noticed a tech-marine finish a breastplate of MK IV armor and set it on an armor stand before stretching his arms.
“Brother Tech-marine” Corvis stated flatly as he approached the Mechanicus trained astartes. The tech-marine gave only the faintest tilt of his head to acknowledge the Young Blood’s presence. Gritting his teeth to avoid saying anything antagonizing, Corvis began disassemble his armor. Handing his pauldrons over to the tech-marine, the Young Blood then unhooked his side-arm, “I’ll need fresh cells for the pistol and two krak grenades, along with seeing to the damage to my armor” Corvis listed off his needs, trying his best to be diplomatic lest his armor come back worse for wear or his grenades mysteriously explode too soon. “We’re backed up trying to re-supply the company after the adventure down planetside” the tech-marine said looking down at his roster, “Leave your armor here and return later, someone will see to your equipment. Munitions wise, Isstvan has required even more resources than we anticipated for the Maiden. Servitors are bringing up fresh supplies from secondary depots. When you return later we’ll have your munitions refilled.” Sighing, Corvis did not dare argue. He may not like being kept waiting, but with the fighting over on Isstvan he had time to spare. “Expect one of my serfs here to claim my equipment” Corvis said. Not waiting to see the tech-marine acknowledge him, Corvis began his walk back into the depths of the Maiden. As he approached the gateway, the Young Blood saw Kesh enter the armory proper. Not bothering to waste time, Corvis gave only a nod of his head in recognition of the new additions presence before making his way to his personal quarters
Finding his personal quarters, Corvis swung the door open to see his two serfs meticulously cleaning their serrated blades over a bowl of dark hued water while two laspistols lay disassembled next to several empty power cells. “Well, it would appear I have caught you both ‘red-handed’” Corvis said nonchalantly, as he entered and closed the steel door. “My lord” they both spoke in unison upon seeing their master.
Stretching his arms, relaxing finally in the comfort of his quarters, Corvis strode through his chamber to his equipment bench and placed his plasma pistol on the metal slab before unhooking his lightning claw. “The sights were knocked loose during the engagement” Corvis said looking down at his pistol, not bothering to check if Primus was listening. Ever since coming into his service, Primus had always seen to Corvis’ weapons. The old fool said he trusted no one else to handle his master’s weaponry, but Corvis wagered the leathery killer didn’t want to risk losing his position serving a Night Lord. “And check the photohydrogen power cell; it seemed to be heating faster than normal. If it’s cracked or damaged take it to the armory”.
Moving over to his armor stand, Corvis began unhooking his breastplate, then his gauntlets and boots before placing each into their place. “Secundus, see to it this armor is cleaned from the grit, grime, and gore by the time I return.” Corvis said, placing his helmet upon the stand, leaving only the pauldrons being seen to by the tech-marines missing from the picture. “Of course, lord” Secundus quickly returned. Breaking his gaze from his midnight blue armor, Corvis turned to finally regard his serfs. “So, did you handle that bit of business from before we launched planetside?” Corvis questioned, knowing he already had his answer.
With a savage gleam in both their eyes, the two servants sheathed their knives and cleared their space. Motioning with his weathered hand, Primus pointed to a roll of leather Corvis had not noticed upon entering. Something was different about this bundle of leather though; it wasn’t grox-hide or synthetic leather but something only Night Lords enjoyed dabbling in. “We would have brought you his face, lord, but it seemed better suited on Xnema after we had finished with him” Secundus said, his malicious grin splitting his face.
“After you and your brothers launched, the crew was completely occupied with the engagement.” Primus said as Corvis unrolled the human hide perfectly flensed. “Between the constant warning klaxons and the thundering of the cannons, it was a simple task finding Xnema and his lot without discovery. Secundus and I dispatched most of those fools, along with the help of some teamsters from the artillery decks who are constant customers for our alcohol.” Primus continued, “We hoisted the pathetic wretch up high for all to see, but not before flaying the fool. Waste not want not, they say” Primus said, causing even Corvis to laugh with the two maniacs.
“We were careful to make sure no one saw our coming or going, my lord. With any luck, Remus and his ilk will take the message and steer clear of our area. At the very least, the agri-workers and stall merchants are grateful to have some peace, and some semblance of order is at least holding sway, however brief it may be” Secundus followed, his eyes rolling at the thought of the next vagabond that wanted to encroach on the two serfs business.
Corvis rarely felt anything for humans, preferring instead his role as a post-human warrior. Still, at this moment the Young Blood couldn’t help but feel pride in his servant’s accomplishments. “The Maiden may be crewed by Night Lords, but it is maintained by the lessons learned from the Night Haunter. Job well done, the both of you” Corvis said, his predator smile giving only the false impression of impending murder. “See to it the both of you make your way to the armor later on. I’m expecting my pauldrons to be repaired along with a resupply of plasma fuel flasks and krak grenades. Don’t let those half-skitarii try and stiff you.” Corvis said as he donned his Legion robes, imagining the two of them trying to haggle with an astartes trained by the Mechanicum. The two servants nodded before Primus piped up, “Lord, will you be needing an Apothecary for that wound? Your exertions seem to have opened the stitching”. Corvis had completely forgotten about his wound, his astartes physiology having dulled the pain to just a distant throb. “I suppose I do. I’m sure Veptus and his entourage of sadists will enjoy my cheerful company” Corvis said as his serfs bowed watching their liege exit. As the steel door shut again, the two servants looked at each other before examining the work their master left for them. Sighing, the two picked up their tools and set about cleaning and maintaining their lord’s equipment, again.
Retracing his steps, Corvis easily found the Apothecarium, its helix symbol in contrast to the blackness just at its doorstep. Walking through the entrance, Corvis came into a busy scene. On a medical slab, Corvis spotted the Iron Warrior who had been attached to 4th company. Xheng was finishing up on his work as Corvis made his way through the medical facility. Finding an empty seat, Corvis waited for Xheng to dismiss Pelegon before making his way over to the Young Blood. “This shouldn’t take long” the Minoris said as he injected Corvis with a numbing agent and painkillers. Feeling the cold touch of the Apothecary gripping him before beginning to sterilize and stitch the wound closed, Corvis allowed his mind to drift away, to relive the battle that just occurred hours before and to contemplate what Xandrek had in store for them.
|04-10-15 07:25 PM|
Tyberus watched silently, a grin crossing his lips beneath his helm as he watched the Destroyer take up the role of intimidating and harrying the newly annointed member of First Claw. His name was Kesh, or Ketz, something along those lines. Serhiy circled about the newcomer, speaking in thinly veiled threats, it made Tyberus laugh, his low rumble emerging from the vox.
"Destroyer, for this new blood to heed your threat, he would need to be able to understand your jib and threat through your garbled vox," he spoke mockingly of the Destroyers ruined vocal chords, supplanted by a vox. He then turned to the newcomer, "Do not be confused by Serhiy's circuitous manner of speaking, he, or I, or any of First Claw will maim and kill you at first sight of weakness or hesitation to follow the command of Captain Xandrek."
Tyberus voiced words he did not wholly believe in himself. He knew Xandrek was a Captain truly worthy of the title, but he found his chosen company to be lacking, Veptus, the vile worm had slithered his way many years before into the ear of the Captain, Azrael, the former Champion now stood, or rather lay in recover upon slabsteel awaiting his sentence for so blatantly disavowing his oaths and allowing a Champion of the Raven Guard to escape their duel alive. Tyberus quietly resolved to become the new Champion of First Claw, his skills in close combat were near unrivaled, and his birth on Nocturne gave hold to the prospect that he could be named Champion in light of Azrael's recent failings of both mind and now his state of body.
Tyberus opened a squad wide vox including to Captain Xandrek, expecting no reply from the Captain was only rarely prone to speaking to those not in his inner circle, even among his chosen Claw. "I go to rearm myself and prepare for immediate redeployment if those are to be our orders." , His intent was clear enough, to show that he was preparing to go to war at a moment's notice at his Captain's word. With that he marched heavily towards the armory. His plate was covered in gore and his weapons were slick with oil and blood. His storm bolter would need proper inspection and litanies of maintenance, the dust and grime of the planet having bored their way into the moving parts of the slide and feed mechanisms. Since their time aboard NightFall, the witness of the relic chainblade had been etched in his mind, the keen edged teeth shimmered in his mind's eye as he thought about the glories this war would bring to him.
|04-10-15 04:51 PM|
That the Night Lords would insist on him receiving immediate medical attention Pelegon had forseen; for it to be Nyx to threat, though subtly, that it was going to happen regardless of consent, was surprising. Injured as he was, and with Nyx clad in cataphractii plate, he judged that any wrestle between them would be short-lived. Without a word, Pelegon handed the sergeant his newly-obtained thunder hammer, having no mag-lock on which to place it, and maneuvered himself onto the operating table, which creaked a little under his weight, taking his helmet off. Beneath, the area round his mouth was covered in semi-crusted chunks of dried blood, as was his gorget, from where he had coughed up a considerable portion, and several of the blood vessels under his eyes had burst from the hammer's pressure wave, lending him the appearance of heavy upper cheek bruising.
Nyx raised a dark eyebrow at this, to which Pelegon shrugged and lay back, awaiting Veptus' attention - he caught murmurs in Nostraman as their Primaris talked to another apothecary who was tending to his wounds, but his ear canals felt engorged - likely due to the impact from the hammer, again - and with his rudimentary grasp of the language could pick up nothing.
As he lay back, staring at the crazed tangle of brass pipework that constituted the ceiling, Pelegon realised with a slight shock that that had been the first pitched battle in which he had ever fought - up until now, the Iron Warrior had only ever undertaken siege warfare. It had been most similar to the storming of a breach, though less immediately bloody and more drawn-out. None of the fortifying, digging, taking ground inch by bloody inch, none of the waiting. That was the strangest - to have started and finished a battle in a single day, an experience that had previously been contained to Pelegon's training exercises as a neophyte many years previously. Yet, in spite of the glory, in spite of the immediate satisfaction of getting to crush his foes with his hands without having to pull them kicking and screaming from a bunker beforehand, it just did not sit right with the Olympian. It lacked the intellectual crunch that he and his brethren so savoured, the mental challenge of calculation to multiple decimal places, the minimization of errors - to him, the first shot of any battle was fired from the nib of a pen. Though it had given him immediate respite to fight so quickly, it did not feel as earned as it might have been had he thought his enemy to have stood a chance in the first place.
Pelegon was brought out of his reflective state by the advent of Veptus, who came over with another apothecary - though it was not the one who had been operating on him, he noticed.
"Now Pelegon, normally I would anesthetise you, but I assume you won’t play along now will you?”
Pelegon nodded, his dark eyes boring into the apothecary's pitch-black ones.
“Can you believe that Azoth? He doesn’t trust me to only cut him open.” Veptus turned his head, his face feigning indignation. Azoth grunted.
“Shocking Corpse-Master. Truly this latest betrayal supersedes today’s, frankly, insignificant events.”
Pelegon's face twitched into what was, if not quite a smile, an expression that just about conveyed amusement at the apothecary's comment.
“I knew you’d understand…” Veptus turned his attention back to Pelegon. “…fortunately I have the same distain for general anaesthesia. So…” Veptus’s narthecium cut into Pelegon's neck “…you should be feeling numb below the incision point right about now. Now try to move your left hand.” Pelegon obeyed, his fingers twitching.
“The CSF implant coats the nerves in your spine so that they don’t receive pain signals, like insulating a wire. The pain signals never reach your brain. However, before you think about using your new found immunity to pain to batter your way out of the Apothecarion, the membrane-disc that secretes the chemical is a delicate thing. And over exertion of your spine can cause it to split and the chemical to flood your brain, cutting off all your neurons from all the other neurons in your brain and whilst you may have fewer to lose than the rest of us, it’s no more advisable.”
The Iron Warrior huffed at that last comment, but let it slide. While talking, Veptus had already cut away the remnants of his breastplate and Pelegon did not judge it wise to retort, no matter how innocuously, to a man who quite literally held his heart in his hands.
“So, Pelegon…” Nyx spoke at Veptus worked “…did you claim any glory for your Legion today? I’d hope it wasn’t some insignificant legionary that wounded you thusly, otherwise we might need to assign someone to baby-sit you.”
"No. It was a techmarine of the XIXth. I attempted to use this..." he tapped the...space where the meltagun usually rested on his thigh. Of course, he had dropped it after the techmarine had hit him.
After this slight hiccup, Pelegon continued, voice even in spite of having the apothecary's hands brushing his lungs "...on the rear armour of that contemptor you tackled, but failed to note that he was in swinging range with the hammer you are now holding. It is a good hammer, I think, and it was a solid blow, but upon seeing that the impact had stunned me failed to double-tap. I believe I beat his skull to paste after that, but forgive me if my memory is hazy around that time. I do remember that I did not fall - to my knees, but not my back."
There was a hint of bitter pride at this last statement, but for reasons that were likely anathema to the members of the Nostraman VIIIth. To die on one's feet, staring the enemy in the face, to die rather than to yield; these were all not just common, but expected in his own legion. No matter what happened, Pelegon knew that he would always regard battle in such a way. As the raptors on the hill, one of which he had been forced to dispatch, had proven, it seemed they had no such qualms...except for the curious incident regarding the Raven Guard champion, Nirantius, and their own Azrael.
"A handful of other crows died by my hand - most notably, one of their champions. The very same spared by Azrael. I crushed the life from him with my hands - the bones of Corax's sons pop and crackle just like a bird's, though they require a little more force. I have his helmet..." Pelegon stroked the bloodied and dented Mk. VI clamped to his belt "...right here..."
Pelegon's voice trailed off as Veptus started working on his bionic hand, talking to Nyx, completing the surgery in due course.
“You should regain the feeling in your limbs soon enough, although the full effects will take a few hours to wear off. Feel free to exercise your arm, but try not to damage it again so soon, else I might think you are trying to find reasons to be down here. Though if that is the case, that can be arranged.”
Veptus flashed Pelegon a wicked, utterly humourless smile, to which Pelegon responded with a nod and, unusually, a thumbs-up. Maneuvering himself upright, he nodded his thanks to the apothecaries present, as well as Nyx, who held out the hammer. Pelegon took it in his uninjured hand, too tired to care. He would be summoned by Xandrek in due course, he had no doubt, but his broken chest ached for rest, and though he was loathe to slow down had to acknowledge his body's needs. Particularly now that the raptor squad, who's number and marking he had failed to note, would likely seek revenge on him.
Returning to his quarters, the Iron Warrior sat down on his bed, and entered a restful state of near-sleep, half-closed eyes on the door in front of him.
|04-05-15 06:22 PM|
Veptus lay back against the harness of the Revenant, grimacing slightly under his helm whenever the flyer would shudder and pull the harness straps taut against his mangled collarbone and ribs. He would definitely need that seen to when they got back to the Maiden. The new-comer, Kesh from some company Veptus hadn’t even bothered to retain, was something of a curiosity. The fractious politics of the VIIIth Legion meant many Astartes past between squads at the whims of themselves or their masters. He wondered how long it would be before the upstart began to try to climb the ladder of Xandrek’s favour and how long after that he would have to put the pup in his place. Pelegon had seen reason and adapted quickly enough, but other Night Lords were less reasonable. Often, it came to blood.
Veptus kept his ear open to the tales of the others regarding how their various personal battles on Isstvan had gone, but he kept his own council. His thoughts were still occupied by his meeting with the VIIIth Primarch. Although he maintained a close orbit t Xandrek, he had never been regarded by the Night Haunter until this day. He had only ever seen his father from afar. Although they were out of Isstvan’s atmosphere and Konrad Curze was many miles below, likely still carving red ruin through the Loyalist lines, he could still feel those abyssal black orbs piercing his soul. Even now he felt them questing, judging him. Veptus wondered if his encounter with the Primarch would lead to further audiences and, although he did his best to silence the thoughts, he wondered if that was truly what he wanted.
The Revenant touched down and it pulled Veptus from his introspection. He noticed very quickly the stench of viscera. It was a heady, metallic smell, a different cocktail to what he was used to. Clearly Pelegon had suffered catastrophic damage and from the small amounts of blood leaking from his cracked breast-plate, Veptus suspected it was either his heart or his lungs that had been severely damaged, if not destroyed in its entirety. As Xandrek left he bade Veptus to head for the Apothecarion and take care of himself, then Pelegon, then Azrael. He made it clear enough that Azrael would live, and preparation for bionic limbs made it apparent he would continue in some form other than the cold metallic un-death of becoming a Dreadnought. However, Xandrek was still sure to punish him for whatever his sin on Isstvan was and Veptus mused on how involved he would be in Azrael’s punishment. Although they could be considered friends, he would not defy Xandrek. That and there was something alluring about breaking the psyche of one so trusted. As always, the teachings of the Primarch would prove true; waywardness can only be perturbed by bloody retribution.
The four of them swiftly made their way to the Apothecarion . “I’m glad to see you made it Xheng…” Veptus commented idly as they walked “…it would have been so frustrating to have to train someone else to fill your position.” Xheng scoffed, it was as close as he’d get to an acknowledgment of his worth from Veptus. He was hardly a sentimental soul.
“And I see you survived your brush with the Raven Lord. It seems your devil’s luck continues to hold Primus” Xheng retorted.
“Don’t call it devil’s luck. Surprisingly I have no desire to participate in whatever madness currently holds sway over Bloody Bones”
“Aye, long may it be so. Although, I doubt you can do too much more to dismember him…” Xheng nodded at Azrael as the approached the Apothecarion. Veptus laughed an eerie laugh.
“You of all people should know there is still much I can do to him. The Captain need only give the word.” As Xheng unceremoniously dumped Azrael on a medical slab Veptus was sure he understood how precarious his position was now. Whatever bonds of friendship they had would not spare him from Xandrek’s wrath or Veptus’ blade.
Xheng ordered a couple of Apothecary Minoris’s to deal with the worst of Azrael’s wounds and Veptus removed his chestplate and helmet. His chest was a patchwork mess of bruises. His right pectoral was slightly caved in, indicating far worse wounds to his ribs than Veptus had suspected.
Xheng fussed about him Veptus nodded and waved him dismissively as he lay down. He felt the cold metallic kiss of his Minoris’s narthecium and everything below his neck began to feel numb. Although he had a great affinity for causing pain, he had no desire to experience it when it was not necessary. Xheng had injected him with a small semi-liquid disk which secreted hormones which bound with the nerve fibres below where it was injected, the disk itself preventing the same chemicals worming their way up his spinal column and disabling the neurons in his brain. He was still free to move his body and his limbs still felt pain, but they were deadened at his spine, barred from reaching his brain.
He heard Xheng’s chainblade attachment of his Narthecium cut away at his shoulder as Nyx walked in. Nyx and Azoth had been sent to subdue Pelegon, no doubt word having reached Xandrek of what it had taken to subdue Pelegon last time. The two began to struggle with the Iron Warrior. “Nyx, whilst I appreciate your assistance I very much doubt that will be necessary. I think our friend here, despite whatever notions of stoicism he may adhere to, accepts that he is in need of surgery and will comply…” Veptus fixed Pelegon with a quizzically avian stare before the Iron Warrior nodded shallowly. Slowly the two terminators released him. “…Lie back Pelegon, I will be with you shortly.” Xheng had reset his collarbone properly and coated it in an osteoblast secreting gel. His body would decompose it in a matter of hours, but by then his bone would be almost fully knit back together.
As Xheng moved to remove his rib-plate in order to examine his vital organs and the rib-plate itself, Veptus spoke. “While you are here Nyx, perhaps you would regale me with the stories of the wider battles fought today. And don’t leave out the interesting bits.” Veptus grinned mercilessly. Nyx chuckled, although Veptus always felt he had a certain nervous quality to his laugh as if he were only pretending to laugh and wasn’t sure if he was convincing enough.
“Ferrus Manus is dead.” Was his opening line. Veptus’s eyes widened in shock. Although no one said it, there was an unspoken belief that Primarchs were immortal.
“Well that puts to death that notion.” He muttered to himself.
“Slain by Fulgrim, so they say. Most of the rest of his Avernii we cut down by Fulgrim’s bastard Children. The report I’ve been hearing of the things they have been doing to the dead and dying almost put Bloody Bones to shame. The Salamanders have been resolutely obliterated, the XXth, the IVth and our kin took care of that. I heard Perturabo nuked Vulkan out of spite, but the reptile survived. He had to be beaten down by hand before he’d realise he was doomed the stupid nas’ethi…” Nyx swore in Nostraman.
“You said doomed, not dead?” Veptus interrupted. Nyx sneered.
“Oh, no. Far from it. Reports from the 8th Company are that the Primarch found him still breathing. A nuclear missile, innumerable blades and bolt shells later and he’s still alive. Although, I suspect when the Night Haunter is through with him he’ll wish he was. Perhaps he’ll even let you have a go, if you’re extra good. On a related note, our own casualties have been estimated at about 30% of our fighting capacity are either wounded or dead. I suspect the Apothecarion will be busy for some time yet Veptus.”
The thought of torturing a primarch was…exhilarating and worrying. Only one he had mastered Astartes physiology could he elicit the levels of response he wanted from his subject. A Primarch’s structure was all but unknown to him.
“You haven’t mentioned Corax yet. I was there; Curze had him in his talons. What happened to the Raven Lord?” Veptus commented noting that Xheng was almost done fusing his ribs back together, his work completed. Nyx’s face darkened.
“Do not mention the Raven Lord to the Primarch or Sevatar, not unless you are tired of living.”
“What happened Nyx?” Veptus almost growled
"What do you think happened? He snuck away, as he always does. Thousands of his legion escaped with him, plus stragglers from the other legions. Although all sources suggest they’ve done little more than choose a different place on this blasted planet to die, the Primarch was furious, a feeling I’ve heard he shares with our ‘Warmaster’.”
Veptus nodded to himself. Once more Xheng’s narthecium pierced his spine, this time removing the disk previously implanted. Now extracted, his body quickly metabolised the chemicals. Although it would take about an hour or so for his pain receptors to be as responsive as normal, feeling quickly returned to his extremities and as it did so he began to feel the first aches of his surgery.
“Much obliged Xheng.” Veptus said sitting himself upright again. He looked over at Azrael, stricken on the medical slab. He was not doomed but Veptus would not heal him totally until he knew what Xandrek had planned. “Get him prepped for his bionic limbs, but don’t attach them yet…” he told Xheng in hushed tones “…I will speak to the Captain before I restore him completely.” Veptus reattached his chest-plate. Time to get to work.
“Now Pelegon, normally I would anesthetise you, but I assume you won’t play along now will you?” Pelegon confirmed as much. Veptus sighed, it was as he suspected. “Can you believe that Azoth? He doesn’t trust me to only cut him open.” Veptus turned his head to the hulking terminator, his face feigning indignation. Azoth grunted.
“Shocking Corpse-Master. Truly this latest betrayal supersedes today’s, frankly, insignificant events.”
“I knew you’d understand…” Veptus turned his attention back to Pelegon. “…fortunately I have the same distain for general anaesthesia. So…” Veptus’s narthecium mirrored the incision Xheng had made on him “…you should be feeling numb below the incision point right about now. Now try to move your left hand.” Pelegon obeyed, his fingers twitching.
“The CSF implant coats the nerves in your spine so that they don’t receive pain signals, like insulating a wire…” Veptus spoke as he began his work peeling away Pelegon’s breastplate, sheering the metal rather than artfully removing it. The chestplate was a mangled mess and would need replacing anyway. Veptus had to ascertain the damage to Pelegon’s chest and he only wanted to remove as much of the chest-plate as he physically had to as it was probably helping to hold Pelegon’s vital organs in place. “…the pain signals never reach your brain. However, before you think about using your new found immunity to pain to batter your way out of the Apothecarion, the membrane-disc that secretes the chemical is a delicate thing. And over exertion of your spine can cause it to split and the chemical to flood your brain, cutting off all your neurons from all the other neurons in your brain and whilst you may have fewer to lose than the rest of us, it’s no more advisable.”
“So, Pelegon…” Nyx spoke at Veptus worked “…did you claim any glory for your Legion today? I’d hope it wasn’t some insignificant legionary that wounded you thusly, otherwise we might need to assign someone to baby-sit you.” Pelegon’s lip twitched in a momentary sneer. Veptus didn’t doubt he was weighing up the ability to reach out and throttle Nyx with Veptus’s hand beginning to cut away at his chest and a precarious CSF implant. Obviously he decided not to retort now, but even if he did later Nyx was capable to taking care of himself. One did not rise to being lieutenant to the 4th Captain by chance.
As Pelegon recalled his fights on the black sands of Isstvan below, Veptus focused on his work, Although coated in adimantium, Veptus’s narthecium could still get through his ribplate although the fact that it was practically shattered into shards helped too. Veptus removed each shard individually, constructing a macabre jigsaw to the side of him until he had a square hole in Pelegon’s chest and all the pieces arranged. He called a junior apothecary over to begin reassembling Pelegon’s ribplate. The adimantium coating it made it easier than fusing bone. They merely had to fuse the metal together and it would hold the bone in place while it healed.
While his junior worked on the ribplate, Veptus examined his organs. The most significant damage was Pelegon’s primary heart. Shreds of it lay scattered around the chest cavity and Veptus removed them. The heart had simply exploded in his chest. One of his lungs also had a massive rent in it, causing it to permanently deflate. Veptus closed the hole and the lung began to re-inflate, and he also began so suture several perfusions inside the chest cavity. There was significant trauma to his second lung as well as the beginning of his digestive tract. His small intestine had accrued several blood-blisters where there was bleeding within the lining of the intestine. Veptus stopped the bleeding and released the pressure of the blisters.
The conversation between Pelegon and the rest of those present was beginning to lull and Veptus was nearly finished. He excised himself from Pelegon’s chest and went collect the bionic heart he would use to replace the one Pelegon had lost. He could replace it with a flesh one either now or at a later point using DNA from Pelegon’s own tissue but he suspected that having a bionic heart would he the dour Iron Warrior’s preference. Returning with the metallic replacement in hand, Pelegon handed him a storage-vial stored at his waist, requesting that he re-attatch his true hand instead of the poor bionic one he currently possessed. Perhaps he was wrong about the Iron Warrior’s desire to keep bionics. Veptus took Pelegon’s vial silently, nodding in acknowledgement and placed it to one side. Veptus quickly sought, found and connected the severed arteries to the new bionic heart. As soon as they were all in place, the bioelectrical energy activated the machine which began to tick over a steady rhythm.
“And you Veptus…” Azoth addressed him now that the conversation had clearly drawn to a close. “…any new trophies from this most recent war?” Veptus smirked viciously as his junior apothecary returned Pelegon’s repaired rib-plate to him.
“If you are curious whether I did my duty, have no fear Azoth. Several of Corax’s gene-smiths lie dead by my hand, something that is sure to only rub salt in the considerable wounds of our corvine cousins. Many more are maimed or dead, as is always the case…” Veptus finished fusing the ribplate back together and began to sew up the open chest before moving onto Pelegon’s hand as he continued. “…in war like this. But facing Legionaries is such poor sport. They’re only ever indignant or furious. They are angry without comprehension that they are not different than us, save that their Primarch’s are idle fools chasing a dream that cannot be whilst we understand that acts of brutality are necessary. Besides…” Pelegon’s bionic hand came away with relative ease and Veptus took his original flesh one from its casket and began to reattach tendons, muscle and key veins. “…they all have this wide eyed wonderment that’s a mixture of shock, incredulity and horror, as if they have never faced a dagger in the back…”
Veptus sniggered mirthlessly to himself as he sewed Pelegon’s skin back together. He finished and looked as Azoth as he began to rinse the sinner’s red from his hands lest others confuse his duty for a sentence. “…it’s quite quaint really.” His narthecium reached round and retrieved the CSF implant from Pelegon’s spine. “You should regain the feeling in your limbs soon enough, although the full effects will take a few hours to wear off. Feel free to exercise your arm, but try not to damage it again so soon, else I might think you are trying to find reasons to be down here. Though if that is the case…” Veptus wiped the last of the blood from his hands and chestplate, before flashing his psychopath’s smile at Pelegon “…that can be arranged.” His eyes darted between Nyx and Azoth who nodded shallowly back at him, sharing in his jest. “Well gentlemen, I shall leave you. I must locate our Captain. Xheng…” his Minoris looked up from his work on Azrael for a moment. “… have him prepared for his new limbs by the time I return. No doubt the Lord of Lies will have something planned for him, and I would know what it is before continuing.” With that Veptus left the Apothecarion.
His intuition taught him that Xandrek would most likely be in his personal chambers. Xandrek often preferred to be insolation, bound only to the duties of his writing desk although Veptus was not quite sure what he ever wrote about. Certainly no Remembrancers had lasted very long on the Maiden, even when the Imperial Decree to entertain those mewling artists had meant anything to the VIIIth legion. Azrael had cast a pall over Xandrek and so Veptus decided to enact an old tradition, something with a significance known only to him and Xandrek. His vox crackled into life “Naomi…”
“Yes Lord Veptus.”
“Bring one of the unmarked crystal decanters and two glasses to Xandrek’s study, post haste.”
“Yes m’lord.” The link died and Veptus made his way to Xandrek’s study.
His own quarters were closer than the Apothecarion and so he found Naomi dutifully waiting outside. She would not risk the ire of the Captain by disturbing him, favoured as she was by Veptus. He took the platter bearing his offering from her and released her to her other duties. He entered Xandrek’s study and set the platter down on a small side table he had in his sparsely furnished room. Xandrek was intent on staring at his accumulated weapon wall. Veptus noted one plinth was bare, it was the plinth belonging to the Captain’s bolter. Clearly it lay somewhere down below.
Veptus began to pour the dark ochre liquid into the shallow, stocky glasses provided as he spoke. “Nyx speaks positively of the battle. Dead and wounded account for only 30% of our numbers, which I imagine is better than most. The Gorgon is dead along with his Morlocks, and the Salamander’s fate is in the Primarch’s hands now. A manhunt for Corax is underway since the Raven Lord managed to evade capture or death, although that’s hardly surprising. The only Primarch more slippery than him is Alpharius himself.” Veptus giggled softly to himself.
"But that's not why you are here instead of the apothecarion, letting me preen as it my duty..." Veptus sighed, picking up the two tumblers full of dark liquid. "...It's Azrael isn't it?" He placed one on his Captain’s writing desk just behind Xandrek, and took a sip from his own. It was a tradition between the two men's fathers, whenever difficult decisions had to be made this concoction was broken out and shared. It was less of a tradition between him and the Captain, but whatever was bothering Xandrek the message was clear; Veptus stood with him, as he always had.
Xandrek finished hanging his sword on its assign place before turning to Veptus, clenching and unclenching his fists.
"Azrael spared one of the Raven Lords company Champions, Veptus. And because of such it makes me question his loyalty and not only that but I have gotten reports that said Champion slew twelve members out Fourth Company. Eighth Claw is now under half strength and Sergeant Nilhus as you have probably seen in the apocatherion will require extensive Bionics." Veptus had not seen Nilhus yet, perhaps he lay in one of the adjacent rooms. The sergeant shared a gang link with both Xandrek and Veptus, although Veptus could think of no reason why Azrael would bear a grudge against him.
Veptus hmmm'ed to himself and glanced over to Xandrek's writing desk, briefly wondering if he could discern Xandrek’s subject matter from the scattered notes. He considered this only briefly before returning to the conversation in hand.
"No doubt the scale of slaughter soured his Terran sensibilities. Although, perhaps it is not his loyalty that should be questioned, but his commitment to do what is necessary. I do not question his loyalty necessarily, no doubt some misguided sense of it was what made him spare the Raven Guard. Perhaps he has simply lost the stomach for war. In either case..." Veptus smirked "...he's just as useless to you." Veptus drank another sip from his glass.
"However,..." Veptus turned to face Xandrek "...the Raven Guard I can at least rationalize, even if it proves him a fool. It is the slaughter of the Eighth Claw I question. By whatever hypocritical code of honour he clings to, Azrael is not one for wanton slaughter. Either he has gone mad, or he has truly betrayed you..." Veptus wondered, if that were the case, if he would be handed Azrael to deal with, or if Xandrek would entrust that to someone else. "...or someone else has picked a very opportune moment to blame your Champion."
Xandrek picked up his glass for the first time and raised it modestly to Veptus, who reciprocated the gesture. He took a sip and savoured the liquid. It was a Nostraman vintage, harvested from the moon-grapes that grew in the false light of the stars that only faintly illuminated their destroyed birth-world. They were bitter and metallic to the taste, a flavour Veptus estimated to be something akin to the combination of blood and vinegar. It was an acquired taste to be sure.
"It was Azrael himself, I have reports from several squad leaders along with the sworn accounts of over twenty battle brothers who saw him allow the Raven Guard to run." Xandrek fixed Veptus with a stare for a moment, and Veptus felt it mirror the probing glare he had received from Konrad earlier. Xandrek was truly his father’s son.
His corpse-pale face cracked into the hint of a rictus grin as Xandrek broke his stare to study the glass he was holding. "There must not be much of that left Veptus, or did you manage to secure several bottles from our homeworld before we cracked its mantle?" Xandrek waved a hand, confirming that he wasn’t really interested in the answer. "I have the makings of Azrael's punishment in hand. Upon returning to the apocatherion you are to speak with Tech-Marine Zho-Zhang. He has been given orders to prepare for Azrael a new helmet which you will need to help the champion into."
Veptus grinned his unhinged smile and drained his glass to half way. Xandrek was teasing him.
“I’m almost tempted to ask what it is I will be helping him into....” Xandrek met him with one raised eyebrow. Veptus cocked his head. “…almost. But then, I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise from myself.” Xandrek gave a brief, quiet nasal laugh. Veptus put his half full glass back on the platter with the decanter. “When you deem it appropriate, I still hold it as my duty to confirm your bill of health and so I would like to see you in the Apothecarion. However, you don’t appear to be dying so I’m sure such formalities can wait until we have concluded our duties here. I shall return to our ‘esteemed Champion’ and will ‘assist’ him in any way I can.” Veptus bowed as he went to leave.
“See that you do so Corpse-Master.” Xandrek said suddenly stern. Clearly whatever he had designed for Azrael was enough punishment and the Captain did not see the need to leave him at Veptus’s mercy. Veptus left his Captain alone with his weapons and his thoughts and returned to the Apothecarion to resume his duties. Now that the battle was over, Nyx was right, he would likely have a lot of work to do…
|04-05-15 04:04 PM|
Having been approached by the Destroyer, Kesh had thought it could be a good start: not to 'win people over' and then betray them, but to actually find some more comrades in arms who are worth fighting for and alongside.
His squad had been all he knew...blood-oaths forged in the brutal proving grounds...never losing more than one member at a time until today. Now all were gone in heartbeats, cast as insignificant chaff into the tornado of demigods' sibling rivalry.
Although perturbed by the Destroyer's natural face, it only strengthened his own resolve to be faithful to the Legion.
He had thought to call after the veteran, trying to reassure him of his intentions, but knew it would serve no purpose...people were understandably wary. Although Serhiy's responses had left him cold, he saw it was a mirror to reflect his own naivety back at him: the only proof could be in battle and everything else was secondary.
With the rest of the unit already departing on their duties, Kesh replaced his helmet and approached a nearby Legion serf for directions to the armourer and quarters.
Whether it was from fear or just years of service, the human knew not to protest an Astartes’ wishes, leading him through welcomingly stark corridors that were inevitably emptier now due to the casualty roster.
Dismissing the lackey, Tal-Zhen’s former cell was appropriately sparse and quite free from blemish; apparently not one lose his cool when alone.
Pausing for reflection, Kesh didn’t look down on the ones who had been criminals, but knew that he still retained an element of longing for the trappings of his upbringing.
But today had brought it home: nobody cared if he lived or died. There would always be others, just like he had taken Tal-Zhen’s place. The only constants were loyalty and service.
With a brutality he didn’t know he was capable off, Kesh purged the childhood yearnings from his mind. This was now a chance to shine and he would not be found wanting.
Kesh set off to the armoury to have his wargear repaired – perhaps he might meet another from the unit there...
|04-05-15 03:50 AM|
The Revenant arrived and just as quickly as the 1st claw descended into the carrion to strike and decimate their former brothers did the now bloodied group leave the field. The Destroyer charred by his own instruments and covered in a thin slime composed of liquefied guardsman and chemicals giving him a sickly hue and an even more sickening stench would make an unaccustomed soul retch and vomit. There was an eerie calm now as the engines whined pulling the metallic beast back into the vacuum. The cacophony of rebellion being replaced with silence and what little grunts came from the group and most notably where the company's champion laid in pieces and his own mechanical respiratory system sounding like a deep sea diver. Unfortunately the Destroyer couldn't make out the stench of Pelegon's heart through his own heavily corroded nasal passage and the suits overtaxed filters. Serhiy thought in silence about what would be the next step for Azrael; would he end up in a dreadnought or simply be torn to pieces under the tender 'care' of Veptus and his vultures.
The Destroyer ruminated about where this would take the Legion and hadn't noticed the bird landing. The Maiden seemed welcoming to the 'triumphant heroes' and there seemed to be a slightly greater sense of fulfillment in the hull of the ship and Serhiy wasn't sure if it was just himself. He'd felt tarnished and stiff itching for the feel of true combat and that battle was more perfect than he could have ever hoped for. True Night Lord tactics striking with superior numbers against a surprised opponent and annihilating them; better yet they had annihilated space marines, the Emperor's finest!
Within the solitude of his helmet the Destroyer marine was grinning sickly.
The door to the Revenant descended and Xandrek stood an incredibly imposing figure with white limbs accenting the midnight blue of his armor made all the more imposing by his eyes that pierced as blackly as the void. "Veptus, Xheng, Pelegon, Azrael get yourselves to the Apocatherion and get yourselves patch up. Veptus you are to make sure Azrael is ready for bionic replacements of the limbs he has lost, but see to Pelegon first."
What was the significance of Pelegon? The Destroyer struggled to listen and picked out strained breathing; through the disgust Serhiy was able to pick up the faint metallic scent of blood. Was it one of his hearts? It mattered little. After the dismissal the Destroyer marine lingered a little studying the newcomer, a Kesh that made the 1st claw member uneasy. First they received an Iron Warrior, one of Perturabo's own. They weren't known for underhanded tactics but that coupled with the receiving of a fresh Night Lord from the planet's surface made it worse.
His knee could wait for now and the gaunt marine slowly crept towards the new marine bearing a shield and chainfist with the same posture as tiger stalking its prey waiting for an opportunity to strike. The flamer hung loosely in his grasp and he made sure to stay at just enough distance to retreat if the marine swung at him.
"A new blood. . . joining our esteemed company. . ."
--"Veres...Serhiy...a noted Destroyer. I am glad it is you. Your armour says that you serve with distinction; encountering the fire, yet ultimately surviving. Stoicism and endurance are traits I prize highly. I am grateful for our Lord's chance for me to learn alongside you."
The new blood took the time to remove his helmet in supplication. Either naďve or defiant it was an interesting move to unseal his armor and expose himself to the tools that the Destroyer used. He noted the pandering with flat silence. The tone the new blood spoke with was clearly aristocratic and mildly pompous or perhaps he was just so used to gutter speak. Serhiy took the time to unseal his helmet as well revealing a twisted sunken face covered in sickly burnt flesh and glassy yellowed eyes. He smiled only for a moment revealing corroded rotting teeth, all signs of the tools of his trade, before returning the helmet to its place.
The clicking and grinding respiratory system forced pauses as the Destroyer circled the newer marine seeking to put the newcomer between him and Tyberus. In the same manner as he was picked at by his now brothers when he first joined the company the hazing process that pervaded every aspect of the legion was no different here. Even more so for an untempered soul that came out of nowhere seeking a vaunted position among the Lord of Lies murder of crows.
"We've all earned our place here. . . What makes you deserving. . . of such a position? Tal-Zhen was a damned fool. . . His charred remains stand testament to that." The Destroyer put particular emphasis on the remark about charred remains hoping the hint was more than obvious with the chem-flamer resting in his gauntlet. He used his gangly height against the shorter Kesh and lurched above him. "Where did you serve. . . new blood?. . . What gang did you serve in?"
--"I served in the 19th Company under Captain Haresh Clay. Although I once saved one of his lieutenants, he barely knew my name, so he will not miss my absence. My given name is Kesh Trevas, but I have also since taken on the middle name of my former Sergeant, thus I am 'Keshyael' now.
"You won't find my name upon any gang roster, apart from in a list of their targets: my family was from luxury and privilege, not the streets. We once owned wineries and stables, soon all laid waste by criminals I was inducted alongside."
The newcomer shuddered, possibly in response to his visage, possibly in response to his profession but either way Serhiy had dominated the man if only for a moment.
--"Ah, I see you not only survive blazes, but now use them upon the foe...an effective tactic. Perhaps I might destroy shelters the enemy hides behind whilst you burn them out?"
--"I accept that I need to prove myself and that you will be watchful until I do. I am here by virtue of providence and our master's decision to accept me...I have survived this far in life by learning not to question either of these two things."
The bastard ended the sentence with a smile far too uncharacteristic of the shadow stalkers that put a degree of unease in the Destroyer's disposition. Once again either his defiance or his naivety was evident. . . Time would tell which was the case.
"Yes I will be watchful. . . It's never the murderer you worry about. . . They're intention is known. . . Worry for the smiling face. . that conceals a blades tip. . . As for you New Blood. . . Welcome to the First Claw. . . I wish you a healthy stay. . *aheh-heh-heh-heh*"
The disjointed laugh struggling against the respiratory system as the marine slowly backed away before turning around and moving down the hall towards the armoury.
|03-15-15 03:19 PM|
You all gather at Xandrek's location, coming there in ones or twos to find the Revenant has already touched down several meters away with its engines still whining from re-entry with Xandrek and Veptus stood to one side in muted conversation, a few meters away from them Apocathery Minoris Xheng crouched over Azrael fussing over the stumps that were once his left arm and both of his legs clearly preparing the wounds ready to be implanted with bionics or in the worse case scenario if the captain orders it: Becoming one of the 'Tormented', 4th Companies group of Dreadnoughts.
As you approach Xandrek turns away from Veptus he fixes each of you with his pure black gaze having discarded his ruined helmet that sits a few feet away, he nods to Pelegon when he arrives along with Corvis, Tyberus and Serhiy as they arrive before staring at Kesh with his black eyes. "It seems that we have a new blood joining out esteemed company. Who are you and why are you here?" Xandrek asks to Kesh with his eyes narrowed and upon receiving the warriors answer it simply motions towards the storm-eagle behind him.
"Everyone we are leaving, the battle has been won and those that have fled are being rounded up and destroyed. We are going to regroup back aboard the 'Maiden' and re-arm while awaiting orders from the First-Captain and the Primarch. We also have a reckoning with the 17th Company to attend to. Corpse-Master, you and your apprentice are to get Azrael back on his feet as quickly as you can." With that Xandrek motions for you all to follow him as he heads into the compartment of the 'Revenant'.
Boarding the 'Revenant' you take your positions within the restraint harnesses with Xheng once again carrying Azrael, as Xandrek goes to join the pilot in the cockpit and begins getting updates from the entire company. Leaving the rest of you to reflect on the battle of Isstvan and talk among yourselves for the durations of the flight back to 4th Companies ship. Upon reaching the 'Maiden of Sorrow' Xandrek turns to each of you and looks you up and down before speaking.
"Veptus, Xheng, Pelegon, Azrael get yourselves to the Apocatherion and get yourselves patch up. Veptus you are to make sure Azrael is ready for bionic replacements of the limbs he has lost, but see to Pelegon first." The captain motions to the Iron Warrior and all of you can smell the thick rich heart blood of Pelegon as his other heart is ruined. With that Xandrek simply turns and leaves the embarkation deck most likely either returning to his own quarters or to head down to the armory to get another suit of power-armour.
- - - - -
Azrael: OOC: You still need to post from the previous update, though you will be taken to the apocatherion and fitted with Bionics so make sure you work something out with Deus/Veptus.
Veptus: Along with Xheng, Azrael and Pelegon you make your way to the Apocatherion where some Xheng unceremoniously dumps Azrael down onto one of the medical beds before ordering two of the apocathery Minoris's to deal with his wounds before he moves over to you and begins to look you up and down taking in your injuries before speaking. "Master, allow me to deal with your own injuries before you begin your work on the Iron Warrior and our company champion. If I do not reset your broken bones now then it will impede your work when you need to operate on them." Xheng removes his helmet and hands it off to one of the apocatherion's human staff and stares at you with his somewhat youthful face, being one of the last recruits to of been taken from Nostramo ten years prior to it being destroyed by the Night Lord Fleet. (Feel free to take control of Xheng in your post as he deals with your own wounds and helps you with Pelegon and Azrael. So talk to the both of them awell.)
While your own wounds are being taken care of Sergeant Nyx and one of his brother Terminators enters the apocatherion with their heavy footfalls ringing on the steel deck. "Corpse-Master, it is good to see you are relatively un-injured with your run in with the Raven Lord. Myself and Brother Azoth are here to make sure he." Second Claw's Sergeant motions to Pelegon. "Remains here to go under your knife and have his injuries dealt with." With that Nyx and Azoth stomp over to Pelegon and begin a conversation with him before man-handling him down onto one of the medical slabs when you are ready to operate on him. After the few hours in the apocatherion needed to deal with your own and the others wounds, you have time to reflect on all that has happened and even get a detailed report from Nyx who took over command while you and First Claw were aboard the 'Revenant. (Send me a message and we shall work out a conversation.) Though you also remember that Xandrek could of been injured and simply didn't bother to come to the Apocatherion so you could search your captain out.
Pelegon: Along with Xheng, Azrael and Veptus you make your way to the Apocatherion (Though with some reluctance, but it is an order from your 'captain') where some Xheng unceremoniously dumps Azrael down onto one of the medical beds before ordering two of the apocathery Minoris's to deal with his wounds and moves off to begin work on Veptus's wounds. You can see that the apocatherion only has a four apocatheries in it not including Xheng and Veptus which you guess are there to keep up the work of implanting the recruits with all the needed organs to turn them into marines and to also work in any emergencies while Veptus is not around. You would definitely feel a lot weaker from the lose of one of your hears but that is why legionaries have two so that the other one can compensate until a replacement has been implanted or a bionic used instead, you know that you could likely to get to the armory to make your own replacement like any true Iron Warrior but as begin thinking of leaving the Apocatherion the fully armoured form of Sergeant Nyx appears in the door way along with one of his terminator brothers.
Sergeant Nyx has a short conversation with Veptus before him and the other terminator make their way through the apocatherion over towards you and stops before you removing his helmet and handing it to the warrior next to him. "Greetings again Iron Warrior, not planning on doing anything foolish like leave the Apocatherion when your running on only one heart?" You would see that Nyx is very clearly of Terra with his dark brown hair and his slightly darker skin, his face would be considered handsome for a post-human with well proportioned features. "Myself and Brother Azoth" He motions to the warrior next to him inclines his head to you. "Are here to make sure you follow the Captain's orders and have your wounds seen to by our Master Apocathery." Nyx then motions to Veptus before he turns his gaze over your armour and begins to have a conversation with you until Veptus is ready to operate at which point you find Nyx and Azoth keeping you where you are before dragging you down onto the medical slab. After Veptus has seen to your wounds and replacing your damaged heart with a bionic one (which you can eventually get replaced by one of your own making) You find yourself with time to do what you wish seeing as Xandrek has not summoned you.
Serhiy: Upon returning to the 'Maiden' you find yourself with some free time as the others see to their wounds most notably Azrael and Pelegon who are by far the most injured of First claw. Though you notice that you have picked up a new comer to the group and by the looks of him also the company as you turn to see Kesh standing at the end of the 'Revenants' boarding ramp looking around the embarkation deck of the 'Maiden'. Or you could return to the Apocatherion to get another check up after once again using the weapons of a Destroyer along with giving Veptus an update on how effective his new grenades were, or potentially you could go to see Sergeant Phalx to see what he and the remaining marines of 10th Claw intend to do, as after their run with Corax there are now only four of them where originally there was ten meaning that their squad is now severely under strength for any upcoming engagements.
Seeing as the captain has not issued any specific orders for you or the others it means that you have time to do what it is you wish, though you know that you should head down to the armory and get any of your wargear repaired that is damaged along with re-arming yourself with more grenades though to get any replacements for the ones that Veptus created you would need to go and see him personally. For now you may do what you wish aboard of the 'Maiden' though it would be suggested to keep an eye on the new-comer as you have no idea which Company or squad he originally hailed from or if he is going to be any good for First Claw at all.
Tyberus: Upon returning to the 'Maiden' you find yourself with some free time as the others see to their wounds most notably Azrael and Pelegon who are by far the most injured of First claw. Though you notice that you have picked up a new comer to the group and by the looks of him also the company as you turn to see Kesh standing at the end of the 'Revenants' boarding ramp looking around the embarkation deck of the 'Maiden'. You can choose to find out exactly who this new comer is as it seems he was just swept up in the return of Fourth Company to its ship which even now you can see the other transports are on their way back to the 'Maiden'. Xandrek has disappeared off into the ship somewhere, most likely either the Armory, the Bridge or his own quarters without having given you any instructions.
You are free to choose where it is you wish to go and what it is you wish to do aboard the 'Maiden' until you receive orders from Xandrek, one of the benefits of being one of the Captain's Command Squad. You could stick around and follow the new-comer Kesh or you could go restock your own war-gear down in the armory or perhaps go to the Apocatherion to find out how long it will be until Azrael is back on his feet with his new bionics or if Xandrek will simply have him interred within the armoured shell of a Dreadnought. (What ever it is you want to do during this update you can. So feel free to talk with the other players aswell if you speak with them in-character.)
Kesh: Arriving on the 'Maiden of Sorrow' you look around the hanger bay of the ship that belongs to the Fourth Company, and realize that this is the ship that belongs to Captain Xandrek 'The Lord of Lies', a captain supposedly favored by the Primarch himself and as such received his title from him personally, you know that with the Eight Legions very strange form of politics that Xandrek answers only to the First Captain and the Primarch making him perhaps one of the best captains to serve under, something you and your old squad didn't do. (What company were you originally?) You see what appears to be a Destroyer and a member of the Captain's own First Claw standing there watching you as the other members of the squad head towards the Apocatherion with the Captain himself disappearing down one of the corridors no doubt to get himself some new armour which you saw had been torn off of him almost completely.
Also from what Xandrek said to you down on the planet it seems that your now simply apart of Fourth Company and his squad meaning that you might wish to walk with some of your new battle brothers to find out exactly who they are, what position within the company and the squad they hold before going into the ship in search of a cell to claim as your own and eject any of its current occupants before going down into the armoury and re-arming yourself with what ever weapons you wish to use and getting any damage on your armour repaired. (Feel free to work something out with the other players if you wish to have a conversation with them.)
Corvis: Upon arriving aboard the 'Maiden' all of First Claw splits up with Azrael, Veptus, Pelegon and Xheng heading to the Apocatherion but not before Xheng turns to speak with you. "Return to the Apocatherion when you are ready 'Young Blood' and I will once again see to that face of yours, with any luck I might be able to salvage some of your original appearance though you wouldn't win a Beauty contest with one of the Phoenician's powdered peacocks." Xheng says with an exhalation between his teeth and a slight raising and lowering of his shoulders which everyone who has even known Xheng has come to realize its the closest thing to a laugh that he gives, then again the Eighth Legion isn't known for its light-hearted jokes as almost all of the humor is morbid and/or fatalistic, spoken during battles or as partially but rather bluntly concealed insults.
You can either follow Xheng and the others in going to the apocatherion or you may simply wander around the ship as you wish, perhaps going to the armory to have your armour scene to by the tech-marines there and replenish your ammo stocks. You could attempt to find the Captain but what you have learnt since becoming part of First Claw is that you never find Xandrek when you are looking for him, he always finds you or simply has you summoned over the vox network and given that he didn't even give orders to Veptus it means that the 'Lord of Lies' has no wish to be disturbed at the moment. From what you understand though with Azrael's near-suicidal attempt to stop the Raven Lord he has done something to displease the Captain, perhaps Veptus will know?
|03-08-15 11:31 AM|
Nodding to the hulking sergeant, Pelegon began his journey to where the cartograph in his armour's built-in cogitator informed him Xandrek was. He moved with a slight limp, one hand holding the plundered hammer in a limp-wristed grip just under the head, his left probing the shattered breastplate of his armour, thinking analytically. It was impossible to obtain a full analysis as it was, but it appeared that his armour was no longer environmentally sealed, and that the ceramite on his chest, having been somewhat concaved and heavily cracked, would offer little protection. The loss of his primary heart was inconvenient, but by no means lethal. According to the squad's feed, and from what he had seen, Azrael was faring far worse than he, and the captain was in near-critical condition, but everyone else seemed close enough to intact. Unfortunately, bar the captain, as far as Pelegon knew they all still had jump packs, which would leave him at a fair disadvantage. That said, he could always make for the IVth legion lines, South-East of his current position, though he knew he would face severe disciplinary action for failing his mission should he do so.
It tempted him, truly; were he to return to Xandrek et al, the Olympian knew that their Corpse-Master would be all to happy to take him in his cold embrace, a prospect that made what organic content was left in Pelegon's blood run cold. It was not fear so much as apprehension, for he knew Veptus to be a vengeful man. That said, Pelegon had done his duty, and had been careful not to give the grim apothecary reason to dislike him beyond simply existing. It would be possible to conceal his injuries enough, but obtaining a bionic heart, even less implanting it in himself...that could not be done.
The corpses of marines covered the red sands of Isvtaan as far as Pelegon could see, mostly black-clad here - the sheer quantity of loss caused a strange sensation in the Iron Warrior's chest, one not unlike that which he had felt when his heart had burst. It was unfamiliar, and he did not like associating discomfort with the thought of the slain sons of Corax. He cared not for them, degenerate and weak as they were, more for the investment that they had represented, and for the first time there he doubted what he was doing. Was it worth throwing away everything that his Legion had given so much for? The Great Crusade and Imperium in whose name they had bled and quietly died in their thousands, tens of thousands...to risk it all coming undone, to make it as though those ceaseless ranks of the iron-grey dead had lived and perished for nothing? It was an uncomfortable thought, one that Pelegon did his best to reject outright - the Olympian managed to clear it from his head, but knew that it was a temporary respite. It was not gone, merely suppressed. For the time being, he used it as fuel to push himself further forward, to ensure that they did not fail - failure here would be worse than continuing life under their Grandfather's yoke.
The battle was, it seemed, done for the XIXth legion, of whom few living remained - those that still breathed, Pelegon gave mercy to with the heel of his boot. Pathetic as they were, he would not have them suffer at the hands of the VIIIth legion, who would no doubt be scouring the battlefield for prisoners once the day was done. The Iron Warrior cut a lonely figure, a speck of grey in a sea of black and red, the din of battle a distant hum and thud of guns - and, more immediately, the screech of ceramite against ceramite.
The Iron Warrior turned abruptly and broke into a loping run, each ragged breath tainting his mouth with the rich flavour of his own blood from where shards of ceramite from his broken armour had been driven into his skin and had pierced his lungs. Presently, he moved around the smoking hull of a rhino, to see the source of the noise - two marines, one in red and the other in black, rolling around in the dirt, locked together in a fight to the death. The Raven Guard was on top, both hands clasped on a combat knife that he was doing his utmost to drive into the exposed neck of the helmetless Word Bearer, whose tattooed face was contorted into an expression that was half-hatred, half-fear - the latter had his hands pressed against the wrists of the former, holding him at bay, though only just.
Though his armour made clanking, grinding noises with every step, Pelegon had thus far gone unnoticed, so focused on each other were they, and so stepped forward, bringing the hammer back in one arm, and then swung it down, slackening his grip so the haft ran through his fingers, lending it length and increasing the hammer-head's momentum. It caught the XIXth legionnaire in the hip, shattering his leg in an explosion of electric energy and hurling him backward to crash against the rhino's charred flank, beaked helmet hanging down - by no means dead, but no longer a threat.
"My thanks, brother" the Word Bearer spoke, hopping to his feet, joining Pelegon to look at the slumped form of the black-armoured legionnaire. Upon closer inspection, the Iron Warrior saw that the Word Bearer's armour was covered in sigils and runes, none of which he could interpret, but one of them was particularly dominant and appeared many times in various lines - an eight-pointed star, which made the Iron Warrior's head pulse in a sickly manner that he did not appreciate.
"Weak. There was never a place for them in our ranks" the Word Bearer sniffed, and Pelegon bit back a response pointing out that he had been less than a centimetre away from being shortened by a head by those the XIXth legionnaire referred to with such disdain.
"You are a long way from your compatriots, brother. I thought that Perturabo's sons fought as one? A somewhat...blunt instrument, but its efficacy cannot be doubted. I am Zephon, Sergeant of the Graven Star chapter of the Word Bearers. It would have been tragic to have fallen when we are so close..."
Pelegon let the other marine prattle on, filtering out his words, and approached the fallen Raven Guard. He was starting to stir, but his movements were so pitifully weak that Pelegon decided that he did not need to look into his eyes. He brought the hammer up in both hands and brought it crashing down upon him, utterly obliterating him in a spray of gore and ceramite shards. However, even this exertion made his head pulse unpleasantly, and Pelegon realised that his injuries might be more severe than first suspected. Zephon, meanwhile, had not stopped talking since, and was now becoming more confident in his speech and mannerisms, falling into step with the hulking Iron Warrior with something of a swagger.
"...of course it was only natural that Ferrus Manus would not listen to The Illuminator, that much my Father told him beforehand. Our Father told many of them, including the Warmaster, whose ear he has, of what would come to pass, and so it has been. The Raven's wings have been broken, as has the will of the Nocturnians, upon the hammer and anvil of the IVth and XIIth legions. As we speak the last of the Xth flee with their father's body, though precious few remain. I hear that many fell to their knees as Ferrus died" Zephon nodded furiously, now in full sonorous tirade. Why did he think that Pelegon cared?
"Their will is gone, and so moves another Legion into the annals of history. Our great plan moves into its next-"
The Iron Warrior stopped and turned to face the Word Bearer, his head at an angle - great plan?
"And what does this plan entail, exactly?"
"By the Gods, you can talk after all. Well, the One True Pantheon, of course!" Zephon exclaimed, throwing his arms up in a manner that Pelegon assumed was one of praise "the Four Winds! The Chaos Gods! Surely you have been informed?"
Without a word, Pelegon drew his bolt pistol and shot Zephon in the face, the shot blowing off his lower jaw and shredding most of the skin of his face. The Word Bearer's face assumed an expression of stupid surprise as the Iron Warrior gave him a brutally hard shove that knocked him off his feet, and without even looking the Olympian emptied a second round, this time into Zephon's forehead, effectively deleting it.
“All members of the Fourth Company, heed me" came a familiar dry rasp through his helmet's vox "the Lord of Lies commands you to withdraw. Our work here is finished. First Claw, converge on my position. Let others waste their lives annihilating our defeated foe."
Still brooding over the Colchisian's last words, and their dark insinuations, Pelegon double-timed it over to Xandrek's position. He knew a little of the Chaos Gods, none of it good - this was something that would be of great interest to the Lord of Lies, as well as his own Warsmith. Moreover, it would ensure that the gates of both legions would be barred to further intrusions from the damned XVIIth.
|03-03-15 08:14 PM|
The cacophony of battle could well have been deafening to anyone un-augmented, but even through the dampeners, the sounds still seemed to reverberate around Kesh's helmet and rattled his head. Heavy calibre auto-reactive shells tore up the ground as nearby servitors trained their guns upon the Tactical Dreadnought squad advancing inexorably towards them.
Sizing up his options, Kesh saw that -even with his shield, more agility and some luck- there would be no opportunities to gain glory amongst such vaunted heroes.
Also, if he succeeded, there was always the possibility of hurting their pride and them finding the opportunity to take him out themselves, adding him to the huge tally of the already-fallen. Still, he couldn't help but gape for the briefest of seconds in awe at their engraved armour and fortitude.
He also saw that he had been mistaken to approach the banner: although assailed, the standard bearer was very capable of handling himself at close quarters as several foes' bodies testified. Kesh nodded to the bearer, loosing off several plasma rounds which kept their enemies' heads down and bought his comrade time for a quick respite (in case one was needed), even though the spray caused no appreciable casualties.
Espying Xandrek, the Captain seemed to be in a bad way, although the formidable Corpse-master would be sure to use every day of experience and skill in service to his lord.
A lull in proceedings told of consolidation in places by the Ravens, so he began to barge his way through the melee's Raven Guard towards the injured leader. As before, his actions battered a hole through the combatants, not becoming held up by their adversaries. Lashing out left and right with his tooth-edged shield and shrieking chainfist, both weapons met little resistance as his piston-driven arms and momentum multiplied the blows' impacts.
Evidently one Raven Guard had not noticed the oncoming rush, however:
Hacking his power-axe through an advancing Night Lord, a Devastator Sergeant had just retrieved the weapon when Kesh bore down almost on top of him.
The Raven's quick reactions saved him and he backed away, swinging horizontally left to right, buying himself time and shaking his head to clear blood out of his eyes, battle-lust written across his face.
The scent of ozone filled Kesh's nostrils as the hissing powerfield ripped away the bottom half of his shield, forming a sharpened point and only just missing his left knee. Kesh's eagerness had carried him almost past the Raven and he could only attempt a reverse-swing with the shorter chainfist as he turned to face his opponent, but the clumsy riposte missed easily.
"Even if I fall, another of Curze's heretics shall taste my blade" the Sergeant hissed. "The tally today is high...they shall call you number 13."
Kesh's reply was a short laugh, unconsciously betraying how far his Primarch had already fallen from The Emperor's side: "Nobody remembers failures...you are already the relic of some forgotten Legion." His words had been intended to barb the Raven into anger, but the berserk flurry of attempted strikes was unexpected and worthy of Angron's sons, rather than those of Corax.
Where possible, Kesh met the axe's azure crescent with his chainfist's own powerfield, scattering streams of sparks across the torn ground and the fallen from both sides as each strove to be the victor.
The Sergeant desperately sought to end the fight quickly; perhaps having been injured earlier, or maybe finally feeling the exhaustion of war? Either way, his strikes increased in intensity. Kesh tried to match the speed, but knew that this would be over shortly unless he did something to create an advantage.
Knowing that Kesh's movements would be slower, the Raven now deactivated his axe and switched his stance to using it like a quarterstaff.
Without the powered field, it could not directly penetrate his armour, but it certainly could incapacitate him if enough blows landed. The Raven proved this speed by pummelling the back of the Night Lord's shoulders and punching into his midriff, denting cables and pulling a bundle of wires loose.
In the corner of his left eye, Kesh noticed readouts scrolling down: loss of air wouldn't be an issue as much as the slowly decreasing power levels.
The axe-haft slammed into his temple, snapping his head back and making his ears ring. The Raven followed up with a double-strike across his stomach and chest, the shockwaves bruising his ribs which were already tender from the crash.
Clutching in desperation at any half-remembered tactic which might prove useful, Kesh saw that the Raven fought with the strength and fervour of a man who had nothing to lose. In that moment, he was able to dig deep into himself and realised that he had everything to live for...as long as he could get to Xandrek, there was hope.
Backing away and kneeling, Kesh lightly dug his shield into the ground as though sheltering behind it: when his opponent advanced seconds later, Kesh used the hydraulic rams in his arms to punch the back of the shield, sending it's full height into the front of the advanced Raven, knocking him to the ground and sending the axe spinning away from his grasp. Rising to his feet, Kesh was now the oppressor; his enemy had evidently fallen onto a lost upraised blade which had punctured his back, leaking vitality across the blasted earth.
Kesh raised his weakly struggling opponent above his head. Seeing that their battle had brought them close to Xandrek's position (and potentially his new Lord's gaze), Kesh slammed the Raven Guard crashing down upon one knee, breaking his spine with a resounding <crack>
Retrieving his shield, Kesh looked around for danger, trying to help defend the fallen captain's position.
|03-02-15 12:12 AM|
“Take this” Pelegon grabbed Tyberus by the pauldron and spun him round, handing the marine a meltabomb. “I do not have a jump pack, but you do. The contemptor cannot shoot straight up, nor can it swing its arms high. Drop the bomb onto the top of its carapace, the armour is strong there but it can’t defend itself. I will distract it”
Tyberus glared at Pelegon for a moment, his initial reaction was to drive his fist through the Iron Warrior's skull for placing hands on him, but the Iron Warrior's plan was a reasonably sound one, and certainly outweighed the alternative of being pinned down and shredded to pieces by the Contemptor and the Tech Marine and his retinue of servitors with anti personnel emplacements.
His jet pack roared to life and he gained altitude quickly, the fire was drawn from the Contemptor into the lines of Night Lords below, as he reached his zenith he activated and tossed the meltabomb that had been given to him by Pelegon. He had precious little time to properly aim as a black mass seemed to carry across the skyline, along with the flitterings of other members of the Raven Guard.
A glance down and he saw the massive, awe-inspiring frame of Corvus Corax, and Azrael, so ashamed and needing to atone for his actions on the battlefield stood between the Primarch of the Raven Guard and Xandrek. Tyberus silently mocked Azrael, his choice ended almost exactly as Tyberus had suspected, though he did not see Azrael gutted, he got to watch him relieved of his legs and thrown into the waves of Word Bearers that now crashed into their positions.
Veptus voice carried over the vox comm, calling for their forces to rally to him and Xandrek. Tyberus took a long moment to decide what he wanted to do, his life would be easier with both of them dead, but ultimately he decided that he couldn't risk their fate to the Raven Guard or Word Bearers and heeded the summons, raining down covering fire as he landed near their position to aid in the retrieval of Xandrek.
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