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post #121 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-06-14, 11:22 PM
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Looking down at the injured Astartes waiting for his response Raskreia hears Azreal's words to Sar-Thel. Both looking over as Sar-Thel turns tail and flees down a side corridor. The clanking steps of three boots along the hall ended whatever fights might have still been going on. AS the steps entered their hallway three diferent sets of lights flashed immediately on Azreal before the one in front said his voice booming out, "It seems, Brothers, that the feud between the 4th and 17th has spilled onto the Primarchs own ship. Your Captain, Sevetar and the Primarch will be hearing of this, Azrael of the Fourth. All of you get to the apocatherion and get yourselves and these other idiots patched up. We are close to the major turning point in the Great Crusade and this foolishness will not stand, go now and take the wounded before I make a cloak for each day of the week from all your hides." Raskreia maglocked his pistol back to his thigh as he retrieved the Fourth's Banner. That is not good for Azreal. But Sar did start this. In any case for the Atrementar to take pity on the 17th is a sign that all are needed in the coming battle. Without that fact we all might have been killed here and now.

Reaching down and helping Saven to his feet Raskreia simply walked with him as he held his side and tongue. "That was very fortunate for your Claw wasn't it Saven? I do admit that the appearance of the Atrementar was a shock. Them taking pity however was the biggest shock off all. Though if you hadn't had the gladius on your vambrace things would've went your way instead of mine." Raskreia joked with Saven falling easily into old patterns of antagonism.


Reaching the apothecarion Raskreia moved to stand at Azreal's left unlocking his helmet and removing it to study it for any damage done to it by Saven ramming it into the deck. Blinking his eyes as they are exposed to the harsh glare of trauma lights Raskreia's head thumps loudly in protest. Shaking the worst of it off Raskreia inspects the back of his helmet noting several dents that may have impacted it's integrity and dying from flying shrapnel would be very humiliating. Seeing Veptus appear before him while lost in thought Raskreia gives his head a quick shake to try and clear it but succeed only in making his headache worse. "Yes a headache dear Corpse-Master. Saven tried to break through the deck with my head. Might have succeeded had my head not been as hard as it is." Raskreia responds to Veptus' question. After an examination Veptus told Raskreia to report any intensifying of pain or additional symptoms such as blurred vision or impaired balance.

Seeing that Bright-Eyes had woken up Raskreia tosses his helmet towards him saying, "Well it seems that you still live for now Varius, and my helmet seems to need your looking after. You are the best in 4th for that after all right?" Noticing movement around the Iron Warrior Pelegon Raskreia cocked his head to the right, nudging Azreal slightly as he watched the little drama unfold. Tyberus approached them drawing his combat knife before plunging it into Pelegon's arm clearly intent to take the hand off before it was repositioned by Pelegon at the wrist. Seeing Veptus simply hit Tyberus in the throat cutting off any argument from the man Raskreia gave a short bark of laughter before saying, "That's it Veptus? Or are you planning to do more later as we need everyone for the fights to come. Maybe it is due to the fact that there is not much room left for fear in that thick head of his to not do anything relating to the care of Astartes bodies when in the apothecary and in the presence of two individuals who are trained in that manner? As such would it not be the wise thing to bring that to the 'Lord of Lies'' attention?" using the title to show he was making fun of Tyberus for acting rashly duel or not, "Or do we keep it between those who saw it and thus leash Tyberus the way he wanted to do to the Iron Warrior and have an expendable resource that none will mourn if it passes? Well none but Tyberus himself." Raskreia concluded baring his teeth as is common to his Legion when they smile.


Standing in the embarkation deck with the rest of First Claw Raskreia looks over the entire command echelons of the Night Lords. Seeing the mangled surviving members of 17th's First Claw Raskreia sees Veptus wave jauntily at Sar Thel who let loose with Nostromon curses elicting the Corpse-Master's laugh as well as a rumble from Raskreia. "Didn't think he would do that now did you Veptus? Though I do wager most of what he said is unknown to the Iron Warrior. I wonder when Xandrek will come back and set some things straight as it's been a bit momentous over here, like usual really now that I think about it." Raskreia ends with a laugh at his own quip not caring if anyone else partook of his gallows-humor. Waiting as they were was not a good idea, at least in Raskreia's opinion, without their Captain another scuffle might break out with another Claw as the Fourth and Seventeenth were seen as troublemakers and might not be so lucky the second time.

Two hours after the skirmish with 17th Azreal was called away by the same Atrementar that had ended 17th's sloppy ambush. Expecting the worst Raskreia was a bit surprised to see Azreal walking back towards them without any hint of more damage down to him. Dipping his head in respect Raskreia settled into wait for as long as needed keeping all senses alert for anyone approaching in a hostile manner. Though Raskreia did not have to wait for long for Xandrek to return though he appeared with the First Captain. The words spoken aloud to far to hear, even for an Astartes, the motion Xandrek did the raising of his right hand claw-like over his primary heart did nothing to alleviate his worries. The Captain has staked his, and likely all our lives on something he is certain to achieve. Probably the Primarch as well if he's with The Prince of Crows now. With Xandrek marching over looking everyone of us up and down in his bat winged helm.

As he reached his First Claw Xandrek handed his shield off to Azreal and stood in front of Var. Placing his hand on the Techmarine's shoulder plate Raskreia tensed before hearing Xandrek say "Var, I heard what you did for Azrael when he was ambushed by Seventeenth. Well done Tech-Marine you have saved me the trouble of looking for a new champion amongst Fourth Company." Raskreia releases the tension he built up expecting an attack as it seems that Xandrek is somewhat in a good mood for now though he stands completely still when he turns to look at the Iron Warrior. "As for you, Iron Warrior, welcome to the brotherhood of First Claw. I have no doubt my men have already threatened and scolded you but know this: While under my command you Fight with First Claw, and if need be you Die with First Claw. We are your battle brothers now and until you return to your legion that is the way it shall be. Aboard the 'Maiden of Sorrow' there is no higher authority than mine, remember that and you may save survive your time with the Eighth Legion." Xandrek then turns his gaze to look at each of us in turn. "Everyone aboard the 'Revenant' we are turning to the 'Maiden' and on the way I shall inform of Fourth Companies part in the up coming campaign."

“I thank you for your words of greeting, Captain and swear to serve you as loyally as ever I served the commanders of my own legion. My iron is yours until the day it breaks or you no longer have use for it. Ave dominus nox!” the Iron Warrior dropped to a knee slamming a fist into the other in horribly accented Nostromon. Raskreia snorted at the display thinking to himself,Very subtle there and no doubt meant to intimidate the rest of us. However when did he serve with Xandrek before this? That was not a known factor when debating his usefulness to First Claw. Damn him! Damn that bastard Iron Warrior maybe Veptus made a mistake in not letting Mawdrym work on him when they had the chance.

Marching up the ramp Raskreia stows the banner before sitting down and strapping himself into the Storm-Eagle. Xandrek standing as was his custom at the far end explaining that the Fourth would deploy at the end of the Legion close to the proselytizing bunch of Lorgar's. Their targets would be the Raven Guard Command structure, their heavy weapons teams and transports along with the Imperial Army units there. Basking in the chance to slaughter their contemporaries Raskreia did not notice that Veptus had made a suggestion to the Captain. Waiting to dock with the Maiden Raskreia kept to himself unusually quiet taking in the fact of their planned treachery to the very Imperium that had rejected them.

"Loyalty is its own reward."
Lion El'Jonson.
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post #122 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-08-14, 09:16 PM
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It was dark. It was always dark on Nostramo, but way down in the streets, the blackness took on an almost physical presence, like you could feel the inky blackness pressing down on you. It was in this dark that the hooded figure of Varius Monstangro ran, glancing over his shoulder and flinching at every slight movement. Running at break-neck speed, Varius skidded around a corner and barely kept his balance as his feet slid on whatever foul substance covered the streets. Glancing over his shoulder again, Varius never saw the great bear of a man step out from the alleyway. He certainly didn’t see the heavy cudgel swinging at his head……

With a sudden start, Var’s eyes flew open. Recoiling from the blinding white light that hung above him, Var could hardly make out the sound of Veptus’ voice, the edge of laughter in his voice.

“What a shame, you’re alive. I repaired the damage to your shoulders, but left your servo-arms untouched. I know how much I’d hate it if you walked in here and started mutilating my patients. Although, I’d do it soon. I reckon several of our brothers will be begging you for repairs and the like pretty soon.”

The faint sound of Veptus walking away sounded a thousand miles away as Var tried to take in his surroundings, and what Veptus had just said. Shading his eyes from the painful light shining down on him, Var managed to make out the line of med-slabs, and as his sensors slowly began to reboot and come back on-line, they confirmed that the smell of blood, of medicine, of weak flesh, hangs in the air. The sensors also told Var that Veptus had injected Var with enough chemicals to wake him up, and as a full damage report came in, the whole thing came flooding back. Var remembered the initial fight, the re-enforcements flooding in, knocking Sicarius to the ground and then….. nothing, just darkness.

Var checked over his injuries, seeing that Veptus was still a skilled Apothecary, and that his wounds had been sealed, although even Var did not know if he could still heal like normal flesh. Var tried to look around, and could vaguely make out the figures of other members of the Fourth, which must mean that the Fourth Claw had won, although the shapes of members of the Seventeenth suggested the fight had been broken up.

A ringing in his head and a stab of pain from his shoulder stopped Var from thinking anymore, and he gritted his teeth as he swung his legs around and got off the med-slab. His legs buckled immediately, but Var caught himself before he crashed into the ground. Slowly pushing himself upright, Var slowly began to limp towards the door out of the Apocatherion. Opening a direct channel to the Armoury of the Nightfall, and having to take a minute to find his voice once more, Var spoke.

“Prepare to administer urgent repairs”

Before waiting for a reply, Var shut the channel and limped towards the door from the room and out into the corridors of the Nightfall.

But Var had hardly taken a couple of steps before the figure of Raskreia loomed out of the blinding light and tossing his broken helmet towards Var. Var reacted quickly and managed to catch it and catch the words that Raskreia spoke.

"Well it seems that you still live for now Varius, and my helmet seems to need your looking after. You are the best in 4th for that after all right?"

Var looked up and stood as straight as he could as he glared back at the Standard Bearer.

“I can fix your helmet, its child’s play, but don’t speak the name Varius. Varius died many years ago under a maniac’s scalpel, only Var remains.”

Ignoring any response from Raskreia and the commotion happening elsewhere in the room, Var walked out the door.

Finally escaping the stench of weak flesh and blood, Var made it out into the Nightfall’s corridors and quickly made his way to the Armoury, ducking through almost hidden back passages and service tunnels to reach his destination in half the time.

Emerging into the Armoury, Var took a moment to bask in the golden glow of the forges before moving into the vast underbelly of the Nightfall properly.

Seeing the prepared group of servitors and Techmarines gathered together, Var headed towards them and all but collapsed onto the slab they had prepared, his body finally giving up. Almost instantly, with only a slight hesitant pause as they took in the state of the First Claw Techmarine, the Techmarines and Servitors quickly set to work repairing Var. The whir of saws and the roar of blow torches coming to life nearly drowned out to noises of the Armoury, of a Legion preparing for war, but the rumble of the forges still throbbed through Var’s head as he allowed his eye to close, embracing the bottomless darkness within his head as he felt his entire body nearly torn apart and then welded together. He felt his Servo-Harness suddenly come to life once more, and smiled, even as several of his Servo-arms still hung limp and useless. Retreating into himself, it did not seem long before Var was risen by the nervous shaking of a Techmarine, but the
repairs must have taken hours.

Var looked down at himself, and was impressed at how well his broken body had been patched up and prepared once more for conflict. Not saying a word to the quickly disappearing group of Techmarines and Servitors around him, Var rose to his feet and felt the power rush through his body. Flexing his body, Var found that once more his Servo-arms were whole again, and with a twisted and morbid smirk Var allowed his tail to flick out and whistle through the air in small, quick darting actions until he was satisfied that it was once more an extension of his will. Var also saw that Sicarius’ master-forged weapon, the Combi-Bolter that had almost cost Var his life, had been welded onto Var’s own Servo-Harness in place of his own damaged Bolt Pistol. Satisfied that he was once more ready to fight, Var remembered about the Standard Bearers helmet and picked it up from where it lay on the floor.

Inspecting the helmet for damage, Var could see that several large dents had ruined the helmets integrity, and they would need fixing before the coming conflict. Deciding that he was needed for more pressing matters, Var caught the arm of a passing Techmarine and placed the helmet in his hands.

“Repair this helmet and return it to Raskreia, Standard Bearer for the Fourth Company’s First Claw as soon as possible”

The Techmarine gave a hurried nod and all but ran off towards the forges. Content with his work, Var turned from the Armoury and with one final look around, the Techmarine set off out into the ship once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Var stood upon the embarkation deck once more, Power Axe in hand and the Revenant crouching like some predatory animal behind him. Hours have passed since the disastrous ambush and Var had administered all the final preparations he needed; now he only awaited the appearance of Xandrek so that the First Claw could return to Maiden’s Sorrow. Var was once more totally absorbed within his own mind, planning every last detail of the coming conflict, and performing a series of final repairs.

Suddenly, Xandrek appeared from one of the corridors opening out onto the embarkation desk, and Var saw he was in conversation with the First Captain Sevetar, although they fall silent as they walk out onto the deck properly. Turning to each other, Var saw a salute that sent his mind flying back to the small boy that had climbed over the filth on the streets of Nostramo to marvel at the feared Night Lords. Xandrek had sworn something with his life, although Var could only guess at what it was as even his enhanced sensors couldn’t pick up the conversation.

Var watched Xandrek stride over, already fully armed with his shield on his arm and weapons at his side, and simply stared back as he nodded to each of the assembled members of the First Claw. However, Var was pulled out from his thoughts as the Captain handed his tower shield to Azrael and addressed the Techmarine directly, placing his hand on Var’s pauldron.

"Var, I heard what you did for Azrael when he was ambushed by Seventeenth. Well done Tech-Marine you have saved me the trouble of looking for a new champion amongst Fourth Company."

Without another word, Var had no time to react before Xandrek turned to the Iron Warrior Pelegon and spoke again.

"As for you, Iron Warrior, welcome to the brotherhood of First Claw. I have no doubt my men have already threatened and scolded you but know this: While under my command you Fight with First Claw, and if need be you Die with First Claw. We are your battle brothers now and until you return to your legion that is the way it shall be. Aboard the 'Maiden of Sorrow' there is no higher authority than mine, remember that and you may save survive your time with the Eighth Legion."

Xandrek had barely turned his back before Pelegon spoke out.

“Lykourgos had the masters of signal turned into servitors, you know”

Xandrek nodded towards Pelegon and the Iron Warrior continued in horribly accented Nostramon as he dropped down to one knee and slammed his left fist into the palm of his right hand.

“I thank you for your words of greeting, Captain and swear to serve you as loyally as ever I served the commanders of my own legion. My iron is yours until the day it breaks or you no longer have use for it. Ave dominus nox!”

Var allowed his face to twist into a frightening attempt at a smile as the Iron Warrior swore allegiance to Xandrek, perhaps this Pelegon would prove to be useful in the future.

Xandrek ordered everyone aboard the Revenant and Var followed the rest of the First Claw back into the interior of the vessel, not making for the cabin as he had before, instead taking a seat apart from the other Night Lords on board.

Var listened as Xandrek explained the plan for the coming battle, that the Fourth Company will be stationed at the flank of the Night Lords, near to the Word Bearers, and target the Raven Guard heavy weapons teams, transports and to target commanders. Var was torn about this news. He had taken apart countless Heavy Weapons so knew well how they worked and how to destroy them, but he also knew how much damage they could do, and Var also knew that the Raven Guard’s commanders were amongst the finest warriors in the Imperium and that bringing one down would be a mammoth task in a fair fight. It was a good thing then that the Night Lords had perfected that art of fighting dirty. However Var’s eyes lit up at the mention of fighting the Imperial Army, as Var despised those of flesh who were too weak even to take up the mantle of Astartes and get some bit closer to the Machine God. As the Revenant approached the Maiden of Sorrow, Var smiled, his tail already twitching in anticipation of the blood that would soon be spilled.



The Silent Lions Chapter

Winter Falls

Darkness

Give a man a match and he will be warm for a day.
Set a man on fire and he will be warm for the rest of his life.
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post #123 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-14-14, 06:20 PM Thread Starter
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Everyone: There is silence after Xandrek finishes his explanation of what fourth company will be doing during the battle of Isstvan V with the only other sound in the 'Revenant' is the sound of light clicking coming from Veptus and Xandrek as they converse over a private channel but eventually even those two fall silent as the 'Revenant' makes its way back to the 'Maiden of Sorrow'. After the trip all of you disembark with Xandrek looking towards you all and retrieves his shield from Azrael: "All of you head to the Armory and equip jump packs, I have a plan for out initial assault on out 'brothers' now I shall go and inform all the sergeants of out deployment and I shall meet you in the armory shortly."

With that Xandrek moves off to the gathered Sergeants all waiting on the far side of the embarkation deck awaiting their deployment orders, this gives you all time to follow Var to the armory where you will equip jump packs under orders of Xandrek which means that Var himself is going to have to disconnect his Servo-Harness to equip one. While you are in the armory you have the chance to gather any spare ammunition that you believe you may need, along with any grenades or look to see what new weapons have been produced by the 'Maidens' armory. (Here you may change your wargear to anything else that you may take on the first page of the recruitment and if you do then post it in an ooc section at the end of your post. Bare in mind we shall be fighting - 'normal' Astartes, Terminators, Dreadnoughts, Tanks, Imperial Army and Mechnicum so think ahead at what evil things I may be throwing you against.)

OOC: As i said this is a short update. Change your wargear to what you think you will need and feel free to talk with each other. Deus i've sent Xandrek's reply to your question in a pm. As long as all of you can get atleast one paragraph up for this update im happy as the next update will see us on Isstvan just about to open fire on the three loyalist legions. Any questions then feel free to message me.

Already, you exalt me for my triumphs, When I ask only that you remember me for my treacheries

Victory is nothing more than survival.
It carries no weight of honour or worth beyond what we ascribe to it.
If you wish to grow wise, learn why brothers betray brothers. - Khyron, First Grand Master of the Eighth Brotherhood.
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post #124 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-18-14, 06:01 AM
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Tyberus grinned as they entered the armory, he was excited at the prospect of once again utilizing jump packs as he had been so accustomed in his time in his assault squadron before being asked to join the First Claw. There was something oddly reassuring about clamping the jump pack on again, "Finally we go to war!" his low voice boomed out, there was an excitement in his tone that could not be hidden. The others all had their own reasons for taking part in this revolt, but for Tyberus this was simple, the Imperium he had fought for was corrupted and rotten to the core. He would no longer be slaved to the lies of the False Emperor or his lapdogs.

Looking over his choices for wargear he grabbed some extra melta bombs, figuring if they were equipping with assault packs they would likely be targeting entrenched enemy tanks or fortified positions. He kept his storm bolter as it was a weapon that had always served him well. He looked at his trusted power maul and grinned, the massive two handed weapon was among his favorites and he wanted the weapon with him in case they needed to be line breakers or engage with heavily armored or entrenched Astartes.

"To war!" The veteran nodded, mostly to himself as he looked about at his brother Night Lords and the Iron Warrior that was in their charge.
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post #125 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-20-14, 12:08 PM
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Pelegon did not have an easy time finding a jump pack that met his needs. As his armour was significantly more extensive and denser than that of his fellows, it weighed more, and a standard MkII or MkIV jump pack would not serve to carry him properly. A MkIII would be up to the task, though it was less than ideal with its temperamental and power-thirsty nature, though the Iron Warrior was confident of his armour's power supply's capability. Eventually he found one, and clamped it over his back and shoulders, feeling the impacts as the mag-locks smashed together, securing it in place. He had to move a little more stooped than usual in order to maintain his centre of balance, but Pelegon concluded that overall the jump-pack was advantageous. In addition to the improved maneuverability he would also now have significantly more upper body mass, which would make his charges that much more devastating by lending them more momentum. That would be even without the jet thrusters driving him forward.

In the armoury, his eye lingered on the selection of heavy weapons, and it was only with difficulty that he decided against a missile launcher or lascannon; if he wanted to learn how the VIIIth fought, he would need to stick with them, not that with which he was already overly familiar. He took a belt of frag and krak grenades, and two clips of vengeance rounds for his pistol, but otherwise considered himself adequately armed. Hefting the chainglaive, the Iron Warrior moved to a quiet corner of the armoury where he would not be in the way and practiced swinging it, getting a feel for the weapon's weight distribution and responsiveness to his actions. So far, he liked it.
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post #126 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-20-14, 08:06 PM
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Hushed words and private vox links seemed so dull. The faint clicking within the revenant of a private conversation between the Mediace Primus and Xandrek. Perhaps it was a shorter life expectancy but it seemed to be an unneeded nuisance. Still the more long lived aboard the ship found some solace in hushed words and it suited him fine.

That was a degree of nostalgia lingering in the thought of a jump pack for the Destroyer. The traditional equipment for the Legion Destroyers were jump packs and so donning one again felt strangely comforting and haunting at the same time because it reminded him of countless battles in which his own body was ravaged by the very toxins he used to slay the foes of the Emperor. It was odd to him that Xandrek would proclaim that all of First Claw would carry them but it didn't bother him any.

When Xandrek left he pursued the Mediace directly and addressed him bluntly.

"I would have words with you. . . about this lovely serum. . . and the weaponizing thereof."

The voice grated uneasily as though a nervous child were about to unwrap a present. Clearly the mention of it aboard the revenant had piqued his interest. They walked briefly along the hall as the conversation carried. During that time Veptus described how it would work and how he might be able to facilitate the usage of it. If there was any way to create a bomb similar to the Phosphex grenade he would gladly use it.

The doctor responded with how long it might take to accomplish the feat and to contain the deadly toxin in a gaseous form and to stabilize it enough to be contained within a grenade which suited him fine. What happened next however was odd. The Doctor brought up the Olympian. Serhiy figured it was bound to happen. Pelegon was the sore thumb here, the pink elephant, it would be impossible to not bring him up in conversation for a while. Veptus had inquired about the two's acquaintance.

"Yes we've been. . He's curious. . . a blunt instrument forced among wolves and a hard tool just like all IVth legionnaires. . Given his expertise I would fight with him. . use his skills in siege breaking as I suspect I will be thrown at the Guardsmen and their honeycomb of fortifications. . I'll use a pict recorder to observe their reactions to your. . .medication for review later."

What happened next could almost be described as the bastard offspring of a giggle mixed with the rough striking of a violin and nails on a chalk board.

"What opinion of him have you?"

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post #127 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-23-14, 12:48 AM
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Listening to the clicking of voxes between Veptus and Xandrek Raskreia waited to land once more in the in the Maiden's hangar. "All of you head to the Armory and equip jump packs, I have a plan for out initial assault on out 'brothers' now I shall go and inform all the sergeants of out deployment and I shall meet you in the armory shortly." xandrek had informed them all before heading off to meet with the Sergeants. "Xandrek what do you want done with the Fourth's Standard? Flight from jetpack with the standard along it might cause an imbalance at the wrong moment resulting in my, or another's death at an inopportune moment. Especially if we are to be fighting the Raven Guard, the 'honor' of it being present doesn't justify the risk to me. Though if you feel that it is required I shall bring it." Raskreia voxed his Captain privately.

Marching behind Varius Raskreia smirked under his helmet at the small pathetic line he was regaled with mentioning the Tech-Marines name in full. That is something to be held back and used in a situation with the utmost meaning and hopefully it will bring about his death with that temper of his. Either way it will be used sparingly so as not to dilute the impact of it's venom. Coming out of his thoughts in the armory Raskreia selected more magazines filled venegnce rounds for his pistol as well as more of fragmentation rounds for use against the guard. "To war!" Tyberus had said softly to himself before regarding the rest of the assembled Night Lords and the mad dog Pelegon. "War? No this is not a war Tyberus, this is going to be a single-sided massacre of the highest proportions. We will cripple, if not outright kill, three other Legions. That is not a war but wholesale slaughter. I would think that difference would have been blindingly obvious to a Night Lord and apparent even to a neophyte Iron Warrior. Stop being a fool when aboard the Maiden at least. When you die down there I promise to mourn for a whole second before taking nothing from your corpse especially if you insist on stupidity." Raskreia said evenly voice not raising above a conversational tone.

"Loyalty is its own reward."
Lion El'Jonson.
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post #128 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-23-14, 01:54 AM
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With every swing the Iron Warrior made, his skill with the chainglaive improved. Pelegon prided himself on his ability to learn, and the Nostraman weapon was proving to be no obstacle in this regard. He had to understand the weight distribution and become familiar with it, how to move the shaft between his fingers so as to keep the blade correctly angled and not to strike with the flat, how to alter the length of shaft between his hands and the blade for differing engagement distances. It slid up and down smoothly in his grip, which alternately clenched and relaxed, gentler when needing to adjust distance, firm when bringing the weapon up or down into the blow. Where he put his weight was also something that he was picking up, his footing becoming more fluid with each movement.

Pelegon knew that he wasn't a delicate fighter, though this was a weapon capable of drawing great swathes of blood in wonderfully controlled arcs. He was a killer, and his ruthless pragmatism would always stop him from becoming a real blademaster, but to compensate he wasn't afraid to use his body in a fight. Many fighters, particularly from the more esoteric legions such as the Emperor's Children or White Scars, would train in such a way that left their fighting style restricted to the use of only the blade. They would cut and stab, but be unable to punch, kick, headbutt and crush. What they did worked fantastically against opponents following similarly restricted rules of engagement, but did not stand up for long against one willing to use any means possible to win. Several theoretical combat scenarios played through Pelegon's head while he listened to the company standard bearer, Raskreia, lecture Tyberus. Pelegon would have let it go, but the incorrectness of Raskreia's statement irked him more than the questionable bionic hand he had procured.

Briefly the shadowy opponent in Pelegon's mind took on Raskreia's appearance, in a sequence where Pelegon grabbed him by the back of the skull with his left hand, and pulled him in while shoving the chainglaive forward and up, holding it near the head in his other hand, forcing the whirring teeth into the slight overlap between the plates covering the thorax and abdomen. Having done so, Pelegon pulled his opponent closer toward himself, the Iron Warrior putting his left foot behind his opponent's right, before shoving him, and the enemy collapsed. His own momentum ripped the chainglaive's head free, along with considerable portions of innards. Not enough to kill immediately, as he had been aiming the tip of the blade away from the twin hearts, but enough to cripple. For a kill move, he would have simply rammed the weapon into Raskreia's head or neck.

Back in the real world, the Olympian stopped his decreasingly fluid movements, standing to attention with the chainglaive held out in front of him in both hands, and dropped down onto his haunches, rising up and down again as he performed squat exercises. He wasn't defending Tyberus, though the man was likely the closest thing to a comrade that he had at the moment, but correcting a battle-brother.

"A bit rich to accuse another of stupidity considering your own position, Raskreia" Pelegon grunted in his terribly accented Nostraman "you are wrong, it is a war. Perhaps this battle will be somewhat one-sided, but I can assure you that in the greater scheme of things we do not stand nearly as favourably as you seem to assume. Do not underestimate our foe either, for our former brothers will sell their lives dearly, knowing, as they soon will, that their own survival is forfeit"

The Iron Warrior tucked his left leg under him, and continued to move up and down, now balancing solely on his right, tipping the chainglaive a little to help act as a counterbalance.

"I'm also not a neophyte, though I don't know whether that was some abortive attempt at an insult or genuine ignorance. Here, I'm just an observer. If it makes you feel better, pretend that I have a lens for a face and a pict-recorder unit for a body, but in the IVth I'm a Centurion. So..." Pelegon dropped onto his knees, locking the chainglaive onto his back, before setting his hands on the deck in front of him. Without a word, he rolled forward onto his elbows, then rose up until he was doing a perfect handstand, rotating so his upside-down faceplate was making eye-contact with Raskreia. The insincere tone of the words combined with the Iron Warrior's bizarre body language was making it clear exactly what he thought of the standard bearer.

"I'm going to ask you nicely to stop bleating; consider it somewhat unbecoming of an astartes. If you have a problem with my being here, then I'm sure you can shove a sword into my head at your earliest convenience. If, however, I am not so intolerable that I justify being murdered, may I suggest that we set aside our differences and work together against what is, at the end of the day, a common enemy?"
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post #129 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-23-14, 05:21 AM
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"War? No this is not a war Tyberus, this is going to be a single-sided massacre of the highest proportions. We will cripple, if not outright kill, three other Legions. That is not a war but wholesale slaughter. I would think that difference would have been blindingly obvious to a Night Lord and apparent even to a neophyte Iron Warrior. Stop being a fool when aboard the Maiden at least. When you die down there I promise to mourn for a whole second before taking nothing from your corpse especially if you insist on stupidity." Raskreia berated him, but it did not draw him to action, tempted though he was to see his power maul driven through the foolish Standard Bearer's skull, caving into his chest cavity, perhaps even damaging his gene seed beyond repair. The visualization though was enough and Tyberus stayed his hand, as Pelegon spoke up, which he misinterpreted to be on his behalf.

The odd upside down posture that the Iron Warrior took was puzzling to Tyberus as the Olympian spoke in response to Raskreia "A bit rich to accuse another of stupidity considering your own position, Raskreia," The Iron Warrior grunted and seemed to intentionally overdo his poor Nostramon accent to taunt the Standard Bearer. "You are wrong, it is a war. Perhaps this battle will be somewhat one-sided, but I can assure you that in the greater scheme of things we do not stand nearly as favourably as you seem to assume. Do not underestimate our foe either, for our former brothers will sell their lives dearly, knowing, as they soon will, that their own survival is forfeit."

A bit confused as to what to do, Tyberus, not wanting to look as if he had the Iron Warrior speak out on his behalf quickly knocked the Iron Warrior over with a light push from his left foot. "On your feet Olympian! I do not need your intervention, nor do we have the time for your foolish games." His tone was harsh, directed like an older brother who had been embarassed by something a younger sibling had done, his tone and posture grew fiercer as he turned to face Raskreia.

"You will never have the chance to decide whether to loot my remains or not little carrion crow, you will be dead long before I. You may even perish before the foolish Iron Warrior. He speaks truth though, this is but one battle that will be waged. You are a greater fool than I would have ever believed Raskreia if you believe this one battle will be both beginning and end of our secession! Yes, three Legions will die by our hands, but there are not only three Legions still loyal to the False Emperor, their are not only three Legions who will oppose us." The vitriol was practically spewing forth like venom with each word as Tyberus spoke, he was ready for war and his temper and readiness for bloodshed was at a new peak, it needed to be given how high he knew the stakes would be. "Istvaan is but our first step, for the moment we will have the element of surprise, but once our hand is revealed we will no longer have any further advantage save for our fighting abilities. This will be a war Brother Raskreia, and it would behoove you to be prepared for the most violent and savage fighting we have ever encountered. Were you to be deployed on Istvaan and on the other side of this would you simply let yourself die or would you, knowing your fate is sealed fight tooth and nail, swear to take as many enemy lives as possible before being killed?" Knowing the answer he continued "Our once Brothers will fight with great fury, not to live, but to kill as many of us as they possibly can. I say again, this will be a war and even our assault tomorrow will not be easy. The only ones foolish enough to believe this will be an easy campaign are those who will be among the first to die tomorrow, fools who thought that Three Legions would simply accept their fate and die. I go to war, perhaps you simply go to your death."

Tyberus did not even look at the Iron Warrior, irritated as he was with him, though he knew enough not to leave his inherited problem alone with the scavengers that lurked about. "Olympian, with me, I would not have you dead before we make planetfall," his voice bellowed out as he stalked off towards the transports.
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post #130 of 173 (permalink) Old 09-23-14, 06:27 PM
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Veptus had known Xandrek longer than any other member of the First Claw, and he knew the tone of Xandrek’s reply. "The promise between myself and the First Captain is something that does not concern you right now Veptus, if at some point during the future you need to be informed then you shall be. However the promise has nothing to do with the Isstvan campaign so you do not need to worry." It was a tone that told Veptus to leave the conversation well enough alone. Sometimes Xandrek enjoyed making people tease information out of him, gave him a certain rush of power Veptus supposed. This was not one of those times. “Whatever it is my lord, I trust you have not sold our lives or your own at a bargain.” Was Veptus’ playful reply.
“Whilst there are certain lives I would gladly pay to be rid of, yours and mine are not among them...” Xandrek continued “…Also, your proposal is approved. Just make sure Serhiy knows how and who it works best against.”

The rest of the journey was uneventful and in good time they were back aboard the Maiden. Xandrek told them to all equip jump packs and that he would meet them shortly. Evidently he had other duties to perform. The process of actually equipping a jump pack as an Apothecary was more difficult for Veptus than for the rest of his brothers. His back-pack stored numerous vials and substances that required fixed temperature ranges to perform optimally. They couldn’t risk being roasted by the exhaust fumes of a jump pack. So Veptus equipping such an item was a laborious process of rearranging various tubes, vials and storage containers so that they would not be compromised. The other side effect that he was unable to take his sniper rifle into battle, it’s bulky form and slow firing speed hardly matched to the speed and ferocity of the battle that was about to ensue. Instead, Veptus picked up a second pistol, a plasma pistol. Compact enough to be wielded as a third weapon alongside all his other equipment and, considering the magnitude of the slaughter that was about to unfold, the decreased range was a sacrifice Veptus was happy to make.

He had just finished donning his new equipment when Serhiy approached him with all the subtly and quivering excitement of a small child.
“I would have words with you. . . about this lovely serum. . . and the weaponizing thereof.”
“Of course my friend…” Veptus said with a grim smile plastered under his helmet to the background noise the other members of the First Claw bickering. He could not manufacture the effort to wade into the mess of a debate they were having and frankly didn’t care about the outcome. “…shall we?” The pair of them left the squabbling nest of angry crows and headed towards the Apothecarion. “I assume you want to know how this new weapon will work?” Veptus asked already knowing the answer. “Basically it is a cousin pathogen to the Life Eater virus. However, whereas the Life Eater devours all organic matter that no physiology can hope to repair, this pathogen targets specifically the nerve fibres and the capillary walls. Essentially it dissolves the blood vessels and causes body-wide internal haemorrhaging, as well as excruciating pain. It also works much slower and is less acidic than the Life Eater…”

Veptus strode into the bright sterile room, Serhiy following just behind. As he continued to talk, he began to prepare the serum. His back was facing the Destroyer as he spoke. “…In small quantities, this simply results in agony for Astartes, the chief purpose for which my colleagues and I use it for. However, our helms should protect us from most of the gas. In humans however, the results are fatal. They bleed from every orifice, but take long enough to expire that they can grab the person nearest to them and beg for help. That’s where the true genius of the toxin comes. It is blood transmittable. So, as blood pours from their fingers and the grasp for help, they doom their comrades to the same fate.” Veptus chuckled as the centrifuges worked their magic. “And on and on it goes…” He turned to face Serhiy. “…This is a weapon to be used primarily on the human auxiliaries you understand? I will not have you waste this gift by spending it frivolously against our cousins.”

Veptus let the machines behind him work into getting the toxin to a gaseous state before storing it in grenades. “While we wait for these toxin grenades to be prepared, I have another, less important query. I trust you have met our pet Iron Warrior?”
"Yes we've been. . He's curious. . . a blunt instrument forced among wolves and a hard tool just like all IVth legionnaires. . Given his expertise I would fight with him. . use his skills in siege breaking as I suspect I will be thrown at the Guardsmen and their honeycomb of fortifications. . I'll use a pict recorder to observe their reactions to your. . .medication for review later." Veptus didn’t need it reviewed. He knew what he did because he had seen it happen. More likely they would just be for Serhiy to mull over later. He’d call him a sick bastard but it would make him a hypocrite. "What opinion of him have you?" Serhiy always seemed to word his questions strangely.
“Truthfully, I hardly have an opinion. He seems to be adapting quickly, but he seems slaved to Tyberus. Something I’m sure he’ll quickly outgrow. I’m not known to rush to judgements, and I don’t intend to start now. Perhaps at a later time you can ask me again. Unless you find him strung up by his entrails, then you’ll probably guess what I thought of him!” Behind him the machines continued to whir, concocting fresh doom for those they were about to face…

My contribution to the Renegades saga. Check it out

My growing IIIrd legion stuff:

17th Millenial (Homebrew Fluff) - "Children of the Emperor, death to his foes!" (Project Log)

Also my 30k tacticas, for those of you interested:

Crusade Army List tactica - Individual Legion tactica

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Originally Posted by Angel of Blood View Post
And for two fucking grand, I could buy enough rum and hookers to 'artistically' recreate the better part of Pirates of the Caribbean.
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