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post #11 of 15 (permalink) Old 01-11-14, 11:17 AM
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As the action unfolded around him, Tincan started planning his next move. The enemy vox cast was an unwanted annoyance, but they were all veterans. All of this could be dealt with. And yet... the usual cultist scum didn't even use vox comm. Those guys were well organized, for Chaos standards. "This is going downward fast. When they notice we cut their comms, they'll be over us en masse. We need to clear out, get into an open area and disperse. Let's just hope the Commissar can keep up. And that his so-called superiors know what in the Emperor's name is going on and can help us in any way..."

But right here, on the field, all that mattered was him and his fellow scouts. No hierarchy, no orders, just ruthless battle insticts. Chaos and us. The pure essence of battle. And by the Throne, they would give them hell and storm out. "Time to advance."

Moving past his cover, checking that his path would be outside the hidden cultist's line of sight, he moved to the crates standing in the middle of the room. He could see the two guards Wraith mentioned, plus a third one behind another crate and a fourth one in an alcove on the back wall.

The one in the middle was holding is weapon tight, his hands shaking. "He must have heard something. He didn't move, though, just piss his pants in fear. Good, good. We can exploit this..." After a brief search in his backpack, Tincan found what he was looking for: one of his food ration cans. A simple plan: throw it to the back wall when the cultist turned his back and watch him jump and shoot something. Then, in the ensuing chaos, jump in and clean up the room. If anyone else came, his squad could give all the support he needed. And if he was lucky enough... He signaled the others to take position and went for it.

"Don't fail me now, brother..." he muttered to the can, then threw it near the alcove where the last cultist was standing. It hit the wall with a loud crack, and the spooked guard turned and opened fire on reflex, landing a body shot on his comrade, whom fell to the ground, gargling and cursing. The commotion drew out the other two from their hiding place, plus a third one, coming from the corridor past the room. Perfect.

"And now, let's clear this shithole."
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post #12 of 15 (permalink) Old 01-14-14, 04:20 PM
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Another Vox!’ thought San. ‘This is unnatural

He could tell he wasn’t the only one who thought this. He knew there had to be something they were missing. And then it him. He moved back to observe one of the dead cultists and looked over the body again. He didn’t know what to look for at first but now he did. He turned the cultists skull to the side and a primal fear stoked his heart. The mark was small, but could be clearly seen in the gloom.

I was afraid you would never work it out’ The voice said, not even attempting to mask its glee.

SHUT UP” San said in a hushed tone.

Oh come now, don’t act so surprised. You knew they were still out there somewhere in the dark reaches of the galaxy.’

This is none of your concern

I would laugh at your arrogance if it was not so pathetic. I...I mean...WE...were moulded by the horrors of those years. And yet you still think this is not my concern? The fool Marchiz may have shaped you but they are who created you. Do you not wish to repay their kindness?

San stared into the abyss for what seemed a lifetime. He could see his home burning, the screams as those nightmarish creatures descended from the heavens. And then the laughter started. It rung so clearly, as if he was there again. He snapped himself out in time to see Tincan’s plan come to fruition, revealing the other guards. There was now only four of them.

You know what you have to do. These men are the cause of everything...finish the job

San’s fear was replaced by rising fury. He drew his dagger from his belt, he could feel it vibrating slightly in his hands, as if it shook with anticipation, waiting to taste blood again.


San launched himself forward, his footfalls making no sound what so ever. The shadows enveloped him, as if embracing a long lost brother. When he had reached terminal velocity he flung himself at the first cultist.

The cultist had barely time to register he was in danger before San’s dagger plunged into his chest. San rolled away from the cultist and drew his pistol before the other cultists could react and took out another with a head shot.

By the time the two remaining cultists had raised their weapons to fire on him he had already rolled back into an alcove and back into the depths of the shadows. The cultists fired wildly into the dark where San had disappeared. The fury that burnt within San was trying to consume him, use him simply as a puppet of destruction. While shots rung all around him he fought with ‘The Beast’, trying to regain his composure.

“Insane? You dare to claim that we are insane? I find this very amusing. You see, there is no such thing as sanity. Why? Because the nature of sanity depends on the context the term is used. A man living in squalor may call the rich man insane for wasting food, while the rich man in return may call the poor insane for living off his waste. You slaughter thousands and squander the resources of planets on foolish incursions to please a corpse and his corrupted followers. And you have the nerve to call me insane? Oh poor misguided individual, pray to whatever deity you serve and hope he is merciful, for those who find themselves trapped in the spiders web have little else they can do”

Lord Nerthro of the ‘Heralds of Absurdity’ to what remained of an Imperial scouting party
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post #13 of 15 (permalink) Old 01-18-14, 04:50 AM
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Wraith cringed as he heard the clang of the can, the sound standing out amidst the silence of the room, it did its job though he had to give Tincan that as the last of the enemies moved out of cover. He then watched with thinly veiled interest as Shadow went to work. His foot falls matched Wraiths expertly placed with the perfect judge of pressure, though there was a very different personality to it that separated the two men. No not men hunters.

Jace ripped back into the fore, with an immediate softening of his face. “You go back to the deep!” he shouted out in his mind as he wrestled back his consciousness. The stone killer leaving and Jace once again had control and his high functions returned. Jace began to work through what they knew and more importantly what they didn’t. With that in mind he returned his focus to his surroundings. He then fired with Shadow felling one of the last cultists.

The other continued to fire at shadows position the blind shots saddened Jace. There was no thought to it but then again what else should be expected of a lowly heretic. His thoughts turned, as he sighted in his scope over the cultists exposed face. They could learn more.

With a flash Jace was on his feet dropping his neetler to his side as it swung behind him on its sling as he pulled his pistol. He then moved forward his steps were silent and the cultist didn’t notice him, they never did. Just like when he was a boy training with the other cadets.

As he drew closer he sent round straight into the heretics knee cap, shattering it. The cultist sent out a howl of pain as he crashed to the floor. Then Jace was on him. He pressed his boot into the cultist’s chest as he pointed his pistol squarely at his face. Finally he would have his answers. Finally he would know who he needed to hunt.
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post #14 of 15 (permalink) Old 01-18-14, 02:38 PM Thread Starter
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Mission 3

The Commissar looks out from his niche, pleased. He wonders at his odds of survival without the vets. The Commissar was trained to fight on the front lines, inspiring his troops and leading them to victory in the name of the Emperor. He never wanted to sit behind and wait while all his men died. But the Emperor desires his survival, and so it must be. Without the veterans, he would not be able to sneak by all the chaos patrols in his flashy uniform.

“Excellent work, men. Wait at the door for me,” he voxes. He makes his way down the corridor, stepping over the bodies of fallen cultists as though they were rocks in the road. He reaches the door and finds his three loyal men waiting for him. “We continue West. The shuttle bay should be accessible from the main hub.” “I have a bad feeling about this, Commissar” says Wraith, “I felt it before, when I fought with chaos in the past. There’s a trap up ahead.” The Commissar shrugs it off. “Then we use caution, Wraith.”

The connecting corridor up ahead contained a mere cultist, kneeling upon a painted Chaos star, as though in prayer. “Perhaps we can use him for questioning” suggests Tincan. “I have no questions. The Enemy is deceitful.” With this, the Commissar draws his regal power sword and decapitates the cultist with one swift strike. “Sir, he could have given us information!” Tincan persists. “The Commissar turns to him coldly. “Know your place. I call the shots here. You do as you are told. We move!” The team walks down the corridor and reaches the door to the main hub.

The door slides open.

A large number of guardsmen are in the vast room beyond, the 12th light infantry platoon, lasguns blazing. They are shouting as though in fear of an unseen enemy. The vets edge closer, peering out the doorway.

A large power-armored figure lumbers forward, the stench of rot and death pouring off his body. In a bubbly voice, he declares, “I am the Reaper. Lord Nurgle desires your lives.” A flood of white-hot pus erupts from the barrel of his modified flamer, engulfing and disintegrating a score of guardsmen. They fire back, but the shots seem to do nothing against his bulky armor.

“I am the Bloodlust! Come face me! Blood for the blood god! Skulls for the skull throne!” the voice seems to resonate out of nowhere. Then, a large blood red figure appears on one of the support struts, his chameleonic wings unfolding. Jumping form his perch, he swoops down and soars over the heads of the guardsmen, chainaxes extended so that they cleaved off the heads of four. One brave guardsman stepped forward, carrying a powerful melta gun. “Die filth!” he screams.

Before he could pull the trigger, a large tongue wraps around his hand. Steam rising from the area, he screams and drops the gun, just to have his head lopped off by a giant yet elegant power sword. The Slaanesh champion let him fall to the ground before swinging his blade into the bodies of more guardsmen in a dance-like manner. “I am the Ecstasy! Allow pain and pleasure to fill every orifice of your body!” he shouts.

The guardsmen are now reduced to only a few, scrambling about, firing their lasguns in dire hope of survival. But these foes are too powerful for them. The weak lasbolts do little on the traitor marines’ power armor. A large marine in sapphire blue armor appears from the shadows, black fire emanating from him. “I am the Sorcerer. Seye on evah I. Elbicnivni ma I!” he hisses from the grills on his helmet. He points his golden staff at a terrified guardsman and shouts something in chaos tongue. A lance of black fire shoots out, incinerating the Imperial’s flesh from beneath his armor.

Within moments, the whole scene is over. Every guardsman’s body lay scattered across the floor in various, horrible ways. The four chaos Champions exit the room.

The Commissar stands there in stunned silence. He had never fought chaos space marines before, and witnessing the carnage caused by only four of their number makes him think that hiding in the storage room was a good idea after all. Shadow moves forward, vengeance on his face. The Commissar extends an arm to block him. “No, Shadow. The stench of chaos is strong. Simply being close to the bodies of those guardsmen would be enough to corrupt you. We take an alternate route.” The vets’ faces show a mix of anger, fear, and disappointment.

The Commissar leads the team north, but stops in the next room. “There appear to be heavily-armed patrols here. From what I can see, they are armed with Imperial lasguns and flak jackets. I can also make out a traitor marine at the far end of the room. Neutralize the traitor marine and I should be able to make it through. You can’t kill him with your current weapons, so check for a weapons locker. Also try not to let him see you, unless you want to end up like those guardsmen we saw back there.”


If someone lacks intelligence, than he is not stupid, because one cannot be stupid without intelligence.

If someone reverts to having to complain about your grammar, then you already won.
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post #15 of 15 (permalink) Old 01-18-14, 05:03 PM
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Tincan saluted, hiding as best as he could his annoyance. The Commissar would have been a fine leader on the battlefield, but here, in the shadows of this poor-lit complex, his methods were... inappropriate, if not dangerous for him and his team.

"Chaos Marines. Champions of Chaos. Organized military. By the Throne, this is getting worse by the second. And this damned Commisar with his damned secrets... Doesn't he realize the situation we're in? Moving from room to room could work out for now, but I fear we'll need a real evac plan soon... And not knowing what's really going on here could kill us all.
We need to get a signal out, report the situation, get some answers... Before those heretics find the corpses and start hunting us down. Against the Archenemy's cultists we had a chance, but against Marines? Not likely. If they take the element of surprise away from us, we'll die. Simple as that."

"Emperor of Man, overseer of all things right, Whose powers none can resist..." Softly murmuring a prayer, Tincan climbed over some of the boxes in front of him. As he glanced over the one on the top, he noticed that a third heretic was hiding behind them, facing the opposite wall. On the far side of the room, a weapon locker: "Let's hope those soldiers haven't looted everything inside it; we really need some bigger guns", he muttered to the other scouts.

Moving to the last crate on his right, Tincan set his aim on the cultist in the middle of the room and waited for his team to take position. To his teammates he said: "Let's do this fast and clean, drop them at the same time. If the Marine notices us, run for the weapon stash, I'll try and distract him. The Emperor protects, friends."
He opened fire, aiming for the head, and praying to the Holy Emperor of Terra that the Chaos monster wouldn't turn around and go for them.
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