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post #111 of 127 (permalink) Old 06-08-15, 01:03 AM
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This was turning into a blood-bath and for what? The spec of dirt they were fighting over had no strategic value and yet Astartes from both sides continued to flood the plaza with no goal other than slaughter. It was madness. The immense guns of the fleet above were not reducing them to glass so Tiberius could only conclude that the same atmospheric storm that was wreaking havoc on his HUD and auspex grid was similarly affecting the fleet in orbit. A saving grace he supposed, but one he knew could not last. Still the butcher’s bill was too high and with a force of his brethren making a meaningful muster elsewhere, intent on opposing the madness that had gripped their parent Legion, Tiberius weaved through the crowd deflecting blows whenever they opposed him or ignoring the few shots that reflected from his shield and armour. He would be mired here fending of berzerker until numbers overwhelmed him.

As he passed several World Eaters, he noticed they were either finishing of their foes disinterestedly or, more remarkably, standing slack jawed staring behind him. This disturbed Tiberius, enough for him to stop and see what had inspired such an eerie calm in these psychopaths. His mouth went dry and he felt his eyes sharpen to pinpricks. His heart hammered in his chest and his adrenaline surged. His hand gripped his spear a little tighter, trying to draw on the power contained in his weapon for comfort. It didn’t work. No weapons could quell the primal feeling now surging through Tiberius’s veins. From the far side of the plaza strode a gore-soaked demi-god. Angron, the Red Angel, had come to hunt them, and Tiberius was far closer than he would like to be to a being of such unassailable power.

Behind him brayed a great multitude of Angron’s sons and behind them were the Sons of Horus, content to let the World Eater spill blood in the way only they knew how. If it was folly to stay before, now it was suicide. Tiberius was about to retreat, intent on putting as much distance between him and the Red Angel as quickly as possible. He didn’t though. He spotted Shabran, a whirlwind of blows amidst and off-green sea. Is there no end to the foolishness of these World Eaters! Tiberius growled to himself. He had to go back for him. “You of the Eleventh Company…” Tiberius said to the surrounding World Eaters. Those still with sense acknowledged him. “…follow me.” To his surprise, they obliged and Tiberius led them to retrieve their Captain.

By the time Tiberius and the rest of World Eaters crashed into the Sons of Horus, a dozen or so lay dead at Shabran’s feet. Tiberius dismissively cut two Sons down with deft strokes, their bolt pistols and combat blades proving little defence against Tiberius’s lethal skill. He cut through to Shabran, clasping his shoulder as the World Eater sent a Son’s head rolling from his shoulders. "Captain Shabran, we must go. Now! Do not spend your life so cheaply here when you can make a difference elsewhere." Unsurprisingly, the World Eater didn’t agree.
“Cheaply? Ha! Our lives are already meaningless here beyond a chance at vengeance. There is no elsewhere. There is no better target.”

Shabran laid messily into another Son, hacking his limb rather than going for the kill. Tiberius ended him quickly. Every second they wasted was another step Angron took towards them, and he was already killing scores of Legionaries with every blow. From the distance there was the sound of tortured metal and Tiberius had to should to be heard over it and the din of battle.
"There is no vengeance here Shabran, only a meaningless death! Leave now and we will live to make our brothers bleed for what they have done to us. That is our vengeance. That is our victory! You will not make Angron bleed for what he has done, but you can make his legion bleed. We can make them all bleed, but not if we die here!"
“I understand if you want to leave, it is not your fight. But for us, what you suggest is cowardice.”

This was madness! This was not a fight they could win. There was a great battle at work and to die here would be senseless. Yet Shabran was content to die because his father, the same father that would kill him without hesitation, taught him to never run from a fight. He had to see sense.
"Us? Ha! The only us you have is those who are betrayed. You think whatever derange burblings your bastard father made to you about honour mean anything to him anymore?...” Shabran seemed to stop at this. He was getting through. Tiberius had one chance now to pull him back from the brink, else lose him forever to oblivion. His eyes scanned and found Krejer, still cutting Sons down with furious abandon. Tiberius pointed to him “…If you stay, you are nothing more than a rabid dog, afflicted with the same madness of our betrayers and you will be put down as such...” Tiberius saw in his face that he had Shabran’s ear at last. “…Leave now and prove you still have the sanity to recognise sense!"

Shabran nodded and Tiberius breathed a sigh of release. The World Eater signalled his followers and those who still had their faculties followed him. They sprinted back into the burning ruins, towards where their allies had been and Tiberius hoped they still were. He activated his vox. “Akkad, Squad Dillinger what is your position?” It was possible that they were all dead, but since Krateron had not scalded him for bringing his doom, Tiberius suspected that he was alive at least. “Be advised, Angron is perhaps a couple of hundred meters away on the south side of our previous position. I have Shabran Darr and several World Eaters in hand. We will link up with you and then we should leave. Are there any other friendly forces besides the World Eaters? If so, tell them as well. I would deny Angron all the prey we can.” They were almost on the other side of the ruin and Tiberius could still hear the din of battle. Clearly someone was still alive on the other side. Whether Tiberius would embrace them or put them down was another matter…

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Crusade Army List tactica - Individual Legion tactica

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post #112 of 127 (permalink) Old 06-09-15, 05:10 AM
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..200...Meters... Kyros was sprinting, the entire, seemingly endless and open expanse he had been sprinting. The lungs of a mortal would have exploded with the speed he carried himself forward. The seemingly inconsequential gap between the ruins and the Rapier battery would be littered with the dead of those still loyal to the Emperor on this day. Kyros could not break his charge, he could not mourn the loss of the valiant Cousins he lost this day. History would not remember their names in all liklihood, but he would, he would remember them in whatever short span of time he had left in his life. He would remember them through acts of vengeance.

That small expanse would be littered with the bodies of those Loyal. Kyros resolved he would litter the forward defense around the Rapier Battery with the bodies of those warriors who would turn their backs on the Emperor.

The crack and shunk sound of layered ceramite tore through the air and could be heard by him over the din of back and forth weapons fire. His trusty combat shield, which had seen him safely this far gave way, breaking to pieces, and looking as if made of shards of glass. A follow up volley saw the two Death Guard in his peripheral vision fall, he heard the familiar thunk of a bolter round striking home behind him, he could not turn to see that another Brother had been tripped up and as a result had his head blown to pieces by a round impacting flush with the top of his helm.

Kyros' head snapped back as his helm was struck by a bolt, right at the rounded crown and sent careening off in a ricochet harmlessly into the distance.

His rage swelled as they reached the line. Sons of Horus waiting like eager wolves, but the bastards would find no easy kills now that the distance had been covered. Now that he was in their midst. Like a wave of rage and hatred Kyros leapt the barricade that the Dogs of Horus had set up, his axe crackled and roared to life. A Son of Horus, his chainsword in hand rushes to meet Kyros, but he is surprised by the recklessness of the warrior in front of him. Kyros, not worried about defensive postures, ripostes or counters simply lunges forward with all his might, slashing down as he lands. The Son of Horus brings his chainblade across in an attempt to counter, but Kyros' power axe cuts deeply through the gap in the pale green armor plating between the pauldron and the chest plate. The Bastard of Horus, tries to bring his chainsword to bare, the teeth whirring hungrily, biting into the ceramite siding of Kyros' chest plate. With no small amount of savagery, Kyros throws his left arm over the top of the Son of Horus' right chainblade arm, trapping it against his body, the teeth of the weapon still revving and skimming along the surface of his armor, digging into the paint, eating away little flecks of ceramite. Digging the power axe deeper, applying more force, he twists the axe, a sharp crack audible over the surrounding fray as he rips the weapon free in a misting of blood that covers himself and those around him.

His left arm still hooked over the sword arm of the now dead Son of Horus, he looks at the whirring teeth and grins beneath his helmet. Quickly he takes the weapon from the dead hand of the Traitor and looks at the chainsword "You again serve the Emperor!" He yelled to the blade as if he had freed an ally of great importance.

With both chainsword and power axe in his hands he stalked forward, the rage that flowed through his blood guiding him. Another Son of Horus came into view, bringing a storm bolter up as if to unleash upon the Death Guard who had followed him into the fray. The power axe flew across the battlefield with horrifying accuracy and the weapon struck home with a thunk. The wounded Son of Horus turned to see the visage of an Astartes in battle scarred white and red armor, painted in blood bringing a Chtonian chainblade down upon him in a deathstroke. Kyros dug the chainblade deep into the throat of the Son of Horus, prying his power axe out of his chest and returning to the fray with both weapons moving in a flurry of violence.

The thudding of the Rapier Batter finally stopped, Kyros, locked in combat with one of the final defenders of this position. Kyros laughed, he found glee in the exacting of vengeance. The Son of Horus was skilled, his grasp of martial combat was immense, but Kyros would simply not be stopped. The dog of Horus though struck home, driving his blade into the gap near his abdominal muscles. He felt the blade pierce the outer sheath membrane of his armor, then cut into his muscle tissue. His teeth bared down into one another hard as he clenched his jaw in pain. He then hacked downwards with his left hand, his chainblade tearing into the flesh of his foe. The power axe followed shortly after, cleaving his enemies' sword hand, hacking at it until it fell to the ground, the blade remained lodged in his armor, having pierced about 3 or 4 inches into his muscle tissue. The Bastard dog pulled a bolt pistol from his hip with his remaining hand, the trigger however was not pulled in time. Kyros seemed to cut the space between them in an otherworldly manner, forcing the muzzle of the weapon down with a well timed strike from his chainblade. The following strike from the power axe struck the warrior square in the chest, knocking him to his back. In the melee, the Son of Horus struggled to grapple, his blood flowing freely onto the hard packed dirt, his strength draining from him he tried to fight back. An attempt to bring the bolt pistol up to shoot Kyros at point blank range failed as the World Eater knocked the weapon out of his hand. The reaching hands of the Son of Horus however struggled to grab at the helmet of the World Eater, who had stowed his power axe, his right hand held the Son of Horus' helmet, pinning his helm against the ground. The chain blade whirred as he brought it up to the throat of the Traitor in pale green. A gurgling sound came from the bastard as the adamantium teeth of the blade dug into his throat, a savage roar erupting from Kyros, who, upon decapitating the Traitor threw the head into the air, not looking to see where it landed.

The sheer silence in the aftermath of the ferocious, but short lived battle was deafening. "Where is apothecary Daeka?" Kyros questioned, motioning to the flesh wound at his abdominals as he found Sebastien and Darius once more. Morturg was still not present, and he suspected Daeka would be near the Lieutenant.

Still in the grips of the wrath within his blood though, Kyros stormed at pace towards the newly arrived Sons of Horus, his newly acquired chainblade still whirring in his left hand, his power axe crackling to life in his right, not bothering to discover their identities or status of friend or foe, his HUD was ignored. All he could see was his Death Guard allies, the purple of Sebastien and Darius and the pale green of yet another enemy, another Son of Horus. "You Bastards of Horus! Good! Another to die at my hands!"
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post #113 of 127 (permalink) Old 06-09-15, 02:01 PM
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Tyrus looked up from the corpse of the Bastard traitor Son of Horus when he saw the World Eater, whose name was like Kiros or Kyros or something like that, storming toward the loyalist Sons that had just arrived.

Tyrus lunged upward and through the comforting blast of his jump pack, landed in front of the World Eater. "World Eater!" "The battle at hand is won!"Tyrus knew that trying to face down a World Eater was a life or death situation. But Tyrus knew he couldn't let loyalist cousins blood be spilled on accident, when it could be spent killing Traitors.
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post #114 of 127 (permalink) Old 06-15-15, 02:03 PM
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He was soaked with the blood of his kin, stinking like a abattoir, his nostrils clogged with the ashes of a dying world. The wound on his cheek was healing, the flesh knitting together as he turned his attentions to the next target - A rumbling, rolling Rapier that was headed towards them. Surrounding it, veiled in shadows, were the Sons of Horus - Unlatching hooks, swords and cudgels, axes and firearms. Shots filled the air, buzzing like hornets, and Krateron darted into cover - Behind Dillinger and Vultus.

Their cover was a piece of building, blackened and scorched, having been dislodged from one of the surrounding starscrapers - A cracked gargoyle remained, leering at Krateron.

'What are you looking at?' He said, grinned, and took the head in his hands. With a pitifully soft squeeze, the rock crumbled and fell away.

And then the next enemy had vaulted their cover, swinging an axe. Krateron shot him in the stomach and away he tumbled, but not before one of Dillinger blew away his faceplate.

Dillinger were outnumbered and outgunned, as they had been all day, Krateron realised. Nonetheless, they rose bravely to their would-be killers, hate upon their lips and steel in their gauntlets. Krateron came face-to-face with the Sergeant, the Eye of Horus shining proudly upon his chest, a long, curving Chainsword held in both his hands. He was issuing his orders in Cthonic, and Krateron felt a pang of guilt - He was about to kill another of his brothers.

'Sergeant,' He called, mockingly. 'There is no dishonour in fleeing,' He holstered his bolt-pistol and drew Oathkeeper, the blade tarnished with gore and dust. 'I have done it often, today.'

The Sergeant replied with something filthy. Krateron laughed sadly.

They went together. It was blindingly fast, cruel punches being thrown whilst blades kissed and twisted, ash swirling up around them. One of them was going to die, Krateron realised, and it wasn't going to be him.

He sidestepped, caught the Chainsword with his hilt, and twisted. Disarmed, the Sergeant reached for his bolt-pistol - But Krateron was quicker. Oathkeeper cut through armour, muscle and bone - Through the wrist, and then up, into ribs and across - Through the torso. Bisected, dead, the Sergeant fell away and Krateron was left with a brief moment. Dillinger battled with their brothers around him, gutting them, robbing them of limbs, firing at point blank range. It was exhilarating and terrifying, transhuman dread seeping into Krateron's very soul. The longer he stayed here - In this quagmire - The longer he risked death.

When the last body fell, steaming and hissing, all attentions were turned towards the Rapier. Gretivalus fired, slew the operators, and the Squad moved up from cover - Krateron at their rear, eyes scanning. The Stormbird had been chased off, but Krateron knew the Sons well - More would return, at some point. And from where? He was in a ruinscape, a twisted labyrinth of broken splendour, with a thousand alleys - All bearing butchery.

And then, it fired. Vultus, the brave standard bearer of the Second, was annihilated - Turned into dancing motes of light. Krateron would mourn little, if at all - Vultus had been a stranger, another face that went amiss in the crowd - But still charged forth, with Dillinger, at the Rapier.

A sword was sheathed in the gun's metal, a purple gauntlet wrapped around the hilt.

'Burning Hells,' Krateron muttered beneath his breath, locking eyes with Sebastian. 'I had hoped you dead.'

Sebastian addressed him, and Krateron grinned darkly.

'Oh, such a lovely city, Decurion,' He said, encompassing the surrounding area with a swipe of his free hand. 'I am still running, I merely found myself sightseeing.'

When the one called Xaren came stumbling from the Rhino, Krateron's lips twisted. He had never thought highly of the Tenth Captain - Nor his Company - But he inclined his head, nonetheless, in greetings.

When the World Eater came, frothing and bellowing, Krateron grinned again.

'I have put down enough of your rabid breed today,' He pointed Oathkeeper at the Twelfth Legionary. 'One more doesn't bother me - Lower your weapons, or I'll bury mine in your heart.'

Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.

"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"

'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Yes, lord.'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
'No, lord.'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'
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post #115 of 127 (permalink) Old 06-16-15, 04:57 AM
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Xaren wipe the blood from his helm, the liquid causing visual problems with his lens ability to see. The Isstvanians, though not able to match the Space Marines in terms of strategy and execution, fought with a fervor not normally seen in humanity. The Isstvan system rebelled against the Emperor and reverted to their ways of psychik usage, regardless that it was banned by The Decree of Nikea. The Warmaster, Horus Lupercal ordered four entire Legion Astartes to the system to quell out the rebellion. Xaren was torn at the idea that someone could rebel against the benevolent Emperor of Mankind and outraged that they were openly denouncing The Imperium. Isstvan III would soon erupt into combat.
The drop to the planet had been rough, rougher than a usual interjection by drop pod. All of Hellebore Squad was loaded into two pods. Intelligence left out that the Isstvanians had any sort of anti-air weaponry, and a single drop pod, 5 members of Xaren’s squad were blown apart in a blast of smoke and metal. 5 green blips on his HUD went black, Xaren felt his blood boil at the arrogance of the Isstvanians. They think they can kill my squad and get away with it? The comm link chirped once, with Captain Torgaddon on the other end.
“All units, be advised that the Enemy has Surface-to-Air defenses. Deploy flares and chaff if possible.” The irony was palpable to Xaren as one of the battle bothers spoke on the squad vox.
“Little late with the details,” one of his squad, Larth cursed.
The air inside the drop pod grew hot, the suits temperature readings estimating a 120 degrees. On the targeting data-slate in front of Xaren showed the trajectory of his pod, and the remaining distance to the ground. 200 metres remaining. The heat intensified and with a slam, the metal husk hit a solid object and the doors ejected the 5 remaining members of Hellebore.
Bolter and lasgun fire whizzed around the destroyed city, with explosions that echoed like thunder of an angry god. The Astartes of the Sons of Horus, the name sounding bitter to Xaren, were charged with taking the enemies temple stronghold, The Sirenhold. For reasons unknown to Xaren, his squad was launched entirely off-course. What should have been marble and temple structures around him were business centers and market stalls. His HUD and showed the objective to be to the immediate west. His vox clicked once with in incoming message.
“Hellebore Squad, this is Captain Loken,” the voice came through gruff and low, interrupted by the sound of muffled explosions, “The squad indicator shows you are off target and in World Eater mission zone. Advance to our location.” The link cut off before Xaren could give a response. With a burst of hand signals, The sergeant of Hellebore squad got his group moving through the civilian territories.
The marketplace was quiet, the distant rumble of gunfire and explosions filling in the gap between screams of the damned and dying. The route was untouched, no one having tread through in the last several hours. Unease swept through Xaren as the gunfire drew closer and the death throes of buildings collapsing were spotting in the near horizon. Towering above most of the landscape was the Sirenhold, their main objective. A trail of smoke caught Xaren’s eye as his retinal enhancements made out a lone Thunderhawk speeding towards the planet. He noticed his vox chirp and all of the channels were filled with the same news. An incoming bio attack from Isstvanians. It was Captain Tarvitz of the Emperor’s Children. His voice was frantic before it was cut short and static filled is ear.
Thunder rippled across the heavens and Xaren sensed dread rising in his chest. This wasn’t the work of the local populace. This was treachery. He quickly ordered his squad to find shelter and ran. Nothing seemed like it would be safe from the incoming bombardment but at the last moment, his eyes fell upon an abandoned Rhino Transport. Xaren checked for his squad all seeing them in opposite directions. He felt a pang in his heart as he locked himself in the metal transport and heard the world explode outside.
From a reinforced porthole he saw the virus bomb, The Life Eater, do its devastation to a battle brother, Larth. He was not able to find adequate shelter and his helmet fell off of his head. His skin was liquefying and hi bones crumbling to dust. Xaren watched as one by one, his brothers indicators on his HUD blinked from green to red then to black.
The world outside the porthole then burned red as a fire attack commenced, burning everything that isn’t safe. Xaren screamed until his throat hurt, his voice becoming hoarse and rough. He cursed The Sons of Horus, he cursed the Warmaster, his own father, for turning on them. They were loyal to the Emperor and for that, Horus deemed they had to die.
The flames that scorched the earth subsided and Xaren exited the tank. Everything was blackened and the smell of burning metal and flesh leaked through his helmets filters and he ripped it from his head. The heat that was lingering was warm against his face. He stared blankly across the landscape, seeing the blackened armor pieces of his squad. His anger burned in his throat and he saw the symbol of his legion, The Eye of Horus, leering up at him.
Xaren found a piece of metal and scrapped off his Eye of Horus on his shoulder pauldron. It felt like a tainted icon to him, something unholy and wrong. He scavenged around in a market area and found what he was looking for. After several moments, he emerged, his armor the original white and black trim of the Luna Wolves, with a crudely painted Luna Wolves emblem over the scratched out Eye of Horus. He felt at home again. He felt right.
He tested the vox system and found nothing but static. I must be the only one left, He mused. No, that couldn’t be true. Their had to be others. He began to head towards The Sirenhold, in hopes of finding someone else. Several hours passed with no contact.
The quiet of the landscape screamed at him, deafening him with abrasive silence. It played with his sanity as his mind turned to violence and revenge. He heard something in the back of his mind, a whisper of a name that he never heard before and yet felt that he knew it from somewhere. It felt right thinking of how he could inflict vengeance and pain on his once-called brothers. It turned in his mind, warping his thoughts and ignited a blood lust he never knew existed. After several hours, he came to the Sirenhold and found it empty, only bodies remained. Xaren heard the boom of something breaking the sound barrier and raised his vision to the sky. Dozens of Thunderhawks were rocketing towards the surface. His face darkened. So they’ve come to finished the last remaining few. His vox crackled with static and suddenly a voice came through.

‘Loyal sons of the Emperor, this is Captain Torgaddon of the Luna Wolves, Second Company. The Second and Tenth are at the Sirenhold, where Traitor forces are beginning to amass. The Precentor’s Palace is still in Loyal hands. We plan to make our way there for a stronger, united last stand. If you still live, you are not alone. If can make your way there, and add to our unified strength, we urge you to do so. If you cannot, as impossible as it may seem, cast your emotions aside and concentrate on what you have been trained to do and kill. Kill as many of these traitorous bastards as possible with cold, calculated precision.’

‘We have sent out a revised friend or foe indicator. It is not comprehensive, merely based on what units we know were a part of the first wave. The Emperor’s Children holding the Palace will continue to work on setting up a more stable, local vox network.

Kill for the Emperor! Kill for the Living! And Kill, for the dead!’

His HUD lit up with an array of new friend and foe indicators and finally he had his objective. He headed south, the direction of the palace. His journey was unnoticed by the landing forces and he encountered no one in his venture, keeping low and to the buildings just in case. He was one against many and knew he had to be smart, rather than vengeful. He came upon a courtyard, a Thunderhawk hovering over the area. It dropped down, letting loose a Rhino transport and several squad so his former brothers. He waited, wanting to see how the situation could be turned to his advantage. The squads began to move off to a battle somewhere nearby, leaving the Transport alone except with the Pilot and Copilot as the Thunderhawk took off, back to orbit. Now was his chance.
Xaren crept his way to the Rhino, watching the weapons swerve on its auto sensors. His footfall landed on the ramp as the copilot looked in his direction. Xaren brought his bolter to bear and let loose a trio of ammo, turning his former brothers face to blood and brain. The pilot twisted in his chair and swept up a bolt pistol, but not before Xaren came upon him, knife in hand. The blade found the area between helmet and chest plate , killing the marine in only seconds. He heard footsteps outside and slid the rack on his bolter, ready for more.
He emerged seeing a ragtag force of loyalists aiming their weapons at him. The indicators above them showed green for each name, some he knew and some he didn’t. A Son of Horus, he recognized as Kraetorn nodded to him and Xaren knew he was finally safe,.

The teeth of Morkai take you! For Russ and The Allfather!
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post #116 of 127 (permalink) Old 06-22-15, 03:49 AM
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"World Eater! The battle at hand is won!" the outburst came from one of the previously silent Death Guard. A Brother named Tyrus, clad in the faded dark green of Morturg and Daeka stepped forward, impeding his path to the newly arrived Xaren. For a moment the call seemed to ease Kyros' aggression and he paused, taking the Death Guard's words in and processing them.

As he barked at Xaren, another Son of Horus called in defense of his battle Brother 'I have put down enough of your rabid breed today,' Krateron spoked and pointed his blade Oathkeeper at the Twelfth Legionary. 'One more doesn't bother me - Lower your weapons, or I'll bury mine in your heart.'

The snide remark brought a new wave of fire pouring through the blood of Kyros, he felt himself breathing in and out at an accelerated rate, he could feel that familiar sensation of losing himself, but the green indicators that ringed them showed they were friendlies, despite his instinctive desire to tear them limb from limb. The insult of the Dog of Horus did not aid in matters.

Kyros quickly fought his feral instincts and stowed away his newly acquired chainsword, freeing up his left hand. With his left hand he quickly worked to undo the seals and then removed his helmet, slamming it against the mag lock to affix it to his hip. The whipping winds of the newly ravaged Istvaan contained harsh, burning contaminants, but the rush of 'fresh' air seemed to bring a sense of clarity to him. His blonde hair whipped about in the wind behind him, steel blue eyes meeting with the red lenses of the Son of Horus in Krateron. "I have killed your treacherous Brothers this day as you have killed mine. Perhaps should be enough to prove that we are not enemies." He spoke, almost as if in a fugue state, his words were clearly meant for the Son of Horus, though he never introduced himself, nor did he wait for a reply. Kyros simply turned and wandered off in search of the apothecary Daeka, he would need to be as fit for combat as possible for whatever came next.
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Whether or not Krateron decides to reply to the message Tiberius sends him, the Sergeant doesn’t hesitate to ping him the group’s location, with a shaky, ‘Acknowledged, Decurion.’

The Death Guard Legionary who had spoken up to the World Eater, an Assault Marine named Tyrus, walks over to the group standing by the destroyed Rapier.

There is as much tension in the air at these forces meeting as there is a feeling of relief at seeing more allies. Just an hour or so ago, no one knew who they could trust, and no one knew what exactly was going on. It would not be surprising if some still couldn’t come to grips with the situation. Whoever’s shoulder was next to their own early this morning seemed to mean so little now. Or perhaps it meant even more, to some.

Darius asks the Sergeant what he has been informed of, noticing his discomfort.

Sergeant Rydon looks at his four men, then at Krateron, and then back at Darius.

‘Angron is here. He, and his Legion, will be moving through this position at any moment.’

Sebastian, yet to take his weapons’ sights off of Xaren, finally releases his stare. The Son of Horus’s explanation would have to wait, for now.

Rydon lifts a hand slightly to Sebastian. ‘Another Decurion, one Tiberius Loculus, has just informed me of this. He is nearby, on his way to us now with a band of loyal World Eaters.’

With no weapons aimed at him anymore, Xaren finally feels he can move closer to the group as well. Though, his notion of finally feeling safe is shattered by the news he is hearing.

Tiberius is glad to see the squad of Luna Wolves had not moved too far, as he and Shabran’s World Eaters race down the street littered with trashed jetbikes and dead members of the XVI.

When he gets there he will not only find Krateron and the others, but Sebastian and Darius as well. Though, they look nothing like they did before parting with him earlier. It is clear how much fighting they have gone through in the last several hours. He will notice that the Standard Bearer, however, is nowhere to be found.

Shortly after Tiberius and Shabran arrive, Lieutenant Morturg, his Apothecary Daeka, and Magos Decima approach as well. Since Daeka is seeing to Kyros’s wounds, he comes with them, perhaps to finally see more loyal brethren of his own than to continue getting touched up.

Morturg’s force of Deathguard and Ordo Reductor units in the street behind him is rather impressive, but unfortunately will only make it that much harder to avoid Angron and his followers.

Tiberius catches everyone up to speed. Everyone agrees that attempting to fight Angron and his forces here is worthless suicide, therefore a decision must be reached on how to best avoid the Primarch’s warpath. There are four options:

1. Run in the opposite direction and hope you can move faster than him and any vehicles that may be accompanying him. Tanks will be slowed enough by the terrain, but he may have bike units or more jetbike squadrons. Perhaps traps or distractions could slow down the World Eaters’ progress or at least change their direction.

2. Move upward. There are dozens of tall buildings surrounding you. Though most of them have walls blown out and other major structural damage, there is a good chance the World Eaters won’t take the time to search them. It will be hard to hide everyone here from aircraft, if there are any following Angron.

3. Return to the catacombs that Sebastian, Kyros, and the Death Guard came through. It is pretty far down the street, but still accessible. It will take a bit of time to get everyone back down there, but it will be completely safe from aircraft searches. There is no guarantee that some of Angron’s legionaries aren’t already moving through them, however.

4. Move through Angron and his forces. This will be the trickiest option to pull off, but if successful it may take you out of his path faster than any of the others. You would get the most intel on Angron’s force this way, but it may seem next to impossible with the size of force you currently have. At ground level, aircraft won't be as much of a problem, but still a potential threat to your stealth.

There are two other options here:

1. Stay with the majority group. It took this long to get a significant force of allies together. Splitting that up weakens the force, and also risks never being able to put it back together. Splitting up also means a greater surface area for the Traitors to find someone, and the more they find, the longer they will stick around looking for more.

2. Go your own way. You could decide that the news of Angron around the corner is too much to risk standing around for another minute making a decision about something, and run off in the direction you think best. Or you stick around for the conversation and are simply unable to agree with the rest of the group, deadset on your way to avoid Angron being the best option and taking it regardless of the others’ choices. Someone may try to stop you if they feel strongly enough about it.

This post should include the beginning, where everyone meets up and takes it all in. Then posting should include your character’s decision/contribution to the discussion. All of this may lead to more than one post, naturally. I will speak for any and all NPC characters that are present if I feel they would add something, or if you PM me about interacting with them.

You can never be prepared for the unexpected



Last edited by unxpekted22; 06-22-15 at 09:37 AM.
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post #118 of 127 (permalink) Old 07-05-15, 10:34 PM
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Sergeant Rydon was the one to respond with co-ordinates. Tiberius and his cohort of World Eaters made their way through the corpse choked streets. His hopes of using the jetbikes to escape had died. Even the ones that had not been there when his fight with Krejer had dragged him away were ruined beyond and ability to repair quickly. Somehow the sheer bloody mindedness of the World Eaters astonished him.

The Cthonians weren’t far and as happy as Tiberius was to see them, it was the smattering of purple in their midst that made him smile broadly under his helm. He recognised the blue-ish hue of Sebastian’s blade at a distance. However, the rents on his armour told him that his fellow Decurion had been fighting far longer than he had. Tiberius noticed Vultus was nowhere to be seen either. Had he missed a single off-green corpse in the ocean of blue, white and red?

“Sebastian!” The Decurion turned to face him and barely had time to extend his forearm before Tiberius grabbed it and pulled him close. “It is good to see you alive brother.” The two separated. “No sign of Captain Tarvitz then?” Sebastian explained they had not found the Captain, despite several hours of separation and searching. “Fear not. Torgaddon said there was a muster at the Precentor’s Palace. No doubt that is the Captain’s doing.” Lucius would just challenge Horus for the fate of humanity, although Tiberius kept that to himself.

Although he wished to learn more about what had transpired with Sebastian and Darius, they were losing precious seconds. A small group of Death Guard and some Ordo Reductor appeared. Tiberius was impressed, they actually had assembled an impressive force. Not enough to weather the coming storm, but impressive none the less. “Greetings brethren. Introductions will have to wait. We must move. Angron and his legion will be upon us any moment. We can’t stay here. As lost as they are, their bloodlust will compel them to search every building for fresh meat. They will find us and when they do we will have nowhere to go. We should move and hide or at least find somewhere where, if we’re found, their numbers can’t be brought to bear.” Tiberius sincerely hoped that, since they had approached from a different direction, the force they had met would know of such a place. All he could suggest at this point was to run from here and hope…

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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post #119 of 127 (permalink) Old 07-07-15, 12:14 PM
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As the band of World Eaters approached, Sebastian's twin hearts each leapt into his throat. The hint of purple and gold at their head though settled him and he let out a long slow breath he didn't realise he had been holding.

"Sebastian!" The purple armoured figure called to him as he approached.

"Tiberius!" he called back and found his forearm clasped tightly in his fellow Decurion's armoured gauntlet before he could even finish extending his arm to him.

“It is good to see you alive brother.”

"And you Brother." Sebastian replied, relieved that any ill will from their previous disagreement seemed to have been forgotten.

“No sign of Captain Tarvitz then?”

Sebastian shook her head mournfully. "The trail went cold. There will be more time to explain later."

“Fear not. Torgaddon said there was a muster at the Precentor’s Palace. No doubt that is the Captain’s doing.”

"We picked up that message too. I hope you are right."

Sebastian could see Tiberius attention had shifted to the rest of the group and listened as he spoke.

“Greetings brethren. Introductions will have to wait. We must move. Angron and his legion will be upon us any moment. We can’t stay here. As lost as they are, their bloodlust will compel them to search every building for fresh meat. They will find us and when they do we will have nowhere to go. We should move and hide or at least find somewhere where, if we’re found, their numbers can’t be brought to bear.”

"Decurion Locolus is right." Sebastian declared. "We should make for the catacombs." he added, speaking to Tiberius first, then around the rest of the group, finally stopping on Lieutenant Morturg. "If your men can collapse the entrance it may give us time to escape." He turned back to Tiberius. "They lead all over the city. I'm hoping they will give us a path to join up with the forces at the Palace."
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post #120 of 127 (permalink) Old 07-09-15, 03:15 PM
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The voice that filled his ears was hoarse, exhausted, filled with doom. Angron is coming, Krateron thought, and groaned. Krateron had seen the devastation wrought by the Red Angel on a dozen worlds, witnessed the carpets of sheared limbs and blood - Horus fought clinically, masterfully, effortlessly. Angron, on the other hand, fought madly. Krateron had seen Angron fight, on a dozen worlds, and had felt fear - And now Angron was coming for him. He slammed Oathkeeper into the ground and sunk onto his knees, leaning heavily upon it, and smiled. A sad smile, a reserved smile - Teeth begrimed with dust, ash and blood, lips red and raw. Angron is coming, he thought again, turning the words over in his mind. His eyes drifted to the new-found World Eater, wandering away, and narrowed venomously. This is your doing, he wanted to say, but held his tongue.

Krateron lifted his hand to his earpiece, Tiberius's voice still in his head, and switched it off.

'No hard feelings,' He whispered, his voice lost in the wind.

There was a brief exchange between Sebastian and Rydon, but Krateron paid little heed, until Tiberius came running along the street - Surrounded by a gaggle of World Eaters. Krateron stood, watched Tiberius pass him, and embrace the other Decurion. His lips twisted sardonically, he felt his tongue tingle with a jest, but, once again, choose to withhold his words.

Sebastian suggested catacombs.

Krateron spat at his feet. 'Sealing the entrance would also leave us trapped,' He pointed out, matter-of-factly, uncaring of other entrances. 'I will not die like a rat, like an Emperor's Child, cowering in the dark,' He looked at Squad Dillinger, and the newcomer, Xaren. 'I will not die.'

He paused, pursing his lips. 'We should punch through Angron's forces,' He said, with a smile. 'The Sixteenth have always been the speartip,' He looked at the others, this motley gathering. 'Spears aren't very useful when they are running in the opposite direction. Let us go through them, make the bastards pay, and run.'

Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.

"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"

'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Yes, lord.'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
'No, lord.'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'
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