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post #81 of 127 (permalink) Old 01-29-15, 03:41 AM
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The swirling of bodies and weapons caused his blood to flow hot, the thrumming, boiling hate and anger that seemed to be in such excess within his bloodlines caused him to lose himself in the fray. His power axe tore through whatever he could direct it into. Kyros' timing and striking techniques were still carefully executed, but without the flourish or aesthetic technique of his newfound comrades in the two Emperor's Children whom he now fought alongside. Likely he looked to them to be no less savage than his Brothers who were trying to kill them.

Using his shield to push into a group of World Eaters, to drive them back and give himself an avenue of attack was successful once again, but as Kyros went to bring his shield back close to his body he found resistance. Four World Eaters gripped the shield, they bore no weapons, having broken them or simply lost themselves completely to madness. His shield was suddenly ripped away from him, and now he had nothing in his left hand, the four World Eaters clambored forward, nearly climbing over one another to get at him, the first managed to catch him with a surprise strike, a heavy punch that knocked the wind from him and caused him to stagger back hunched over. Another World Eater pushed his way to the fore, he wanted to be the first to tear flesh from their Brother who would not turn from the Emperor.

Kyros managed to get enough breath back into his body to posture up just enough to let loose a devastating slash across the approaching World Eater's mid section, the blade cut deeply and cleanly, his entrails poured forth from the gaping wound as he fell before Kyros, his own brothers killed him in their frantic race to get to Kyros. Clawing and grasping at him, he lopped off arms and hacked into the bodies of his enemies, spilling their foul blood onto the sundered ground. They didn't let the loss of life nor limb deter them and Kyros found himself with no room to maneuver his weapon anymore, bringing it back to strike and create some distance again, but he was tackled to the ground, they clawed at his armor and brought their fists down upon him, raining blows down. He kicked up at them, trying to give himself a moment where he might regain his footing. As he attempted to rise up, a hand covered his optical sensors attempting to tear his helmet off, in the process pushing him back to the ground.

He knew he would fight until his life was no more, but he did not expect that to be much longer when suddenly the thudding echoes of auto cannons roared over the sounds of the surging World Eaters. Two of his traitor Brothers disintegrated in front of him, having been preparing to land the death knell. The resound of bolter fire followed it and like the tide being drawn back out the wave of World Eaters was broken, torn to shreds with precision fire.

Kyros' groggy vision caught the familiar colors of the Death Guard, one of their number knelt beside him and he felt the familiar piercing in his arm of stimulants, fast acting, surging through his rapidly pumping blood his senses came back to him in a rush. He was coherent enough to hear the Apothecary speak to the three of them "Gather what you need, we cannot stay here." Kyros had already instinctively found his shield. He liberated a standard backpack unit from a fallen traitor, having jetisoned his jump pack what seemed like a lifetime ago in the initial scramble to avoid the virus bomb. Then, suddenly something shot into his mind. "Alaros Gillguman! Is he with your number?" His question directed to the Apothecary who had addressed them. "We were navigating this terrain together and became separated." There was a hopefulness to his tone that seemed wholly out of place in the current circumstances, but Alaros had been a very capable, competent marine, and strange as it was, had become a person Kyros felt he could wholly rely on in this dark time.
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post #82 of 127 (permalink) Old 01-30-15, 04:25 PM Thread Starter
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Sorry for such a large update again, but I don’t get to do it very often anymore so I feel the need to write a lot when I do ;)

Krateron, Tiberius, and Vultus:

Something in the air changes, as everyone gets back on their feet and regains their composure for the next round. You feel it, in your guts. Just as the jetbikes pull forward, and the street becomes a blur beneath you. Just as the cord is pulled taught again, the sound of it stretching matching the teeth grinding growls of the other Sons of Horus over the vox.

Solhanan runs out into the street to inspect one of the other jetbikes, but doesn’t seem to have much luck getting it up and running.

Krateron and Tiberius, seconds after you begin pulling forward, two jetbikes appear in front of you. A third, descends from above, flying over the tops of the burning skyscrapers. These Jetbikes are armed with melta guns and plasma cannons. A short dogfight ensues that forces you both back to squad Dillinger’s location, which is now a cloud filled area of further ruin, with jetbikes too damaged to function any longer.

When your boots hit the ground again, the three jetbikes you fought with will calmly set down behind you, their riders disengaging. Three other jetbikes are opposite in front of you, settling just before where the chord trap had been set.



Vultus, the Sons of Horus obey you, resetting the trap the best they can and diving back into cover. While waiting you hear a fire fight begin in the air in the direction Krateron and the Decurion flew. You hear more jetbikes approach, but then unlike the first wave, their volume significantly lessens, as if they are idling. Curious you risk revealing your position to see. Three jetbikes sit there, floating just before the chord. Without warning they begin firing their weapons into your position, all melta and plasma. Your senses become overloaded with extreme light changes, sounds, and crashing, melting rubble all around you. Your Astartes training and physiology is all that saves you, pulling you through the inferno back out onto the street.

A heat glaze covers the buildings Vultus and Dillinger had been using for cover. Plasma and Melta backwash is unsure whether to rise or fall in the confused air cycles of a planet suffering from instant death.

The soot and debris clears, showing the sea-green clad soldiers loitering back onto the street. You all feel another vibration beneath your feet. Another drawn out thud.

A clearer vision of these new jetbikes is unveiled. Three on each side of the street. The rubble of the ruins to each side too thick to make a break for it.

All six of these jetbikes are also colored in the blue and white of the XII. Chained to their front ends are what must have been Loyalist members. Stabbing through each of their scorched abdomens are the melta and plasma cannons that have been firing at you. You might notice some of their arms and legs still twitching.

Six pairs of boots hit the ground, deliberately slow. Confident. They move in towards you, the outnumbered traitors somehow making you feel squeezed in. From the most heavily decorated jetbike, steps the largest of them all.

The lower half of his armor, is painted in blood. Upon his broad shoulders is the massive fur of some feral beast, or perhaps two furs of the same species, you cannot tell. Laying over each pauldron is a bear-like head, horned, and with outrageous sets of teeth. The jaws hang lazily open, bouncing slightly with the warrior’s footsteps as he nears the chord. He must have at least a dozen chapter symbols scattered about his armor plating. You are all privy to the fact that the World Eaters are not allowed to incorporate their Chapter’s symbol onto their armor unless they earn that right.

A rack of four short spears forms some kind of hideous frame for his head, rising from his suit’s power unit. Three of them have helmets on them, the heads still inside, necks still dripping blood onto his armor. One is white with a blue vox piece and red triangles under the eyes. One is a dull white helm, with a green vertical stripe. The third is a Son of Horus. All killed within the last hour or less, there is no doubt. The fourth spike is empty.

Strapped to him, are several melee weapons. Various handles jut out from the beast’s fur at his back. More hang at his waist. He reaches over his massive shoulder and unsheathes an enormous sword, cutting through the industrial chord laughing. He takes a chainaxe from his hip, dual wielding.

Such odd timing, but all of you see several icons light up on your HUDs that had been greyed out or blinked away from view for the last hour or two. Thin green digital lines that had been boxing these World Eaters, flicker to red, and all of you hear the following:

‘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!

A tag appears for the World Eater commander as he lifts his chain axe, pointing it at Tiberius.
  • Korugen Krejer -
    • Captain
      • - XII -
      • 5th Assault Company

‘I thought I would have to go to the Palace to complete my collection. How convenient. As if you were another of the Warmaster’s unworthy sons, suddenly painted purple, just for me.’

The two warriors near him, and the other three behind Krateron and Tiberius, all look formidable in their own right. The five of them, also armed to the teeth, seem to be silently seething in their armor. You know what’s happening. You know the Nails have started going to work on each of them.

Dillinger lights up the two groups of World Eaters with bolter fire, completely ignoring any dramatic effect the World Eater intended to create. A personal shield lights up around the Captain, slowing each of the bolter rounds made toward him.

Krejer yells in frustration, running forward with his men, throwing his sword at the closest enemy. The blade thrusts violently out the back of Brother Herridon’s shoulder, sticking there. Krejer makes a straight line toward Tiberius, pulling his sword out of Herridon’s shoulder on the way, not bothering to finish him off.

One of his men whips out a bolt pistol, firing what may be a surprisingly accurate shot for a son of Angron, knocking the ammo belt out of Gretivalus’s heavy bolter before he can fire.

All of these World Eaters are what I call Major NPCs. Basically that just means they have a stricter GM shield, and they are all named characters. Don’t worry about who they are individually just yet. Too much is going on for you to care about details like that atm. For now, they are all using swords, axes and chain variants of both.

As usual there are a lot of options here, some probably more obvious than others. Some I may not even have thought of.

To clarify the vox thing, you have it now. Squad icons are up too. So for example, Sebastian can be communicated with and his life status seen without any major issues. A flicker here and there, likely some static still, I’m sure. Friend or foe tags have been allocated to the Legions so that should cause less fights about who’s on what side now. In case you’re wondering, all of Dillinger squad appear as friendly!



Sebastian, Darius, and Kyros:

‘We have to move.’ Says the Apothecary bluntly, after nodding to Sebastian in recognition of his thanks. The group of Death Guard have everyone back on their feet, and everyone has loaded weapons back in their hands, including a bolt pistol for Darius’s remaining one.

The Decurion’s question comes first, asking who they are.

There are ten of them, plus the Apothecary, making eleven Death Guard and the three of you. Given the circumstances it’s hard to say if fourteen is a significant force, or not. While jogging the Apothecary speaks further, answering the question.

‘We are an ad-hoc unit of Death Guard that survived the bombardment. There was a significant amount of cover along the city wall near the fortifications that were joined by both the bunker layout and wall bastions. It seems the Warmaster, and even our own gene-fathers, have betrayed us. We are working in unison with two other similar groups currently under the command of Section Leader Crysos Morturg. Lieutenant. I believe he matches your rank, Decurion.’

‘Our current position puts us between Traitor World Eater forces and those of our own Legion. We are scouting for survivors before these forces squeeze us too tightly between them, and before more of their forces can arrive’

The Marine with the autocannon points the barrel of his weapon toward the swirling black and grey sky, saying, ‘We believe the storms from the planet’s destruction are making it too dangerous for them to plunge all they have at us at once. This works in our favor, allowing time for us to set up a sizeable defensive.’

This is when Kyros asks his own question about Alaros Gilgumann.

The Apothecary replies again, ‘We have not, but one of our other squads reported finding something just before we opened fire on your position.’

A large vibration smacks the ground under your feet, almost causing you to stop dead in your tracks by surprise. The Death Guard all look at each other, helmets turning as if they know what caused it but hate the fact that they do.

‘I am Brother Apothecary Ulligo. What are your names, cousins?’

Before any of you can answer you all receive a vox transmission that causes the entire group to halt and listen carefully.

‘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!’

Ulligo looks at the auto cannon wielding Marine first, who says as if forced to be the bearer of the truth says, ‘We can’t reach the Palace.’

The Apothecary responds, ‘Agreed. The XIV must make its stand here, in the trenches, and at the wall.’

Do you three agree with that? With this new information, do you want to stay or go? You may be able to meet their lieutenant commander first to see if that is actually the final decision. It is entirely up to you. Again, any dialogue needed for the Death Guard NPCs here I will provide for you.

To clarify the vox thing, you have it now. Squad icons are up too. So for example, Sebastian could communicate freely with Tiberius and his life status seen without any major issues. A flicker here and there, likely some static still, I’m sure. Friend or foe tags have been allocated to the Legions so that should cause less fights about who’s on what side now.

You can never be prepared for the unexpected



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post #83 of 127 (permalink) Old 02-03-15, 11:37 AM
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At the words of the Luna Wolves Captain, Sebastian's heart briefly soared. There was hope, order. At the very least some semblance of a plan instead of the chaotic running skirmishes he had been falling into since the bombardment. There was word of his Brothers also. Those at the Palace fought on, not succumbing to the World Eaters assault that had so nearly claimed his own life. Then he looked over at the dour Death Guard Legionary with the autocannon.

"We can't reach the Palace." he said, pain obvious in his tone.

"Agreed. The XIV must make its stand here, in the trenches, and at the wall."

Sebastian's head bowed but he was focussing on the newly returned icons within his helm. The Death Guard may be willing to concede and go quietly into the night, but he had not fought through hell just to give up now.

"No." he began, he voice manifesting as a low growl through his vox grill. "There has to be a way. Those are my brothers at the Palace." He looked over at Darius taking in the abrupt stump that was all of one of his arms and slowly shook his head, then turned towards the Apothecary. "You said you were still part of a larger formation. I would speak with your Commanding Officer."

Turning away he returned to scanning the icons within his helmet and was relieved to find a familiar one. "Decurion Locolus. Tiberius, are you there? Can you hear me? It's Aurellian. What's your status?"
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post #84 of 127 (permalink) Old 02-17-15, 07:52 PM
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Tiberius snarled to himself as he barrel rolled the jetbike out of the way of a ball of raging plasma. This was not supposed to happen like this. His legion was one built one the premises of speed and perfection of their strikes. He should have anticipated that the jetbikes they had finished off would not be the only ones. What he had not expected that they would be this well armed. Even in the most productive of legions, arming an entire Sky Hunter squadron with such complex weaponry would be a massive risk and investment. Such an investment usually reserved for the command cadres of each legion.

How they came to be facing such a well armoured squadron was the least of Tiberius’s concerns right now. The white blurs of the XIIth Legion’s jetbikes had so far only scored glancing hits on his jetbike, but they were enough to significantly hamper its function. He was certain it wouldn’t last much longer. In this state, even between him and Krateron they could not defeat their foes. They were outnumbered and despite his skill with a jetbike, Tiberius could not get close enough to bring his Phoenix spear to bear on them. He could not risk an open dog-fight, since his foes energy weapons would disassemble his molecules long before his heavy bolter immobilized or destroyed their foes.

However, Tiberius was banking on one fact. If he could ground their foes, he was certain the World Eaters wouldn’t gun them down. The savages of the XIIth legion were worst that his current allies. They had to feel the blood splash against their cheeks for the kill to mean anything. Simply destroying their foe was not enough. It has to be gory, it had to be messy but most of all it had to be personal.

A melta beam glanced his jetbike, evaporating one of the dorsal wings. At such incredible speeds, the small amount of aerodynamic control that those wings afforded was crucial. Tiberius struggled with his mount. He swore under his breath, a harsh combination of syllables totally at odds with his regal voice. “Krateron! We have to fall back! We can’t break through here!” Tiberius shouted down the vox over the roaring hum of the jetbikes. Tiberius half expected Krateron to keep trying to push on, just to make his escape. However, he agreed and the duo executed a brilliant series of movements that positioned them in the same direction they had just come from whilst avoiding the scalding fire from their pursuers.

Their Jetbikes carried them back to the position of Dilinger, but Tiberius’ heart began to sink as he saw what had become of their allies’ position. Twirling clouds of dust and superheated debris surrounded the building which shone as if polished. However, they had little choice. The only allies they had might still be there and there was a safety in numbers. Besides, Tiberius was reasonably certain that his jetbike would not carry him much further than his starting position. Frustratingly, all their venture had gained them was fresh coating of ash on their armour and more wasted time.

Fortunately, as they set down their mangled Jetbikes, the shapes of Dilinger appeared from the dust, bolters and blades at the ready. The dust began to clear and the ground beneath them shook in another base-y growl. Tiberius did not like the sound of that. However, more pressing was the shapes of the World Eaters approaching them. Tiberius had been right about one thing, they wanted to finish them off up close and personally. They each sauntered from their Jetbikes, leaving their energy weapons and the poor bastards speared to them behind. Tiberius reached to his belt, slowly unhooking one of his krak and one of his frag grenades. He palmed them.

The World Eaters that approached were almost certainly veterans. Several bore chapter symbols on their armour, a mark of recognition amongst Angron’s dogs. But the most imposing of the six was the one that fixed Tiberius with a stare. The white armour of his lower half was smeared with blood. Some feral creature was draped over his shoulder, no doubt of some particular importance to the warriors of the XIIth but it meant nothing to Tiberius. Ringing his collar were four spikes, three of which were filled with the heads of fallen legionaries, one of each legion. The absence of a purple helmet made it clear to Tiberius why this creature was so interested in him.

The brute unsheathed a massive sword and a chainaxe, to signature weapon of the XIIth Legion brawlers. Suddenly a voice erupted from their vox units. It was Captain Torgaddon. Although he was not of the IIIrd, Tiberius was glad he yet lived. But the news he bore was better. The Emperor’s Children held the Precentor’s Palace. Tiberius smiled under his helm. If they lived, he could make it back to them. He was not alone.

His HUD spluttered back into life, indicating friend from foe. Mercifully, all of his current compatriots remained green. It also revealed who his challenger was. Captain Krejer of the 5th Company. He did not know the man personally, but if his skill at arms was anything akin to the Captains of the IIIrd legion, this was not another rabid hound that Tiberius could put down. It was a formidable foe and should be treated with caution.

Krejer began to speak but Tiberius zoned him out in favour of listening to his vox. Decurion Aurellian was still alive. “Status is ok for the moment. I’m with a loyal squad of Sons of Horus. We’ve confronted the Captain of the 5th Company of the World Eaters, and he is most certainly not friendly. Tell the survivors that the 5th Company are traitors, if they didn’t already know. I’ll let you know when he’s dead. Over”

Krejer stared him down and Tiberius knew the Nails were eating away at his brain, as well as the the brains of his compatriots. “Oh, I’m sorry did you say something. I wasn’t paying attention. Busy thinking about where we will head when you’re dead.” Tiberius couldn’t resist. He was unlikely to beat Krejer fairly or without injury to himself, but if Krejerwas so intent on taking his head, he would not do so without considerable cost. Without any further words, Dilinger opened fire on the out-numbered World Eaters. Some form of shield flared around the Captain. It gave Tiberius an opening.

He pulled the pin on his frag grenade and a moment later on his krak grenade. The World Eaters roared in anger and as they ran, blinded by hatred, Tiberius sent the two grenades rolling underneath their Jetbikes. With some luck the frag grenade would destabilise the plasma weapons, the krak grenade causing their ammunitions supplies to detonate, washing the World Eaters with superheated plasma, metal and burning debris. If not, it should at least destroy the jetbikes and release the poor bastards nailed to the front of them. Perhaps he should have conserved them, but if the World Eaters killed them it wouldn’t matter if they had the means to escape and with two jetbikes wrecked anyway it seemed unlikely that they would all get away even if they survived this confrontation.

Tiberius rose to his full height, holding his Phoenix spear in a position ready to move when Krejer became in range. The extra reach that his spear afforded him was likely to be his saving grace, but even then if he was doubtful that he could beat Krejer on his own. And if he could, he had to wonder at what cost? “Krateron, Vultus, do what you Wolves do best and tear out their throats. I’ll hold Krejer at bay. When you can, lend me assistance and we’ll being this beast down for good and avenge our brethren.” Krejer wounded Herridon, but didn’t pause to finish him off. Foolish. A wounded foe was not a defeated one, especially not a wolf. He came for Tiberius. Tiberius moved to meet him, Phoenix spear moving with deft grace to reach Krejer first with a battle cry on his lips. “Children of the Emperor, death to his foes!”...

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

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Crusade Army List tactica - Individual Legion tactica

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Krateron:

The grenades that Tiberius throws beneath the jet bikes behind you do as he intended. The middle jet bike explodes, and the plasma blast is enough to send the other two tumbling, swirling with white hot fire. Their riders all take a scorching to their backs, pushing them off balance.

This gives Krateron an opening.

He may kill one of the World Eater veterans as they attempt to get back firmly on their feet, or he may take this opportunity to help Tiberius with Krejer right away.

He will not have time for both.

You can never be prepared for the unexpected


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Sebastian frowned but the expression was clearly lost on his companions through the impassive visage of his helmet. It was good to hear Tiberius's voice. It was good to know that he was not alone and it was reassuring to hear confidence in his voice rather than desperation. Sebastian simply worried though whether this was confidence or over-confidence. Anyone who reached the rank of Captain was undoubtedly a skilled warrior. One who reached such a rank among the World Eaters was surely a butcher of exceptional savagery. He did not doubt Tiberius's skills, but he wasn't comfortable with the idea either.

He turned to the World Eater among them. "Kyros Straesen. The 5th Company of your Brothers are amongst the traitors arrayed before us. One of my brothers faces their Captain. Should I fear for him?"
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"What are your names cousins?" Brother Apothecary Ulligo spoke and as he did, suddenly the HUD in Kyros' helm lit up and identified him as such. The voice of a Captain Torgaddon of the Emperor's Children spoke over the vox comm, clearly all could hear him speak. The Emperor's Children with him seemed to light up at the voice of their familiar Captain. Their cheer was short lived.

"We can't make it to the palace," the warrior with the autocannon spoke somberly, Brother Apothecary Ulligo nodded in agreement.

"No." Sebastien began, he voice manifesting as a low growl through his vox grill. "There has to be a way. Those are my brothers at the Palace." He looked over at Darius taking in the abrupt stump that was all of one of his arms and slowly shook his head, then turned towards the Apothecary. "You said you were still part of a larger formation. I would speak with your Commanding Officer." His words did not fall completely on deaf ears.

Kryos nodded his agreement with his cousin in purple, "I agree with Brother Aurellian," the HUD having identified Sebastien as such. "I will stand and fight wherever is necessary, but I believe we must make an effort to reach that rallying point."

Sebastien then turned to Kyros, having heard something over the vox comm on a private channel that caused him some amount of concern. "Kyros Straesen. The 5th Company of your Brothers are amongst the traitors arrayed before us. One of my brothers faces their Captain. Should I fear for him?"

Kyros let the name sink in for a moment and his eyes went a little wide underneath his helmet, gritting his teeth at the mention of the name of Captain Krejur. "You should fear for anyone who has to fight a Captain. Your friend will not defeat Krejur...The Beast of the Fifth is not an adversary to take lightly. I would think only another World Eater could best him, not for skill, but Krejur is a monster, there are whispers that he can control the Nails to an extent, his savagery is renowned throughout the Legion, not just the 5th Company. Your friend will need support to defeat him, I'm sorry Brother Aurellian, but in all liklihood Krejur will slay your friends."

Kyros looked over the rest of the group they were now a part of as a thundering crash that caused the ground to reverberate seemed to cause the Death Guard to all look at one another nervously. "If we cannot stay here then we should move, any advantage we may have by conducting hit and run strikes will be lost if we linger any longer Brother Apothecary Ulligo. Can we rendezvous with your Section Commander? Some of your Brothers were issued orders to search out and eradicate resistance in catacombs beneath the city, perhaps these caverns are accessible to us in order to get back into the city proper?" Kyros asked, he did not know locations, only the scraps of information that Gilgumann had revealed to him about his initial orders to clear out the catacombs beneath the city.
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The jet-bike purred between his legs, and beneath his helmet, Krateron smirked viciously. The jet-bike was eager, thirsty for blood, as monstrous and untamed as the World Eater who had rode it, and that made the Son of Horus uneasy. I am no beserker, he thought, as the vehicle trembled, I am a hunter, a cutter-of-throats. The World Eaters were a blunt instrument, an hammer, whereas Krateron was a precise blade, a scalpel. They were warriors, a slavering horde. Krateron, clad in his dusty, sticky plate, was a killer. He shared their barbarity, that Krateron acknowledged, but utilised it differently.

And, then, Krateron was spinning his jet-bike, as flames licked past, and the fighting began in earnest. I have killed myself, he sneered, as flames blackened the jet-bike's flank, danced along his leg and arm, and fizzled away. He and Tiberius were outnumbered, and surprisingly, outclassed. The Twelfth had spared no expenses, throwing their lot into the fray, and now Krateron was afraid. Not afraid of dying, oh no, but rather -- He was afraid of failing. He spun the jet-bike around, took the brunt of a hit upon its prow, and shot back down the street, towards Dillinger. More blows hammered into the engines, and then they sputtered and died, a hundred feet away. Krateron drove the jet-bike into the ground, crumpled-nose first, and leapt free of the carnage.

Perhaps, had he been of the Third Legion, or any other, it would have been a pretty maneuver. Tiberius was no doubt fawning about it, he grinned, as he charged down the street, the World Eaters circling behind him, like a pack of sharks. In the next few moments, the World Eaters, now six, dismounted. They were surrounded, though Krateron cared little. He drew Oathkeeper, taking it in both hands, and watched the butchers.

'Ugly bastards,' Krateron grunted. 'He fancies you, that one,' The Son of Horus said, to Tiberius - Though, he doubted the Decurion was even listening - As the largest World Eater, wearing a rack of helmets and dripping scarlet, approached his ally. 'Rather you than me, cousin.'

He will be wearing your skin around his shoulders, by the end of the day, if you aren't as good as you claim, Emperor's Child.

When the friend-or-foe tags returned, and Captain Torgaddon spoke, Krateron shook it off. Hope wasn't something he needed, right now. He needed fine steel in his hand, which he had, and determination. He also had that, though of the grim kind, the kind that the Sons of Horus were famous for. Tiberius and the World Eater, a Captain named Krejer, were facing off.

A grenade sailed through the hair, from the hand of Tiberius. Three World Eaters stumbled, and Krateron flew forwards. Oathkeeper swung upwards, lazily, and bit through chest-plate, chin and skull. The World Eater jerked backwards, from Krateron's blade, limbs twitching, blood spurting, and collapsed.

And then, he was between two World Eaters.

He cursed, crouching low, Oathkeeper held tightly.

I should have fled.

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?'

Last edited by dark angel; 02-27-15 at 09:03 AM.
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post #89 of 127 (permalink) Old 02-25-15, 11:45 AM
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"I'm sorry Brother Aurellian, but in all likelihood Krejur will slay your friends."

It was the answer Sebastian expected and feared and the words chilled him to the core. He looked once more around the rag-tag group he had found himself in. Bar Darius these were not his brothers and though he longed to be reunited with the Emperor's Children, the true Emperor's Children, he knew that could not happen without these men around him now. Slowly he reached up and one by one unclasped the seals of his helmet and removed it. His face, still clean and handsome stood in stark contrast to his damaged and dust caked armour.

"Cousins." he began, taking the time to look each of those around him, the Death Guard in particular, in the eye. "You have saved my life. Our lives." he said, gesturing towards Darius. "For that I shall be grateful for however much life I have left. You owe me nothing, but still I must ask you for more. My Brother is besieged by the Sons of Angron. He is a fine warrior but hubris will be his demise. I am going to save him, but I fear I can not do so alone. Will you stand with me once more cousins?"

He stepped towards Apothocary Ulligo and spoke again, more quietly this time. "Whatever our next step, whether we make for the Palace or fight to the last here, our chances of success will be greater with Decurion Locolus beside us."
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post #90 of 127 (permalink) Old 02-26-15, 11:34 AM
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The squad moved quickly and efficiently, resetting the trap even though the probability of it working had fallen somewhat. Decius had moved behind cover of some rubble in one of the buildings as they awaited to hear the telltale noise of the jetbikes coming back and readied himself for another engagement with the traitorous dogs. He checked his weapons quickly while he waited, making sure that they were intact and especially that his plasma weapon hadn't overheated as that would be incredibly dangerous. Luckily the readings were in the clear so his arm wouldn't be melted off when firing.

Vultus heard the sounds of jetbikes firing, obviously his brothers had found some more of the traitors and would be leading them into the trap. He could hear jetbikes moving closer and then their engines cut significantly, as if they were idling. He took a quick peek around the rubble and saw three jetbikes stopped in front of the chord idling as their riders sought out the loyalists. He cursed himself and grabbed hold of the standard as plasma and melta rounds started to slam into the building, blinding his vision for a brief moment as the traitors started to open fire on all the buildings as they saw the loyalists, pushing them out onto the street.

The Decurion and Krateron rejoined the squad as six jetbikes slowly descended and their riders got off, all World Eaters. Vultus felt his anger and choler rise as he saw the twisted remains of loyalists tied to the front of their bikes, with holes in their bodies where the plasma and melta guns had been firing. He placed the standard once more in the ground and drew his chainsword, revving it as he prepared for combat. Suddenly a voice that Vultus thought he would never hear again spoke from his vox unit, "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." Vultus smiled underneath his helmet. He had somewhere to go once the threat here had been dealt with. He belonged with what remained of the second and he would ensure that he arrived there alive.

"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!"

Vultus smiled despite the situation he currently was in and readied himself. The World Eaters charged forward, one firing a bolt pistol round and knocking the heavy weapon feed out of the heavy bolter. Vultus moved forwards heading towards one with a chain axe crying out "Kill for the Living!" As he descends his chainblade to meet that of his foes.

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