Joryn winced as the back-blast from the meltagun washed over his pale face, sweeping the stream of superheated pyrum-petrol gas down the flank of the rebel Chimera and causing its armor plating to bubble and hiss. As the wounded vehicle slewed towards him, he was forced to leap into a nearby drainage ditch. Momentarily shielded from the survivors' wrath, he fumbled with his comm-bead.

+Joryn Cepheus, 14th Imperial Army speaking. The rebels have overrun Observation Post 4281.C and are advancing rapidly. Any surviving Imperial forces, converge on my position!+

Joryn dropped the unwieldy melta and pulled a frag grenade from his belt, priming it and tossing it over the lip of the ditch. At the count of three, he pulled the short, heavy brush-cutter from its scabbard and hauled himself upwards as the hand-bomb detonated. Only one member of the vehicle's crew survived the blast, struggling to regain his feet. Closing the distance in four strides, Joryn swung the cutter into the disoriented traitor's temple. The danger having passed for the time being, he walked over to retrieve his fallen meltagun. Surely it was only a matter of time before other Imperial forces in the area responded to his transmission.


{Freeform fiction-format RP. I shall be acting loosely as DM. OOC goes in brackets, vox/psychic transmissions go in ++. Script format is fine too if that's how you're comfortable writing. A while back, a group of us ran a similar thread for about nine pages and were rewarded with an amazing story; the thread was titled "Inquisitorial Roleplay" if you'd like to take a look. Now, won't you join me in this adventure? I've left many details to be filled as the story progresses and more characters join. For now, if you're interested, meet me at the crash site!}

Gauss heard the vox transmission over his internal comm-bead. The Techpriest was currently travelling in a Valkyrie headed to the Observation Post to carry out some repairs. The only other passengers around were a couple of Guardsmen ordered to be his guards and a few servitors.

+Maxwell Gauss, servant of the all mighty Omnissiah responding. I have been deployed to repair some of the systems for that Observation Post, but it looks like we'll have to clear it out first. I will be their shortly.+

The transmission broke the almost contemplative silence within the killers head.
Not responding, the killer raised from his kneeling posture into a low crouch. Cocking his head to the side inquisitvely, the killer tried to pinpoint the transmission's point of origin. Overhead a Valkyrie swooped, threatning to distract him from his calculations. It didn't.
30 degrees...20 degrees...10 degrees...there. That direction. Underneath the mask, the killer smiled sadistically-so, the army boys needed help did they? Last time he'd fought with army boys in open war like this it had almost been his swansong. Still, if this was what his masters wanted...
Raising himself to his full height, the killer unholstered his pistol and moved silently towards the faint sounds of battle.

{Imperial army? So I'm assuming this happens before or during the Heresy?}

He had been lying in the same position for over an hour and now his legs were beginning to hurt. He figured being face down in the mud was better than being shot to pieces by the rebels that had already streamed past him over the past hour. He had been so close to a few of them he could have easily taken them out quite easily with his dagger. He dared not do that though, he had been overcome with indecision ever since his area had been overrun by rebels, lying under his draped camo cloak and hood, praying to the Emperor he wouldn't be found.

Suddenly his mic bead sprang to life after a long silence. He received a broken message from some poor soul behind him somewhere. It sounded like the guy was trying to coordinate the scattered imperial forces. With determination, the man in hiding got into a crouching position in the shell hole he lay in. Ever so slowly, he poked his hooded head out hoping that it wouldn't get shot off. Seeing nobody around and hearing nothing but the distant gunfire, the man sprang up and began to jog in the direction of the transmission, wiping the mud off his long patterned, marksman autogun as he did so. His hand came up to his ear as he spoke into his mic.


+This is Master Sergeant Syd Harlow, 85th Vendoland speaking. Copy that, Cephus, I'm inbound to you're position, over.+

{Sharp eye! Pre-Heresy it is. I'll leave the rest of the background to fill in as we go. I'll move the story along in a minute, but I'd like to give a few old friends a chance to chime in. Right now we're looking at a good mix of characters and some great roleplayers!}

{Hmmmm, that puts this story in new perspective, still, it is a very interesting notion. Bravo. }

Joryn pored over his tactical display, considering possible routes to Post 4281.C. The post was about ten clicks to the east, and no data was available regarding the disposition of the rebels' forces in the area. The main entrances to the post faces westward, flanked by guard towers. To the north, however, was a dock for supply vehicles. While lightly guarded, the approach would force him and any potential allies to navigate a steep, rocky slope and the dock's blast doors would prove difficult to penetrate. The solution, he supposed, would depend on what manner of aid he might receive.

This, the killer thought as he withdrew his powered blade from the gurgling rebel, was far too easy. Dropping into cover, and silently hoping that no-one thought to vox the heavy weapon emplacement (it overlooked the beleagered outpost from where the transmission had come from, so the killer reasoned that if they'd gone through the trouble of setting it up someone must care) he felt a surge of the familiar battle lust that consumed so many of his kin. He surpressed it-it was not time yet-and in an attempt to distract himself he allowed himself a moments philosophical reflection.
Why? What was it all for? What could their false and...well, wrong society offer these rebels that the benevolent Emperor could not? The killer shrugged. He would not ask, because he did not care. All that mattered was their destruction, and if that meant helping the army boys then so be it.
The killer sighed, and moved closer towards the target.

{Might it be preferable to keep this pre-Heresy? A human planet unwilling to join the Imperium might provide us with a more interesting backstory.}

{I thought it was pre heresy....BTW are we talkin great crusade or are we talkin pre great crusade?}

Harlow jogged off the ridge he had climbed. He had gone up there to see the land around him, having no way of coordinating where he was. He had seen explosions and gun flashes in the distance, it seemed the imperial cause wasn't completely doomed.

Harlow was getting close to the transmission's origination point. As he climbed over a hill he kneeled to see the area below him, he drew up his autorifle's high powered scope to his eye and looked down in the distance. Off to the left was a dead rebel Chimera, it looked like an imperial soldier was taking cover behind it. He scanned his rifle to the right, six armed rebels were making their way towards the imperial's position. Harlow's hand came up to his ear bead.

+Cephus, if that's you down there by the Chimera, you've got six bogeys headed your way...+

Harlow goes prone and sets up his rifle, he slows his breathing just as he had done a thousand times before. He takes aim at the heavy weapon carrier, a flamer. Harlow grinned as he pulled the trigger and a second later, the flamer tank on the rebel's back exploded violently, spraying two others that were too close behind him.

The other three began to run away, taking potshots at where they thought the shot had come from. Harlow put another round into one of the fleeing rebels who toppled over dead, the remaining two fled as fast as they could run.

Harlow reloaded and waved at the imperial taking cover below him.

OT: I'm very interested in this pre-Heresy slant on things, but can I ask bossman (Owain) if people should be posting Rank, regiment ect. At the moment I'm not sure if Joryn is anyone in authority or just another Guardsman/Armyman?


Shield Centurion Borek bellowed in his Karukian baritone at the few armsmen still straggling to form up.

"How in the Seven Circles did you whelps pass muster? Your clan mothers would be ashamed!"

Kicking the last of the slower ones into line the Shield Bearers turned to attention. Borek's freshly cut hair marked him was noticable, no longer did the long ash windswept hair flick in front of him like the battlefields of old. He loved it, the short cut marked him and his clansmen as having undertaken a new beginning. No longer just clansmen of Karuka, they were so much more. They were soldiers of the mighty Imperial Army.

"Men of Karuka!" This raised some cheers, shot down by a glare from Borek, discipline was also a new experience now that they were in the Imperial Army. But Karukians would learn.

"Men of Karuka! Today is our first chance to prove ourselves as worthy of the name of soldiers of the Imperial Army."

Borek lifted up high the handheld vox-unit, as if it were some relic or divine marvel. To the average Karukian it basically was, science and magic had yet to be clearly discerned for these people, including Borek.

"I have just recieved word that the enemy, cowards they are, have somehow managed to advance." Calls of disbelief and outrage abounded.

"Our leaders ask, no, demand our action! Today is our chance to finally prove ourselves! Today is the day that our enemies shall fear the name of Karukia and tremble at the mention of Voldersun! Sheild Bearers...Advance!"

Saluting sharplym in the Karukian Helmsman manner, Borek's Shield Bearer's, 30 men all told, clashed their fists against the chest and joined their Shield Centurion in his family's battlecry. "Voldersun! Voldersun! Voldersun!"

Donning his Boyar Helmet, Borek Voldersun grinned madly.

OT: For anyone not sure I'm talking about it's a helmet of Eastern European design that essentially looks like this.

{I'm just a little confused, I'm assuming your Karukians are on the lower side of the tech tree?}

Owain wrote:{Might it be preferable to keep this pre-Heresy? A human planet unwilling to join the Imperium might provide us with a more interesting backstory.}

(OOC: okay, I'll edit my post. I assumed that since rebels were mentioned, it meant within the Imperium rather than simply holdouts. Sorry for the mixup.)

WARORK93 wrote:{I'm just a little confused, I'm assuming your Karukians are on the lower side of the tech tree?}

Yep, essentially the Karukians have been issued (tributed, to them) with standard Imperial Weaponry. During the Crusade the enlightment of mankind in regards to technology was a big thing, but it hasn't entirely kicked in for the Karukian people. To them, advance science is essentially a more evident (and expolitable, therefore less threatening) form of magic.

I'll get more into their history, attitudes cultures as the story progresses.

Little lord Fauntleroy wrote:

Owain wrote:{Might it be preferable to keep this pre-Heresy? A human planet unwilling to join the Imperium might provide us with a more interesting backstory.}

(OOC: okay, I'll edit my post. I assumed that since rebels were mentioned, it meant within the Imperium rather than simply holdouts. Sorry for the mixup.)

If we are talking about the Crusades it really could be anything. We could be tackling another Human Empire. Can't wait to find out.

Joryn straightened his uniform as he stood up; the plates of his grimy, off-white carapace armor had an irksome tendency to snag. Attempting to regain his composure, the intelligence officer ran a hand through his ashen hair. "Glad you could make it, Harlow. Captain Joryn Cepheus, 14th Army." The sniper returned the greeting with a nod. "Glad to be of assistance." Joryn was looking over the smoldering heap that had once been a rebel soldier when his comm-bead buzzed in his ear. He listened for a few seconds and looked up at Harlow. "Acknowledged," he said. "It looks like the Karukans will be here shortly; you and I will advance until resistance is met, then let the tribals catch up."


{Also, 1500 posts.}

The dirt and mud covering Harlow's own dark green, camouflaged uniform mirrored That of the Captain's. Harlow hastily saluted the mean when he told him he was a Captain, either the man's rank pins had been covered by the dirt or had been ripped off. Harlow shouldered his heavy rifle and pulled back his cloak's hood so the Captain could see his face. Harlow cleans his rifle off with his camo cloak, making sure the action and scope lenses are clear of grit.

"No problem sir, glad to see a friendly face out here in this mess." he says with an emotionless face.

As the two prepare to leave the area, Harlow remembers something he had seen in the fields and areas around the outpost.

"Sir, I'm not sure but I believe there is some sort of assassin out here. On my way here I found a lot of rebel dead, taken out precisely with a blade or a single round to the back. Too pinpoint to be from my unit, I'm afraid though it seems that the bugger's on our side considering all the rebels I found like that."

The audible cadence of boots interrupted Harlow's hypothesis. The cries "Garda! Garda!" could be heard from the Helm-sergeants every few seconds as they kept the men in line. Cresting the ridge, the Karukians saw the carnage surrounding the Captain and a lone guardsman, one of the rebel corpses still flaming. That's how it should be, thought Borek; this man, clearly a Noble, surrounded by the enemy dead. Managing to resist the instinct to customarily embrace the Captain in the Karukian manner and congratulate him on his small victory, Borek constrained himself to a friendly wave.

"Komandant Kefus!" Borey shouted enthusiastically, mangling the Captain's name. "The Karukian's have answered your call!"

{is it alright for them to join you now? BTW, the Karukians are fodder, really get rid of these guys left right and centre if you want.}

Warrender crouched down peering over the rim of the ditch that he and team had been holding position in for the last 30minutes, surveying the foliage and watching for sign's movement that they had been spotted. A message had come through ut he could not hear it as Marcus had thankfully wired in the headset to ensure no one could here it if a message came through, which apparently one had.

"What's the word, Marcus?" Warrender said without even looking over his shoulder. Marcus continued to adjust the comm's unit from his crouched position, one hand to his ear holding the vox caster, the other adjusting the dials. "Joryn Cepheus of the 14th, 9 klicks South from here, requesting backup" Marcus tilted his head up from the comm's unit to look at Warrender "Shall I respond?"

A long pause followed as Warrender seemingly ignoring the question, Branson, the cockiest of the team, flicked stones from his hands as they sat around in the ditch. "No, we won't give away our position, yet. Maintain radio silence and prepare to move out ... and Lukas? the next time I tell you to check your target before you shoot at something you'd better damn well do it or by Emperor help me I'll put that autogun so far up your ... " His voice trailed off and into a sigh, still not believing how his stupidity had nearly given their position away to a large band of rebels. "You nearly got us all killed!"

Within a few minutes Warrender and his 4 recruits had collected their gear and were back on level ground moving silently through the tree's with the intent of joining up with this soldier who went by the name, Joryn Cepheus.

As his team gracefully slipped between the tree's Warrender couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve being stuck babysitting these rookie's, but at least they had stopped tripping on every branch and yelling out at each stubbed toe.

((This is my first try at something like this, tried to add a little bit of mystery and hopefully some good charactor development possibilities. ))

{Good on ya! Just remember no Spess Mahreens, the Emperor's not a deity, and there's not quite so much techno-suspicion going on.}

Joryn stepped forward to meet the Karukians and threw a sharp salute. The man who had addressed him, presumably their leader, clumsily brought his hand up to the rim of his outlandish helmet. "That's Captain Cepheus to you." He waved Sergeant Harlow over. "Let's all have a look a the map, shall we?" He tugged it unceremoniously from its place on his belt.



"As you can see, we must follow the road west from our current position. Should we fail to retake Observation Post 4281.C, the enemy will be able to occupy the fortified town of Kell's Reach, preventing us from moving supplies northward. If those supply lines are cut-"

Joryn suddenly fell silent. He and Harlow exchanged a nervous glance before throwing themselves to the ground in the wrecked APC's shadow. The sound rose from a distant whistle to a deafening howl as the first shell landed amongst the Karukians. "Mortars! Get to cover!" Sergeant Harlowe shook his head in disgust as the tribals milled about in confusion. "There must be an emplacement nearby; the shells seem to be coming from somewhere directly south of here." Cepheus grunted in acknowledgement, quietly impressed by the sniper's sharp intuition. "Simple enough. Soldiers of the Imperium, advance!" He hefted his melta-gun and made for the treeline south of the road.

That, the killer thought as he picked himself after his dive away from the incoming mortar shell, had been too close. Shaking off the ringing in his ears, he focused on the small group of soldiers advancing down the roads.
The army boy had had some help, and even better now they were going now to deal with the mortars, so at least he wouldn't have to babysit them. On the other hand, they could provide help to complete his original misson, even if that meant just put more bodies between him and the enemy.
Looking down at the sword and pistol in his hands, the killer gave himself another moment of introspection. He knew that most of his brothers didn't like traditional weapons, preferring to use their...'talents' to acoomplish missions, but the killer thought that it was just as important to fight like his enemies to know how best to destroy them. And, truth be told, it let him indulge his more psychopathic tendancies, which was something else his kin on the whole lacked.
Behind the heavy mask, the killer gave a humourless grin and moved out through the trees.

(OOC: due to real life issues, I'm probably not going to be able to devote as much time to this as I'd like. I'm sorry.)

Quick as a whip Harlow threw his hood back on and raced to cover, as soon as he could he raced in the direction that Cephus was trying to rally the Karukians in, pushing any soldier too slow to react.

"Get up! Move it like you mean it! The Imperium needs you men today!" Harlow looked back as he ran, at least a dozen Karukians had been killed or maimed in the opening fire.

'We cant keep taking losses like this' he thought.

Running to catch up with the Captain, Harlow saw that their target was in the woods, he smiled, just like back home on Vendolan, a lot of the men from his regiment had come from the big cities and hives sprawling over the main continent, but the men of his unit, the sixth company recon specialists, had come from the woodlands of Vendolan's smaller continent.

"Sir, I think it would be prudent if you took these troops and any others you can find on your way there into the assault on the treeline! there's bound to be enemy troops there defending the emplacement. If you engage them I'll be able to slip around their flank and take the mortar out."

Harlow looked towards the woods again, his keen vision just enough to make out the silhouette that went into the treeline. It might well have been an enemy soldier but since when did they travel alone?

Warrender and his team were making good time as they ran silently through the dense wood, lasguns in hand. They had been running for the last hour and were now roughly 1 klick away from Joryn's original position when they heard the sound of motar fire in distance ahead of them. Unphaised, Warrender and his team continued. In the distance to his left(the east) he could see the outline of a road forming leading north to south which would eventually cross their paths.

As they bounded up a sharp incline he suddenly stopped, and thankfully so did the rest of his team as they spotted Lukas with his arm upright and his fist clenched, a signal that something was wrong. As they quietly dug to ground and awaited for Lukas to elaborate, Branson reholstered his autogun and took a ready position with his heavy stubber and braced it in readiness, looking to his right and watching as Jerrico slowly crawled his way to the top of the incline to get a better look only to have the back of his belt grabbed by Marcus and pulled him back dragging him through the dirt "Don't be a fool" he whispered to Jerrico "Lukas has point already"

"Convoy, 1 Chimera, 20 soldiers, all with rebel marking just ahead, heading towards our destination following the road South" Lukas whispered as he watched the convoy. He then brought his sniper rifle up, looking down his scope scanning the convoy and relyed information. "18 with autoguns, 1 a sergeant, the other on top of the chimera keeping some some sort of equipment or heavy weapon secure".

"What kind of device?" Warrender asked in an equal whisper. "Don't know Sir" Lukas responded, "never seen the like, definatly not standard issue, looks more like a thin cannon, but could easily be electronic equipment, hard to tell at this distance, what ever it is, it ain't friendly"

Warrender scanned around his team, Marcus the comm's operator and demolitions, Lukas the sniper, Branson heavy weapons and Jerrico bog standard infantry. Seeing them all huddled down ready for anything he almost forgot that these were rookie's, he allowed himself a quick smile as he saw the potential these rookie's might provide. "We can take em!!" Branson said in a forced whisper. Warrender almost facepalmed as he heard the words, cursing himself for letting himself think these recruits could ever become anything other than fodder.

Warrender pondered for a moment before speaking, refusing to warrent Branson with an answer "We can get there before they reach the crash site, if Joryn and any other teams are there we can co-ordinate an ambush, I'm still not prepared to break radio silence and risk our positions being compromised by giving a warning"

"But what if they aren't there, Sir?!" chimed Jerrico.

"Then we'll think of something, thats what you were trained for wasn't it?" Warrender asked retorically as he glanced around his team of misfits. "Come on, they won't see us from here and even if they do we'll be long gone before they can send in anyone after us" And with that the team moved on, continuing there silent running through the tree's, hoping that Joryn and any other teams that had answered the call would still be there.

((Am I to assume that the DM will be keeping tabs on player locations? Would it be practical to post an up dated map every so often so posters can see where they currently are and who and what they are near, based upon the RP of the other posters? Just a thought, as said have never done this before ))

{I've got the map saved in GIMP and can keep it up to date. If anyone would like to send me a unit badge or personal icon, I'll drop it in and use it to mark your character/squad's position as we go.}

the lights when green and Gaz and his kasakrin squad dropped
the speed of the wind forced his eyes shut,
as they his the ground he heard a crunch behind him,
he span round to see macs body bend in an odd way probably landed badly
he started screaming, gaz shot him in the head.
"remember this is a covert opp, no compromise.
every one here?"
seven replies came back there were now 9 of them left where was joe?
he look up towards the valkirie and saw joes feet sticking out of his grav chute
"not again, he needs to loose some weight"
suddenly a rocket shot across the sky and the valkkirie span out of control and crashed
"down to eight men...
lets move ."
they advanced towards the rear of the enemies hoping to take out the cawardice generals.....

Vulkan_He'stan wrote:the lights when green and Gaz and his kasakrin squad dropped
the speed of the wind forced his eyes shut [etc.]

{Interesting, but please try to write more clearly and put this in paragraph form; in these roleplays we're trying to generate a good collective story. Lack of proper capitalization/punctuation can break immersion for the other players, especially when the rest of the players have put so much work into writing a clean narrative. Also, some suggestions:

-As this is a pre-heresy roleplay, Kasrkin don't exist yet, nor were gunship-mobile forces of that type.
-Are they sufficiently worried about operational security to summarily execute one of ten squadmembers when they're only a few klicks from a friendly town?
-Where did that missile come from?

You're very welcome to edit your post and give it another go, but please be mindful of the plot, the setting, and the level of narrative polish we're shooting for.}

{Here's a slightly updated map!}

Master Sergeant Harlow's curiosity nearly cost him his life. Turning back to face the sounds of battle, he grunted in pain as a stray bolt of whatever it was the enemy was shooting at them impacted his arm. Looking up, he saw the Mortar shell dropping like a comet from the sky towards his position. He wanted to run, but he could not. This was it-the end. Strangely, his mind flashed back to memories of his mother, and he wondered idly if he would have done anything differently had he had another chance...
He would never decide. Mere moments before the shell impacted the ground, a black shape careened into his side at full speed, knocking him off hsi feet wnd catapulting him into the ground. His head impacted the turf hard, and for a moment everything went black, but before hazy images danced in the void-and the Master Sergeant looked into the grinning face of death himself. Harlow screamed.

Elgarion, Prophitage of Clan Culexus, was used to people screaming in terror. It was just part of his unique 'gift', but that never made it any less tiring. Pointing towards theSergeant's bewildered troopers, the assassin nodded, and Harlow heard a sinister voice crackle over the Vox.
+Do your job, trooper, and let me do mine.+
Turning, Elgarion unholstered his pistol and fired three return shots at the assailants, downing one of them. In truth, getting that kill had been an unexpected bonus; it was more to supress the enemy, and give him room to breath. Sprinting up to the warrior he assumed was the captain, he lept upon an enemy soldier trying to flnak him, driving the knife deep into his throat. Turning, he noddded to the bewildered-looking Captain Cepheus.
+Good evening.+, the malice laden voice whispered over Joryn's personal Vox. +Seems like you need a hand+.


(OOC: There's a pretty good chance that I've missed some key plot element here, on account of having a stinging headache; if so, then I apologise in adavnce.)

Genewhip Rudiger kicked a cowering trooper with his polished jackboot, the target of his wrath squealing as it connected with his ribs. He was sobbing hysterically, and little rivers of the salty solution were carved through the soot covering his pale face. Rudiger kicked him again, shouting; "You are a spineless worm! You will fight for the Emperor, or you die for him! If you do not pick up your lasgun and charge into the fray, I will kill you!" The man whimpered as he got to his feet, fumbling with his lasgun as he did so. Lifting his head over the high trench, he gave a strangled cry as a high-velocity round showered brain matter and bone fragments over the inside of the trench, his headless corpse tumbling back inside with a wet 'thud'. The rest of the soldier looked at the Genewhip in mute terror, each pale and shaken. Raising his ornate power sword, Genewhip Rudiger gave the order. "Over the top, boys!"

Mordoskul wrote:Colonel Commissar Rudiger kicked a cowering trooper with his polished jackboot... [etc]

{I like your style, but the Commissariat was founded as part of a series of reforms in response to the events of the Horus Heresy, which as of this RP doesn't start for a few more centuries.}

{three things

a. Would it be possible for the GM to label the symbols so we know who's who?

b. I know we're all trying to have fun here but I suggest (if everyone agrees) that we try to keep controlling other's characters down to a minimum.

c. Perhaps the GM should label this thread as "Pre heresy" so people would stop getting confused?}

{-I'll put a key on the next map. For future reference, though, the black shield refers to the main party with individual icons representing other characters as needed. The one below us at the moment is Warrender's squad.

-Agreed; this will obviously need to happen to some degrees, but we'll need to avoid making any major plot/personality choices for others.

-Consider it done. My apologies to everyone who might have been mislead.}

Owain wrote:

Mordoskul wrote:Colonel Commissar Rudiger kicked a cowering trooper with his polished jackboot... [etc]

{I like your style, but the Commissariat was founded as part of a series of reforms in response to the events of the Horus Heresy, which as of this RP doesn't start for a few more centuries.}

Very well, "Genewhip" then.

{This Coat of Arms simple enough to represent this Karukian platoon?

BTW, remember that the Karukian's are from a fuedal world, not tribal.}

{I wrote a two-page narrative post. My computer crashed and it's all lost. They assaulted the mortar position. Two Karukians dead, we have acquired a captive rebel officer and a Griffon. It's been established that the Karukians are terrifying in close combat and Joryn tossed a stun grenade into the Griffon and stabbed a couple guys to death. I'll rewrite some of the narrative when I get back from Warhammer Wednesday at my FLGS. Gonna try out my 500pt Executioner list. }

{Also, epic heraldry, EF.}


As they broke through the trees, the band of Imperial soldiers caught sight of their target; a squad of rebel troops stood in loose formation around a Griffon, the offending mortar protruding from a hatch at the carrier's rear. Joryn turned to Sergeant Harlow. "See that one in the silly hat? Must be some sort of officer. Can you disable him?" Harlow nodded and raised his long rifle to his shoulder, shrugging aside his camo-cloak to accommodate the weapon's polished hardwood stock. "I've got the shot, commander.", he said. "Take it."

The rifle spoke and the rebel officer answered with a strangled scream as his kneecap shattered, leaving a red spatter on the flank of the armored vehicle he had been leaning against. Captain Cepheus gave the Vendolan(?) sniper an approving smirk before turning to the Karukians. "For Emperor and Imperium!", he shouted. "Charge!" The Karukians did just that, surging forward with a clatter of archaic armor and a throaty war-cry. Several of them fell as the rebels opened up with their autoguns, but as they closed to close-combat range the feudal warriors proved themselves to be able fighters, striking down the enemy with blades and gun-butts.

Joryn skirted the melee with ease and made a run for the mortar carrier, clambering halfway up the access ladder on its side and gently tossing a stun grenade into the open top hatch. It detonated with a resounding thud and Joryn hoisted himself over the edge, drawing a single-edged utility knife from its place on his shoulder harness as he did so. Landing hard on the metal floor of the gun compartment, he recovered and drove his knife into the nearest crewman's gut and followed up with a thundering elbow to the chin, causing him to lose consciousness. He hurled himself at the second crewman, who was beginning to regain his faculties. Before he could make a complete recovery, Joryn swiftly rammed the knife's clipped point into the rebel's left eyesocket, killing him instantly. He stepped away from his victim as the third crewman began fumbling for something at his belt. He never finished; Joryn pulled his autopistol from its ankle holster and ventilated the man's cranium.

Hauling himself back over the lip of the access hatch, he bore witness to a scene of utter carnage; the Karukians had literally torn the foe apart. The rebel officer was the only one who had been spared, having dragged himself under the Griffon in an attempt to avoid the feudals' wrath. He was now propped against the vehicle's armored flank, his mangled knee hastily bandaged and his conical red cap sitting at an odd angle.

Slowly, carefully, Warrender's team crept from the woods and onto the road. Smoke was still rising into the air from the many craters scattered over the road and the last remains of an APC stood smouldering and jet black.

Scanning the roadside East to West he was confident that the coast was clear. "Looks like someone got here first" Warrender said to his team that were behind him and out of his vision and slowly made his way to the APC, managled bodies strewn around the area in all directions. "No sign of Joryn so for now, we'll have to assume he's KIA and continue our mission"

"Sir!" Lukas shouted "Multiple tracks leading into the jungle. Looks like a small army boundered into the woods". Warrender walked overto inspect the tracks, they did indeed show a huge amount of movement heading South into the woodlands.

"Perhaps I spoke too soon, looks like the rebels got here before any backup and chased him into the woods" Warrender mused loudly to his team. "Looks like he took several of the buggers with him though" He smirked to the team as he looked down at the many unrecognisable bodies that were once Karukian.

Warrender had several idea's spinning through his head on what to do next. He could follow into the wood and hope to catch this rebel band by suprise, though he doubted that Joryn would still be alive and didn't want to risk a direct confrontation with his untrained unit. He could follow the road and attempt to recon the outpost so that if any other loyal forces arrived he could ... ... his train of thought was disrupted by the sound of a vehicle.

He spun and bounded for the tree's "Lookslike that convoy was faster than we anticipated, INTO THE TREE'S!" His team followed quickly running back into the woods in the direction they came from and hiding in concealed positions.

From their positions Warrender check the charge left in his lasgun while Jerrico and Marcus lay proned with their autoguns ready to fire when and if ordered. Warrender looked left to see his team, Lukas was already scoping through his sniper even though they still weren't in visual range and Branson was just finishing setting up his heavy stubber.

In a low whisper Warrender spoke "Ok lads, we already know whats on the convoy, but what we don't know is what went into those tree's and they could easily be on their way back, so keep your eye's peeled and only engage when i give the order or we're shot at .. understood?" As he said the last word he stared at Lukas, although Lukas wasn't looking as he was scoping he could still feel the burning in the back of his head from his superiors stare and dared not look back even to acknowledge.

As they lay proned and hidden away out of view they prayed that they wouldn't be spotted, that the convoy would pass by without incident "We'll wait for the convoy to pass, then follow them back to the outpost for Recon" Warrender said, knowing that if the convoy passed them without them being seen then they could easily shadow them back to the outpost.

((just to clarify, my team does not yet know that the small band of rebels boundering into the woods chasing Joryn is in fact the loyal Karukian's, my team are making assumptions that they are rebels. Also if no one does anything with the convoy assume my team have followed them and are no longer in the area near the downed APC))

{I re-wrote my lost narrative from earlier. Now, here's a new map! I've rectified Warrender's position and updated ours. Now, what do we do with our spoils, men?}

Gra'ff'en (pronounced Grah-fin) stood on the edge of a plateau overlooking a heavily wooded valley. In it a river cut an imposing figure through the wood as it wound tightly from left to right, and back right to left over and over in its rush to the distant seas. Gra'ff'en saw the turbulence in its currents, and wondered at what events could anger the water so. Was it not snow gently covering the mountains not so far distant only weeks past? Yet here it was now lashing back and forth across this valley, grinding rocks to dust and ever growing with the rains.

And what rains they were this night. The skies above seemed to weep at what had befallen this once proud world. The heavens roared their displeasure and flashed their anger in stark blues and purples as if the souls above meant to add their all to the cacophony below. Lightning hammered cloud as destructively as shell hammered earth. Perhaps it was a competition between the two, of past and of present strifes?

Gra'ff'en pulled his cloak tight about him and stepped off the plateau as yet another shell hit home, as yet the loudest of all...

He opened his eyes.

Gripping his pistol tightly in his hand he surveyed his where-a-bouts keenly. He saw no immediate threat and moved to a crouch as silently as possible. It was mid-afternoon according to the position of the suns in the sky. How could he have let himself doze so long? He cursed inwardly at this distinct lack of control over his own body. Speaking of waking, what had caused his?

The ground rocked again.

Well that would be it then. Mortars. It would be war which woke him. This world had knew nothing but since before his arrival no more than three days hence. No wonder his dream had been so calamitous. At least the threat was distant he thought. He relaxed a bit as he gathered his mat and slight provisions.

Gra'ff'en, late of Craftworld Kaelor, picked up his Ranger's Rifle, shouldered his pack, took one last look at his ship hidden as it was in the brush, and headed in death's direction wondering what this adventure had in store for him.

[Character approved.]

{1. to the Cullexus asassin: Wan't the Officio Assassinorium created after the Horus Heresy? Please correct me if I'm wrong.

2. So this convoy warrender is following isn't headed towards the main group right?

3. Yes, Owain, its "Vendolan" }

Harlow watched the Karukians run after the broken rebels. it seemed that after their officer went down the fight had gone out of them. Harlow watched the remaindr of the Karukians fight it out hand to hand and took supporting shots where he could that flattened quite a few rebels in the woods. Soon, the rebels were dead and the Captain and the leader of the Karukians, Harlow had already forgotten his name, were reigning them back in.

Offhand, Harlow reloaded his heavy rifle and slung it back over his shoulder, patting its side like a dog that had just done some trivial deed for its master. He took out his canteen and drank deeply from it, wondering in the back of his mind where the assassin that had saved hi had gotten to. Harlow shuddered as he remembered the man's death like face. He'd heard rumors about such warriors but had never seen one in person until today.

Harlow flexed his shoulder, that shot he had nearly taken could have put his skills to naught. He had already cleaned the wound and was now working on the officer he had shot, who now had his hands bound by some thin chains Harlow had found in the griffon. The officer glared hatefully at Harlow but said nothing. A glare that Harlow was glad to give back.

Harlow looked at the Captain who was now whipping the Karukians back into line after the skirmish and getting them ready to move. Harlow walked up to him.

"Sir, the officer will live I believe, I've stemmed his bleeding although he won't be able to walk on his own." Harlow smiled with a knowing smirk.

Harlow looked to the Captain who seemed to be in thought about what to do with the prisoner and what to do next. Harlow was wondering something like that himself.

"A crown for your thoughts sir?"

WARORK93 wrote:{1. to the Cullexus asassin: Wan't the Officio Assassinorium created after the Horus Heresy? Please correct me if I'm wrong.

[No. It was created well before. See the Horus Heresy novel Nemesis.]

-Cypher- wrote:

WARORK93 wrote:{1. to the Cullexus asassin: Wan't the Officio Assassinorium created after the Horus Heresy? Please correct me if I'm wrong.

[No. It was created well before. See the Horus Heresy novel Nemesis.]

{ Ah, thanks, I've really gotta read those some time. I withdraw the question}

(OOC: Thanks Cypher-and don't worry about it WARORK, we all make mistakes. Also I hope their are no hard feelings about momentarily controlling sergeant Harlow, I just thought it was as good a way as any to get more involved. May this be the start of a beautiful partnership! )

Elgarion had propped himself up by a treestump on the very outskirts of the Imperial emplacement, contenting himself to pore over a tactical display inside his helmet. Main centres of habitation lit up like colonies of angry fireants across his feild of vision, and the Assassin grimaced-his target could be in any one of them, and every moment he wasted without being sure was a moment his enemy had to regroup.
"Demon." The blunt statement tore apart the contemplative state inside Elgarion's mind, and he turned towards its origin in a motion which seemed half-curious, half-angry. Standing in front of him was one of the Karukians, barely older than 17. His face was etched with a mixture of pure hatred misked with fear. In his hands he gripped a battered lasgun, barely looking like he knew what to do with it.
Demon...the choice of word was odd, give the induction of the Imperial truth and the rejection of belief in the divine, but on the other hands the Karukia was a feudal world. Most of its inhabitants had never seen a lasweapon before, let alone encountered psykers (or, more accurately, anti-psykers). Elgarion reasoned that the boy was still entertaining fears of the monsters in the stories his Grandmother told him around the fireside. He fixed the boy with a hard stare, though it was pointless as his mask made every emotion into a morbid grin. The boy grinded his teeth together once more before turning and returning to his fellow squadmembers in a loping run. Chuckling, the Culexus rose to his feet, and silently traversed the ground towards where Captain Cepheus and the sergeant he'd rescued were talking.

It was time to get this show on the road.

(OOC again: Might it be preferable to establish how early/late in the Great Crusade our story takes place? I.E. what if any Primarchs have been found, what kind of technologies we have access to, beliefs on Psykers etc?)

Little lord Fauntleroy wrote:
(OOC again: Might it be preferable to establish how early/late in the Great Crusade our story takes place? I.E. what if any Primarchs have been found, what kind of technologies we have access to, beliefs on Psykers etc?)

[Could we use this as the timeline for this RP? 40k Timeline. The maps above show this to story to be set in M30.]

((@WARORK93 , it is and it isn't, I invisaged the convoy heading south along the road where they were spotted by Warrender, it then hit the T-Junction and started heading west heading towards the captured outpost and is about to enter the area where Joryn first made his comm call by the APC. From what i can tell your group is further south of that position and won't be noticed unless you wanted it to be. Basically the Convoy will just pass by unless anyone wanted to use it for RP, thought I'd add in something that others could chime in on without it needing to affect the main story, if no one chimes in then I can just use it to build up Warrenders portfolio for you all until we all meet up in the story. Will write more once others have managed to write more, I can write tombs if I wanted but thats not what this game is about, hehe))

((@Owain , regarding his post thats two posts below this one. Have editied all previous posts to downgrade the technology, all except for Warrender who is keeping his lasgun. This threads starting to get real messy with edits and such))

Swinging his sabre in the air Borek whooped in jubilation over the first Voldersun victory. The cheers of the men were no less excited, their swift and easy victory over the enemy made them ecstatic. The mortars had taken a heavy toll on them, but as soon as they closed the distance the slender knives and sabres of the Karukians had done their wicked work work well.
"Voldersun! Voldersun!" they cried, clapping the hilts of their sabres and butts of their autoguns against their thighs.

"Borek!" Joryn snapped, distracted from his interrogation of the prisoner. "Shut your men up, this is a war zone. I want a perimeter established, and see what you can salvage from the dead."

Chastened, Borek whipped around on his own men, sending them flying with his snarl, some to take watch, others to loot the corpses. The scavengers, in the Karukian manner, would distribute the spoils evenly. A quarter for Borek, a quarter for his helm-sergeants, and the rest the looter kept for hiself. He was relieved that at least most of the men didn't speak the Imperial language. Still, that he had been found wanting in his duties angered him.

"Lord Voldersun!" A Karukian soldier ran towards him, Valuk, his eyes brim with excitement as he thrust the a recording log out to Borek. "I found something!"

Taking the object solemnly, and promising Valuk a greater share of the loot, Borek studied the recording before him. His reading skills were wanting, but it looked important.

"Capteen Cepheus! I found something."
{was Gothic the universal language at this time?}

EDIT: To autogun.

Little lord Fauntleroy wrote:
(OOC again: Might it be preferable to establish how early/late in the Great Crusade our story takes place? I.E. what if any Primarchs have been found, what kind of technologies we have access to, beliefs on Psykers etc?)

{There's a timestamp on the map; it can be changed if it seems inappropriate to anyone.}

{Regarding language/technology: I assume that the Gothic language was in use by the time the Crusade started. It's also worth mentioning that at this point, autoguns are far more common than lasguns in most regiments, though equipment as always remains at the discretion of the roleplayer.)

Joryn smiled back at the sergeant, then abruptly wheeled on the Brigantine officer and whipped the short-pattern melta from its place on his back, pulling the trigger and vaporising a chunk of earth at his side. He jammed the weapon's barrel under the prisoner's chin, causing him to whimper pitifully as the still-hot barrel charred his flesh. "Right, then. I'm going to untie you, and you're going to show me your unit's command frequencies. Try anything funny, and I'll roast you and feed you to those feudals over there. Do we understand each other?" The officer nodded, his eyes now tearing up.

Harlow hauled him to his feet and, guns raised, the two Imperial officers escorted their unfortunate counterpart to the Griffon's cabin. The Brigantine fiddle with a few dials of the vox and it crackled to life. "...come in. Platoon B, report. What is your status?" Captain Cepheus grinned and poked the meltagun's barrel at the small of the prisoner's back. "Well, son?," he said, "Why don't you tell him?" With shaking hands, he picked up the vox handset. "P-platoon B here, sir. S-status is... n-nominal, sir." "You're a full twelve minutes behind schedule, Porucznik! Consider yourself demoted." "Y-yes sir. Platoon B out."

"The frequencies?", Joryn asked. The platoon commander pointed to a leather-bound book on top of the vox set. Harlow opened the book and pored over it for a few seconds. "All's in order, sir." "Good." Joryn wedged his combat knife between the man's first and second vertebrae. His body jerked once and crumpled to the ground.

The two stepped out of the vehicle and Joryn turned to the Karukian's lead officer. "Voldersun! Detail two of your men to deal with the body. No honors; he died like a coward." Borek beckoned a pair of young-looking warriors to them, speaking curtly to them in Karukian. One of them made a face and looked to Cepheus. "He will lie in shallow grave, lord." Joryn nodded. "As is the fate of cowards," he said. "Now, Borek, what is this your men uncovered before we were interrupted?"

Owain wrote:

Little lord Fauntleroy wrote:
(OOC again: Might it be preferable to establish how early/late in the Great Crusade our story takes place? I.E. what if any Primarchs have been found, what kind of technologies we have access to, beliefs on Psykers etc?)

{There's a timestamp on the map; it can be changed if it seems inappropriate to anyone.}

(OOC: I...missed that completely. My apologies.)

Gra'ff'en leaned on a boulder atop a hill roughly 400 meters west of the Griffon. Using his rifle's sight he panned the barrel back and forth taking in the scene below. What appeared to be an Imperial officer was wiping fresh blood from a short blade and conversing with another soldier of a lesser rank. Off to the left, closer to the Griffon, two men dressed in uncomfortable-looking armor were carrying a body, which itself was spattered with dirt and blood some of which was still dripping from an open wound in his chest, toward the ditch along the roadside.

The Eldar shifted a little aimed further along the road. He was taking in the view of the road meeting the horizon and the smoke that rose beyond when a twig snapped not fifteen feet to his left. Gra'ff'en turned, simultaneously letting his rifle swing behind his shoulder on its strap, drawing his pistol with his right hand, and tugging his knife from its scabbard on his left shoulder with his left hand. As he did so he slid from the rock onto his knee and aimed his pistol into the woods with his knife hand held ready under the weapon. He waited.

After what seemed like two minutes, though must only have been a handful of second, a small rodent poked its head through the underbrush. It sniffed the ground and then looked up at Gra'ff'en. It was an odd looking creature with two canteen-cap sized eyes the red of dried gore. The nose, which protruded about three inches down the snout in front of the eyes was small, quite bulbous, and pink. Below the nose two startlingly white teeth jutted from the upper lip, the mouth chitting every now and then with soft noises. The ears, behind and above the eyes by about an inch were rather large; the length of Gra'ff'en's knife and coming to a point at the tip. They flapped with every movement of the creature. Its entire body was covered with thick-looking fur the color of mud. Being only about nine inches or so long Gra'ff'en knew it wouldn't offer much meat, but with his meager provisions he knew any supplement would be needed.

He crept slowly toward the creature which, after surveying him for a bit, had gone back to sniffing the dead leaves on the ground. When he was only a few feet away it looked back up at him with its large eyes. Gra'ff'en pounced and beheaded the little varmint with a quick swing of his blade. Tonight a new taste would greet his tongue he thought. He cleaned his knife on the grass and swung his rifle back around, taking one last look at the group on the road before he walked back into the woods thinking about why his dreams had led him here and began to make a small fire on which to cook his meal.

Owain wrote:
*snip*
The two stepped out of the vehicle and Joryn turned to the Karukian's lead officer. "Voldersun! Detail two of your men to deal with the body. No honors; he died like a coward." Borek beckoned a pair of young-looking warriors to them, speaking curtly to them in Karukian. One of them made a face and looked to Cepheus. "He will lie in shallow grave, lord." Joryn nodded. "As is the fate of cowards," he said. "Now, Borek, what is this your men uncovered before we were interrupted?"

{Nice! You're talking my language, especially this last detail. Appeals very much to the Karukian honour. BTW, if anyone has been confused with my differing Karukian ranks (seeing as there was no universal title in the Imperial Army as far as I know) then here it is:
Armsman = Private (not sure how many left, about 20)
Helmsman = Sergeant (2 left)
Shield Bearer = Staff-Sergeant (1 left)
Anything higher than this and we are talking about Nobility, which is a bit more complex. Suffice to say, Borek is under the impression that Cepheus is of higher breed than him, where he views Harlow as a Shield Bearer. Can I just ask if it is alright for me to keep calling you Lord? Captain Cepheus may not have to like it, but in the interested of maintaining morale do you think he would deal with it?}


"My Lord, Armsman Valuk found a data-log near on one of the corpses, a Helmsman it appears. I would have dismissed it as a personal note or somesuch, but the seal looks official." Borek handed the device over to Cepheus, hoping the Captain wouldn't realise that Borek lacked any passable literacy and could only recognise the authorisation at the top-right corner.

It was his fault he supposed, he'd never paid much heed to his tutor in the few classes, always devoting himself to his riding and other martial lessons. The Voldersun's hadn't really valued writing or poetry, they rarely helped as much as a mount and a blade when rival families or brigands raided their provinces. Now however, as he watched the Captain peer the message with an indiscernible face, he couldn't help thinking how helpful it would have been to check whether he had just handed over vital enemy intelligence or a mundane request for ammo or some other equally useless material.

The terrified Imperial troopers leapt over the trench, more afraid of the Genewhip than the guns of their enemies. Rudiger lead from the front, charging forward with his power sword drawn, and firing his bolt pistol with his left hand. A soldier in front of the Genewhip cried out in pain as his kneecaps were torn apart by an enemy las round, dropping him to the ground in a screaming heap. Rudiger grabbed his collar, dragging the wounded man forward, shouting at him to fire his rifle. Las rounds spat at the Genewhip from the rebel trench, tinging the air with ozone and blackening the side of his face as one nearly connected with his head. Leaping into the trench with the wounded soldier, Rudiger slammed the butt of his power sword into the face of a rebel trooper, splitting the skin and spilling blood down his face. The wounded trooper fired with his lasgun, vaporizing the head of another as his brain overheated and exploded. More loyalist troops leapt into the trench, fighting with rifle butts and crude clubs made of metal, wood, even severed limbs.

Harlow hauled the dead weight of the body up and out of the Griffon, though not before liberating the captain of his laspistol and the ammo for it. Harlow hadn't had lots of experience with las weapons but he was sure that he would benefit from its pilfering. He watched the two men carry off the body of the officer and proceed to bury him in a ditch. While scanning the area his keen marksman's eyes picked up on a sudden glint in the distance. It wasn't slightly noticeable to anyone who wasn't looking directly at it, but Harlow knew what it was; the sudden flicker of light bouncing off of the end of a scope. As soon as he had seen it, it was gone, no shots rang out, after a few moments Harlow assumed they were safe.

He went back into the Griffon's cabin and flipped through the pages of frequencies in the book. He chose one that looked important and turned on the radio to that frequency, all he got was static, so he flipped to another. This one rewarded him with two voices going back and forth.

"Be advised command, my group is approaching the objective."

"Roger that convoy, repeat coordinates?"

"You sure this is a secure channel sir?"

Harlow grinned, not anymore, he thought.

"Roger, line is secure."

The coordinates were given and Harlow turned the radio off, having written them down. He pulled out his own part of the map and began crunching numbers until he got a general vicinity somewhere just northeast of the post. His thoughts were interrupted as the sound of fluttering wings came closer to him. Harlow held out his arm instinctively and a great hawk or raptor landed on his forearm which was padded by a leather vambrance underneath his fatigues. Harlow brought his arm in until he was looking at the Hawk's eyes.

"Hey there girl, haven't seen you around lately, what's the word?"

The bird tilted its head to one side and looked at the map.

"Oh really, can you show me?" Harlow whispered.

The people of Vendolan's lesser continent were fantastic hunters by all means, and their men often hunted with birds of prey. This practice became prevalent in the Vendolan ways of war as well. Vendolan troops, especially their recon specialists, used these birds as spies and messengers for the troops. The hawks were trained to report their findings in a very useful way...

The hawk grabbed a pebble from a pouch attached to its leg and placed it on Harlow's map on the south road headed toward the post, the next one went behind that, until six pebbles were lined up on the road just northeast of the post. Then the hawk put another group of five smaller pebbles behind the main line of pebbles on the map. Harlow noticed that all of the pebbles were in the middle of the area he had marked from the radio coordinates. He smiled, perfect fit. Harlow took a bit of something out of his webbing pocket and let the hawk eat it out of his hand.

"Good work girl, keep looking, especially up there, about half a klick? You see that flash?"

The hawk tilted its head again and looked at Harlow, who smirked.

"Of course you did, keep and eye on the area would you?"

Harlow gave the hawk another piece of meat and put the pebbles back in its pouch. It flew from his arm and was soon lost to sight in the forest canopy above. Harlow turned his attention back to the battlefield and carried his map and the book of the frequencies out of the Griffon and towards Cephus and the Karukian leader.

"Sir, I've got a couple things I think you'd like to know, firstly, I have learned of a convoy of enemy vehicles moving toward the post along the main road about half a kilck northwest of here via a radio message between the convoy leader and the rebel command. Also I have learned there is a group of five men stalking the convoy, possibly Imperial, via my own source. Secondly, I noticed that there is a third party of at least one watching us from about half a kilck west of here up on that hill."

Harlow pointed to the hill

"Not hostile yet, but I suggest we move soon and try to throw whoever it is off our trail."

The Assassin had stood motionless throughout the entire exchange, admittedly only half listening to the Karkurian's report. He had been turning over the information given to him by the Officio to accomplish his task, slotting different lines of enquiry together to make one complete picture. Now however, as the Captain poured over the data log, an idea struck him and his head snapped to attention, making both Borek and Cepheus jump slightly.
+Give me that.+
Elgarion motioned towards the data log, and with shaking hands (a natural human reaction to his abilities, the Culexus had learned) Cepheus complied. Snatching the small book, the Assassin scanned it's contents with remarkable speed. Closing it shut with a *thud*, the Assassin looked up at the two men.
+We are heading for the nearest city.+ His tone brooked no argument, but that didn't stop the Sheild-Centurion from trying.
"B-but, what about if we had to wa-"
The Assassin turned toward him, the device on his left eye opening slightly. Immeadiatly Voldersun was struck with a measure of the Culexus' true horror, and he seemed to visibly shrink back, looking to Cepheus for support.
Closing the device, the Assassin turned back to the Captain, voice level.
+Leave some men to scout the area or wait for stragglers if you want, but I don't think you understand. It was not a suggestion.+

{Er...I'm thought the Officio Assassinorium wasn't founded until after the HH. I'm fine with you as an Imperial Assassin, but an Officio one?}

{BTW, the datapad was meant for Owain to have grounds to direct our next move, so I'm left wondering how Captain Cepheus will react to this challenge. }

(OOC: in the book Nemesis, the Officio is in fact referred to by name several times. And I too am interested in how out beloved captain [] responds, but one way or another I'm getting to that city. After all, if Clan Culexus has decided to get involved something bigger than a mere invasion must be going on...)

From their vantage point, Warrender and his team watched the convoy approach their position. They seemed to spend ages kicking over dead bodies, flipping wreckage and generally wasting time. It did however, allow Lukas a chance to get a close up look at the hardware strapped to the Chimera's roof using his snipers scope.

"It looks like some kind of lazer drilling equipment" Lukas whispered back. "Could easily be converted and used as a weapon without much trouble, its proberly why its being transported, for testing, its clearly a prototype and nothing that I've seen being on the production line"

It wasn't long before the convoy moved on, with 5 Soldiers racing through the woods, trying to get ahead of the convoy. Warrender who had previously been through this part of the area was already well aware of a long corner in the road west of their position well out of site of the outpost but it was still risky. During their long wait out of sight, Warrender had already formulated a plan to ambush the convoy at this corner, they weren't going to let the rebels make use of whatever the hell was on that Chimera.

As they darted from tree to tree Warrender looked up briefly to see a predatory bird circling them, seemingly watching them. "Gerroff! damn bird, we ain't dead men yet" Warrender snarled quietly. As he spoke the words, the bird flew off towards the southeast. "Very odd" Warrender muttered to himself.

Warrender sneered happily as he lay in wait, he knew no one could keep up with him, they were already in their positions long before the unexpecting convoy arrived. He had picked an excellent spot, the road curved around and the tree's came extremely close to the roadside. They had picked their positions, laid down mines, all they had to do was lay in wait.

Lukas wiped the sweat from his brow, it was one thing to use a sniper rifle to scope distanct objects, it was quite another to actually fire it, now here he was facing the east and hidden up a tree with the road curving southward in front of him.

Warrender, Jerrico and Marcus had taken up positions on the ground near to the tree Lukas was in but scattered enough to give crossfire to some degree. Branson lay in wait further up the road to the east, with orders to let the convoy pass by so that he could get behind.

They had not long got everything ready and their positions dug in when they heard the engines of Chimera approach, not long after it came into view with 10 rebels on either side. "They won't suspect a thing" Warrender smirked to himself.

As the Chimera began to turn around the curve their was an almighty bang as its left tank tread rolled onto the mine causing it to explode, tank tread and metal flung high into the air along with several rebel soldiers that they weren't killed by the explosion, would by shrapnel. The Chimera grounded to a halt as the rebels shouted their orders, circling the downed Chimera.

One of the soldiers raced to the rear of the Chimera and reached for the radio comm's located at the back, as he reached out his hand a sharp whistling sound was heard, the soldier started to fall backwards, his arm still outstretched with a small round hole in his forehead. "SNIPERS!!" one of the soldiers yelled causing the rest of them to look around rapidly, knowing that any one of them could be next.

Warrender depressed a button on the remote in his hand, two more mines in front of the Chimera exploded, detonated by remote and sent several soldiers flying to the ground, several of them screaming as the blood poured from their faces from the metal shards now embedded.

Shots suddenly came from the tree's as Warrender, Jerrico and Marcus opened fire. Their were now only 13 soldiers left, several more fell as they scrambled to take cover behind the downed Chimera and started to return fire on their positions. Another sharp whistling sound sent another soul to the dank muddy road.

Branson slammed his heavy stubbers tripod into the ground between the tree's and steadied his gun. The mines explosion was his que to get out of hiding and behind the Chimera. He allowed himself to grin wide and depressed the trigger, several soldiers had already looked behind them only to see what had crept behind them, as several of them tried to yell a warning as they brought their guns to bear the Heavy Stubber unleashed its payload.

The remaining soldiers were pelted with fire, blood splattered against the rear hatch of the Chimera as bodies were mauled by the weapon. Those lucky enough to be at the side of the chimera were shot in the back by the autoguns as they turned to see the new threat.

From his vantage point Lukas peered into the front view point at the driver. He grinned and pulled the trigger, a sharp whistling sound was followed by the contents of the drivers head being splattered on the inside of the cabin.

The smoke cleared and 5 very happy soldiers walked in to inspect their handiwork. The Chimera was now useless to them and the rear hatch blocked by bodies. Warrender knew that the explosions would have been heard so quickly ordered the removal of the prototype device and quickly raced back into the woods heading north.

Joryn stared down the Culexus assassin, his face drained of all color. With shaking hands, he drew a heavy autopistol from his belt and cocked it with some effort. "You are... very much out of line... assassin. You will unhand that data... and leave this place." Several Karukians had begun to come to their senses and raised their autoguns; one did not need a fluent understanding of the Gothic language to perceive the threat to their commander. Seeing that the situation had become hopeless, Elgarion dropped the book at stalked away.

+You will regret this, Captain.+

Joryn grimaced. "I very much doubt that.", he said. Spent, he fell to his knees and vomited.

Harlow glared at the assassin, despite his internal horror at the things appearance, his feelings of resentment grew over them. The assassin seemed reluctant to be denied and Harlow knew that the Captain was at his strength's end.

"What was it you said?" Harlow asked haughtily, he marveled at the calm in his own voice. "Do you job and let us do ours?" despite the assassin's stare Harlow managed a smile that mirrored the assassin's own skull mask's grimace.

"Besides, I'm sure you don't need some army boys to hold your hand."

the assassin didn't move but the insult was hung on the air. Harlow stepped forwards and grabbed the document. In the distance he could hear gunfire and explosions in the general direction of the convoy he had marked.

"Whatever the case I think it hardly matters now, we've got an objective and it doesn't involve you."

Warrender crouched by the strange device inspecting it. Lukas was right, whatever this was it certainly wasn't something that was mass produced. "Well I see no shame in admitting I have no clue what to do with this thing" Warredner said eventually

Hidden near a group of large bushes they spent time examining the device in detail. They assumed that it had no internal power system and therefore needed an external power supply, something they obviously didn't have.

"So we got it, now what?" Branson said in a critising tone.

"I'm tempted to smash it" Warrender said, holding the tip of his cap and lifting it slightly to allow some air to filter under. "We can't keep carrying it around with us its too damn heavy, destryoing it would be the safest option and still keep it out of enemy hands"

Marcus and Lukas looked at each other uneasily while Jerrico all to hastily grabbed a large log, ready to be asked and have an excuse to break something important.

"Lets wait here for a while, we've been running around for hours and I think we could all do with some rest to catch our breath. Also, good work everyone, I can actually say for the first time in 3 weeks that I'm impressed in your performance, keep it up and maybe you'll live long enough to get out of this dump" Warrender raised his head to look at Marcus "Marcus, any word on the radio?"

Marcus looked back and shook his head "All quiet on the Radio, Sir"

Elgarion seriously considered killing the sergeant as he left the group. It would be easy-he wouldn't even have to use the Animus, all it required was a simple flick of his wrist to embed the knife in the fool's neck, or...
No.
Even with his skills, at such close range he would still be overwhelmed-if he was Eversor perhaps, but he wasn't. Additionaly, on the off-chance that he failed the Imperium would need all the able bodied men it could get. He grinned at that notion; Cepheus was only going to make things harder for him and his men.
On a ridge behind Elgarion, a shadow ducked into cover. The Culexus turned, watched for a few moments, then pressed on through the tree line-one hand on the hilt of his pistol.

There was open hostility amongst the Karukians at the challenge between the grim Assassin and the Captain, a few still had their weapons pionted in the general direction of the treelin, wary lest her come back.
"Armsmen at ease!" Borek snapped, his churning insides close to emptying themselves on the ground like the Captain, and Borek hadn't even been the center of attention. With Harlow he helped the Captain to his feet
"M'lord. The creature is gone, and to the Emperor with it's fate."

"Damn that freak!" Cepheus spat, shrugging off the help, not bothering to point out to Borek it had in fact been a human.

The sound of an explosion interrupted Cepheus before he could continue his verbal fountain of abuse, which was then followed by distant gunfire. The Karukian's started murmuring, pointing in the direction of the noise which had been much closer than the other muffled exchanges of ammunition. Borek called his Helmsmen and Shield-Bearer Varuz up and then turned back to the Captain.

"The war continues, sire! Give us leave to strike at the nearby foe!" Borek's voice brimmed with excitement, his hand clenching and relaxing at intervals on his sabre hilt.

{The explosion and gunfire would be Warrender having a jolly time with the rebel convoy, so obviously we aren't going to come running to your rescue. However, this does give our leader the option of choosing to meet up with the other Imperials now and study the datalog later, or keep the forces seperate}

They recorded as much imformation as they could regarding the strange device before them. Branson was quite happy when Warrender had agreed that instead of destroying the device they could simply bury it. He was less happy however when he was nominated to lose his sleeping tent in order that the device could be wrapped up and kept intact.

"Don't know why it's gotta be me that loses my tent to wrap this bloody thing in" Branson muttered to himself as he folded the tent around the device ensuring the damp couldn't get to it. Meanwhile, Jerrico and Lukas stood close, arms resting on the spades in front of the hole they had just dug.

Branson with the help of Lukas and Jerrico picked up the device and lowered it into the hole, then taking out his own spade he unfolded it hearing the clicking mechanisms as it locked in place and joined the others in burying it.

While they were busy burying the strange device, Warrender and Marcus stood apart from the group, talking in low voices. Warrender didn't mind using Marcus as a sounding board because out of the 4 of them he seemed the most mature and sensible. "Its strange" Warrender spoke, "Several hours and we haven't heard any more radio chatter. What the hell happened to all the forces stationed in this area, there was at least 5 regiments stationed around the area and now its as if they have just disappeared without a trace."

Marcus took a few moment to ponder the words "Its very odd. All I'm getting is static across the comm's, could be a jamming device, but if it was we'd certainly have met across some loyal forces by now"

"Well, there's one way to find out" Warrender said as he grabbed the comm's unit. "This is Warrender, is anyone recieving?"

Gra'ff'en was getting tired of this. Traipsing through the woods following images only glimpsed in dreams. Yes, the images existed before his eyes not long after, it seemed the Eldar Gods wished him, but for what reason he didn't know and was getting very impatient to find out.

Last night it had been more of the same. He stood once again atop the plateau, but this time instead of looking out across the valley below he faced the other way. Before him was a city, or at least what was left of it. "Kell's Reach," the paint slathered on the ruined wall said, "a place of dogs and demons".

"Much like every other city the humans infested." Gra'ff'en muttered to himself. Having no other clues in his most recent dream, he had decided to head towards the city. He could see it through the treetops so he musnt be too far distant. Though instead of being in ruins it was perfectly intact there on the bluffs, or so the spires and towers showed.

Gra'ff'en was lost in thought again and he burst through the trees coming quite suddenly face to face with a gruff human. They stood dumb-founded for a moment. Gra'ff'en noted the mans stubble outlining his hard jaw, and the way every inch of him seem covered in some form of filth whether it be dirt, blood, soot, oil, or grease. "Warrender" was etched on his battle plate above the left breast.

Before this "Warrender" was able to regain his wits (Gra'ff'en assumed it wasn't often this man had seen an Eldar, if indeed ever. Besides, what with his peculiar appearance himself he doubted even another Eldar wouldn't be a bit stunned. In his travels Gra'ff'en had taken to sporting the human crew-cut, had many piercings along his long pointy ears, and since his hood was down both odd facts were quite utterly visible. If he had been able to think on such things Gra'ff'en would have had a smirk on his face thinking that the man probably thought he was another human just with oddly shaped ears.) Gra'ff'en quickly and unceremoniously shoved the man in the dirt. He took a quick look around and saw three soldiers burying... well... something and another sitting on a log nearby polishing a weapon. No, these weren't odds a rifleman like him favored.

Gra'ff'en threw up his hood and sprinted as fast as he could across the road and into the woods. He heard shouts ring out, but paid them no attention as he ran headlong through the wilderness north toward Kells Reach.

[I've left whether or not you follow up to you, but I doubt you would be able to find an Eldar ranger in thick wood and sprinting headlong away from you. You're welcome to try though! ]

{Just a note, but I thought we were heading away from Kell's Reach, as dictated by the map?}

Warrender replaced the hand held comm back onto the comm's unit and stood up. "Keep an ear open for any responses" he said to Marcus who was cleaning the dirt off his autogun.

As he turned he came face to face with a hooded stranger, before he could even open his mouth he found himself flying backward and landing awkwardly on the floor. He felt the wind rush past him as the figure raced past and by the time he managed to get his senses back and roll over the figure was long gone.

"What the hell was that?!?!" he bellowed. Jerrico, Branson and Lukas all looked up inquizatively as they had seen nor heard anything. Marcus was still sat down rifle and rag in hand with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"I'm going to kill that jerk when i get my hands on him" He snarled. "Who Sir?" Lukas asked. Warrender sneered and looked over to Lukas, "Didn't you see him?! Get after him, NOW!!" Jerrico, Lukas and Branson quickly dropped their spades and picked up their rifles, Marcus nodded as he too ran past, autogun in hand, as they raced through the tree's in the direction that Warrender was pointing. Warrender promptly sat back down, brushing off the dirt and his damaged ego, looking into the wood where the strange figure had ran into.

"Your a dead man" He said to himself, low enough so no one could hear him.

((Edited after reading WARORK93's post below ))

Harlow watched the assassin walk away. He spat in disgust.

'We need to move on...' He thought. He walked over toward Joryn who was recovering from his bout with the assassin.

"Sir, I oughta take a peak at the engagement out there, be our eyes and ears."

Joryn just nodded as he caught his breath and Harlow turned to leave, hustling through the forest towards the sounds of the explosion. Soon, he could see smoke and fire on the horizon. He stalked forward, hugging his cloak around him and unshouldering his rifle. It took him a while but eventually Harlow circled around the area as to be close enough to see who was around. He saw the dead chimera's, the bodies, and saw that they were clearly rebel so whoever was still around was obviously imperial. Still, that didn't stop Harlow from being stealthy. He crawled through the trees until he saw some figures in the distance. Harlow ducked and scoped up the figures. They seemed to be looking for something. Harlow saw that they were indeed Imperials and as they came closer, Harlow stood up.

"Pax Imperialis!" He shouted, putting his rifle up in the air for them to see.

"There he is!" came the answer and the men rushed him.

"What the--?" Was all Harlow had time to say before he was brought to the ground by a group of four men. The tussled until Harlow was quickly overpowered and borne into the ground. One of the men was about to stave his head in with his weapon when Harlow's hawk swooped out of the sky and began to peck and claw at the man until he batted it away cursing. The hawk lit upon a nearby branch of a tree and the man raised his weapon to kill it.

Harlow kicked the men holding him off of himself and tackled the man with the raised gun with a snarl. Before the others had time to react. Harlow had the soldier in a choke hold with his dagger poised at his jugular. The men around him pointed their weapons at Harlow and his hostage. Harlow panted and slowly took the cloak of his hood off to reveal his human face a fierce eyes. He pulled a silver chain from around his neck and held up the silver aquila for the men to see.

"I'm sure you men don't wanna see your friend here bleed out in front of you so lets try this again. My name is Master Sergeant Harlow, 85th Vendolan. Where's your commander?"

{Basically I saw a little opportunity for some comic relief here. As the eldar races off with the rookies in hot pursuit, they run into Harlow who could be mistaken for the Eldar considering they both wear cloaks. }

Emperors Faithful wrote:{Just a note, but I thought we were heading away from Kell's Reach, as dictated by the map?}

[That may or may not be your objective. Mine may or may not be directly intertwined with yours.]

-Cypher- wrote:

Emperors Faithful wrote:{Just a note, but I thought we were heading away from Kell's Reach, as dictated by the map?}

[That may or may not be your objective. Mine may or may not be directly intertwined with yours.]

That's a bleedin typical Eldar thing to say!

The two men stood, rifles pointed at this so called Imperial Officer, the third a face of thunder as he felt the sharp metal blade pressed against his throat, the fourth shouting expletives and clutching his eye as he thrashed around like a child.

"Damn bird! I'm so gonna ge...". Branson shouted before he was cut off by Marcus. "Shut the hell up Branson" Marcus bellowed, his rifle still pointing at Harlow before he returned his gaze back.

Marcus eyed up the silver aquila, wondering wether he was telling the truth or had simply stole it from a soldier he had killed. He stared into his eyes, Harlow stared back, not a shadow of fear crossed either of their eyes as Harlow held the knife to Lukas's throat.

Eventually Marcus nodded and lowered his weapon. Jerrico seeing this also lowered his while looking worriedly at this Harlow charactor. "I'm Marcus, recruit, I think you'd best talk to our Commander, he isn't best pleased with you". Marcus quickly brushed past him, heading back towards Warrender, his face calm, just as it had done since their mission began and at everything that had bee thrown at them. Jerrico wandered how a man with no military history or proper military training could keep so calm in these conditions.

Harlow, seeing the weapons lowered, released his grip and gave a gentle push to move Lukas away from him and turned to follow Marcus. Lukas gripped his own neck instinctively, bending over hunched up and wheezed firmly as he looked at the two figures walking away. Lifting his rifle he followed, his face contorted in anger. Jerrico watching, quickly snapped to and followed suit, leaving the whinging Branson to tag behind.

Harlow slung his rifle and unfastened the holster on his hip where he had picked up the laspistol. He didn't think he'd have to use it but still, he hadn't exactly started off with these guys on the right foot. He lifted his arm and the Hawk lit on it, and crawled stepped its way up to Harlow's shoulder and sat there.

He followed the men back to where they were burying the.....object, and a man walked towards them with the pins of a captain. To everyone's surprise, Harlow saluted.

"Master Sergeant Harlow, 85th Vendolan, Captain..." Harlow repeated, hoping the Captain would at least tell him his name.

"Warrender" The man said.

"Captain Warrender then. I'm here as the forward scout of Captain Joryn Cephus' unit, they aren't that far from here." Harlow said pointing to the trees where he had come from.

"You got a radio? I need to contact him and--" he began until Warrender cut him off.

"What the hell makes you think you can just tackle a superior and them waltz back here like nothing happened?"

Harlow stared blankly at Warrender

"I'm afraid I don't follow sir..." Harlow said defensively. Warrender took a step closer and looked Harlow up and down his eyes grew wide as he realized that the person who had tackled him was not Harlow, he looked around frantically.

"Anyone pass you on your way here?" Warrender asked. Harlow remained confused.

"No sir." Harlow's eyes scanned the scene around him until he found the object that the men were burying.

"What the frak is that?"




{I'd also like to apologize to Hellsguardian for kinda sorta contradicting his post. I highly appreciate him being a good sport about it though }

{Take a look at the map, gents. Kell's Reach is a good ways east of Warrender's position and for plot purposes I must reiterate that it is an important Imperial base.}

Joryn eased into the Griffon's command chair, the engines rumbling throatily as the vehicle made its way back towards the road. An enthusiastic Borek had situated himself behind the pintle-mounted heavy stubber, but Captain Cepheus had insisted that operation of the mortar be left to Harlow; there was no telling what sort of mess the feudals might have made of it. Seeing several life-signs on the auspex, he powered down the Griffon's turbines and stepped outside. He leaned against his newfound steed's armored flank, still weakened from his encounter with the Culexus.

"Harlow!", he called. "Get in here! For Terra's sake, we've had enough distractions." The Vendolan sniper stood amongst several other Imperial soldiers, and at the side of the road they seemed to be in the process of burying a strange piece of tech. Joryn took a few steps closer and could hardly contain his excitement at realizing what they had stumbled upon. "Get this thing in the APC!", he shouted in the Karukian's general direction. He then turned to Harlow's new companions. "Warrender, I presume?" The officer nodded and opened his mouth to speak. "Captain, we-" "You have plenty of questions, I'm sure. If you'd be so kind as to situate your squad in this armored vehicle the rebels were so kind as to provide us, I'll answer them on the way to the objective. As things stand, we've had one holdup after the other and I'll be damned if I let anything else delay my mission."

Shield-Bearer Barbarossa scratched the dead tissue around his missing eye nervously. He had always felt at home by his Lord Voldersun's side. As the Master of the Hussars back amongst Karukian's, he had a surprising amount of status for a low-born. Indispensible, the finest tracker un Borek's command, his posistion as Shield-Bearer was assured. At the moment though he wasn't thinking about his career path, or how strange it was that he didn't actually carry a shield. He was thinking about the man, or not, that Harlow had claimed the new men had mistaken him for. Something foul was on the wind here. He had to talk to his master.

"My Lord Borek," Barbarossa approached him while the others where distracted with some new find.

Borek turned his attention from the strange device that Joryn was hurrying into the Griffon. "Speak true, Barbarossa."

Barbarossa bowed his head and continued. "This man, this thing, that the huntsman Harlow reffered to... I feel I must investigate. PanPan picked up a scent a few mintues ago, and it's no good thing."

Borek was silent, processing the new information. PanPan, the men's mascot, was a thoroughbred hunting hound, a huge creature that had a sense of smell that put it's compatriots to shame. And if the troubled Barbarossa well, only a fool would discard the advice and wishes of his right hand man.

"Take Valuk and Petera, follow this scent untill you find this man or whatever it is. Bring it to me, in whole or pieces. Emperor guide you." Borek rose and headed after the Griffon.

"As you wish, M'lord." Barbarossa muttered. "As you wish."

{BTW, yes we have a dog. But Harlow got a cool hawk, so just go with it. }

{BTW, in case it wasn't clear, as small team has split off and is following the trace of the Eldar (who has a fair lead by now). It will be interesting to see what happens here.}

Warrender looked into Harlow's eye's and saw the confusion in his expression. Satisfied he nodded and rather than salute back, his took his hand in a gentlemans handshake. Harlow recognised the greeting as genuine albiet strange for an officer to shake a soldiers hand, never the less he returned the gesture.

"Its some kind of strange device we robbed from some rebels along the road, and yes, we have a radio" Warrender said, answering Harlow's previous question.

Their train of thought was distracted by shouting from the road "Harlow! Get in here! For Terra's sake, we've had enough distractions."

Harlow quickly jumped to and headed to the transport, warrender followed closely behind, he had already recognised the voice as the same as the distress call from earlier. "Get this thing in the APC!" Joryn bellowed and Warrender saw the look of glee on his face as he recognised the device.

Warrender stepped forward to address the Captain only to be cut off mid sentence while several Karukian's ran past towards the buried device. His annoyance lasted a mere second, he realised that he was indeed right, there was much work to be done and they were at risk staying in this position for too long, there would be plenty of time for talk while they moved to a safer position. Warrender nodded respectfully and turned on the spot, his thick trent coat swayed with him as he stood hands clasped behind his back. "Onboard now!" he shouted at his men

A quick flick of his head gestured to Marcus to follow which he duely did. Warrender entered the APC and sat down, Marcus lowered his head to avoid clanging it on the roof and took a seat opposite his commanding officer. "Joryn ..." Warrender spoke, "... if they aren't onboard in 30 seconds, feel free to leave them behind" he said in a voice loud enough for them to hear and chuckled to himself as he watched Jerrico, Lukas and Branson quicken their pace to the transport and jumped onboard taking positions at the rear ramp.

They watched through the tiny portholes as the several Karukian's quickly dug up the device and march it into the APC, leaving it by the feet of the passengers inside. Branson, who was already recieving treatment from a Karukian medic for his eye, was all too quick to snatch his tent cloth back that he had used to wrap up the device.

Warrender pulled out a hip flask of Groskein (pronounced Grosh'skin, a local whisky of this world) and took a large swig before handing it to the man on his left "Pass it around, looks like you have some stories to tell" He watched the man take a swig and the the APC filled with light laughter as the man coughed and wheezed. "Good stuff" he wheezed as he passed it to the next man.

Warrender leaned back in his seat and looked into the cabin. "So ... Captain Joryn, you tell me your story I'll tell you mine" He grinned as one of his team started coughing at the strength of the Groskein.

As the APC pulled away he glanced out, looking for a sign of the man that had sent him flying, he of course, was long gone.


---- ---- ---- ----
OOC
((nah, don't worry about the re-write, I was going to write a whole segment of our interaction, but as it was already 1am for me I could only manage to edit my post to fit in))

Owain wrote:As things stand, we've had one holdup after the other and I'll be damned if I let anything else delay my mission."

I'm liking the hard stance Joryn is finally taking. Keep that up and he'll whip those Imperials into shape soon enough.

Emperors Faithful wrote:{BTW, in case it wasn't clear, as small team has split off and is following the trace of the Eldar (who has a fair lead by now). It will be interesting to see what happens here.}

Indeed it will be, but a dog chasing me through the woods? I'm sensing racial over-tones. No, no, I'm just kidding, but I couldn't help myself.

{ The dog is alright I think. I'm sure if we dun do anything silly with the animals then it'll be fine. Besides, at this point, I'm sure the imperial army is low tech enough to use animals, hell, we use em today in RL!

One thing though, am I to assume that we are now ALL in the griffon? Pretty tight fit, I guess, unless some are riding on the tracks.}

Harlow shifted his bird to his hand as he went towards the APC

"Go on girl, I'll see ya later." the hawk flew off, leaving the assembled men for the sky, headed for the post, Harlow boarded the APC as the others piled in behind him and they were soon off after the strange device had been attatched to the vehicle. Harlow sat behind the mortar, he hoped he wouldn't be asked to fire it, he wasn't sure he could, he wasn't trained to.

Harlow looked over at the imperial soldier his bird had scratched. He noticed the cut wasn't deep, the man would keep the eye, but it would be sore for a while.

"I want to apologize on behalf of Sehra, she doesn't take to kindly to people trying to kill me." Harlow laughed as the man grimaced and rubbed his injured eye. "I'm sure she'll forgive you though."

The flask finally came to Harlow and he took a swig and coughed at the strength. "Damn" he said as he passed it to the next man. Harlow turned to adress Joryn

"Sir, mind me asking what is our objective?"

His glance turned to the strange device on the vehicle

"And what the hell is that thing?"

(( I have no clue about Chimera's. I made an assumption it would be able to transport 20 soldiers which would be my team of 5, 14 Karukian's and Harlow. Joryn in the cabin with a driver and Borek controlling the mounted Stubber. Joryn also implied he wanted Harlow to control the mortar, so I assume thats mounted as well. If I'm wrong just imply it in the next section of RP and we can pick it up from there ))
(( If he gets a dog I wanna chimp, joking ))

{Well the thing is that a griffon is not based off of the chimera chassis ,its based of the salamander chassis which is much smaller IIRC. Although this could very well be a different version, as guardian said, just say so.}

(Okay, so just a little summary and to make sure I'm following things correctly:

Current positions of characters are:
Gra'ff'en- heading to Kell's Reach on the right side of the road heading north.

War render, Joryn, Harlow, Borek and his Karukians are all aboard the griffon heading to the post

Elgarion is doing what exactly? I know he slipped off into the woods, but what is his current location?

Also, @Owain, is the post the main objective such that my RP should be adjusted so as to have that as my main objective even though I'm not directly involved in the conflict on the planet? Thats fine if that's how you want it. You are the "GM" of this after all.)

{Only Joryn, Harlow, Borek, and Warrender's squad are in the Griffon, and it's a pretty tight fit. The Karukian infantry are marching alongside it at the moment, and I believe there are roughly three squads. Gra'ff'en is way off towards Kell's Reach, presumably up to some mischief at the Imperial base. Elgarion's location is unknown. Cypher, feel free to carry on, but after we've taken the post the story will progress to its next chapter, so to speak.}

{Hmmmm, come to think of it dont think it was ever established where Mordo's unit was. and what ever happened to the techpriest or the kasrkin? they only posted once each....oh well.}

WARORK93 wrote:{Hmmmm, come to think of it dont think it was ever established where Mordo's unit was. and what ever happened to the techpriest or the kasrkin? they only posted once each....oh well.}

I'm gone for a day... and here we are. Currently trying to get myself caught up. Otwain, feel free to run my character as an NPC until I read through all the posts.

Barbarossa watched as the Griffon and other Karukian's marched further away, out of earshot. Signalling Valuk and Petera, they broke cover and headed back in the direction where Warrender had been camped. The best place to start tracking was where the quarry had last been seen. PanPan caught the scent instantly and, straining on his leash, he almost sent Petera flying facefirst into the dust. PanPan's excited yipps and enthusiastic tugs made their direction of travel clear. It appeared that the man-thing had backpeddaled, in the direction of Kell's Reach.

Barbarossa's wide grin betrayed his deplorable Karukian dental condition, but it mattered little. The hound had the scent, and thus the hunt was on.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Borek still had tears running down his cheeks from the ungodly flask that Warrender had provided, his comical expression eliciting laughter from Harlow and Branson, who still clutched a bandage to his eye.

"Damn this stuff is strong!" Borek croaked, before taking another swig. Emperor knew he'd need it for whatever was ahead.

Owain wrote:{Cypher, feel free to carry on, but after we've taken the post the story will progress to its next chapter, so to speak.}

[I appreciate the long leash. I'll bring him back around to keep the story near your vision. If I can get away from that pooch that is.]

-Cypher- wrote:
Elgarion is doing what exactly? I know he skilled off into the woods, but what is his current location?

(OOC: the most accurate thing would be to say Elgarion is drowning under a mountain of exam-related tomfoolery, but that's not very heroic. )

Elgarion perched himself on a sturdy looking branch as the vehicle sped away into the difference. And sulked. It was unbecoming of him, he was ment to be an Imperial Assassin, but he couldn't help it. That bloody captain and his lapdogs had come dangerously close to ruining everything! If they'd just agreed to accompany him, he could get off this planet fast, but as ever that would be too easy.
Still, needs must. Rising, and jumping to the forest floor with a cat-like grace, the Culexus turned his head towards the sound of the engine in the difference. The outpost the army boys were traipsing towards must have a radio link of some kind, and that spud give jim the chance to find the exact times and locations his target would be in striking distance. Plus, he could kill that sergeant. Elgarion smiled under his helmet, a genuine one this time.
He was going to enjoy this.

[I've noticed the thread to be slipping a bit and becoming quiet. I'd like to apologize for my part in that. I've been swamped lately with class, and I somehow got wrangled into a tournament so I've been painting and figuring out an army list for the past couple days. I'll get to this soon though. Just letting you guys know I'm still in.]

-Cypher- wrote:[I've noticed the thread to be slipping a bit and becoming quiet. I'd like to apologize for my part in that. I've been swamped lately with class, and I somehow got wrangled into a tournament so I've been painting and figuring out an army list for the past couple days. I'll get to this soon though. Just letting you guys know I'm still in.]

(Same here, and I know how school is I've already posted my part, was hopin Owain would get on soon and tell us the next part..)

((Waiting for Owain to forward the storyline, he's not been on as far as I can tell so I'm just biding my time))

{Hey, me too! Only one month and school's out forever.}

Joryn took a pull from the flask and coughed. "Sweet Emperor, that's good stuff." The Griffon's navigator began to chime. Joryn flipped a few switches and addressed the passengers. "Looks like we're here, boys. Borek, you and your men are to engage the enemy immediately; Harlow, we'll support them in the Griffon. Warrender, you and your men are to infiltrate that command bunker to the west. It's lightly defended and you should be able to open the main gates from there. Once you've completed your assignment, we'll use the mortar to take out the base's guard towers and proceed to storm the HQ building. Questions? I sure hope not?" Warrender ordered his men out of the transport, shouting orders and abuse. Borek took his place alongside his warriors and Joryn gunned the Griffon's engine. The assault had begun.

[can someone please catch me up? I'd like to jump back in]

{I'm not sure where you were in the first place Mordo, but I don't think you've moved very far...If you want a suggestion, have your men attack the other side of the post, we can meet in the middle if you wish}

As the men moved out, Harlow jumped up on the cabin , getting into a prone position and setting up his rifle. He scanned the targets he could see. Over the backs of Warrender's men, he could see not one target, oh well, they should be able to take care of the bunker then.

'Looks like the stories will have to wait, there's a job to do."

Harlow scanned back towards the front gate, he could make out many defenses hidden amongst the walls and towers. Oh, the Karukians were going to get slaughtered if they didn't do something. Harlow leaned towards Joryn.

"Sir, if Borek is going to break down the door, we're going to have to levy some heavy fire on the gate!"

Harlow lined his piece back up, taking steady aim, breathing slowly, bang, a machine gunner quite literally lost his head.

another breath, bang, a rebel with a rocket tube fell backwards.

another breath, bang, an officer who stuck his head out a little too far. Harlow smiled, he'd found his shooting groove

then a round bounced of the armor plating of the Griffon, just in front of Harlow. It startled him, to say the least, he jumped down, off the Griffon, taking cover in the tall grass. He had to think quickly Another loud shot rang out, a Karukian fell. Harlow crawled forward as another Karukian bit the dust and the feudal men finally got the hint and took cover. Harlow saw a flash of a scope's glass in the distance, the enemy sniper had taken position on a guard tower, too easy, and sloppy, the man wasn't even looking in Harlow's direction, he must have thought Harlow had been hit and rolled off the Griffon.

Well he was about to pay for that little mistake. Harlow aimed his rifle at the man, adjusted for wind and distance, breathed slowly, and with a slight feathery squeeze of the trigger he took out the enemy sharpshooter with one well place shot, watched the blood spurt out of his severed jugular and slump back.

Harlow smiled and jumped back on the Griffon, he looked down at Joryn who was looking a little bewildered at Harlow's sudden disappearing and reappearing act.

"Got him." Harlow said cheerily with a grin and a slight thumbs up sign.

Covering the advance of the Karukians came the forces of the Lorian Praetorian Guard, firing their lasguns at the rebel troops, the high powered rounds tearing limbs from torsos, and heads from necks. For weeks, the Lorians had been engaged in brutal trench warfare with the natives, loosing thousands of lives in the process. After several weeks, their vox lines whent silent, leading Imperial Command to believe them lost. It was not so, however. Genewhip Rudiger and the rest of the Lorians had stormed the rebel command post, killing the rebel Captain, and leading to a Loyalist victory. Capturing several enemy vehicles, the Lorians now rolled up the embankment within repainted Chimeras, their multi-lasers spitting out bolts of searing light as they advanced. Foot troops raced along the sides of the trundling vessels, firing their lasguns as they charged. Leman Russ Demolishers fired their cannons at the Front Gate, pulverizing the structure, and allowing the soldiers of the Praetorian Guard to stream inside, firing into the mass of rebel troopers.

{You might want to specify exactly how many troops you have at your disposal, Mordo, taht way the GM and everyone else can plan accordingly

And just so I know, what is a genewhip? }

Harlow saw through his scope the columns of army troops coming up the hill and his jaw went slack. Where and how had an entire regiment just popped up out of nowhere? Without looking away he stuttered

"Sir? Are you seeing this?" He called to Joryn.

"Borek, your men will attack the front immediately."

The Captain's fateful words still rang in Borek's ears as he assembled his men in the ditch, just out of sight from outpost. Emperor, he wished Barbarossa was here now, the old veteran was always handy in a fight. Borek's heavy breathing was masked by his chainmail faceguard, but it was hard to hide the slight tremble in his right hand. By the Seven Circles, Borek thought as he peered over thr ridge, they were going to be mowed down if they ran headlong up that hill. There were several boulders which would provide ample cover that dotted the landscape around the base of the hill but beyond that there was a full twenty or thirty paces of a steep, gruelling uphill climb with absolutely no cover. And Emperor knew how his men were expected to take down the gate.

"Damn it all!" Borek spat, drawing his sabre and nervously running his thumb along it, accidentally drawing blood. "Ah, piss!" Borek cursed at the cut.
He walked down the line of men, passingly inspecting their equipment andspeaking with them. A look in the eye, a pat on the shoulder, the promises of women and glory beyond the rise. Barfada, Benji, Morek, Jasar...Perhaps they were all commoners, but Borek knew all their names and he'd be damned if he ever forgot them. Damned. Helmsman Vesk said something that made the others laugh. Borek hadn't caught it but he laughed all the same. They all did, that mad, desperate laugh of soldier's before the frenzy. Laugh with the man next to you now, Terra knows it's likely to be the last time.

Well, enough procrastinating.

"Karukians! The others will provide covering fire while we have the honour of leading the first charge. Do not fear death," at this Borek grinned at his hypocrisy "The Garden of Felsheba awaits the strong of heart, and of loin." Borek added with a grin as me made a quick rutting motion, evoking a racious guffaw from the men.

"But look for an easy way out just yet, we're soldiers in the Great Crusade of Man, and we've got a job to do. The Maidens of Felsheba can wait until they're good and ready. But they want a strong man knocking at their door, not some weakling that laid down and died to the first volley." Borek raised his sabre, behind him the sound of a score of others being drawn echoed. Climbing the ridge, in full view of the enemy outpost, he turned and said, cackling madly like a Karukian Viperwolf, "See you at the gates, boys!"

Warrender grinned as he and his men raced up the track towards the Command bunker. As they reached the crest of the path he could see the target just ahead as the path continued onward and sloped down giving the watchmen inside the bunker a clear view of anyone approaching from the east west or north. Although there was a blind spot from the south this was covered by Complex itself.

The Bunker itself was a small affair, its main windows giving a clear view east, west and north while the south side of the bunker was embedded into the hillside with presumably a tunnel that would link the bunker to the main base. There was no doubt in his mind that the only option was a direct assualt in the open as a covert attack was simply impossible

Warrender held his cap between finger and thumb to tilt it into a better position "Let's go to work boys, we need to get those gates open before our forces get chewed up"

Branson grinned wide, needing no further prompting he stood up to full height, Heavy Stubber in hand and braced he let rip into the bunker as he strode ponderously towards the building. Glass smashed and several bodies flew back onto the floor as the men inside the bunker gathered themselves.

Lukas went prone on the crest of the path, taking sniper shots as targets presented themselves between his comrads. Warrender buried his apprehension of the rookie firing past him and chose to believe he could be trusted to not miss his targets as he ran down the open path lasgun in hand followed by Marcus and Jerrico with autoguns as they unleashed shots into the other side of the bunker.

The defenders had started to rally themselves and returned fire as the three men charged their positions followed by the heavy weapons soldier ponderously walking down the path blowing holes into the door and windows. As Warrender, Jerrico and Marcus ran down the path, shots whistled past them. suddenly Jerrico shot backward, his momentum carrying him forward as he landed on his back heavily, coughing and spluttering with his hand clutching his throat as a mass of red liquid poured from it.

Still charging Warrender glanced back for a split second, his eyes filled with rage at one of his own being downed. As his lasgun ripped into the bunker while firing from the hip he reached down and unclipped a stun grenade from his belt. Even in anger he knew he couldn't use a frag grenade and risk damaging the equipment.

With unprecidented aim he threw the grenade through one of the many shattered windows as he and Marcus dived and turned, landing with their backs against the bunker walls under the windows. A bright flash that they could see even from outside the bunker followed by an ear splitting sound. As if on que, both men stood, seeing soldiers blinded and staggering, firing blindly around the room and ended up killing one man and shooting two others in the foot and leg.Warrender and Marcus unleashed their weapons on the remain soldiers as a few went flying as sniper shots found a home between their eyes.

The bunker quickly fell silent and Warrender turned to Marcus as he raced back to Jerrico "Get those gates open!!!" Marcus nodded and started to climb through the window as Branson reached the shot ridden door and booted it open hard and strolled inside still carrying the Heavy Stubber.

As Warrender reached the still spluttering Jerrico he was joined by Lukas who had ran down the hill already pulling out his Medikit. They tried for several minutes to stem the bleeding, but with the wounds so severe in his neck there was nothing they could do for him. A knowing look from Warrender and Lukas understood, reaching into his medic bag and injecting him with a sirum to ease the pain as his life slipped away. As he head tilted, Warrender leaned over to close his eyes. "Poor kid" was all he could manage to say.

Meanwhile inside the bunker, Marcus had removed the key from the Sargeants neck chain and pressed the key into the command console, twisting the key and depressing the buttons. Lifting his comms unit he spoke "This is Marcus to Joryn, Gates are now opening and you are free to proceed. We have in our possession a tunnell that leads inside the complex ... your orders?" But as he spoke he heard a creek, turning behind him in time to see the back of Branson disappearing through the door and into the tunnel. "Damn idiot!" he muttered under his breath and pointed his rifle at the door just in case someone was to come through.

"Faugh Ballavaaaaahhhh!" Borek screamed the Voldersun warcry 'Clear the Way', his own call followed by the score of Karukians that raced up the hill behind him. Any second now the guards would open fire, cutting them down like wheat. Borek could feel it, the chill of death on the wind, every heavy breath could be his last. Closer the Karukians came, and they heard the shots, but nothing fired upon them.
Borek was only a few strides from the gate now, and he had damned all idea what he would do when he got there. Just as he reached it it started to creak open, a massive man wielding a heavy stubber standing there in the open. Borek's searing lungs sucked in another deep gulp of air.


"Faaaugh Ballavaaaaaahh!" he screamed again, colliding with the massive figure, tumbling the giant over. Scrambling off the man's chest, Borek kicked the stubber out of his hands and slammed his knee against his throat before the man could finish whatever it was he was about to say. Borek raised his sabre, ready to stab down in the soft eye, when Branson gasped "Negh Elixargh!" Borek froze, then burst into manical laughter. 'New Elixir' was the Imperial callsign for friendly. It was only now that Borek recognised the big man as one of Warrender's. Laughing, he called the other Karukian's off.

"New Elixir!" he laughed. "Warrender ava ment bar lona gravita!" he spoke in Karukian, 'Warrender and his men have bled the enemy already!'.

He laughed again, relieved beyond belief, his right hand still shaking.

They had lied! Every damn one of them! There was nothing here. He had risked every bit of his life in coming here, and he had nothing to show for it. Not a single thing.

The dreams, those damnable dreams, had led him to Kell's Reach. They had led him through back alley after back alley, from dark doorway to dark doorway, from one building to the next. He had slit throat after throat to remain hidden. But all for what?

All of it had been to get here. Here in this building. Here in that bulding's cellar. Here in that hidden passage behind the shelves. He wasn't controlling himself anymore. The dreams were, or whatever fueled them.

They had come out of his sleep to become a plague on every second of his life. He saw things that weren't there, heard terrible noises with no origin. He felt emotions so strong they over-powered even his other strained senses.

He glimpsed the birth of a God.

It had been slow in coming at first. The Kaelor had turned from their hedonistic ways at the behest of the wise individuals and their tales of doom for the Eldar. Gra'ff'en hadn't believed a word of it. When the Kaelor had begun crafting their world of steel he had left, so many years ago now. He had continued living the way he always had. In excess.

He was paying for that now. Something was taking over his mind, and it was far too late to change it. The dreams had engulfed his soul.

And they led him here.

To nothing.

Gra'ff'en flew into a rage. He overturned tables, desks, chests, and shelves. He broke anything he could get his hands on. He smashed and kicked and punched. He cursed anything he could think of as the pain, the betrayel, the lonliness of every act swirled inside his head. His soul cried out for rest... and was answered by the God. With every smash, with every punch, and with every act of destruction Gra'ff'en committed there in that small underground room, his soul sank deeper and deeper into emotion, until finally it drowned.

Eventually his breath failed him and he sank against a wall. He looked with new eyes at his bloody hands, the way his cloak fell across he feet. He looked to his rifle, leaning as it was against the doorway. He stood and took three long and purposeful strides towards it.

That was when he saw the map. Tucked inside a broken cask was a picture that captivated whatever it was that Gra'ff'en's body was now a vessel for. The artifact. The goal that this being had searched for for so long. And there, on the map, was circled a single little dot. Post 4281.C

[I'll expound more on all this later, but for now this will have to do. ]

@Cypher: So you are actually in Kell's reach now? Just so I get my bearings on Barbarossa.

{Bit of plot confusion, hey? Unless anyone objects, I'll have the Praetorians storm the rear wall as originally planned so as not to waste EF and HellsGuardian's efforts. Also, my apologies for incorrectly referring to the Griffon as being based on the Chimera chassis; I promise not to turn into CS Goto.}

"Roger that; advance with extreme caution.", Joryn said as the gates to the complex ground open. "Harlow, get on that multilaser stubber!" He wrenched both throttles forward and the Land Raider Griffon's engine roared as it sped up the incline towards the main gate, the stubber spitting death at any who dared show themselves in the gateway. The Karukians cheered and ran after the tracked vehicle as it cleared the gates, its bulk providing them with mobile cover as they advanced. The Brigantian-held HQ was now clearly visible, as were the remaining rebels.

There was a resounding boom as a Demolisher shell grazed one of the building's exterior supports, causing its western wall to collapse. Those who had been defending the structure's exterior had begun retreating southward, where the clatter of treads and bark of heavy bolter fire could be heard. Captain Cepheus snatched up his comm-set. "Warrender! Cepheus here. Pull out of those tunnels immediately! Collapse may be imminent." Swearing profusely, he dragged himself out of the driver's compartment and re-tuned the set. "Advancing Imperial forces! Cease all ordnance use at once if any of you value your damned commissions. Authorization code 8077-c." He shook his head as he looked at the command post, now liable to collapse upon itself at any minute. "Borek!", he called. "Secure the area!" He dashed into the command post, hoping he was not too late.

Owain wrote:. "Harlow, get on that multilaser stubber!" He wrenched both throttles forward and the Land Raider Griffon's engine roared as it sped up the incline towards the main gate, the stubber spitting death at any who dared show themselves in the gateway.

{I see what you did there}


{I saw it from space. }

Morek fell backwards into the rushing crowd of Karukians, catching a glimpse of his own skull blown sideways before his before dying. Jasar, covered in Morek's brain fluid, retched violently, his sick forming a pool in the tracks left behind by the Griffon. A group of Bragantine rebels, 6 or 7 of them, had been cut off from the southern remnants and now sheltered behind hastily erected barricades and sandbags. They had started to fire on the Griffon and, more worringly to Borek, the Karukians sheltering behind them. Harlow spotted this, his heavy stubber ceased cutting down the fleeing Brigantines still caught in the open to the closer threat, killing one and pinning the others.

The Griffon trundled on, Borek could hear the Captain shouting at someone through the vox but what he was saying was drowned out by the Karukians cheer as the Griffon advanced. "Faugh Ballavagh! Faugh Ballavagh! Faugh Ballavagh!" Borek hadn't felt like this, hadn't felt this primal sense of prupose and superiorty since they had stormed the Keep of the Fanderra family before he had answered the Crusade's call. It was now that he hated the Brigantines, a deep seeded hatred. Not becuase of their ideals, not becuase they resisted the Crusade, not becuase he had fought them before, but simply becuase the bastards stood in his way now.

"Karukians! Pickara genda faus!" he cried, 'Karukians! Cut the pigs down!'.

Charging around the Griffon, followed by his armsmen, Borek bellowed at the pinned Brigantines. One of them peered over the sandbag, raising his autogun, only to have Borek empty his own autogun clip, point blank, into the unfortunate Brigantine's face. Dropping the autogun, Borek dodged the swing of a whirring chainsword from a sergeant, before dealing a solid blow from his metal guantlet to the man's rib. Hearing a crack or two the man slumped to one knee, allowing Borek to tackle another Brigantine to the floor while Barfada slid his sabre through the pinned Brigantine's armpit.

Turning, Borek saw the sergeant beat off another Karukian, Jeffrey, before dissembowling him on his chainsword. Spotting Borek, the grizzled veteran came at him again with the chainsword. In another time, a less fuelled moment, Borek would have been forced to admire the man's sheer grit. It this moment of madness though there could be no respect. Before the Brigantine sergeant could cut down with chainsword Borek's sabre whipped out, slicing away half the man's wrist. Letting out a bellow of pain, the sergeant dropped his gaurd and sank. Borek, without mercy, snarled as he kneed the man in his broken rib, causing the sergeant to hack and cough as the air was driven out of him, still trying to wield the chainsword with his one good hand. The Brigantine's struggle was cut short with sickening, squelching crunch as Borek's sabre wedged itself deep in the man's skull.

Eyes wild, Borek looked up from his kill and screamed "Faugh Ballavaaaggghh!!!"

Harlow had never fired a stubber before, his specialization prevented him from ever being assigned to one, but needs must, and he was a natural. Using short bursts of automatic fire, Harlow made the Brigantine's pay for their bewilderment, many saw the Griffon, painted in their own colors and became confused, stuck to the spot. Harlow grinned as the rebels fell in front of him, chopped to little bits by the fire. The trail of bullets stitched a trail into dirt as it chased rebels back and forth, knocking many off their feet. The rebels frantically dove for cover, their line broken by Harlow's fire, coupled with the Karukians charge. Dozens of rebels were torn to a bloody pulp, now, with most of the officers dead, The rebels were beginning to break and run.

Harlow saw this, but more importantly he could see over the crest of the slope a second imperial line firing up towards him and the Karukians right at the rebels, the problem was, that some of that fire was coming too close for comfort. Harlow heard Cephus calling for the other Imperials to cease fire or at least get a better fix on their targets. Thinking fast, Harlow dropped back into the cabin and looked at the mortar, he wasn't relishing using it but fortunately this one had been simplified for the rebel conscript's use. Harlow began dropping bombs down the tube until he had fired about a dozen rounds down range at the fleeing rebels.

Popping up, Harlow surveyed his work, he smiled, the fire wasn't accurate but Harlow had had some hits and now the rebels were scattered within the compound, they were frantic and confused, they had just won this patch of dirt and now it was under assault from both sides.

Harlow jumped down from the Griffon and saw the fighting that was still happening around him, the Karukians were going toe to toe with the die hard rebels that were left and wouldn't back down, Harlow saw some Karukians being disemboweled but this was a small percentage compared to the amount of rebels getting stuck.

Harlow's eyes found the Karukian leader, shouting, waving his sabre, apparently trying to rally his troops.

But Harlow saw what the man didn't see, rushing up behind him was a rebel soldier, an autogun with a bayonet attached in his hands, rushing straight in to impale the feudal soldier. Harlow shouted a warning but to no avail, his hand quickly found his long dagger, the silver blade glimmering in the light. He flipped the dagger around until its blade was held in between his fingers and then with a flick of the wrist and a shove of the arm, the dagger went flipping through the air, embedding itself into the rebel's neck. The man slumped down, twitching slightly as he lay sprawled. Harlow walked over and retrieved his dagger, wiping the blood off the blade with the cadaver's uniform. Harlow looked up at Borek from under his hood.

"Well met, Borek, think its about time to finish this?"

Emperors Faithful wrote:@Cypher: So you are actually in Kell's reach now? Just so I get my bearings on Barbarossa.

[Yes, indeed. "I'll" be heading back out soon.]

Sniper Jemel of the Brigantian defence force watched from his concealed vantage point with the cold efficiency with which he did everything. The other children had always tormented him about it when he had gone to play with them, making up cruel songs. It was one of the reasons he had never got a proper education, the bullying. Why couldn't the adults have simply seen that the others had needed to be beaten to within an inch of their life for their own good? It taught them not to do it again.
As Jemel took aim with his high powered rifle at one of the invaders waving a sabre around in the air like he was asking to be shot (Jemel reasoned he was probably an officer of some kind). As he did so, he found his thoughts drifting idly back to his wife and children home in the planet's capital. The cowardly foe had not reached that location yet, and whilst Jemel still breathed they never would. Amilia would be waiting for him, no doubt with little Lucia and Kaleb waiting around her feet to embrace their heroic father. He remembered first meeting his wife; all the memories they had shared. Sitting on one of the planet's beaches during the summer nights, not caring who saw them. All the hours they had spent at one of the Capital's bars laughing and dancing drunk. Their wedding had been the happiest day of his life; it was snowing, and their vehicle had broken down, so he'd carried her too the marital-hab and made his vows drenched from the thawing snow. He smiled. Who would of thought that little Jemel, who had eaten alone during lunch breaks, would marry such a beautiful women and father two darling children. They respected him more than anything in the world, and he was looking forward to returning to his humble abode after all this was over and telling them how brave their daddy had been. Sighing, Jemel looked down the sight and took aim again at the sabre-man, who was still wandering around aimlessly in the open. He shuddered, though it wasn't particularly cold. Nerves, he suspected. Best to just get on with it.
Elgarion holstered his still smoking pistol as the sniper's corpse fell into the dirt. The rebel had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the Assassin's presence. Took some of the fun out of the job, but then again that wasn't the point the Culexus reasoned. Stalking forwards, kicking the bleeding corpse of the foolish holdout out of his way with little ceremony, the Assassin crouched as he overlooked the battle before. He saw that bastard Harlow in the middle of it, and quietly hoped he'd catch a bullet with his head. Elgarion's route had taken him behind the enemy positions, and he could see the outpost in front of him. That was the target then. Elgarion considered helping the soldiers, but then again that would take time and that was the one thing he didn't have. Leaping down onto the level the combatants brawled upon, Elgarion closed with his prey.

{Aw, and I was just getting to like that guy. }

{Nice post, Fauntleroy! We missed you.}

Joryn was reaching the central chamber now. There was now no doubt in his mind that he'd reached his goal; symbols had been daubed on the walls with a variety of body fluids and in a script that made his eyes ache. Finding the last door locked, Joryn raised his melta and fired a short blast of superheated air at the locking mechanism before kicking it open with a hobnailed boot. It opened onto a modest conference room, at the center of which stood a ceramic statuette, unremarkable but for the sickly aura of power that emanated from its tiny form. Joryn quickly tore the canvas cover from a nearby table and tightly wrapped the foul thing before making his way to the exit.

As he made his way out of the main door, Joryn raised the Praetorians on his comm-set once more. "Lorians, your previous orders are rescinded, effective immediately. Level the communications post with extreme prejudice." He looked up to find Harlow, Warrender's team, and the remaining Karukians awaiting his returns. "Gentlemen," he said, "I think it's about time we got out of this dump. Let's rendezvous with the Lorians, shall we? Borek, have your standard hoisted above the Griffon; I'd hate to see another friendly fire incident."

The now-ragtag band of soldiers made a proud display as they vacated the communications complex, the bold standard of Voldersun fluttering in the breeze above the Griffon's crew compartment. It was then that Cepheus tapped into a private channel on his comm bead. "Command. Cepheus, here. The package is secure and I am awaiting instructions; I have ordered the site purged." He listened for a second or two, then nodded. "Understood. We will hold our position for the time being."

With the battle now dying down, Harlow paced the grounds of the post, the dead lay everywhere, Harlow was gratified to see that they were almost all enemy. He saw Borek proudly lift the Karukian standard above the Griffon. After that was done, Harlow watched Warrender's men, come forward with some paint they found from somewhere and brush out the symbol of the Bretonnians. Harlow laughed as he came to an idea and came over to where the men were busy with the paint. He took up some silver, and with a brush, dabbed a big Imperial Aquila on the flanks and on the right side, with the words: "Traitor's Bane" written underneath the symbol. The men got a laugh out of that, that was when Harlow noticed there was one less...

He didn't bring it up but confirmed it with Warrender, Harlow shook his head in shame, it was a fact of life in the army that rookies and vets alike were to die in humanity's war. Harlow sighed, the thought made him wondr about his own knismen, the last time he'd see a Vendolaner was at least three days ago, many miles to the north.

Harlow continued to wander the compound, keeping vigil for any tricks the enemy had left and waited fro the suppose Lorians to show up and finish securing the area. He looked toward the command bunker. He remembered the way Joryn had scooted in and just as quickly scooted out. Harlow was mildly curious but kept his distance, whatever was in there was sure to be hazardous, and besides, the Lorians were due t blow it sky high anyway.

Presently, Harlow's neck hair began standing on end, the telltale sign that something was watching him close by. Harlow slowly looked around, seeing nothing but imagining the skull face of that assassin he'd seen earlier, Harlow shuddered. He drew his cloak up onto his head and marched away. His circuit of the camp was almost done as he passed a small post house that had been caved in by one of his mortars. Harlow would have smiled if he hadn't heard something moving inside as he drew near. His hand immediately went for the new laspistol and drew it, aiming it carefully.

Another twitch from under the rubble was enough to make him take a shot. All heads snapped around at the sound and all seemed silent fro a moment. Harlow, for a moment, thought with a spike of fear that he had been wrong, but no, he was sure, there was something in there.

"You fraks come out, and I wont gut your worthless hides." Harlow said loudly. It took a moment, but finally, a hole was made in the rubble and Bretonnians began to pile out one after the other. There were six in all, two had the uniforms and regalia of officers, the other four were clad in heavy armor but wisely left their weapons in the building. Harlow concluded that they were the command squad of the post and had probably left the command bunker when it came under assault. Luckily for Harlow, they had been trapped here when the post house fell. The six en had their hands raised, they were covered with dust, a few had injuries, the second officer had one of his arms in a sling.

Harlow motioned for the six men to come closer with his laspistol.

"Slowly you fraks." Harlow said sneering.

"Hands on your heads" Harlow ordered, the men complied.

"Now slowly, take your weapons belts off and drop them." Came the next order. Harlow watched each do as he was told...

except for one of the heavily clad soldiers who grabbed for his pistol, Harlow snickered and shot the man twice. The others froze, the sound of gunfire had drawn a small crowd, including Captain Cephus. Harlow turned to the Captain, a slight grin on his face.

"Found some more prisoners, six.....sorry, five to be exact. These two officers and their henchies."

Harlow motioned for a couple Karukians to relieve them of all possessions and force the prisoners onto their knees, with their hands on their heads.

"Think they know anything we don't?" Harlow asked knowingly.

Emperors Faithful wrote:{Aw, and I was just getting to like that guy. }

(Good; that was the idea.)

Owain wrote:{Nice post, Fauntleroy! We missed you.}

(Thanks, and I apologise for my tardiness, that annoying thing called 'real life' got in the way. I choose to blame it on, and in this order, Newton's second law of motion, women, and Captain Planet.)

(I will do some RP'ing later, first I need some breakfast and then I'm off to order some yummy yummy Tomb Kings. )

(( Part of this section is written in past tense as had writers block so its to fill in the gap i missed, I've kept it brief as too much info on it at this stage would just be confusing as the posts above have moved on since my last past. When you see this symbol=][= then it means the following text is in line with whats currently happening and thats me then up to date. Also L.L.F. that was some nice charactor description ))


When Joryn had radio'ed a warning about the shelling, Marcus had quickly left the bunker as the ground started shaking and the door swung open as a huge dust cloud filled the room with the tunnel collapsing. His thoughts had briefly turned to Branson who moments ago had ran inside to the main complex, but he didn't care, Branson was an idiot he had thought to himself as he joined Warredner and Lukas.

Between the three of them they had buried him near the bunker. Warrender swore blindly that once this was all over they'd return and give him a more deserving burial but this was all they could do for now. As they each muttered a few words each they had quick marched up the path and to the front gate to meet up with the allies.

Warrenders eyes filled with anger as Marcus told him about Branson's disappearing act. He almost wished him to be inside when the tunnel had collapsed to teach him a terrible lesson, he face gave away a wicked and evil smile as he thought more "No, that would mean we'd have to dig him out, that Heavy Stubber is quite a valuable piece of equipment" he thought to himself and laughed quietly. Lukas and Marcus looked at each other, wondering what the joke was.

=][=

As they reached the front gates he could see everything was now under control, as he trudged across the battlefield his eyes met on Branson who was clutching his chest and filthy as hell. He was barely a metre away as Branson looked up to see Warrender descend upon him, before he could even open his mouth Warrender unleashed a terrific right hook so hard Branson spun 360 degree's as his body slumped to the ground face down. As he lay there speechless Warrender brought his left foot into his already wounded chest hard enough to flip him over.

With his face full of rage he knelt beside the figure and gripped his throat with his right hand as Branson lay in agony on his left side facing away. "What were your orders, boy!?" he hoarsed in a lower voice into his ear. Branson gasped for air trying to speak "Too .. to .. to sec .. ure the bunk .. bunker .. si .. sir" He weazed painfully.

In a single motion Warrander hauled him to his feet by his throat and yelled "Does this look like the bunker to you!?" Before waiting for the answer he swayed his hand to the right and let go, the figure slumped sideways and fell to the floor, unable to hold his own weight up. "Get your ass over to the APC!" Warrender snarled as he walked back towards the main gate where the APC was waiting.

Branson followed, trying to ignore the pain as he stood and limped after the cloaked figure, his face down so as not to see Lukas and Marcus who were looking at him from afar.

Warrender heard some raised voices followed by several shots, as he looked up he could see that plenty of people were already there and the mood of them deemed it to be under control. He glanced back to his team as he stood resting against the side of the transport vehicle with arms crossed, his cloak slowly swaying in the slight breeze.

To his right stood Marcus, legs slightly apart and hands behind back almost standing to attention, his gaze trailed to his commanding officer then to Lukas and Branson periodically as he stood there saying nothing. Lukas sat a few feet in front of Warrender on his backside, legs in front of him and head bowed as he craddled his sniper rifle across his lap. Branson sat to Warrenders left in a half kneeling position as he cleaned off his Heavy Stubber, his face full of anger at being smacked around the face by Warrender after they met back up.

Harlow's smirk disappeared from his face as the tell-tale coldness permeated to the core of his being. The prisoners obviously were affected by it too, falling to their knees and in some cases even throwing up. Even though they were the enemy, Harlow didn't blame them; it was taking a monumental force of will himself to stay standing.
Turning slowly, and trying to stop himself shaking, Harlow looked into the leering mask of Elgarion. He noticed the device mounted on his left eye was now fully open, and suspected that this was why he was feeling the effects of that thing’s...soulless-ness so much more keenly. But Harlow had never been one who liked to appear weak. Gritting his teeth, he stared into the Midnight-black eyes glaring at him, though it was all he could do to stop himself weeping as he did so.
"Harlow. What a pleasant surprise."
The Assassin's voice was a deathly whisper, made all the more sinister by its lack of volume. It was also a blatant lie. The Assassin had known full well that Harlow would be here, and had in fact gone out of his way to make sure that they would meet. Elgarion knew he was perhaps putting personal feelings before the job, but then he was allowed to indulge his own goals once in a while as long as he got his task done he reasoned. Tilting his head towards the sobbing rebels, the Assassin spoke again.
"I am going to talk to those men. And get Captain Cepheus here."
Harlow remembered the Captain's last encounter with the monstrosity, and knew that he could not in good conscience let it happen again. Looking around he noticed that two of his troopers were starting to bring their weapons to bear, hatred overpowering any urge they had to run and hide. Steeling himself and flicking the safety of his own weapon, Harlow began to aim himself with shaking hands.
"If...if you think...I'm going to let you...talk to the captain you monster, you-"
"NOW."
A raw blast of power shook the area, throwing the soldiers to the ground. Harlow dropped to his hands and knees, all the wind stolen from him, and now he couldn't stop the whimpers from escaping his lips. Then he felt himself being lifted off the ground; he looked wiry, but hell that Assassin was strong. He couldn't bring himself to look into the soulless orbs that now burned with an intense rage, before the Assassin slapped him with the back of his hand and dropped into the dirt. The Sergeant fumbled for his gun as the shadow loomed over him, and he turned to face his aggressor with a snarl on his lips. Elgarion spoke again, returning to his morbid whisper.
"Listen to me, boy. We have precisely three days to find and kill the leader of these rebels; otherwise every single Ork invasion we've ever had to face is going to look like a childhood game. You army boys have forced him into hiding and ruined everything, so YOU are going to help me finish what I came here to do. Now, I'll say it one more time (Harlow heard the laspistol charging up, though his vision was fuzzy and blurred). Get. Me. Cepheus."

Harlow cowered on the ground, barely able to stand the things fearsome onslaught, his will hardened as his hate rose though, giving him the strength he needed to rise. His laspistol was clutched in his hand, he was so tempted to raise it and fire into that despicable eye of the Assassin's, Harlow snarled in anger as he forced his hand to put the laspistol away.

He stood there, holding himself as proudly as he could in front of the abomination, he could feel its malice on him, he could also sense the fear of the karukians and the others around him, they all tensed and a few of them raised weapons.

Harlow's mind dwelt on the assassin's words, perhaps he was right, perhaps there was some sort of bigger agenda to all this than rebels and loyalists. The thought made him comply....at least halfway.

With eyes locked, Harlow pointed in the general direction of where he'd last seen Cephus.

"You want to see him..." Harlow started, his voice said faltering little, "Go find him."

With that Harlow turned and walked away, disgusted and wanting nothing to do with the horrid thing he'd talked to.

Borek was still cheering with the Karukians and waving the flag when he spotted the assassin approaching Captain Cepheus, even from this distance the mere sight of the Assassin made him want to retch. Thrusting the flag into Jasar's hand he jumped down from the Griffon, switching off the safety of his autogun. A few of Borek's men noticed, following him as Borek quickened his pace to intercept the assassin.

"Captain, at arms!" Borek shouted, causing Cepheus to spin around, his hand jumping to his sidearm. The assassin turned as well, not half-a-dozen strides from where Borek now stood, his autogun levelled at the assassin's face. The finger tightened on the trigger...

*Ka-chick*

Jammed. Oh feth, thought Borek. The assassin was a blur, covering the distance in a moment Elgarion kicked the autogun out of Borek's hand, before slamming in Borek's nose with a lightning fast fist. Borek spun around into the mud on his hands and knees. He threw up but not becuase of the solid blow to the head, the chainmail facegaurd has softened most of the damage, the assassin's very presence had become intolerable. There was a whirring and scratching in Borek's head, like frantic fingernails scraping the inside of his skull. Elgarion started to follow up on his lethal attack, ready to finish Borek off while he was down and neautralize the threat. Borek threw up again, but Elgarion didn't notice Borek's hand on his sabre's hilt. The sabre whipped out as Borek sprung to his feet, inflicting a superficial cut on Elgarion's midsection. With a cry Borek leaped forward, slamming his steel helmet into Elgarion's skull-mask. Elgarion stumbled back stunned, but Borek screamed clutching his head and falling to his knees, evidently headbutting a Culexus rarely works out. He retched again, nothing but bile this time.

By now the half-dozen Karukian's that had followed Borek had formed a ring around the assassin and jumped in. Although they were by now universally shaking and pale merely due to the presence of the assassin, they leapt to the defence of their leige with only the slightest hesitation. One tackled Elgarion while he was still dazed, but the assassin's instincts kicked in, flipping the Karukian off with a sweep of his legs and throwing him into another armsman. Another swung at him with a sabre, Elgarion dodged with ease, grabbing the man's arm, dislocating the man's shoulder, causing the unfortunate Karukian to scream and throw up the same time, before delivering a kick to the chest that sent him flying, cracking a rib. Four, five, then six Karukians came at Elgarion at the same time. One managed to dodge a swing from Elgarion before delivering a few solid blows to Elgarion's wounded midsection. The animum specifus (the Culexus headgear weaon right?) sent the man flying. Another cracked Elgarion over the head with the butt of an autogun, but Elgarion retaliated with a savage kick that broke the man's knee. Before long Elgarion, though shaking with exhaustion and clutching his side, was the only one standing. Borek was still trying to get back on his feet, swearing in Karukian. Borek raised the sabre once again and approached the assassin, ready to defend the Captain from this thing to the death.



{BTW, I realise that you probably aren't trying to kill Cepheus, but Borek doesn't know that. }

With great difficulty, Cepheus staggered towards the brawl. "Cease this at once!", he roared. The combatants paused and looked up at the captain, who seemed even more affected than the others. The assassin had forced his hand, and just as the mission was going so well; whoever had had the bright idea to request their "assistance" was going to be in a world of hurt when this was all over.

Joryn thrust a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, bifold leather case. He opened the snap-closure with some difficulty and held it up for all to see. Inside was a badge in the shape of a stylized skull backed by a Burgundian cross. He spoke with a great deal of effort, the veins in his temples visibly throbbing."You know very well who I am and what you are doing, Assassin, and I doubt that your masters would be pleased to find out that you've so flagrantly threatened our operational security. You will engage your limiters before this entire mission's success is jeopardized."

Elgarion felt as though he'd just been slapped. Of all the twists he had made contingency plans for, this was not one of them. With visible effort, he closed the Animus, and stepped back. The barbarian who had attacked him looked at him with a mixture of smugness and confusion, and Elgarion made a mental note to gut him later as well.
But not now. There were more pressing concerns now.
Through gritted teeth, the Assassin spoke. "Of course they would not, sir, but I am also sure a man such as yourself respects that I have received quite enough setbacks already and time is running out." The other soldiers watched the exchange in stunned silence; unsure of what it was they were seeing. Cepheus was visibly reaching the limits of his endurance now, and his knees were sagging. Elgarion saw his opening.
"Whatever your previous orders were, in light of this new evidence we both know that we need to move quickly. I will not enforce any decisions on you, but neither am I leaving; this time, I am coming with you. It would appear our objectives are more...closely linked than I thought." The Culexus saw Harlow bristle at this, and smiled below his helmet. If nothing else, he thought, I've annoyed that bastard, so today has been a good day. The captain retched, and gave a weak nod.
Nodding, and turning for a moment to face the now snarling Harlow, Elgarion turned and stalked towards the rag-tag company's transport. Behind him, he heard the Karkurians he knocked to the floor rising and muttering obscenities under their breath. Pausing for a minute, the Assassin inclined his head to the side almost contemplatively.
"One more thing."
In a flash Elgarion unholstered his pistol and shot Borek in the hand. The gun was at a low power level, but it still made the man yelp like a frightened dog and drop his weapon. At this, the Karkurians aimed their weapons with angry roars, before Captain Cepheus raised his hand and weakly shook his head, before dropping to his knees and gasping for air. The shot Borek gripped his burned hand and fixed the Assassin with a look of pure hatred. Elgarion simply shrugged.
"You hit me.", he said dismissively, before stalking away.

"Perhaps you misheard me.", Joryn said. "You will engage your limiters immediately if you wish this mission to continue. This team will not be combat-effective if everyone continues vomiting."

The Assassin felt a surge of the pschopathic rage well up within him. He surpressed it.
"Whatever you say, glorius leader." He snarled, with more than a hint of contempt. However, he recognised the value in what the man had said, and almost at once the entire group breathed a collective sigh of relief. Elgarion perched himself on the Griffon, and met the Captain's stare uncompromisingly.

Warrender watched the scene as he leaned against the transport carrier. He had toyed with the idea of sniping the Assassin while distracted with the altercation with Joryn but he knew better. He had witnessed the works of the Culexus Assassins Guild many times during his military career and he knew that these assassins may be contemptuous but they certainly were not be underestimated. Instead he remained where he was, calculating the scene and while letting the others deal with the assassin he stood ready in case things got out of hand.

His gaze followed his movements, his experience had aided him to not sucumb so easily to this soulless creature. But despite all his training as the assassin moved away from the group and closer towards him he could still feel his stomach retching as it drew nearer. He summonded all his strenght to maintain his composure so as not to appear weak to the others and drew a mental sigh of relief as the assassin closed his eye piece while getting nearer to the transport. "Whatever you say, glorius leader." he could just about make out the assassin saying.

Warrender looked back to his team and shook his head silently in disgust as he saw that Branson and Lukas had already puked onto the floor. A glance to Marcus saw him still standing as he was, legs apart hands behind him, strangely unaffected by the Assassins glare. "Odd" he thought to himself

(

HellsGuardian316 wrote: A glance to Marcus saw him still standing as he was, legs apart hands behind him, strangely unaffected by the Assassins glare. "Odd" he thought to himself

Hmmmm....interesting....

Dun wanna step on anyone's toes but I think I'm gonna move the Lorians just a little bit for the sake of moving along.)

Harlow stood at the edge of the compound, the prisoners sitting before him, their hands tied behind their back and their eyes bound by cloth. They were all stripped from the waist up and at in silence. Harlow glowered and simmered in anger. He'd nearly exploded when the Assassin stated he was coming with them, He was more surprised at Cephus' revelation and got a large amount of satisfaction from watching the assassin squirm. He hadn't liked the monster since he'd seen him, coming in, taking charge as if he was some Lord general. Harlow turned his head slightly and spotted the assassin in the corner of his eye. He growled lowly and turned back to watching the prisoners. His rifle was in his hands, his fingers thrumming along the polished flank. Briefly, very briefly, he considered turning it on the assassin but just shook his head, that would just get him dead.

Soon, from the south and west, the Lorians began to arrive, they looked like hell, Harlow wondered what they'd been through as he saw the faces of the dirty soldiers. In the next few minutes the Imperials had a decent hold on the post again and the flag of the Imperium was raised above the few intact buildings that were left.

The slightest fluttering sound caused Harlow to put his arm out as Sehra floated down and lit on it. Harlow noticed the small satchel attached to the hawk's leg had something in it. He took it out and saw that it was an Imperial runner message shell. He took out a small piece of blue paper wondering who it could be from but knowing exactly at the same time where it had come from.

The message was written in Vendolan war code, it was a coordinate along with the words that roughly translated into something like "Dothar intact."

Harlow's eyes darted, on his home planet the word "Dothar" was a word used for a company of hunters. Harlow took the meaning at once and checked his map for the coordinate. He smiled as he saw the coordinate plain put the "Dothar" at several kilometers norhtwest. Harlow took out his own message wafer and wrote down something on it, he placed the wafer in the message shell and put it back into the Hawk's satchel.

"Fly fast, ol girl." Harlow whispered and watched the hawk fly off into the distance. Harlow sighed in satisfaction and relief, he hadn't known if any of his kinsmen had survived that day but it seemed at least a few had....

Borek wrapped the damp bandage around his hand. The assassin's weapon had scorched the metal guantlet, heating the metal and almost cooking the hand inside. Apart from the burn, a few bruises and an empty stomach though, Borek was no worse for wear. His pride had been hurt though.

The Karukians all agreed, speaking in whispers as they dug trenches for the corpses. Their Lord Borek would have the assassins head, and bury the creature in a shallow grave. Only the wisdom of Captain Cepheus, or whoever he really was, prevented that from happening right now.

Warrender looked up and watched as the Assassin climbed up onto the APC and perched himself there. He could still see the rage on his face that he was suppressing and even though he had closed his eye his very presence was still very unnerving, even for Warrender. He forced himself to look away and started to walk towards Joryn and the others, putting on his best face and tried to look confident and casual as he walked towards the group, his cloak swayed slightly with each purposeful step, his hands behind him, his right hand holding his left forearm as he walked, a habit of his when he was deep in thought.

Branson and Lukas's head's suddenly snapped away from the Assassin at the realisation that their Captain had walked off without them and quickly bolted after him picking up their weapons as they stood up. Neither wishing to be near this deadly assassin and looked almost like lost puppies following their master as they raced after him. Marcus looked up at the assassin, who met his gaze, he then looked back to Warrender and the two sorry excuses for soldiers and scoffed loudly, his face turning to a smug grin as he slowly walked off to follow Warrender.

As he passed Borek he gave a knowing nod, Borek glanced up and grimaced back as he tended to him arm, showing his anger all too clearly on his face.

As warrender came up to Joryn he stopped, Lukas and Branson almost bumping into him. He reached up and slowly removed his cap and held it in his left hand, carefully he brushed his free hand through his hair several times, moving the stray greyish black hairs away from his eyes and betraying his youthful appearence with one that was obviously older than anyone had previously thought him to be. After what must have felt like a long silence he lifted his cap and pulled it snuggly atop his head with both hands, rasing his head he locked his view upon Joryn who had been watching him as had everyone else, presumably awaiting to hear what Warrender was going to say.

Unbeknown to them Warrender's slow methodical act was purposeful, he had sensed and seen! the great unease caused by the Assassin's altercation with Joryn and the many members of the group and the sudden tempers rising amoung the ranks was building rapidly which could boil over so very easily. He knew that while everyone was watching him they would be distracted from the uproar caused by the assassin and that tempers would calm, one of his many skills was diplomacy and reading body language and these had served him well. He did not doubt Joryn's ability to restore order himself, but things could easily get out of hand as everyone was already wound so tightly it wouldn't take much to snap, Joryn was already fuming mad which everyone else could sense and this would not help matters at all. People always looked to their leaders and the mood of the leader was always passed down the ranks, something Warrender knew very well.

"Joryn" Warrender spoke calmly addressing Joryn, "Might I suggest that we complete our assignment in this area then maybe have a discussion between You, I, Harlow and Borek as to our next course of action while on the move?" He paused for a brief moment before adding in a quieter voice "It may be worthwhile including the Assassin as well, we would be better able to perform our tasks if we are all singing from the same book so-to-speak" He said putting control of the situation back into Joryn's hands.

He knew Joryn was obviously a well versed man, he had to be in order to be given the rank and the responsibility he now wielded. As he awaited Joryn to speak he could almost sense the understanding in his eyes and that he understood what he was trying to achieve. His comment was subtley enough to re-enforce that Joryn was in command and not this Assassin who's name he still had not learned, while at the same time not instilling more tension into what was already a tense situation by outrighting him completely. He had no doubt in his mind that one of those four was going to end up dead, and as ashamed as he was to admit it, if he had to make a bet he very much doubted it would be the Assassin that would be put in a body bag.

(OOC: Why, I've never felt so popular )

(Also, and I'm sorry if I didn't make this clear, Elgarion is wearing a helmet and so you wouldn't be able to see his facial expressions. My bad, should have been more specific).

(Isn't this a culexus?



I'm sorry but the discussion about helmets threw me off, looking for confirmation.)

[Wow, you guys have really been at it in my absence! Great stuff! Oh, and yes, that is a Culexus WARORK. The animus and the helmet are one, both protection and weapon joining together in one grinning visage.]

Background-- /// The entity which now utterly controlled the body and mind of the Eldar ranger formerly know as Gra'ff'en was also an Eldar; or rather he had been an Eldar. In years past he had been as debase and immoral as the rest, heeding not the warnings of the conservative. Sloravek, as he was now "known", had been more involved in his race's downfall than most others though. He was dangerous even then.

When the debauchery and the pleasures of the Eldar had first begun to coalesce into an actual being (that being of course is the God Slaanesh), Sloravek, then Ranahed'rel, had been... well, "chosen" for the lack of a better describer. That is to say that when Slaanesh had first become sentient it had reached out to him, and indeed others like him.

Is it so suprising to think that Slaanesh schemed its way into being? Were the Eldar fools enough to think his existence had been happenstance? Surely a being as powerful as a God couldn't be coincidental! No, Slaanesh had been mere potential before the Eldar's flaws of excess had given it the power to coalesce.

The agents which Slaanesh had relied on to do its bidding in the realm of mortals, real-space if you will, had been greatly rewarded (or so it had seemed to Slaanesh) upon the fruition of its plans. Ranahed'rel in particular was granted special luxury. His soul was fully admitted into the embrace of the maelstrom, that sea of lost souls. It, and its inhabitants for whom Slaanesh had become master, toyed, feasted, and maimed his soul until nothing of the alien he had once been was left. Ranahed'rel had gone insane, whether it be from drowning in pleasure or horror take your pick. In the final moment of his sanity it became apparent to him that this is what the master had intended all along. Indeed Slaanesh saw this as a gift. Ranahed'rel would have seen it the same if any mind not of the Warp could think along the same lines as a God of the Warp. In the end though Sloravek was born, just as his master had been, into a new and powerful form, a tool fashioned by Slaanesh itself, built solely for its bidding ever-more.

That bidding was what had brought Sloravek back out of the maelstrom. It hadn't been too long ago (by the timing of real-space, but then what meaning did the laws of reality have in a place which had no rules? A place which simply didn't abide by laws, which had no use of such things for in a sense, it didn't even exist, if your meaning of existence meant that it was something real, a fact, or substantial. The Warp is none of these things. It is not a fact, it is the embodiment of emotion. It is not substantial, indeed its base tenant is that it is insubstantial, un-real. Therefore what use could such a place have for something as binding as time?) that Slaanesh had come into being, and not long after that it had begun its ever-lasting quest for power, whether that power be over the other Gods or over the play-things of the universe. Sloravek was to find an object of this power here on the world of Brigantia... /// --end background.



Sloravek pinched the flesh of his arm. The sensation traveled down into the dermis of his skin, following the axons of his nerves and found its way into his brain via his Central Nervous System. It was incredible to feel such things again. It had been so long since he had been party to such substantial feelings. Oh, sure, the Warp had offered up bounties aplenty of such things, but nothing compared to the sensation of flesh itself! He scraped the nails of his right hand up his forearm, slowly now, savoring every twang of pain, every bit of feeling. He reveled inside to know such things again. He dug a little deeper and stared as Eldar blood once again dripped from torn flesh.

That bastard Gra'ff'en had been a fool, but strong none-the-less. It had taken almost 16 months for Sloravek to wear him down. If it hadn't been for his continued corrupting behavior Sloravek might have lost his hold on the alien. What a tragedy that would have been.

Sloravek had been making his way through the woods for hours now. As he topped a shallow rise he glimpsed the compound of the post before him. Smoke rose from small fires still smoldering in ruins within the walls and figure could be glimpsed milled to and fro between them. He could hear raised voices and strained his newly-obtained eyes to locate the source.

There, a man brandished a small booklet as he conversed loudly with a... grinning, elongated skull atop a jet-black human body. Nausea rolled over Sloravek as he gazed at the figure, especially when he looked at its head where-upon sat an odd bulbous instrument.

"That being is to be avoided if at all possible.", he thought. As he watched, another individual approached the two, the thing now perching on a nearby vehicle and the man before it watching the third run his hands slowly through his hair. Human behavior puzzled Sloravek to no end, and perhaps with any luck that speed-bump of a being with the bulbous eye would be dealt with in the current situation. He quelled his excitement at finally locating his objective. He had plenty of time.

He stopped, set down his weapon, and watched.

I...don't get it. Are you teleporting or something?

-Cypher- wrote:Sloravek had been making his way through the woods for hours now. As he topped a shallow rise he glimpsed the compound of the post before him. Smoke rose from small fires still smoldering in ruins within the walls and figure could be glimpsed milled to and fro between them. He could hear raised voices and strained his newly-obtained eyes to locate the source.

I take this section to mean he left his previous location and over the course of several hours has been walking/running/etc until he came upon the outpost where Joryn etc are at the moment. So not Teleported no.

(I'm stuck wondering how this Graffen/Sloravek thing works. Does he have multiple personalities or is he possessed by a daemon of Slaanesh? Or is he actually a Dark Eldar?)

I believe it was possession by a Warp being. That has been working the Eldar's mind until he finally broke him down and took over his body. Cypher certainly has put a lot of effort into adding finer details in his posts. Definatly worth a re-read just to ensure you pick up any bits that could easily have been glanced over, I persoanlly find it difficult reading large qauntities of text on screen. And I mean it in a positive way btw

(Yeah I read it like three times but I just wanted to be sure I was getting it right so I wouldn't do something in a future post that would contradict stuff...

Better safe than sorry! )

[Hey guys, sorry I wasn't precise enough. I stayed inactive too long to have a short entry. I don't blame any of you for just skimming through it.

No, Sloravek is not teleporting. He has been walking for the most part.

Sloravek was once an Eldar of a world within the Eye of Terror. He was "chosen" by Slaanesh to aid in its becoming a true Chaos God. So, he was an Eldar know as Ranahed'rel, then his soul was flayed from his body by Slaanesh itself (Slaanesh saw this as a reward due to Slaanesh's skewed view of things, Slaanesh saw it as an intensely pleasure-full act) and his soul was cast into the maelstrom. There it was feasted on, played with, and tortured for the pleasure of Slaanesh's demons. This continued until Ranahed'rel was driven insane. At the point of insanity, enlightenment also reached Ranahed'rel, and he was reborn as the warp-being Sloravek. Sloravek now aids the newly-formed Slaanesh in aquiring power. It is on one such quest that Sloravek encounters Gra'ff'en (he does this by seeing Gra'ff'en's soul enjoying insense pleasures time and time agian. When Gra'ff'en indulged himself, his soul would shine brightly in the warp. Sloravek saw this and began the process of possessing him.). Sloravek has now taken control of Gra'ff'en's body, thus Gra'ff'en has ceased to exist. It is now just Sloravek.

Sorry for the confusion, but as I said I have been inactive for too long, so a short entry wouldn't have done justice to my character. I needed a suitably important event to justify him being away from the group so long. Plus, I think that this change in personality will breathe new life into him and his part in the story.

FOR THE SHORT ANSWERS READ BELOW:

So, he is not able to teleport... yet. The longer Sloravek is in control of a body, the more Warp-borne powers he will be able to use in real-space. This also makes him sensitive to the assassin's animus, since the only thing keeping Sloravek in control is his psychic power. To describe the situation better, view it as Sloravek's "body" is still in the Warp, and over time is slowly leaching into Gra'ff'en's body along with his powers, via a sort of psychic bridge. The process will take time.

Yes, Sloravek is, in essence, a demon now. Yes, he is possessing Gra'ff'en. However, there are not two personalities, Gra'ff'en was completely obliterated when Sloravek took control.

I hope that clears things up.]

{Crystal. With everyone's leave, I'll continue the story tomorrow. Sorry about the delay; school and whatnot.}

[Do offer a bit of story push soon Owain. I look forward to my next RP bit.]

[Alright. I'm going to go ahead and push this story into Phase II before it gets swamped.]

The gun-cutter descended in the midst of the post's still-smoking remains, the wash from its turbine engines kicking up dust and debris. Joryn walked towards the vehicle, holding a hand up to his face to keep the grit from his eyes.

As the the turbines spun down, a jumpsuited pilot stepped from the cockpit and saluted. Joryn halted, returning the gesture before gesturing over his shoulder for the survivors of the battle to join him. "We have received word from Fleet Command. There have been some very... troubling occurrences in Kell's Reach that require my personal attention. Belgarion, I assume you'll find this most relevant to your interests. As for the rest of you, you are hereby released from whatever missions that might have been assigned to you. This is a matter that jeopardizes the success of our crusade on Brigantia."

It was here that Harlow spoke up. "Sir, I have been informed that others from my unit yet survive. If we have the time, they could prove invaluable." Joryn nodded his assent. "I think that can be arranged." He gestured towards the pilot. "Just get the coordinates to Lieutenant Graves here and we'll extract them post-haste."

{Obviously I'm not going to fit a dozen Karukians in the gunship with equipment to boot, so can I select a few to accompany Borek?}

[Weren't there only twelve or so left? A gun-cutter is a bit roomier than a Valkyrie. Think of this one as somewhere between a Valkyrie and a Thunderhawk. Also, I apologize for the long delay. Only two torturous weeks and school is over forever.]

Harlow quickly read off the numbers and gave a general location of the place to the pilot. The pilot seemed a little apprehensive.

"That's technically behind the lines a few klicks now, as of twelve hours ago."

"I know, should be relatively clear though." Harlow said, with as much reassurance as possible. He turned his attention to Joryn.

"I'm sorry I didn't report earlier sir, with all this shadow play, I got a little untrusting and...."

Harlow stopped and swallowed. "Well, no excuses. Let me just tell you sir. Me and my company, sixth of the 85th Vendoland regiment, we were posted on hill 875, its about ten klicks northwest of here. We were supposed to be an forward post, kind of like this one. Yesterday, we came under heavy attack from their push. I got separated from my men in the chaos and headed to our rally point, set southeast of the hill, when that got overrun I spent the next twelve hours sneaking around until I got your call. Last orders I got were to head for Kell's reach but I never got that far. I was half hoping to find some of my men here but that didn't happen, Then I got a message from them just a few minutes ago. I have no idea how many there are but there cant be more than half the company left after last night."

Harlow shifted and paused for a few moments to let Joryn soak in the information.

"And now you know what I do sir."

(BTW, I still haven't figured out the significance of the symbol Joryn pulled out to show to the assassin, is he like an inquisitor or something?)

Borek fished the dog-tags from his fallen men. In the panic of the firefight and subsequent artillery he hadn't realised how many of his men had fallen. Seven were dead and cold, their bodies covered by the black sheets. Those Karukians still able to stand were now digging seven grave, good and deep so that the warriors would join this foreign earth and sleep heavily. Dirt flew in measured paces as the men laboured in solemn silence. No victory cries now, this was a time for serenity and solemn work. Borek grimaced as the graves grew deeper, the Karukian adage echoing in his mind.

"Deep graves for the hearty, shallow graves for the coward." Borek muttered.

"Lord?" Barbarossa asked, Borek could tell from his puzzled look he hadn't heard properly.

"Nothing." Borek sighed "What of the men?"

"Nothing good, sire. Kes is poorly, he coughs blood. We might need eight graves soon. Benji will never walk again, Meldew might recover from the assassins blow, but not for months at least. Same for Povorya. Kes's cousin, Kent, lost his hand, but he's in good enough condition to leave him in watch of the others. That leaves us with Barfada, Jasar, Valuk and Petera. And of course, PanPan."

"We'll have to leave them here, they can head back with any supply convoy. I've a feeling that Joryn isn't done with us just yet." Borek said this with a grim smile.

Barbarossa nodded, turning to join the men in digging the graves. Borek held him back, his grip on Barbarossa's arm demanding his attention. "And the creature?"

Barbarossa averted his eyes. "PanPan lost the scent soon after we left, the creature covered its tracks well. From what I could tell though, it was heading to Kell's Reach."

After Barbarossa left Borek was silent for a time. The creatue was a bad omen, he knew it. Warrender's approach snapped him out of his reverie.

"Mind if I join you?" he chuckled, as if there was something funny that only he knew.

Borek grunted as Warrender sat down, moving only to proffering the man an Iho stick. "Sorry to say, but that assassin kicked your tail out there. Nasty piece of work." Borek grunted again as Warrender accepted, lighting the smoke and inhaling deeply.

Warrender's face was suddenly serious. "I saw what you and your men did out there, Borek. You guys were hit damn hard. I'm not the kind of man to sit around."

Borek was deathly silent as he slowly stood up. Picking up a shovel he turned away, walking towards the earth where the graves grew deeper. A deep, dark resting place for the souls of the Karukian brave. He called back over his shouler, "You're welcome to join us."

WARORK93 wrote:
(BTW, I still haven't figured out the significance of the symbol Joryn pulled out to show to the assassin, is he like an inquisitor or something?)

I doubt it's on that level. More likely special forces branch or some such, sort of like intelligence and SS mixed up together.

It was as Warrender puffed out smog from the Iho stick that he noticed the glowing red eyes. They were cold, and unblinking; but then again you would expect no less from an Assassin. Growling and nudging Borek, Warrender slowly rose to his feet, reaching for his weapon. Borek had seen the creature as well, and standing up he drew his sabre in his wounded hand and fell into a combat stance. In response, Elgarion gracefully advanced from the shadow, the grin on his mask only increasing the tension building between the three men. Then, just as it seemed it would all kick off again, the Assassin spoke.
"Your men fought bravely today, warrior. Not many average men, even those in the army could give an Imperial Assassin a few bruises. They were a worthy foe." Warrender looked confused, involuntarily relaxing slightly. Borek recoiled though, stunned, because the Assassin had spoken in fluent Karkurian.
Elgarion saw the perplexed expressions on the two soldier's faces, and gave a chuckle which sounded for all the world like the reaper of men Borek's mother had warned him of to get him to behave. He swapped back to Gothic, meeting both men's eyes.
"Surprised? You should be. Suffice to say, I have many talents that you are unaware of. You should hope that, for the sake of this mission, you remain unaware of many of them."
Warrender and Borek still looked wary, but reluctantly sheathed their weapons; still keeping their fists clenched, though.
"I thank you for your complements, beast" said Borek, still with a snarl on his lip, "but we are not done. There will be a reckoning between us yet." Warrender said nothing, but nodded, eyes scanning Elgarion for any weakness if it came to a fight. The Culexus nodded.
"If that is your wish." The Assassin looked at the ground almost contemplatively; silent for a moment, then looked up again "Do either of you know why I'm here?" Warrender and Borek's brows furrowed-truth be told, they didn't. An Assassin wouldn't be brought in to deal with routine world pacification, so what was his purpose on this planet? As if in answer, Elgarion leaned in, voice dropping to an almost conspiritual whisper. "To be honest, I'm not expecting any of you to survive this mission, so I'm willing to tell you a little. Even Joryn, though he has more...authority than he first presented, as you've probably worked out by now, doesn't know the truth. Borek." The man turned his head slightly; obviously wary of what was coming.
"What?"
"You know the monsters your mother told you about when you were a child? That lived under the bed, in the desert, tempting honourable warriors away from the path?"
The Karkurian nodded.
"You know how when the Imperium found your planet, you were told these monsters didn't exist?"
Elgarion turned, and began to walk towards the shadows. As he entered them, he turned back to the bemused men and fixed them with his piercing red eyes, his voice a morbid hiss.
"You were lied to."

{Very nice, had me edgy there LLF. Have to say though, your talkative nature is hardly in line with a Imperial Assassins we know today. Are you going to elaborate on what is the cause of his more...independant nature?}

Emperors Faithful wrote:{Very nice, had me edgy there LLF. Have to say though, your talkative nature is hardly in line with a Imperial Assassins we know today. Are you going to elaborate on what is the cause of his more...independant nature?}

(Certainly. Obviously, I know Elgarion's purpose on the planet, and as mentioned he isn't expecting many of you to survive. He also, however grudgingly, acknowledges that he can't do this by himself, and he needs allies if he's to complete his mission before the proverbial gak hits the proverbial fan. Obviously I didn't get off to a very good start with that, but then again he is a moody soulless ******* so it was to be expected. He also realises that for the others to fully understand the magnitude of the task that faces them they need to know something about their enemey; not much, and he certainly won't like sharing the information, but for the benefit of the mission it is a nessercary evil.

Hope that clears some things up.)

(Hey guys, I'm back! Sorry for falling so far behind).

The Praetorians marched through the thick forest that covered the entirety of Brigantia, their footfalls made soggy and hollow by the monotonous drone of insects and the sodden earth beneath their feet. Armored columns trundled forwards, crushing fallen trees under their treads with satisfying snaps. Officers barked orders to enlisted men, who jumped to obey without hesitation. Mounted atop the Leman Russ Vanquisher, Fist of Loria, was Genewhip Rudiger, his keen eyes sweeping the overgrown path ahead of his troops. Flights of Valkyries and Vendetta gunships roared overhead, trailing slashes of white vapor across the sky, and filling the heart of every Lorian with pride. Suddenly, one of the Vendetta's veered off course, slamming into a Valkyrie on it's port side, sending the pair into a raging fireball that smashed into the massed Imperial soldiers, killing dozens as their bodies vaporized in the following explosion, and sending a tank flipping onto it's side. Several other transports smashed into their comrades, sending molten death raining down upon the massed Lorians, killing hundreds as the carriers erupted in white plumes of promethium and flame. The Lorians were in complete disarray, screaming in outrage at what had occurred. The vox officers reported that each transport that had veered into their kin had transmitted a single phrase to all channels before their dive. "Long live Brigantia, death to the Emperor." Rudiger roared in anger. Such treason was unknown to the Lorian Legions, and this would be a black stain upon their honor for centuries to come. Geysers of gore and dirt erupted from the soil as rebel tanks opened up upon the startled Lorians from position in the wood around the marching Imperials. Hundreds of lasguns fired as one, scything Lorians down as a farmer cuts wheat, their bodies hitting the soggy forest floor with wet thuds. The Lorians responded with grim efficiency, returning fire, and finding shelter behind the wrecks of their own vehicles. Rudiger turned his Vanquisher around, firing a massive shell through the armor of a rebel tank that produced a satisfying eruption of metal and flame. Taking hold of the heavy stubber mounted on the vehicle's pintle, Rudiger opened up on a group of rebel soldiers, turning them inside out with wet pops as the fusillade of dumdum rounds hit their mark. The Lorians began to rally, turning heavy weapons platforms about to fire upon the rebel soldiers, bursting them like pus melons, and seeding their organs over the forest floor. The Fist of Loria fired again, breaking another rebel tank with ease, before turning about and delivering hot death to yet another. The remaining Vendetta's swooped low in devastating bombing runs, destroying the remainder of the enemy armor, before firing clusters of rockets at the scurrying footmen. A rebel captain gave flight as the Fist of Loria rumbled near his position, the furious Genewhip raking the ground behind him with stubber fire. He stumbled on a downed tree, snapping his leg like a dry twig as it twisted horribly. The Fist of Loria had stopped firing, and simply popped the captain like a grape as it trundled over his prone form, smearing a gory paste of the layer of rotted leaves and wood as it roared deeper into the wood. The last of the rebels fled, many cut down by the vengeful Lorians, or obliterated by cannon fire. Rudiger surveyed his losses: Over seventy percent of the Lorians lay dead, their air support was almost entirely gone, and their tanks had taken a beating. There would be blood for this, rivers of it.

{Ah mate, could that break that up a bit into paragraphs? And somehow this has to pertain to what we're doing, no?}

You were lied to...

Lied to indeed. But then, hadn't every being in this forsaken universe been tricked?

Monsters existed in their millions, and if Sloravek had his way this place would be crawling with them in mere moments. As he finished setting the scene for his ritual, he turned once again to look at the compound. It wasn't long ago that a flier had landed. Business was going about its course. Those pathetic whelps didn't have an inkling as to what their little war was making possible.

The continued bloodshed on this world was weakening the barrier between real and un-real. Cultists were beginning to spring up among the rebels (and perhaps even among the loyalist Imperial forces, but who was to say?); that was the reason for their renewed military offensives. They were shown in their dreams promises of glory, wealth, pleasure, power, or wonderful death depending on which God the luring demon owed it's patronage to.

Sloravek was taking advantage of this weakened barrier. To achieve his objective, which of course was to recover the artifact, he knew he needed either a small army, or a devious diversion. A summoning would provide either.

To begin the process, Sloravek had been stalking the woods for hours gathering bits from the bodies of the fallen. He had arrayed them in an eight pointed star around a pile of hearts taken from those same bodies. After offering a bit of his own demon blood onto the pile the scene was set. All he needed now was a still-beating heart. Luckily there was an abundance not to far from here...

...roughly 20 minutes later...

He crept ever closer to the ruined wall of the compound. As he poked his head over the edge he saw a group of what appeared to be little more than feudal barbarians digging rather deep graves for their fallen comrades. Those would make nice targets indeed. However, the stronger the heart the brighter the beacon to bring in more deamonettes and their like. No, the feudals would be left alone for now.

Sloravek panned his vision across the post and spied a dusty soldier smoking a lho stick. This individual had a strong aura about him. He had a purpose, a strong belief that why he was here was important. To twist that purpose into something furthering the dark wishes of Slaanesh would make for a wonderful little bonus to the ritual. He would do nicely indeed.

[How are we to handle lethal Main Character vs Main Character combat? I don't wanna step on any toes if I don't have to, but let's face it, it was going to happen sooner or later. So what are the ground rules?]

Harlow's neck hairs stood on end. He tried to convince himself it was the same apprehension of the assassin. But no, this was different. Maybe it was just the assassin's spook story? No, it was more real than a childlike fear. Something not right was going on here. something powerful and deadly. It wasn't any one piece of evidence that gave Harlow a sense of dread, it was a gut feeling, a sixth sense, something a precision marksman needed in order to survive in his no holds barred kind of fighting.

Harlow couldn't place it but he could almost taste the tang of electricity in the air. Some sort of malice was brewing closely. Harlow's thoughts turned to the things that the assassin had talked about. He'd heard all the stories of monsters too as a kid, they haunted men's dreams wherever they went. Perhaps the thing that the Karukian's had hunted for had something to do with it?

Harlow's guts told him that the assassin was right, there was more at stake here than just a planet, there was more at work here than a rebellion, even though he had yet to see any evidence of it, and he half didn't even believe himself, his instincts told him otherwise.

With great reluctance Harlow walked in the direction of the assassin. He almost felt as though someone else was using his legs, every single one of his fibers were telling him to stay as far away from that thing as possible. Still Harlow pressed on, The assassin saw him draw near but did not move, just staring at him until Harlow was just a few feet away. Harlow looked into the assassin's eyes for a few long, agonizing moments, feeling the eyes of the Karukians and every other soldier within earshot looking at them both. Silence graced the scene.

Harlow fought in his own mind with the words to speak. He found himself wondering again if this thing was even human. He took a good long look and finally came to a conclusion. The assassin might of been terrifying, horrible, and an abomination to the senses, but under the exterior, was a man, fighting the enemies of man, just like Harlow.

"If there's more here than just rebels like you said..." Harlow began swallowing. "Then its important for all of us to be getting along." Harlow paused.

"I don't expect you to speak, but at least listen. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones for the sake of whatever greater purpose is at stake here. I hope that as a warrior of the Imperium then you will do the same."

Harlow paused again and looked the assassin in the eyes, he took a single step closer, and spoke very lowly.

"If I can feel whatever it is you speak of lurking somewhere around here, then I'm sure you can. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be alone when we have to face it."

With that Harlow walked away to wait and wonder what was to happen next, hoping the assassin might see some truth in his carefully thought through words.

Elgarion watched with curiosity as Harlow strode away. The man was brave; if there had been any doubt of that beforehand it was gone now. To look in the eye of one who possessed his...talents was no mean feat, and though the Culexus still did not like the officer he at the very least found himself respecting him.
"Harlow". The voice was at once a whisper and a shout, and the army trooper turned to look at the Culexus. Elgarion was silent for a moment, before giving an almost imperceptible nod. "You are right. No single man here can stand against the threat that we face alone. But, you must understand that time is of the essence; my target will soon be putting his plan into action and...well, I'm not going to sugar-coat it, if he succeeds we're screwed. You don't trust me, and I don't trust you, but in the name of the beloved Emperor I will put my personal grievances aside for the greater good." Elgarion was quiet for a moment, tilting his head to the side in contemplation, before speaking again, this time addressing all the soldiers present "I never told any of you my name, did I?"
Silence.
The Assassin gave a low wet chuckle, to the evident surprise of some of the gathered men, before going on.
"if any of you happen to find it out, do come and tell me, my masters won't let me know it either."
A few nervous giggles went off; Elgarion wasn't surprised. The nature of their job meant that that was the kind of thing that passed for humour amongst Officio operatives. He had always considered it rather droll. He waited a few seconds for the silence to return, suddenly aware of how unused he was to public speaking. Nevertheless, he pressed on. "My codename, however, is Elgarion. You may refer to me as such. I am a Prophitage of Clade Culexus, an Ordo of the Emperor’s Officio Assassinorum. That is all you need to know”. He looked across at Harlow, to gauge the man’s reaction. He looked satisfied, at least for now. Good, thought Elgarion; that meant that at least for the while he would co-operate. Nothing more needed to be said, it seemed, so both men turned to leave.
A rustling, in the bushes.
Elgarion had his pistol drawn and was scanning for targets in a moment, and out of the corner of his eye he could see that Harlow and his keen falconer’s ears had done the same. The other soldiers seemed confused, though some of the seemingly more competent ones had drawn their weapons and were looking around nervously. Another rustling, this time going towards the centre of the camp. Elgarion and Harlow turned to look at each other, and for a moment the blue eyes of the officer and the soulless red orbs of the Assassin met.
“Did you-“ began Harlow.
“I heard it as well.” confirmed Elgarion.
Weapons ready, and not stopping to order the bemused soldiers around them into any form of action, the two men set off at a sprint.

Borek patted down the last grave, smoothing out the surface as much as he could. He knew that there should be some sort of sign on this patched earth, a sign or a pile of stones, there was no time for that though. Behind him Warrender shifted, watching the assassin stalk into the bushes after Harlow {are we still in the compound or what? }.
"What are they up to?"

Borek spat, his pride refusing to give way to curiosity. "Should I care? The assassin, Elgaron or whatever, can burn in hell. He nearly killed Mildew and Povorya. Let the bastard rot."

Warrender sniffed. Grabbing his weapon the veteran made ready. "I might check it out, just to keep an eye on Harlow." Borek grunted his acknowledgment.

[Still waiting on Owain's input on how to handle PvP. In the meantime, don't continue to gang up on me too much? I was going to make the conflict a one-on-one thing (and no, not in the interest of making the conflict one-sided), but now it seems the entire party is getting involved.]

[I don't know if that's what Owain intended. He seemed set on us getting a lift to the hive city, and I haven't heard from hellsguardian in while either.]

((With everyones greatly detailed story inputs and the storyline lingering at one specific spot its been hard for me to input anything. All I could really do is to write small segments repeating what everyone has already written as I don't want to try and move the story along on my own accord, so have been content to allow everyone to add snippets of Warrender instead. Not making a fuss btw, just don't want you to think I've abandoned you all. And damn you Borek! you got me smoking! ))

"I might check it out, just to keep an eye on Harlow." Warrender said in a quiet voice so only Borek could hear.

Warrender sniffed, hand placed over his hip ready to reach for his autopistol, he looked to his left to the APC, seeing his lasgun proped up against the vehicle, his team having returned there. "How bloody careless of me" he thought to himself as his face hardened, his irritation showing in his face. He raised his hand, signalling his team to stay put.

He slowly walked in the direction of the Assassin and Harlow as they crept towards the noise that had distracted everyone. As his hand laid across his pistol holster he flicked his thumb, releasing the popper catch and pushing a finger into the trigger he smoothly pulled his pistol into his hand ready.

-Cypher- wrote:[Still waiting on Owain's input on how to handle PvP. In the meantime, don't continue to gang up on me too much? I was going to make the conflict a one-on-one thing (and no, not in the interest of making the conflict one-sided), but now it seems the entire party is getting involved.]

(It appears there's a first for everything. A demon is scared by two men jumping at noises, having no idea what to expect? Seriously though, I think it would be unrealistic for us not to get involved either, are we to watch as Warrender gets his guts pulled out?

In all honesty, if you want to get one of us one on one, your going to have to get one of us by ourselves first.

As for the story progression, I was kinda hoping we'd be rolling along to wherever Owain had in mind soon but then Fauntleroy had us two on alert so........)

[You make good points WARORK93, but know that having him one-on-one isn't an excuse for me to have an 'automatic win'. I'm not faulting anyone I just wanted the story to be more swift than this. Its tough to see how this conflict would play out because I don't know how integral each character is to the overall story. It could be that a major fight takes place ending with the death of some characters, but the triumph of good over evil (Sloravek is killed). But for all I know, Sloravek could have become a key to Owain's story. Not knowing the overall plot makes dealing with PCs difficult.

I'm afraid if Owain doesn't clear a little bit up soon that the whole situation may have to be avoided. It would make for an challenging write, but who knows...]

((For the record, Warrender isn't daft enough to get in the Assassin's way and is not going to intentionally rile him either, more so staying out of his way but being wary while giving a mutual respect would the best description. As it stands Warrender has no beef with him ))