Right hand clenching the power sword from his left scabbard while left clutches a fragmentary grenade, Menstras barrels forward. A snarl slips past his lips echoing across a dozen com channels as he looses the ordinance amongst the Emperor's Children. Power field crackling, he charges amongst the survivors.
With your Mind of Matter power since your in the void and there is no gravity you could probably push one of the sons of horus to safety in time but the rest have fallen to far into the void.
Draex stands blood dripping from his Crimson and Extractor. Taking the heads off of the dead bodies Draex bathes in the blood of his fallen cousins. Thoroughly enjoying the kill.
"I gave you wretched bastards the perfect death you should thank me."
snapping back to reality with Lheors words.... Draex spits on the ground for ever needing anything from the witch minds.
the nails will sing with this one
Draex begins to move forward
Akkad keeps close to Sargon, and speaks to him in Colchisian.
"We both know that one of the Sons of Horus in service to your escort wishes to bring his father back and brought the sons of Fulgrim down on us. Do your new-found wisdom and talents give you any insight as to whom it may be?"
Ulasht uses his will of force to push one of his brothers that was about to fall into the void to safety where he was able to grab a hold of the ship and pull himself up and run to Falkus group.
Sargon makes a hand gesture that indicates he is unsure.
You and Corvis move in with killer instinct and act from the shadows before the Emperors Children even realize your there. You both kill 5 before you begin to get overwhelmed.
More and more of them keep pouring in and you realize this is not looking to good.
"It's time for a tactical retreat brother. I think our only chance right now for survival is taking Khayon up on his offer. Move back to where he was."
Head parts from shoulder as the crackling blade slices neatly through the armored collar. Dread gauntlets steal away the freed helm and its precious cargo to the hook beyond. The torso dances violently under the retaliatory salvo so artfully evaded. The song of terror so broadcasted across the sea of communications abruptly ends.
His prize secured at his hip, Menstras melts from the battle once more, his eyes darting to the next opening. Overconfidence nearly ended him. Still threatened him. Corvis and the Night Haunter's training alone saved him. Even now that truth holds light.
"The hull between here and the bridge overflows as, if not more so, than here in the service access."
A round screeches past his cubby causing him to cringe momentarily.
How blindly I have failed my father.
"The hangars are surely lost. How can his fair any better?"
He looses a blind burst to give the Emperor's Children pause.
Perhaps this is best. The false Horus may bring the vengeance I am denied.
"There's nowhere to run."
Corvis curses as a bolt round takes him in the chest but the power armour takes most of the impact.
"The Sorcerer said he had a way off the ship without his vessel. I trust it must be his warp powers. If we have any chance of surviving this ambush he is it now."
Corvis begins to make his tactical retreat dodging in and out of bullets flying all around.
Lheor leads your warband through he corridor it once came encountering a few scattered Empowers Children that you get to sink your axes teeth into along the way.
After the group gets split Falkus leads you all quickly to the gun ship with some resistance along the way that is handled swiftly. The gun ship hasn't been targeted yet and is able to leave the dead ship and head toward rise of the tree suns. He does not send Sargon to the prison cells instead you all stay on the bridge.
Being seperated from Falkus you follow his last orders and begin to make your way back to the bridge where you left Khayon. There is not to much resistane back and between Ulasht sorcery and Deathraven power fist you make short work of any that get in your path.
"Khayon, this is Deathraven. May we trouble you for a ride, brother?"
As he sends out the vox signal, he looks for signs of Khayon's passage.
Khayon breaths heavy as his vox responds to Deathravens hail.
"If you cant get off the ship hurry back to the command bridge we don't have much time"
Lheror responds right away "We are almost there."
Corvis also acknowledges.
"Acknowledged."
Deathraven moved to a position where he could cover as many entrances a possible and awaited Khayon's arrival.
Menstras opens up with his bolter, peppering the pursuing Emperor's Children as he withdraws. Only once the Children's pursuit is denied does he orient himself towards the command bridge. Within the shadows, his hand never leaves the hilt of his rightmost blade, armored fingers stroking the worn pommel.
Only the destruction of the Imperium matters. The death of the Emperor, the Lion and Assassinorum.
Ulasht curses under his breath being separated from his Chieftan. He says nothing as he journeys with Deathraven to the command bridge to retreat yet again from his hated rivals.
Lheors group enters the command bride first dripping with blood. You see Khayon standing with his axe in hand an a rip in reality big enough to allow a legionnaire to step through is before him. One of the Rubric Marines and his wolf is missing and the second steps through as you enter.
Deathraven and Ulasht arrive a second later followed by Corvis and Menstras.
Khayon points to the world eaters "Go." The slit in space was a black so deep and starless that it looked like the inside of something alive. "Go through."
Four of the 6 move through the rift leaving Lheor and Draex when you hear them enter. Emporers Children fill the room quickly and with perfect unity. Over 30 servants of the youngest god level their bolters at you all as one of them steps forward with 2 blades in hand.
"Captain Khayon." Such a voice. A voice to preach gently and passionately from the pulpit. A voice to sway souls and cleanse consciences. "I would speak with you before you run."
His armour was black, edged by plates of metallic rose. Bone showed through the ceramite, not in violent, knuckly protrusions but in sculpted artistry, inscribed with Chemosian runes. The flayed skin that was cloaked over his shoulders had faces that moved on it.
Khayon replied "Do I know you?"
"Telemachon," he offered his name with the same inspiring softness that implied neither kindness nor weakness. "Once Captain Telemachon Lyral of the Third Legion’s Fifty-First Company."
At that moment an immense weight bore down upon everyone. Gravity returned to the stricken ship with queasy force, and the bridge’s illume-globes, dead and bare to the void for decades, flickered back to life. Floating cadavers dropped to the deck, breaking into desiccated ruin. The bridge’s struggling light cast a pale glow over those of us who would defile this deep-space tomb with our own selfish bloodshed.
The rift closed behind Khayon and he moved so quickly that your hearts didn't make it to it's second beat before he was done. He pulled a tarot from his leather bound tome and threw it to the ground in front of the Emperors Children. Smoke surrounded you, thick as a grave shroud, with the sound of distant shrieking.
Khayon voxes you all "Do not move brothers."
Deathraven freezes, but stands ready to pounce should Khayon's magic fail to stop the Emperor's Children.
Draex's chain axes make their return to his hands as darkness envelopes the room gunning the activation button letting the chain axes whirl ready to sink their teeth into any would be attackers.
"Huh, to be expected" whispered under his breath
"I think I had better odds in engineering."
His finger anxiously rubs the pommel of his right blade. Menstras will wait to see what the psyker has in store. For now.
A shadow moved, something huge and black in the grey smoke. Its blade rammed clean through the legionary’s torso, lifting the thrashing, squirming warrior aloft. The blood and curses alike sheeted from his vox-grille. He fired even as he was being killed, his bolter spitting three shells down at his murderer. If the creature realized it was being shot, it made no sign of it.
The sound of ceramite breaking is a wrenching metallic wail followed by a shattering crack. The sound of a living man being pulled apart is a juicy snap, like the crunch of wet lumber. Once you’ve heard these sounds, you never forget them.
The warrior fell in bleeding pieces, and the black-in-the-grey shadow took its first step. An iron-shod hoof crushed the dying warrior’s head, smashing the helmet to purple shards, and grinding the mess along the deck.
A heap of moist, shaking meat landed on the deck near your boots. The creature turned toward you now.
"Khayon..." the daemon growled through saliva-strung fangs. "I see you, Soulweaver."
Dimly, you could make out the Emperor’s Children through the smoke of the daemon’s summoning, falling back to the doorway and taking up position. In moments, they would fill the room with bolter fire.
Its great, horned head swung in a slow scan of the chamber, and its laughter heated the air we breathed.
The Emperor’s Children opened fire on the daemon, but the shadow towering over us turned in a whipcrack of force, leaving nothing but curling smoke in its place.
You couldn’t see the slaughter beyond the dance of inhuman shadows in the charcoal mist. The smoke filling the room smelt of burning wood and seared flesh, and it remained thick enough to occlude sight, rising in sympathy with the daemons rage. You can hear the voxing of orders, the roar of bolters kicking in clenched fists, the waspish buzz of power blades. The sweeping air displacement of a massive sword swinging, the shatter-crack of splitting ceramite and the cries of dying men too proud to scream.
It lasted no more than a dozen heartbeats. The sounds that followed were watery snarls and sticky growls, followed in turn by great gulping swallows as the smoke thinned.
The daemon was crouched among the dead – twenty warriors in all – with its horn-crested head tilted back to face the ceiling. The daemon swallowed with gagging sounds, letting chunks of armoured flesh run down its gullet without chewing. Gnarled black and red hands, all knuckle and bone, reached for its next portion even before the previous delicacy had gone down.
Several ceramite-clad carcasses leaked a chemical cocktail of synthetic fluid from the cabling of their joints. The daemon was using four of them as a throne.
The daemon ate a warrior’s head, shoulder, one arm and spinal column, whole. It gagged as it swallowed, but it never resorted to breaking the meal apart with its teeth.
You can see the rest of the Emperors Children retreating.
"Such mighty warriors. he says as it looks to your group.
"I have paid you in the blood of traitors," Khayon said to the daemon, watching it eat.
"These traitors soul fires do not burn as bright as yours and yours." he gazes over the group again. "It has been an age since you called upon me, Soulweaver. Why is that?"
"This is not the time for this discussion," Khayon replied.
"There is a warrior aboard this ship, fleeing us as we speak. I will give you his image and his name. Hunt him down. Destroy him." Khayon said to the daemon.
"I think... I shall not do as you demand this time, Khayon. I shall eat your meat and drink your soul, and we shall see what happens then.
"You are pacted to me. Khayon said.
If the pact is binding and if you are strong enough to enforce it, then you have nothing to fear.
"Obey me," Khayon said raising his pistol at the daemon. "Destroy the warrior known as Telemachon Lyral!"
"Master," the thing conceded at last. The daemon dropped to its hands and knees once more, vomiting up a second steaming, bile-washed helmet and skull onto the deck. "For you, kin-brother." The daemon inhaled and exhaled with the sound of families screaming, and inclined its horn-crowned head to Draex.
The Fury of the Three Sons rocks as it begins taking shots from the other ships. Falkus is barking orders to the crew to take evasive action. You can tell he was an outstanding captain by the way of his manners and actions.
Sargon stood still watching the oculus as the action unfolded before you.
Akkad speaks again to Sargon in their dead tongue. "I am going to take a brief stroll through the ship. This is the time for the traitor to strike, and the Architect of Fate will guide me to stop him. If the good captain needs me, please let me know." He moves out of everyone's way, and while the Sons of Horus are distracted focusing on surviving the fight makes his way into the rest of the ship to keep an eye on any potential saboteurs.
Deathraven observes the goings-on with remarkable detachment. Finally, he turns to Khayon.
"I think it would be wise for us to leave this place now, brother."
From bad to worse.
Menstras draws both blades, his visor turned to the carnage left in the daemon's wake.
"Even should tear open a new portal, the fleet of the Emperor's Children are too powerful and the warp storms leave us little room to escape."
His eyes scan the corpses, auto-senses painting every droplet in vivid detail. Methodically, he attempts to recreate the daemon's slaughter within his mind.
"This ship shows new life. Let us turn her breaths to our purposes and cover our withdrawal."
"Khayons ship is closest to the warp storm none of the others would make it in time. I guess he parked it there on purpose knowing he could escape easily with is magic portal."
You wander the frigate as the battle continues. You can hear Falkus barking orders to get the ship to the warp storm so they can get out of here in one piece but that does not seem likely. You hear a crash and ahead of you, you see a boarding torpedo lodged into the ship blocking your passage.
The daemon drops the skull on the ground before the World Eaters and takes off down the corridor after his target.
Khayon turns to you all "We will leave once I see Telemachon dead." On that mark he chases after the daemon down the corridor. 'Come.' he pulses telepathically into all your minds.
Draex beats his fist to his chest piece rapping twice over his heart in a sign of respect for the killer and his kill. Bending on one knee he colleccts and examines the regurgitated skull. Shaking it to slush off some of the goo its lathered in, draex unhook the clasp on his chain of skulls and adds the new one to the collective placing the chain back in place.
"A good kill, much blood was spilled"
Draex runs after Khayon, after his message is broadcasted, chain axes in hand.
Deathraven mutters a curse. Escape should be the focus, not a maddened desire for vengeance. Killing Telemachon served nothing more than the ego of Khayon, but he complied. Khayon was his only means of escape from this death trap, after all.
Deathraven ran after the daemon, power fist and plasma pistol ready to deal death to any Emperor's Children marine to come within sight.
Ulasht, annoyed, questions Khayon as he unwillingly follows, "If we destroy Telemachn and in turn the Children's Warships destroy this vessel with us in it, what have we gained?!"
Akkad walks up to the torpedo, listens for activity on the other end, and then tears a hole into with his crozius. Assuming there are only the Emperor's Children on the other end, he tells them, "If you can bring back Horus, the greatest champion of chaos, then I will aid you. Let me join you, and I will help you take this ship and my brother-seer, Sargon the son of Lorgar. His lore will be of great value to your masters."
As you break through the torpedo to get to the other side you see two Emperor's Children and they turn as you speak. You see their fingers begin to pull on their triggers aiming their bolters at you.
Khayon does not answer the questions and you pursue the daemon through the upper decks, with no hope of catching up to something so swift. You move over the strewn corpses of Emperor’s Children lying in dismembered disarray.
Tracking the daemon was no trouble at all. A trail of blood decorated the walls and deck, dried spatter-pools of hardening brass marking where the thing fled ahead of us. The Emperor’s Children were injuring it, and whatever bled could be killed. But the task was far from easy.
Molten lines of carved metal graced the right wall of several corridors, made by the daemon’s great brass blade ripping through the durasteel as it ran.
You passed from the command sector into the primary communal habitation decks. These narrow, labyrinthine corridors and chambers locked together with all the charm of a hive spire’s miniscule living apartments.
Soon enough, you can hear the dull crashes of that horrendous blade against ceramite armour. The sound echoed through the hallways with the call of a cracked cathedral bell. Again. Again. Again.
You charge into the chamber together, weapons in hand. You see the enemy dead, clad in black and rose, lying in pieces across the deck; on the dining tables; slumped against the curved walls. You see the Daemon, towering above all, cleaving with its brass blade.
"Throne of Terra," Khyaon said at the sight of the Daemon and Telemachon.
He matched the daemon’s height by standing upon the triclinium’s long tables, deflecting the Daemons blows with a sword in each hand. He was beyond a blur, into something liquid and unreal. Both of his blades moved in absolute harmony with one another – he parried, disengaged, blocked and riposted with his swords in mathematically perfect unity.
His helm’s faceplate is what elevated the moment past the miraculous and into the insane. The handsome silver visage, a young man’s flawless features, looked utterly at peace. Serene. Perhaps even bored.
Khayon held out his hand for everyone to stay as the Daemon and Emperors Children former Captain fought.
Ulasht raises his hand, ready to release a blast of magical energy at the hated foe should he be victorious against the Daemon. Begrudgingly Ulasht admires the skills of Telemachon against such a powerful entity.
Round 1
EC1 - 13
Akkad - 12
EC2 - 11
The Legionnaire takes a single shot at Akkad as he spins turning toward him.
vs 65
‘Die,’ the Daemon was snarling, drooling, at him. Frustration burned off its flesh with the smoke, to have already killed or maimed every other warrior in the room but for this one who remained defiant. ‘Die... Die...’
‘I underestimated you, Khayon,’ Telemachon breathed over the vox, still managing to sound amused through his exhaustion.
Then he struck. He actually beat the daemon’s blade aside long enough to strike. Telemachon’s golden swords carved down. An eruption of molten viscera blasted back against him.
The daemon staggered, its flesh ripping open. Human eyes stared out in horror from the spreading lacerations; human fingers and teeth and tongues showed in the bleeding slits, clawing to escape.
Telemachon was down. He’d rolled from the table onto the deck. He was clawing at his dissolving armour, pulling pieces free in hissing chunks, before the daemon blocked your view.
‘I will be free,’ it snarled. ‘By my blade, this pact will end!’
At that moment the Daemon charges your group!
Initiative
"Then we do it your way." Akkad rushes towards the two legionnaires, ignoring the wide shot, but when the second starts aiming at him, he jerks behind a bulkhead.
The 2nd Legionaire takes aim and shoots a single shot at Akkad from his Bolter.
vs 35
The 1st Legionaire flips the selector to semi-auto and shoots toward Akkad.
vs 25
After the shots go wide, Akkad jumps out of cover and charges the closer legionnaire, saying, "Savor this sensation," as he cleaves at him with his crozius.
The Crozius hits the Legionnaires right arm tearing right though the armor and flesh ripping the enemy in half his body falling to the ground lifeless.
The 2nd Legionnaire howls in delight at the bloodshed even though it's his own legions and quickly pulls his power sword and swings at Akkad.
vs 65
Akkad easily side steps the wild blow, and feints to swing low then turns it into an overhead attack.
The Legionair raises his sword in an attempt to parry the devastating might of the Crozius.
vs 65
Both Power Fields ignite making a bright spark but the blow is deflected. He returns the favor by attempting to strike back at Akkad.
vs 65
Akkad voxes the bridge, ::Captain, I have engaged the enemy at a boarding torpedo. There were two, now there is one,:: and attempts to strike again.
The static in the vox rings loud as you hear multiple voices.
"Contact in multiple locations of the ship.
"Holding ground!"
The Legionnaire attempts to parry the blow again.
vs 65
The blow is deflected once again and he strikes back!
vs 65
pen 6
The power blade bites deep into his arm. He takes it silently and presses the attack.