Erkan continues moving at the middle of the unit as they push forward through the vessel. "Given the proximity of the Medicae, I agree we should check it now. Volga, there is little reason to spread ourselves further at this point, we will move on the Medicae together."
Erkan keys his microbead, "Erkan to Kapenia, any update from the command deck? We are about to enter the Medicae."
Volda nodded. "Then we will continue, and see if we can at least secure and get a basic status for the engines." The Seargent at Arms saluted and continued down the path.
The corridor was in a poor state, gashes in the metal and more than a few spots of blood. Sometimes rather more than spots. As you head down the corridor Kapenia's voice crackled over the vox. "We've secured entry into the bridge. No sign of the crew, apart from the blood. All stations seem to be in tact. We're re-securing the barricades and looking for any overlooked entry points the attackers might have used to gain entry, like the air vents or underflood conduits."
The corridor split into a t-section, a sign in one direction saying 'wards' and the other saying 'surgery and treatment.' A pair of doors also stood opposite the corridor you'd come along, marked 'disposal'.
Vasyl's gaze keeps darting from object to object, seeking an enemy that has not yet shown itself.
It's a bad idea to assume the enemy is gone. That's a good way to get killed.
"Say surgery. There might be records there. Also, it means we're not faffing about in a junction."
"Surgery would hav the most recent records for those with the worst trauma, wards would show a longer term picture I suspect. Lets go to the surgery theater."
Yo yo yo merry Christmas folks. I am the Lord ruleerz! Bow before me
"I concur, to the surgical ward."
Aenarius shook his head and checked his frequency. An echo of the warp, perhaps? An old recording? A prank from a sailor abducted and forced into the imperial navy? Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to help with the mission at hand. He took point as they moved towards the surgical ward.
Erkan steps forward to the corner of the t-intersection, his shotlas at the ready, and turned to Aenarius and Lothar. "Seems we are all in agreement, let's proceed."
Vasyl moves at the rear of the group.
Praetus takes careful note of the route the team will take, as they walk he will look for a good place to hide in and steps into the shadows.
it is too quiet, i suspect we are being stalked
He will wait listening for 2 minutes before swiftly following the rest of the team
The corridor leading to the surgical wing runs a several dozen feet before being stopped by a pair of security doors with an admissions office to one side. The security lock has been clawed open by the same thing that attacked the barricades.
Inside something screeches every now and then.
Vasyl whispers over the vox, as quietly as he can manage:
"Get ready for a fight. I say we move in slowly and quietly, covering each other's backs. And be ready to hit whatever is in there with everything we've got."
The observant may notice that his autogun is set to full auto.
The doors open to a corridor, heading off into dimly lit sections to either side. The ward seems to be on emergency power, for some reason. Ahead a double set of doors stand closed, 'Emergency Operations' above them.
The screeching roars again from behind them, much louder now.
I'm glad they're between me and whatever the hell that is. But hopefully they've listened and won't just die on me.
Praetus comes jogging up from the dark corridor behind. Hand eagerly on his sword.
"For the God Emperor"
The doors to the theatre opened to a scene of carnage. Several piles of limbs lay discarded around the floor, the blood overwhelming the drainage of the room. A power saw, dangling from its cable, occasionally bounced off the operating table in the middle of the room. As the blade hit the metal it screamed out, sparks flying.
"Well that adds to the ambush tactics theory. Stay alert and put it down fast when you see it." Lothar tries to stay alert for this creature as they move in. "Vasyl watch our backs and don't move past the door, we don't want it escaping."
"Agreed on all counts, Lothar. Give them hell."
Damn straight I'm staying by the door!
Once the team have moved into the theatre, Vasyl will use the left side of the doorframe as cover, as he watches over the team's back.
Heironymous also readies his lasgun, hefting it at the doorway as he enters behind Lothar.
Praetus thumbs his stummer on and moves quietly forward, watching and listening for hidden threats, Oblivion in a backhand grip running along his right arm.
Erkan slowly enters the operating chamber with his comrades. A grim look of determination on his face as he surveys the horror. "The air of the damned hangs in this place, Emperor protect us. Magos Bahrenfahrer, can you get that surgical saw deactivated? I'll take a look at... this." He gestures toward the pile of limbs.
Cautiously approaching the pile of limbs, he scans over them, first to determine the source of the limbs, then to confirm that they were amputated with the screeching saw, and finally to see if he can spot any wounds that would have necessitated such an amputation.
Nothing stirs within the theatre, and the saw continues its occasional shrieking.
The limbs certainly seem to have been removed at least partially with the saw, as the bones are clean cut.
Vasyl takes the opportunity to get an overview of the state of the theatre. The level of maintenance leading up to this mess, the damage done, etc.
Lothar moves to deactivate the saw so they can hear their quarry better. With the tension he holds his breath.
The theatre was in good condition, other than the blood. Its medical stocks were high, with plenty of basic supplies, anasthetics and pain relief. Most of the tools were equally untouched, although many had been caught by spray if they were left out. Only tools useful in amputations seemed to have been used. Several had even been broken.
The saw powers down, leaving only the faint hum of power to the lights and the faint whoosh of life support. And a clicking noise.
Over the microbead, Vasyl softly says:
"Find where that clicking sound is coming from."
And quick.
Erkan rises from the pile of limbs and turns to the others as the saw powers down. "Emperor protect the dutiful, this is truly a macabre scene. What transpired here unfortunately remains unclear to me from these limbs. Wait, what is that clicking sound...?"
His shotlas at the ready, he follows Vasyl as the Merc seems to move with intent.
After hunting the room for a moment, the clicking is found - a prosthetic limb sticks out of the bottom of one the piles, its metallic finger spasming rhythmically. The clicking came from it tapping on the deck plates.
"If the room is clear, I'm moving in. Staying in one place too long is starting to sound like a bad idea, since we haven't found our enemies yet. And the blood here? It's recent."
"Agreed." He looked down at the finger seemingly continuing to try to follow the last impulse of it's wielder. He peered closer despite the gloom to see if it was the trigger finger.
In fact, the artificial limb looked almost like it was trying to pull itself along, the middle finger slowly moving it. With a sudden twitch, the other fingers joined it...and the pile shifted.
What could only be described as an amalgamation of heavy prosthetic limbs lept out of the pile, mechanical hands twitching. Many of the hands carried bone saws, laser scalpels and other unpleasant looking tools of the chirurgeon's craft. The arms spread wide, aimed at two separate acolytes.
Unfortunately, it's sneak attack was foiled by poor accuracy, it's wish to rend flesh overcoming any sense it might have had and overreaching itself.
Limbs!?
"Scrag it!" yells Vasyl as he fires a three round burst at the bizarre spectacle ahead of him, while trying to avoid shooting his allies.
A smile crosses Praetus' lips as he moves in to dance with with the multi-armed foe, his blade striking out swiftly.
The twisting metal arms making it difficult to land a telling blow.
I knew it! The arbite thought as he blasted the creature with his shotgun. I should have died back then with everyone else, and Throne blast it now I’ve got another chance of it. Frag it! His mind raced. Luckily, his training meant that even as his mind went back to his dark place, his body acted as it was supposed to.
Lothar realises he is too close to fire his lasgun effectively so drives the bayonet forward into the creature.
The metal creature seemed to be augmetics all the way down, arms and legs joined in some strange, central ball. A lot of the shots inflicted seemed to bounce off or be absorbed by the heavy metal of the machinery.
The creature lashed out at everyone within range, a pair of arms for each.
-
-
"Aenarius, Praetus pull back I'll hold it here for a second. The shots aren't doing much. Once you're clear I'll move back, ye just be ready to hit him with the hard stuff, say those krak grenades I acquired for ye!" Lothar focused on keeping his shield between him and the beast.
The man talks sense. Especially since I'm not in the firing line.
Vasyl draws his krak grenade and readies it to throw.
"Ready!"
Wincing Aenarius fell back and pulled out a grenade. ”Say when!”
Praetus steps onto one of the swinging arms and performs a back flip.
He lands away from the creature, but not as gracefully as he hipped.
As the others fall back and draw grenades for a hopeful attack, Erkan opens fire with a shredding blast from his shotlas, hoping to stagger the creature, allowing his comrades to target it more effectively. "Your tainted filth shall not withstand the Emperor's justice!"
Heironymous also opens up with his Assault Lasgun, screeching at the tech-heresy evident before him.
Several degrees of success I think? So 3 hits?
Hieronymous' shots glanced off the armoured monster, but Erkan had a little more luck. Since the pair were firing at point blank range, however, it left them within range of the creatures claws.
Lothar pulled back and called out to the others "Now!" With any luck a few krak grenades would put it down.
A moment longer - now!
Vasyl finishes aiming, and throws.
Aenarius threw the grenade, a prayer to the emperor on his lips.
[ooc]Does 2 degrees of success mean a second hit? If so...]