Hrothgar acknowledges Decius' praise with a nod.
He then transmits the following:
"Battle-leader, we are presently with Brother Decius of the Iron Snakes. He respectfully requests the assistance of our Apothecary, Brother Sepheren, in recovering the gene-seed of his brothers."
"Resistance should be minimal after we broke the back of the xenos symphatizers."
While I know that our mission objective is paramount, the recovery of gene-seed is equally important to the survival of the Imperium.
Not waiting for a reply from Battle-Leader Quintus, Hrothgar asks Decius: "With respect, may we resupply from the wargear of your brethren? Particularly the frag grenades...."
"Brother Sepheren, be prepared to recover the geneseed, if we have time. We must find the data core and the Magos first."
"I know, Brother Vex, that you want to help the guard, but we have limited time to complete our objectives. If we have time afterward, we can do other things that you and our Brothers want to do."
<<<'Success in finding a vehicle that might work. We have also found an Iron Snake that was holding off some penitents that are now dispersed. Need coordinates for a rendezvous.'>>>
Response: <<<Caledonii, Hrothgar, messages received. Rendezvous at central control facility approximately 500 meters, west-north-west of your position. Kill-Team is engaging xenos and relieving the Emperor's own. Still pursuant of Magos. Brother Sepheren will be dispatched for gene-seed retrieval once data-core is secured. No pity! No remorse! No fear! Emeric out.>>>
Beyond them, on the southern corner of the protruding gatehouse structure, movement ripples through the rocks as more Termagants muster for a flanking attack.
"Brother-Leader, we must proceed through this area to reach Central Control. Beyond is the probable location of Vyakai. Brother Syne, target the shrike. I'm moving in to assist the Guardsmen. They may know of the Magos. For the Omnissiah!" I leap down the slope, not waiting for Quintus' response. I half-expect the Ultramarine to countermand my intentions.
"Ammo and grenades is fine, but theirs weapons and gene-seed must be saved to be given to the future brothers"
"Brother Decius, join us in our search. The faster we complete our primary objective, the faster we get to help you out."
"I will follow up then, lead the way"
"Understood. Using suppressive fire to assist Brother Emeric."
"I will follow up then, lead the way"
"We move."
"I will follow up then, lead the way""We move."
With that I put the hauler in gear and head out.
Relying on my expertise in defensive warfare. I look for a position to set up an optimal crossfire location to support the Commissars troops against the incoming shrikes.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Rho-Upsilon-11
50 meters west of the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Motor Pool Compound
241.817.M41
Brother Hrothhgar's Estimated Time: [2:22:18]
Feeling the Iron Snake's thankful hand upon his shoulder-plate, Brother Caledonii beams with pride beneath his helmet...at least until the rescued marine mistakenly calls him Ultramarine. Still, he forgives him his ignorance, it is a rare thing for one of his chapter, the Storm Wardens, to be so far from the Segmentum Obscurus---here, in the Eastern Fringe, no less.
The Iron Snake doesn't even realize his error, so relieved is he to have found salvation at the hands of fellow Astartes. Although he petitions the mysterious Deathwatch marines for aid in retrieving the gene-seed of his fallen brethren, he holds out no false hope, knowing that the Pyroclast-Gamma-6 facility lies nearly 50 kilometers to the south, deep behind the front lines of the inexorable Tyranid advance. Gazing at the roiling, bruise-black sky to the south, he knows he must come to grips with the possibility that the honored dead of Squad Radiates may never be recovered.
Brother Decius mounts the tracked cargo-8 with the Space Wolf, who he now notices appears to be flagging somewhat after the adrenaline of battle has diminished. There is no question that Son of Russ is sorely injured, but he hides it well. The Iron Snake is grateful for Brother Hrothgar's transmission to his squad leader regarding his fallen brothers, and his concern for the Space Wolf is real.
For Hrothgar, it is a relief just to be on solid ground again, the strain of the jump-pack's brutal acceleration has reopened the wound inflicted by the lictor, and it now burns with the heat of a thousand suns 'neath his damaged pauldron. The sheer volume of the hard rounds fired by the penitents has injured him as well, and he can feel three or four places where the bullets found their mark under the protection of his armor. He stops speaking with the Iron Snake as another flood of pain-deadening drugs course through his system, steadying him somewhat.
Brother Caledonii, gently depresses the accelerator of the long, tracked vehicle, trying not to damage the rather delicate controls with the overpowering strength of his powered armor. Throwing up plumes of powder to either side, the treads find purchase, shredding the packed snow and launching the hauler across the inner yard of the motor pool, crushing both the bodies of convicts and the dead Tyranid organisms before it. As the vehicle passes through the open gates, the Storm Warden pushes down still further on the gas, catapulting the vehicle across the broken, snow-covered ground with all due haste in order to rendezvous with the others.
Tantalus Sub-Arctic Zone, Grid Zone Xi-Upsilon-05
25 meters Southeast of the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 Gatehouse Transport Station
241.817.M41
Brother Quintus'/Brother Emeric's Synchronized Chrono Readings: [2:21:07]
Brother Quintus grunts with the frustration of commanding so many disparate personalities and chapters. Still, Brother Emeric speaks fact, they must eventually pass the Gatehouse to reach the Primary Refinery facility. So much for the subtle approach, then. Still, if there is one thing the Ultramarine has learned in over a century of warfare, it's that it is nearly impossible to argue logic with a techmarine.
As Brother Vex moves into a better firing salient, stalking down the leeward side of the hillock, the Black Templar charges forward, moving quickly to intercept the termagants moving up from the south on the guardsmem's position. Brother Syne shrugs his great pauldrons, the winged motif on his shoulder angling upward as he goes prone atop the hillside, positioning his heavy bolter to lead its fire ahead of the diving shrikes.
Even the apothecary seems emboldened by seeing the faithful servants of the Emperor under duress, he shoulders his bolter and moves to follow Brother Emeric down the escarpment, snow flying up behind his boots as he runs.
With habits and skill borne of countless years of training and command, Brother Quintus analyzes the tac-data of the coming skirmish, playing out in his mind what he expects to occur once the enemy is met. Satisfied that he has a feel for how the conflict will unfold, he prepares to do his part, hopefully keeping his overzealous brethren alive.
The Dark Angel Librarian finds that the guardsmen below have made the best use possible of the cover at their disposal, so he finds a firing angle that will allow him to cover a blind spot in the approach to the overturned tracked hauler they shelter behind.
I will place myself so I can use my flamer.
My Astartes armor senses enemy blood shall be shed and thus churns my legs even faster towards glorious carnage and butchery. "Yes, Ferocitas! Yes! Let these xenos break themselves against your indomitable carapace!"
Hrothgar climbs to the top of the trailer.
Somehow I manage to check Ferocitas' headlong charge into the blighted mass of xeno-forms.
Flicking the safety off and unleashing regular bolter rounds, full-auto, four-shot spread...
Exulting as my venerated bolter bursts alien after alien, with righteous fury I scream at the execrable swarm, "WE BRING DEATH!"
I let the machine sprite whine as I test the limits of the speed and handling of the hauler as it try to get to the rendezvous as quickly as possible. " Hang on boys we are going full out."
Somehow I manage to check Ferocitas' headlong charge into the blighted mass of xeno-forms.
Flicking the safety off and unleashing regular bolter rounds, full-auto, four-shot spread...
d100
2d10+5
2d10+5
2d10+5
2d10+5
d10 d10Exulting as my venerated bolter bursts alien after alien, with righteous fury I scream at the execrable swarm, "WE BRING DEATH!"
Brother Emeric somehow keeps the headstrong machine spirit of his powered armor at bay, and comes to a halt, the auto-stabilizers built into Ferocitas grudgingly accepting his authority. He unloads from his bolter, ripping apart the hunched, predatory xenos as they come loping out of the narrow defile they used to flank the guardsmen's strongpoint. One after another they are torn asunder, spatters of dark ichor and broken chitin flying from their pulped corpses. It seems the Black Templar has succeeded in his stratagem of stopping the blindside assault---the remaining Termagants turn toward him as one and begin scuttling in his direction.
The vaguely humanoid monstrosities clamber out of the narrow defile to the south of the Gatehouse and rush Brother Emeric and Brother Sepheren's position, their loping, zig-zagging, alien gaits rapidly closing the distance.
The massive throng of Tyranid in the center of the promethium polluted ice-plain redouble their attack on the Guard position, for now oblivious to the presence of the Deathwatch. Their awful, insectile squealing can be heard even over the roar of the wind, while wet, ripping noises of their bio-weapons discharging mingles with the anguished cries of dying guardsmen.
I let the machine spirit whine as I test the limits of the speed and handling of the hauler trying to get to the rendezvous as quickly as possible. "Hang on boys we are going full out."
Brother Caledonii relies on his exceptional Astartes reflexes to keep the tracked hauler on the icy path running through the center of the Pyroclast-Gamma-9 complex parallel to the Magtrain Rail. Glancing at the dim, green hololithic cartograph overlay inside his helmet, he realizes that he could conceivably cut cross-country over the uneven ice-plain to the southwest and shave some time off their transit to his Battle-Brother's present position.
The Space Wolf clings to the roof of the hauler's cargo trailer with the aid of his magboots, scanning the stormy sky to the west for any sign of the fray his brethren on the other side of the facility now find themselves embroiled in. Half a click to the west he can see a rising plume of smoke and the small, barbed specks of circling shrikes.
Brother Decius maintains his rear guard, holding tight to the open tailgate of the hauler's trailer and watching as the purplish wound covering the southern horizon grows darker and darker. He checks his bolter, its ammunition replenished by his new-found allies, prepared once again to mete out death to the Tyranid.
Hrothgar activates his jump pack in an effort to reach the battle soonest.
"Brother Eli, let us focus our wrath on the Shrikes, and keep them off the backs of our Brothers."
With a grunt of effort I place the hauler into the track of crossing the ice-field. I am thinking all the while this is harder then riding on the back of a land raider at full speed. At least then I have something I can hold on to that I dont misshape with my very grip.
Hrothgar activates his jump pack in an effort to reach the battle soonest.
Brother Hrothgar relays his intentions over the vox-link to his companions on the hauler and vaults off of the roof of the trailer into the swirling snow. He quickly gains altitude, employing his directional thrusters to orient himself to the southwest. The hauler is soon lost to his vision through the sleeting precipitation, and he uses dead reckoning and his cartographic overlay to maintain his heading through the rough weather.
** spoiler omitted **
Brother Sepheren shoulders his bolter and squeezes off a round at the swarm of bounding termagants rushing toward him and the Black Templar.
The Blood Angel curses as his shot goes wide, blowing up a plume of snow and rock from one of the many jutting outcroppings along the surface of the icy plain.
1d100
1d100
For Rook
Eli raises his bolter to the sky and unleashes a fusillade of death on the Shrikes. Spend shell casings pile to the ground with a hiss of melted snow as the bolts color the sky with blood and fire.
1d10 + 10=20, 1d10 + 10=18, 1d10 + 10=16, 1d10 + 10=11, 1d10 + 10=18, 1d10 + 10=12, 1d10 + 10=15, 1d10 + 10=14, 1d10 + 10=17, 1d10 + 10=11
1d10 =6, 1d10 =10, 1d10 =6, 1d10 =2, 1d10 =2, 1d10 =6, 1d10 =5, 1d10 =3, 1d10 =1, 1d10 =3
1d10 =7, 1d10 =7, 1d10 =4, 1d10 =1, 1d10 =7, 1d10 =8, 1d10 =7, 1d10 =10, 1d10 =2, 1d10 =10
1d10 =9, 1d10 =1, 1d10 =5, 1d10 =9
I fire on the horde after moving in range.
Hrothgar transmits, "Pop some smoke where I can land?"
I fire on the horde after moving in range.
Lugging the heft of the heavy flamer, Brother Quintus strides toward the rear of the throng of swarming termagants, the xenos so focused on their guardsman prey that they never realize his presence until he unleashes a sustained blast of superheated promethium. The eruption of flame roars to rival the fierce wind, and the sleet and snow hisses as it lands upon the cone of fire, sounding like a serpent startled from its slumber before evaporating into a wide cloud of pungent steam. The stench of scorched chitin and the squealing screams of the engulfed Tyranid host gives the Ultramarine a grim satisfaction.
Eli raises his bolter to the sky and unleashes a fusillade of death on the Shrikes. Spend shell casings pile to the ground with a hiss of melted snow as the bolts color the sky with blood and fire.
The bolter belches a chorus of death at the diving shrikes, the tracers stitching red light across the grey, storm-churned skies.
The bolter belches a chorus of death at the diving shrikes, the tracers stitching red light across the grey, storm-churned skies.