"For the GLORY of the Imperium!" Attero yells as he keeps the trigger down on his .75 caliber Mark Vb Godwyn Pattern Bolter. "Purge the unclean, Kill the mutant, BURN the HERETIC!" He always found himself slightly wanting a flamer whenever he finished that particular phrase, but, alas, it never seemed to turn out that way.
"Never forget, never forgive!" He could see another pair of cultists go down to his fire. Was that all their heavy gunners?
Toughness!:3 + 1d5 - 1d5 ⇒ 3 + (2) - (2) = 3
He scans around, and, judging from the amount of much smaller arms fire incoming on his RIGHTEOUS AND INVULNERABLE person, he thinks that, yes, the big guns are either unmanned or out of ammo. That latter is just as likely as the former--he couldn't imagine how worship of an unwordly embodiment of chaos could possibly lend itself to good logistical systems.
It was long assumed by his brother Astartes that the heretics engaged in cannibalism not out of custom or preference, but out of necessity.
He dealt out death knowing it came as a friend to them.
Toughness!:3 + 1d5 - 1d5 ⇒ 3 + (2) - (1) = 4Total stress is 2. Ansgar, you wanna roll some dice since apparently I do not stand high in the eyes of RNG?
"Ah! Aterro yelled as the combined might of all the heavy guns continued to pummel him, again finding small gain in his heavy armor. Fleshwounds they were, but he could tell they were starting to take a toll.
Having at last closed the distance, he keeps up the close-range fire, pumping round after round of bolter fire into the soft squishy cultists.
He could see them. Between his internal auspex, and the impeccable sight of the Tracer 280 machine spirit in his helm, he could read the actions of the opposing heretics as easily as the oaths of moment that rode on his pauldrons.
First one. One machine gun opened up on him, it's fire un-missed by the fusillade pounding the Cadians. It tossed an unbroken line of lead-based projectiles into his chest plate. It did nothing and he came on.
Then another. A second machine gun changed its targeting. Of a sudden the guardsmen that hid behind fieldworks noticed a lessening of incoming rounds. Not much, no, but a palpable fraction no longer sought their own flesh but Astartes metal. It did nothing and he came on.
Then panic. 'All guns all guns!' the firechief shouted. Machine guns targeted him, fired their remaining rounds, then paused for assistant gunners to re-load, the primary gunners pulling back loading arms for a fresh assault. The Cadians' line seemed funeral-quiet as the bullet lines left them like finicky lovers drawn to another.
The massive tidal wave of bullets crashed upon the Ultramarine like a wall of lead, for that was what it was. Every crash of bulletfire was met by an equally loud clang of uber-metal sending it away with a cry of distain. The metal wave summoned up an equally great cloud of dust that for a moment buried sight of the space marine just as the hail of gunfire and tried to bury him bodily. The chaos gunners paused, looking hopefully over their sights. Did we do it? Is he dead? Have we, in glorious tribute to our daemon masters, laid low a foul dog of the false emperor? Have we won a great victory, and, in the same stroke, guarenteed our own lives for another day.
An ice-blue boot strode confidently out of the dust cloud, crushing all hope of escape with it.
It could not be said it did nothing. One bullet passed through a chink on the Mk VII, drawing blood from his left arm. He did not even notice as he fired his bolter.
Captain Attero gazes at the far off guns positions, his veteran eye taking in their placement, their efficacy.
He sees the brave Ansgar picking his way across the broken terrain with ease and agility, even something approaching gracefulness. It's efficient and safe.
And not the way of the Astartes.
The gene-seed at its very base is not made for stealth or safety. Flanking? Yes. Misdirection? Betimes. This is not one of those times. The guns need a target. He gives it to them.
The looming blue and gore-stained Ultramarine stomps across the battlefield like a giant among fields of wheat. He uncaringly walks into the fire of the heavy guns, sneering that the heretics could think to bring down one of his kind with such base tactics.
Of course he just as quickly walks into a field of concealed field-snares, but it is not his way to offer excuses. Only results.
His hulking form absorbs all sent his way, the bullets meeting more than they were built for. In the beginning his progress bogs down, but a space marine is a One Man Army, so a thing that will stop a company of humans is not even noticed by such as he. Halfway through he's caught in a devastating cross-fire, but his power armor shrugs it all off easily.
"Angsar, let us neutralize those guns and so relieve the pressure on the militia, but then I would like to pause and see them fight. I call into question their dedication to the Great Crusade, and we must needs see if they still stand high in the Emperor's sight."
Technically - which is a despicable weasel word but I'm the GM so I get to use it - protocol dictates that you shelter in place until found.
Shelter in place? What heresy is this? How can you Kill the Heretic, crushing his still beating heart and throwing it into the void, if you don't March to GLORY!
Perhaps you are questioning the mission of the Crusade? To question is to doubt.
"He is -already- disobeying orders," the hulking space marine spits back at Karina. He doesn't really want to argue with the scout. He has nothing against her and she is a fine soldier. But neither can he let it go. To remain silent is to consent.
"There is NO tactical, strategic, or logistic point to 'guarding' escape pods. Having been denied at the primary rally point he KNOWS where he is supposed to be and that is the -secondary- rally point.
_This_ is the reason Guardsmen need Commissars. Because, if left alone, they crawl under a rock and call it 'maintaining a perimeter'.
Yes, you are a scout, and thus given more leeway in your mission parameters. He is NOT. If he isn't either fighting the enemy, or following standing orders, like chasing rally points until an officer tells him to stop, he is a COWARD. And cowards die in shame."
He turns to move out, then pauses.
"Examine your thoughts, Karina. The Emperor protects."
Attero is dumbstruck that the person who gave the presentation on rally points in now excusing a Guardsman's blatant disregard of the rally points. "Oh my apologies, good Karina. I had thought that someone, who looked a lot like you, gave the entire unit a presentation of the various rally points, including hierarchy and description.
I should wonder at the point of even having rally points if we start letting every trooper with a rifle decide that the ground he stands upon now has more importance than the orders given by his betters.
No, I do not need the comm. He already has things to answer for."
Malakai shakes his head hesitantly. "Not all." He says. "Sergeant Paxton is holed up with about a dozen cadians where their pods landed. He and his troop were the first to encounter Sa'Vere on the mountain. Lost a couple of men to the sorcerer and retreated back to the pods."
"I expect he remains...er...guarding the escape pods and awaiting reinforcements. I doubt they'll last long if Sa'Vere decides to clear away any possible threat to his flank."
"On whose orders?" the space marine spits out reflexively. This isn't a question so much as a grasping flail to find order amongst sudden chaos. For a mere sergeant of the Guards to 'set up' a position that is not a rally point, without direct orders from either officer or Commissar is pure suicide. Cowardice in the face of the enemy is Heresy of the highest magnitude.
Even asking the question is more than his brothers in the Blood Angels would do. Among the more sanguine, the sergeant's head would already be rolling in penitence.
"You speak reason, Malakai. Indeed, Angsar, let us see this errant squad of Guardsmen and perhaps we can...reason, with them.
Methinks that a mere word will get them marching in the proper direction.
As the Astartes walked he realized he was picking up an Imperial signal. Assuming it was a location beacon, he let his feet get to it how they will, and gave most of his attention on scanning the territory around him, wary of further ambushes by murders, or anything else not recorded by science.
It was only as he was almost on top of it that he realized it was not, in fact, a mountain.
Quite the opposite, it was the lake, the secondary rally point. Suddenly vexxed and piqued by this unforseen turn, he analyzed the signal and found that, while Imperial, it was just a comm unit, but designed to relay a message. And with it's message it seems fortuitous he had not moved directly to the mountain. As it should be.
It made sense what he had been chasing now, but he resolved to try and pay closer attention to his surroundings. The sayings amongst his battle-brothers when on this hodge-podge Deathwatch duty was that an Astartes in a company of Guardsmen has none to rely on but himself.
"Then we will give him trouble of his own," the Ultramarine said, springboarding off Malakai's report.
"Greetings. Karina, Ansgar. It is good you are not dead yet," he says, finishing his salutations. "Is this all that survived? We should follow the message and gather our host at the colony. There we can gauge our numbers and make appropriate plans."
Form a strong fist with which to smash your enemies. It's what Guilliman would do.
Brother-Captain Attero, Ultramarine Tactical Officer of the Adaptus Astartes checked the murder-beast to make sure it was dead. Having satisfied himself, he drew his chainsword and knelt in the unforgiving sand. He spent some time giving thanks to the the Emperor for victory in battle against so obvious a chaos spawn. Surely he stands high in his eyes this day! What a story this will make!
Rising he finally examined the beast. Indeed, he had seen nothing of its like in any holdvid detailing the myriad predators on the myriad other worlds he had seen or visited. This would be quite a find for the Tech Priests.
With them in mind he plucked a few still-intact vitals, an eye, a scale...and a mighty three-foot long tooth. Holding it aloft he took a few practice swings with it as he might a proper weapon and found it...fitting. It was so perfectly balanced his hand was having a hard time believing it had not been forged on Mars itself! It was as if it had been biding its time in a mouth for its entire life just waiting for someone to pluck it up and use it in swordplay.
Intrigued at the find he tucked it into his weapons belt and rose, feeling all was right in the world.
His internal A-TAC, the computer system that synced with his brain to maintain a proper list of priorities, maintained that a rendezvous at the primary rally point was still the current mission, and a little aerobic warm-up with some light sparing was no reason to think otherwise.
Lastly he bent and retrieved the plasma pistol. He cleaned off the tough little weapon and returned it to its place.
Then he was off.
That he was alone didn't matter. That he'd heard no return hails on his vox attempts didn't matter. That he might be the last remaining remnant of the Emperor's grace on this Throne-forsaken mudball didn't matter.
3) More music. The DeathStars actually are a terrible band. I've normally no use for Death Metal. So too, the Ultramarine movie was disappointing on all fronts. But you get those two crazy kids together? Let's just say if it's biceps day, I got this s!+& ON.
Also, it seems like everyone got a lot of candy-coated +2s that came in handy. I want to see if I can get in on that hot action.
Also also, as a GM'ing note, I'm a big believer that if a PC wins a fight, they should get candy. Otherwise you're just running survival horror which is totally depressing.
Also also also, in a book in the Horus Heresy series, on the planet Murder one of the space marines takes a Xeno arm and uses it like a sword for awhile.
Hence, my idea is to take one of the beast's huge teeth for a "+2 to a Fight roll" thingy.
"GRAAAH!" Attero yells as the murder tears a meaty chunk from his leg.
The plasma pistol and himself goes flying as the beast shakes him free from what was once part of his flesh and suit of armor.
But he spends little time thinking on it. Rising, he pulls up his faithful bolter and takes aim at the weakened spot of still-smoking black plasma'd flesh.
Terribly sorry but can't we roll Toughness to Defend?
It seems that if you are resisting damage, how tough you are would play a roll. Like, one could roll Fight to not get hit, or Toughness to concede the hit but only take negligible damage.
"Oh and sergeant. I wish you the best of luck if you run into any of my fellow team members." He flashes the man another smile. "I'm the least contradictory and military of the bunch..."
Just as he put pressure on the trigger the beast thrashed, spoiling the killing shot. The full-charge blast skittered against the steely hide along the jaw, losing much of it's lethality, but it had enough bite to rattle the murder beast, keeping it away from eating the Astartas and, more importantly, from immediately sinking away.
"My turn." He takes aim and pulls the trigger again.
I just wanted to mention this to anyone who doesn't obsess over Space Marines as much as I do. (Why someone wouldn't want to do that is beyond me, but whateves.)
The current answers for "Just what is all this Space Marine nonsense about anyway?" is summed up in a _very_ tightly packed video simply called Astartes. (The technical name for Space Marines is Adeptus Astartes. Hence.)
It kinda set the internet on fire and the original creator was put in charge of significant resources at GW to make more of this. And more of this is exactly what GW needs right now. So high hopes.
A lot of things happen in a short period of time. But that is the way of things.
The Space Marine decided to call the creature a "murder" since that seems to be all it is good for.
Indeed the murder looked like it was ready to snap his leg clean off, but it's smell was thrown off somehow. Probably from the massive amounts of gore that still hung about his person.
The less-than-direct attack allows the space marine to clamp one powerful fist around the top of the outstretched and gaping maw, holding doom at bay one heartbeat at a time.
"By Terra you are a warp-spawned horror. I must stand high in the eyes the Emperor this day for him to send so great a creature into my path. Your vanquishing will be a gift to all of MAN!"
His bolter his lets fall to hang by its lanyard. There's not enough room to wield it properly, and it doesn't have enough kick besides. This calls for something special.
His right hand goes to his waist and draws forth the plasma pistol, a holdover from his days in Assault. He thumb-flips the charger and lets it powerboost. His left arm quivers with the effort of keeping the jaws from taking his leg in one great bite, but he can hold it. For the rest of his life.
The instant his veteran mind sees the tell-tale blueglow of full power, he sticks the weapon into those teeth and pulls the trigger.
"Cease and Repent."
Using a Fate Point to let me use Shoot instead of Fight. Using a Fate Point to use "They will be of iron will and steely muscle" to use the muscle part. Using a Fate point for "With the mightiest guns will they be armed" to draw a plasma pistol. =]
Attero runs his auspex through a data analysis, ensuring that what he's seeing is, indeed, what he is seeing.
'Fortunate tactical placement,' he thinks. IF he had any corroborating data, he could place himself where he needed to.
Now that the immediate perimeter is secured, a plan comes into view.
First is to begin double-quick toward the primary objective, Mt. Serenity. That's not even a question.
Of course on the way it won't hurt to try and gain more data.
*Are any forces loyal to the Emperor able to here this?* he tries over his suit's internal vox.
He repeats the message a few times. While his comms are used to having a supporting ship in orbit to bounce signals off of, the local range might still be able to be picked up.
He keeps up a good pace, but his breathing is unaffected, and both his hearts have no problem taking on the double tasks. It's only running, and heresy grows through idleness.
Attero made a slow walk around the perimeter of the crash. He gazed along the horizon, letting the machine spirits of his personal upgrades and the auspex in his helmet compare notes about what he was seeing.
The unseen list of priorities unspooled in his head. First, motion. There are two types: Friendly, and soon to be dead. Then, the rally points. The mountain, the hill and the sea. Doubtful to see the sea if its far, but if he can't see any familiar elevations...then things get interesting.
Captain Attero extracted himself from the pile of viscera that had once been humans and stood.
He bade a moment, motionless. Silent. Allowing his scientifically-enhanced and genetically re-built senses to absorb all that was going on and determine the right course of action.
In this case it was to draw his bolter. The right thing is usually to draw his bolter.
Of the...guardsmen, he thought, adding a mental sneer the way one does when tower of sand does not hold against water...he gave not a thought. Nor of the blood, a lot of blood, that now stained his armor. He was used to blood. He did not relish it, the way his brothers in the Blood Angels or Blood Ravens might, but an Ultramarine does not shirk from it. It's only blood.
Nor did he give the deaths another thought. He had argued that all lifeboats should have drop-pod-class holsters in case he would have need of it. Of course, he would only have need of it in case of an ultimate, unforeseen emergency. Code Eight-niner-eight, the most likely order to evacuate, would allow him time to get to the assault craft, a boat designed to take a full squad of his brothers not just onto but through an enemy hull.
That Gold squad met its end here only serves as final proof that they were, to a man, heretics.
Heresy grows from idleness. Everyone knows that. Did these troopers wear their armor here they would still be alive. That they were called away from their first meal is no excuse. He sucked a packet of protein sludge on his way to chainsword training, and so only needed to don his helmet in his extrication. Had they lived and slept in armor, they would be alive. That they did not seems only just.
He thought of them no longer.
Besides, despair was a sign of weakness.
What he needed to do now was act. The destruction of the ship is proof of heretical threats. The weakness of Gold squad was proof of heretical threats. Obviously there were heretics that needed to die.
He slammed an armored fist on the button to blow the explosive bolts on the exit and, without hesitation, stepped onto whatever Throne-forsaken hellscape was there to greet him.
That's fine, although I was talking about your character's aspects and I think you're talking about their stunts. Aspects are always true and always applicable (at the cost of a Fate Point) and they relate to things that define your PC. I think power armour is a significant enough thing that it should be an aspect, rather than a stunt.
Ah! Apologies. I didn't catch the thing about Aspects, but only because I'm not that bright.
Aspect 1: "They will be of iron will and steely muscle."
Aspect 2: "In great armour shall I clad them." Mark VII Power Armor.
Aspect 3: "With the mightiest guns will they be armed." Bolter, Frags, Kraks, and little of everything else.
Then some Stunts have to be re-worked.
Stunt 2: "They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them." +2 Toughness vs. disease or poison
Stunt 3: "They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines and they shall know no fear." +2 to Zeal against Fear effects and Warp Corruption.
You should probably have an Aspect that mentions your power armor, since that is a major thing that you have which none of the others do.
How about:
2) Faith (and my Mark VII Power Armor) is my shield.
=]
I got...some...ideas for my third:
3) They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them: +2 Toughness vs. disease or poison
3) They will have tactics, strategies and machines so that no foe can best them in battle: +2 Leadership when faced by agents of Chaos.
3) They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines and they shall know no fear: +2 to Zeal against Fear effects and Warp Corruption.
"Atlas, are you just going through The Emperor's description of Space Marines and coming up with something appropriate?"
Now for a real Trouble: My hatred for Heretics burns like a thousand suns. Some say that my desire to crush all they touch is, itself, heretical.
Some thoughts on numberZ.
Fight or shoot, shoot or fight? Ansgar has 4 Fight so that makes me +4 Shoot.
"Now you are a Devastator, brother."
Actually, wait. By "Heavy Weapons" does that include anything man-portable? If so I should probably go Gunnary.
Mrrmph, Ansgar also has 3 at Toughness and Zeal. (Are you sure you're not a Space Marine?) I can't copy that so I'll take +3 Toughness and....+3 Perception. Cybernetic Auspex.
At 2 we need Fight, and Zeal, and Athletics, I guess.
1 we get Approved Lore ("Wait, is that Kill the Zeno and Burn the Heretic? Or the other way around?") and Survival, and Intimidation and Leadership. (I'd take Heretical Lore if it wasn't so very very heretical.)
Stunts:
1) Cybernetic Auspex: I can see in the dark.
2) Faith is my shield: I can spend a Fate Point to avoid all damage from a single attack.
3) Zeal is it's own excuse: Due to an all-consuming zeal to destroy the creatures that were once human or Astartes but are now slaves to Chaos, I get +2 to Shoot, Fight, or Gunnary to overcome obstacles set by Chaos agents.
Read your background. You've bounced around a bit it seems. How long have you been on Rifts Earth, and how long have you been with the Legion?
As for your name, were you a Captain before joining the Legion, or are you thinking you are a Captain with the Legion? Second, obviously you will have to be inKingsdale to join up with the group. Why were you there? On leave, seeing someone, on official business?
1) I'd like to say I've been on this Earth five years. 104 PA is long enough to have had friendly relations with the Coalition, join Tolkeen, see Tolkeen raised, and then join the Legion right after it falls. So, I've been with the Legion a few months as one of the refugees from Tolkeen.
2) Yes to both a Captain before and one now, but if that's an issue I can just cross out Captain, write in Sergeant, and use a different alias.
3) We could keep it easy and say that the Legion did not trust the Ambassador with only that one hot-shot Power Armor pilot as a security guard. =)
But if not, then, yes, some kind of official capacity.
As her whip secures her a rather awkward and uncomfortable hitchhiking, and armored form flies out of the helicopter and hovers near Whipoorwill.
"Greetings," his voices booms out over his vox. "Kara would like to extend to you invitation to join her at table and travel in comfort. She is currently serving mojitos and gourmet popcorn, but anything can be managed," he says, as politely as a commander of an elite military unit that is now playing a waiter and matre d' can.
If Clayten would like to join us, the same invitation would be extended to him. =3
Fort vs. bang +1
Fort vs. bang +1:1d20 + 11 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 11 + 1 = 21 Fort vs. bang +1:1d20 + 11 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 11 + 1 = 16 Fort vs. bang +1:1d20 + 11 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 11 + 1 = 31 Fort vs. bang +1:1d20 + 11 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 11 + 1 = 17 Fort vs. bang +1:1d20 + 11 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 11 + 1 = 21
PFC Yamamoto "Shogun" Kurita shakes off the effects of the flash grenade and moves to join the wedge of LexSec moving deeper into the looming dark.
"COWARD!" Attero yells as he matter-of-factly hands his flashlight to the knife-wielding Shogun. Kurita sweeps his light in unison with CPL. Jack Powers and Attero keeps both hands on his warhammer even as his booming voice screams ahead full.
The fear effect rolls off the LexSec like machinegun fire at a main battle tank. The underworld is awash with rumors that the final step of training for the LexCorp Security squad is to sit alone with Kara Luthor herself. The hardened men are tied to a chair while she probes their heads, bringing their deepest fears up, while they cry, scream, beg and throw up for days on end. But no one ever quits. You either die of freight, or you sit quietly...returning her calm smile.
The rumors also say, when she was told why she had to do this, the bald man answered her, saying, without irony. "They are my space marines. And they shall know no fear."
Then he laughed.
All LexSec have the Fearless feat. XD
"I knew Stephanie too," the Captain says, back in reality. "She was a good kid. She'd used to eat at the family table sometimes, when Arthur was either on the bottle or in the clink. She grew up to have bad taste in men, but I didn't think it would be fatal. Worse that should come of that is a house full of bairns without a husband.
But then she met you. Didn't she?
DIDN'T SHE!?
YOU failed her! YOU led her on! _I_ wouldn't give a small child an empty gun and lead them to the battlefield but that's what YOU DID!
You either train them _right_ or you don't train them at all! You gave her a glimpse at power, filled her head with big dreams, then you LET HER GO!
All she wanted to do was impress you, so she rolled with the big boys. Does it bother you more that they killed her, or that they TORTURED HER FIRST!
Or no, those don't bother you.
You just worry if she talked.
COME TALK TO ME, LITTLE MAN! Seventy four men have worn the AS7-D, but only ONE has ever been called captain! He is Atero Dominatus, and he stands before you!
One of of the LexSec, Captain Attero himself, possessor of the only operating AS7-D Atlas-class Assault Suit, stomps over to Gigabyte and hands him a small metal ingot.
Closer examination shows it to be a bluetooth-enabled L-Phone X.
*kssk*You may as well use it. A comm is no good if I'm the only one that has one.*kssk*
The L-Phone is remarkably compatible with most technology, but its playlist is a bit light on HipHop.
Although it has an -Epic- collection of METAL on it.
Huh. I had thought I'd never again see that particular video on youtube again. It's been deleted every time it's up because the Lord of UpOnHigh don't like that it combines so many different videogames into one vid. Although it's the BEST video of that song I've _ever_ seen. =3
Waiting on Imagine's action to see if I have time to give Unhuman a hug or not. Oh don't make that face. You don't know how I give hugs. ;-)
As Imagine annoyingly takes time out of the battle to chat with the superheroes, Captain Attero spots the squad of drones ruthlessly attacking the luminescent Dr. Fate and, with a quick series of barked orders, gets his remaining men over to firing range.
Hitting a selector on their Warhammer rifles, they switch over to the more conventional assault rifle configuration, and deluge his attackers in hot lead!
Autofire power 10. Toughness save DC 25.
Drone1 Toughness Save!:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
Drone2 Toughness Save!:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
Drone3 Toughness Save!:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22
Autofire power 7. Toughness save DC 22.
Drone4 Toughness Save!:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Autofire power 10. Toughness save DC 25.
Drone5 Toughness Save!:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
The drones fall to the ground under a withering fire.
The Captain floats toward Dr. Fate and his deep radio-enhanced voice extends salutations. "Greetings, sir. Your efforts are greatly appreciated. However it appears that your colleague needs some assistance." He points one gauntleted hand toward Gigabyte, who is assaulted by the drones' net.
