Andreyich

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

The Confessor didn't turn to look back, but he was fairly satisfied that after his rallying cry he heard the movement of feet followed by munitions flying over either shoulder to show that it worked. As he reached the enemy, he was pleased to find the first few men he planned to give a taste of the old maul had already died in the counter-charge of the loyalists. But there were still more than enough to go around and with a low pitched growl he swung his weapon hitting a too late to dodge heretic right in the stomach. That part of the man affected was flattened, before hitting the ground making the poor fellow bisected. The next one seemed a little more clever, ducking under the first swing of the Confessor, then the second and jumping over the third. As his feet hit the ground the villain extended a cleaver bearing hand to get Horacio by the armpit where his carapace wouldn't protect him. It hurt oh how it hurt, but the Cleric squeezed pressed his arm to his torso so the man couldn't retract his blade back and in his surprise got a kick in the fork. Craning over in sudden pain the warrior didn't have long to suffer as his head vapourized thanks to a swing from the maul.

The Confessor was bleeding, and already the mere two kills had gotten his aged body some tiredness. But a rage at the sight of everything before him filled his veins and he couldn't even wait to end the next foe in melee combat. His shotgun was unslung and the rack of the slide was the only thing that would precede things going dark for a heretic. A hearty laugh emanated from the geezer as he almost perfectly imitated the two kills with his maul by first splitting a crying man in two, before having his blast liquefy another man's head. He forced it down as it seemed combat was dying down, and the frog-like laugh from the belly wouldn't be appreciated (especially if casualties were taken). Horacio scoured the battlefield, looking among the dead heretics for those who might still be alive. A quick thump with the maul would make sure they were dead very fast. It wasn't a mercy killing, oh no these men deserved to die. But he knew that as one's last energy escaped them it often left altogether giving some men a chance to give a final pull of the trigger.

A slight whistle was under his lips to take his mind off of the blood coming from his armpit, he had more urgent things to do. He took out his Rosarius and reached for some incense, using the power-field of his power maul to ignite it and let off some smoke. Waving his Rosarius in one hand and swinging the smoke-belching maul in another Horacio walked around the battlefield muttering a simple prayer under his breath. After several minutes of this he finished his words, and went to a clump of the Cekrov Guards. "Oi, you lot." He said, motioning to them with his power maul. "Gather the bodies of the foe, and their weapons. Pile it up so I can burn it. No nicking any of their shit or you'll end up just like them... come on, get to it!" he bellowed, giving a few authoritative waves of his maul to them. Watching them to go on following his not exactly orders because a Priest can't order a soldier but he can do much much worse he picked up a dropped tabac stick of one of the men, and with a single heavy pull finished the entirety of the thing's length.

He followed the troopers, leaning on his maul with his hands on the handle to make a rest for his chin. Noticing the dripping of blood again he reached for a handkerchief he brought with him, rolling the thing up and then squeezing it between torso and arm just as the cleaver not too long ago. With that done he went back to watching the soldiers in their duty, pointing out if they missed an ear or a magazine or knife on the ground, even telling one of the men to get a rag and soak up a puddle of blood in it after he noticed the man's grumbling. When the Guards were finally done he told them to sod off, before going to the foul smelling pile. Horacio removed a tank of promethium from one of the flamers and poured out its remaining contents across what was about to become a pyre leaving a few droplets to make a trail for ignition. He dropped his bloody rag on it, before striking down with his maul again to have the powerful set it all ablaze.

"Dies Irae Dies Illa...." The Confessor sang, letting incense smoke join the foul haze made by all the dead burning. This was a job that had to be done right away. Many worlds thought they dealt with their corruption when they simply killed the heretics and buried them somewhere far off or even dumped their corpses in a forest. But be it plucky children digging in cursed graves or animals consuming flesh of the damned, if improperly disposed of the presence of heresy would always resurface almost cyclically until eventually a loyal world would fall. Finally, with this duty done he put away all his tools of trade and approached his group. He didn't really say anything, he didn't have much energy left in him but he had enough to listen to wherever it was deemed they would go next.

Fallout: Rust and Steel

Mildly concussed but invigorated by all that had so recently transpired, Daniel stepped off to follow the Paladin in clearing the building as ordered. Yet, as he went after the man he found his trigger discipline very poor and the crosshairs of his M14 trained upon the neck of the Paladin. Back on the vertibird, he had without a moment of thought changed his rifle’s ammunition to armour piercing.

At some point after a room or two was checked to be free of foes and the pair was out of speaking-volume earshot of the squad, Daniel couldn’t hold it in anymore. “You had no right to do what you did.” He said, contempt dripping off of his voice.

Slow and groaning, Paladin Moss turned toward the young knight. “You really want to poke that bear, kid? It’s not too late. We both took some hits back there,” Moss offered before, scanning the large open space. An old mess hall, likely. “Maybe I misheard you. Because if I didn’t, well, I might need to rethink your field promotion.”

"Do you even-" started the reply of Daniel, the accusatory words rehearsed several times in his head. Only as his sentence stopped did he come to realize what the Paladin had said. A whole speech was prepared in the green warrior's head about how Moss by his actions spat on his holy book, about how the Brotherhood of Steel was known as a Brotherhood for a reason and that as Paladin he was to be the most gallant and chivalrous of them all. But in five sentences all those words were swallowed and forgotten. "A-a promotion?" he stuttered. Really, climbing the ladder to eventually become Paladin was one of the few things in life Daniel wanted.

He stopped in his tracks, his attitude to the Paladin changing in moments as he was played like a fiddle. But… Something in the Knight's head rebelled. Something that told him to heed the meaning of his rank, to remember who he was and why. That something fought hard and eventually it did manage to push through after compromise with the rest of his mind. Daniel clutched his head as a pang of suffering came from what was his concussion, but felt like his guilt and consciousness. It settled down though, and through heavy breathing the Knight asked the Paladin a question. "Alright, alright… just, please, Sir. Be honest with me. If you were in a similar situation where us coming to get you was a great risk for the whole squad, would you understand if we left you behind the same way to save ourselves? Does… Does God forgive us for what we did?"

The question hung in the air. Moss glanced over his shoulder at the unexplored halls and corridors of the facility, which while unknown seemed almost certainly empty. It was a small compound. Perhaps an outpost to stage civilian rescues or some other purpose far removed from combat. No distractions. No escape from the question.

“With my heart I believe and am justified,” the paladin recounted, his voice little more than a sigh. “I walk the path of the Lord, which shall never be put to shame.”

Placing a hand on the young knight’s shoulder, Moss sighed, “A leader must act. There is no room for doubt. Remorse is an intoxicant we cannot afford.” He stepped back and gestured to the entrance. “This place will do for tonight. Rally the squad. We’ll make camp here. Get our bearings and regroup. Once everyone is collected I’ll announce your new role as knight-sergeant. Before you go,” the paladin paused. “Initiate Grimshaw seems surprisingly capable. A skilled sharpshooter. Not the worst role for a female knight, I think. You think she’s ready?”

The Knight's breathing got heavier with every syllable of the Paladin, a hope his words would bring some sort of resolution to all the thoughts going through Daniel's head. He was about to give a salute, before the Paladin asked him a question.

"Well, Sir," he began thoughtfully. "she is a great shot sir, yes. Quick thinking too. I wouldn't have suggested it unprompted but I have no reason not to, now that you mention it. Your judgement, I suppose. Ad Victoriam." he gave the planned salute, before turning on his heels to call the rest of the squad inside.

“Ad Victoriam,” Moss replied before beginning preparations inside.

Fallout: Rust and Steel

Daniel lay where he was after being hit in the warehouse, largely ignorant to anything save the ringing louder than a point blank minigun report in either ear. It died down eventually, and with that came the realization of other things. The dizziness and blurriness assaulting his vision were a two pronged attack that made orienting himself nigh impossible. But he was just about able to make out the Paladin stepping out of the building. Hoping to follow him Daniel got upright, before falling down. Several such false starts recurred before at last he was on his feet. Now then, what was he up to? Oh, yes, following the Paladin. He didn’t notice the arrived horde of ghouls, nor the dust-raising Deathclaws. Getting to the Paladin and the Vertibird, yes that was the mission. It was weird what part of the soldier’s consciousness were working well and which ones weren’t, because the ones to notice this very fact were good as new, not to mention the ones hoping others wouldn’t see the almost drunken way he got to the chopper.

Only getting aboard was more of his mind liberated from his injury and he was becoming slowly aware that Gregory was being left behind from the rest of the squad. All the worse for poor McDowell’s fate, Daniel for now couldn’t process all this. “W...wait….” he managed weakly, the words stifled by a hysterical laugh. It would likely last longer than anybody hearing it through his helmet and the air would find comfortable, but eventually it ended with the young Knight asleep.

---

The lad opened his eyes, instantly noticing several changes in his environment. He was sans helmet, everything outside of the Vertibird was jetblack and he was alone in it. Except… there was that unknown lightsource making everything bright. “No… no. No-no-no-no-no-no!” he cried clutching his head as once more those he believed to be his ancestors materialized around him. His vision though was filled with the images of Gregory now being abandoned to an inevitable death. They were so sharp, the image of the man alone before mutated beasts as though right before him.

“Were we wrong?” a figure in T45 power armour demanded. “Were we wrong?” The phrase echoed through the hundred spectres going well past the confines of the vertibird. “Papa, why did you fail Gregory?” demanded a child by his feet. “Is it the same reason you will fail me?” the girl continued, the movement by words making it apparent a laser scorched her dead just above the cheek. The whole display made Daniel recoil with a high-pitched cry but his attempts to distance himself were in vain. The same man in ancient plate held him by one shoulder and his grandfather by the other. “You dishonour your blood.” The historical Knight said. “You bring shame upon your Brotherhood, upon the family name. You had all those books, all those lessons, all that training; shouldn’t you know better than to be a coward?”

Daniel was squirming in their grips, they were somehow painful through the power armour he himself was wearing. “Please I-” the young Knight started in his defence, but a chorus resounded: “Silence!”

“You disgusting creature.” This was Maria Livesey, another one of Daniel’s grandparents. “We died for the Brotherhood we died for our comrades and what do you do? You run! You cannot live with your failures, you wasted ever more time outside of the ranges on stupid trifles and to what end? You couldn’t hit a damn raider.”

“But-” the young man tried again, only to be cut off by who was apparently a Friar with a rock lodged in his throat. “McDowell, he was a hero. He put himself under the attention and weight of fire of all those heathens but you? You didn’t even attempt to return this act.”

A gob of spit came into the victimized Knight’s eyes, which when cleared revealed a bearded man donning a morion helm leaning upon a pike. “It should have been you, Daniel. It shames me to say it, and I would never have thought anyone else in history could think so. But I wish you my boy, my flesh, my progeny, I wish you would have died instead of the honourable Knight-Sergeant.” Tears were running down his face as if from a faucet, and through gasps for air Esteves just about managed to say “I’m sorry.”

”YOU’RE SORRY?” Daniel’s face was splattered in blood as a decapitated figure in familiarly massive T60 power armour raised him before thrusting him against the wall. He was face to face with a throat squirting more and more blood, but all the ancestors came closer to stare upon him so he could see every long dead pore.

“Is that really all you can say?” a voice hissed in his ear, one he couldn’t turn to reply to. “I don’t think he needs to. He was given everything, but he is worth nothing. Perhaps it better he doesn’t wake up, perhaps it better he no longer burdens his squad and squanders that which he bears?”

“Join us, boy. We would hate your company of course but do it nonetheless.” A voice said. “Oh don’t worry about it my boy, it is damnation for his ilk!” chimed in another. “It would be better than to go on defiling our memory.” His grandparents said as one. “An end to thy guilt, thy misery.” Boomed the plated warrior. Daniel looked down to see that - without any prompt - his recharger pistol had materialized in his hand. His hand was trembling, but through his partial (but present) consent it slowly rose reaching height of his breast. But this ever dramatic moment was interrupted a momentary shake bringing Daniel to consciousness.

---

He was in the Vertibird, but for real this time (or so he hoped). Daniel looked about, seeing they were landing somewhere and in anticipation of exploring unknown grounds the Knight loaded a fresh magazine into his M14, flicking the safety off. The man then disembarked from the vessel, giving a half-hearted “Yes-Sir.” at the orders he was given. He could still feel the effects of his self-diagnosed but likely accurate concussion, but for the most part he was physically much better for the sleep he had. “Lead the way Sir.” He said, tapping his headlamp alight only to remember it was broken and that same spot hurt alot. He cursed under his breath, sprinting for a second to catch up to the Paladin. “On to glory, Ad Victoriam.”

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

@Lady Selune from your character's description it didn't seem they're the combat sort so you shouldn't be really worried about competing with immortals?

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

Alright folks, status update. My PC graphics card and laptop motherboard decided to team up and die at the same time. I'm still posting but I will be slower writing up new ones

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

I think the CS explained it. Psykers aren't allowed in commorragh but it's a place where rules to be broken. There's a key kaballite what wears the psychic skin of a farseer and gets away with it because he was rich and powerful

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

hexcuse me I'm an alpha legionnaire inconspicuous is my name

Fallout: Rust and Steel

Visibility was key. The paladin stood watch several yards from the warehouse doors. Surrounded by the rusted out hulls of pre-war cargo trucks offered some shred of comfort. Enough cover to take shelter from whatever threats hid beyond the hills without straying too far from his comrades inside. They were taking a while, McDowell and Grimshaw. Moss tried the squad com to no avail. He glanced to the hills, curious and hopeful the young knight scouting was faring better.

As if on queue, Estevez appeared. He wasn’t alone.

"Hey! I found something! I saw a bit from the vertibird, I got the Knight-Sergeant's hammer out of a crate and I found my rucksack. I think if we keep going past the creek that the box was stuck in we might find the bird or... well, what's left of the rest of our team." The young Knight called out, stepping in to the warehouse ready to give the hammer to Gregory who he was expecting back by now. But Paladin Moss seemed interested in staying outside, looking for or at something. Daniel leaned the hammer on a wall inside the warehouse before stepping back out to trace the gaze of the Paladin. “Oh. Sorry, Sir. Didn’t notice them on my way back.”

He unslung his M14, extending the bipod and attaching his optics before placing his gatling laser on ground beside himself. “I’m sure they told you Sir but I’m a good shot, hit bullseyes well beyond the effective range of my weapons back in D.C.. I can pick off a few while they’re getting here and once they’re in range you can help out. If there’s much left the Gatling Laser will deal with them and if not I’ll use my recharger or knife, maybe McDowell’s super sledge. No point wasting ammunition. Let’s get some cover inside, alright?”

Assuming the Paladin had no objections Daniel took his gear inside, setting up his rifle on a window facing the raiders. Satisfied with both bipod and optics he would take aim at a raider, centre mass. His rifle was long barrelled and spat .308s, and as such he didn't waste time aiming for the head. He wasn't interested in showing himself off, rather in preserving bullets. A headshot would be more impressive of course, but if his weapon would more than deal with what makeshift armour Wastelanders in such a shithole could have then centre mass would be the ideal target.

So Daniel took aim, and pulled the trigger. Only as the bullet flew it dawned on him he was taking his first human life.

The shot sounded like the bottle cap flicking off of a Nuka Cola. A strange way to begin a firefight, but Moss had little choice about that now. His young comrade moved hastily into combat. Fired the first shot. No thought to diplomacy, not that the paladin would have entertained that anyway.

Moss took a position behind a cargo truck parked with its length shielding them from the incoming raiders. He could see the M14 peeking out from a window in the warehouse as well as the sparks from enemy fire. None of it close to Estevez. The silencer had done its job.

Seconds passed before the first of the raiders came around the truck. They wore a blend of thick fabrics and scrap fashioned into a metal cuirass. Despite the dirty, makeshift nature of it, the material might actually be an issue for his laser rifle. The raider ran with their pipe pistol forward, firing twice. One shot flew high above his shoulder, while the second glanced off the thick chestplate of his armor. Moss stepped forward and swung the butt of his rifle. It caught the raider on the ear, knocking them into the truck before the rifle fell directly onto their crown. The paladin heard a sickening thud as the raider crumpled onto the ground.

Others ran by the truck without notice. Some shaking in mid ran, as if electrified, before falling into the dirt. Others fortunate enough to avoid Estevez’s attention, instead finding cover behind the other vehicles. Moss dealt with them as needed.

The field had nearly cleared when one of the smaller vehicles caught flame. Suddenly the raiders concentrated their fire on this single target and, before Moss could act, it erupted. The explosion flung him back several feet onto the rusted remains of another car.

A breath, a squeeze, and a bullet spat. It seemed to Daniel as easy to kill these raiders as radroaches, he was told it would be hard to take his first human life and it worried him that it wasn't. But when you're at threat of being killed that neither here nor there, and so he repeated the cycle. Breathe, squeeze, adjust.

But as he was picking off the targets, it seemed the raiders weren't as stupid as Brotherhood leadership described Wastelanders. The car the Paladin's cover was by became the target of the foe and after moments of heavy fire it exploded sending the men momentarily airborne.

Daniel knew he had to do something, lest they swarm his stricken leader and end his life. The Knight lowered his rifle and with an exercised motion unscrewed the silencer, before flicking his rifle to fully automatic. Returning it to its bipod he took aim at the largest grouping of raiders and held the trigger down until the magazine was exhausted. Hopefully this would suppress the foe along with killing a few. It might even scare them off entirely, but if not then at the very least he hoped the sudden cacophony would being the attention onto Daniel long enough for Paladin Moss to recover and possibly even flank the raiders.

But now that the attention of the Raiders would be on Daniel he knew he wouldn't want to catch their bullets. His magazine was empty and so he removed it before slapping in another. But he was feeling clever, perhaps in a burst of arrogance. He propped the barrel of his rifle on the sill of the window to make it appear to those on the outside he was taking cover behind it, while in truth he sprinted on to a window further away with his recharger pistol drawn. He would wait for the sound of more shooting (with luck at the position of the propped rifle) before once more peeking out and unleashing laser fire on the raiders. With even more luck, they would be now at a distance that his pistol would not lose any efficacy due to range.

So the young knight wasn’t so green after all. The paladin ignored the stiffness in his back and rolled off the bed of rusted steel. It wouldn’t be long until the raiders recognized the tactic. While Estevez let loose onto the field, Moss found a defensible position.
They’d lost ground. Whatever tricks Estevez was using were certainly keeping him alive, even at the absence of the M14’s report left Moss unnerved. Still, the tide was pushing against them. The trick with the vehicles won the raiders more ground and there were plenty more of the pre-war relics to set off.

Moss glanced back at the warehouse long just long enough to salute. Slapping a fresh cell into his rifle, he spun out from cover and charged into the field. The raiders had taken up scattered positions, perhaps a strategy to avoid falling into their own traps. It also made spotting them quickly a challenge.

A round sparked off his left pauldron. He whispered a prayer of gratitude and lifted the laser rifle high enough to fire. The red beam seared his assailants metal cuirass and severed their exposed bicep. He caught a glimpse of the arm falling away as a clank on his right alerted him to another raider. Once again he turned and fired from the hip. The shot flew low, catching his opponent in the knee and sending him tumbling. He cringed. Normally the paladin would fire again, mercy more than anything, but it wasn’t yet clear if he had the shots to spare. Besides, another raider was calling.

The paladin dropped to a knee behind a small cement barrier, his freshly bludgeoned foe still twitching on the ground beside him. They’d made a dent. A second to reload, then onward. It was slow work, but between Estevez on overwatch and their superior armor it seemed to be working. He stood, promptly firing at a raider dashing to cover.

Heard a heavy thud. His left shoulder jolted back before the rest of his body followed. Bits of metal, of his pauldron pinged off his helmet. Something had broken through.

Moss rolled back behind the cement barrier. Pulling the fresh corpse on top of him, praying the young knight acted fast.

It seemed Daniel wasted a whole lot of .308 for nothing, as the men did not scatter in fear for his automatic burst. But, at least his trick with the propped rifle worked. Shots rang out hoping to hit his previous position, but he wasn't there and thus got a chance to let out a burst of laser fire from his pistol to the crisping of much flesh, and the noise sickened him. But it was necessary.

He muttered "Ad Victoriam." as the Paladin saluted him, until the faintest bullet trail came into vision at the same time as the racket of a high calibre rifle. The shot slammed into the shoulder of Paladin Moss, making the Knight drop to cover. They had a sharpshooter with a weapon that would with just a few lucky hits turn any man even with power armour into one of the dead.

Hurriedly the Knight crawled to his rifle, glad he didn't try to save time not reloading it earlier. The Paladin was in trouble now and he had not a second to spare. He didn't bother with the bipod simply resting his rifle on the window sill, scanning the battlefield for his prey. He caught sight of his mark and after getting him in his crosshairs fired.

The young Knight missed. The fellow was clearly not just a jet-for-blood lowlife of the wasteland, he zigged and zagged before stopping to return fire. The. 50 flew fast, hitting the Knight square in the chest. It would have hurt a lot if not for his Recon gear underneath the power armour but instead it was just a punch or kick.

But while this was his first rodeo the young man wasn't an idiot to underestimate what he dealt with. He skipped two windows before taking new cover. He unfolded the bipod this time to take proper aim. The rifle's optics scanned the scene, eventually coming upon the threatening raider. He fired, and his bullet hit flesh. Problem was, Daniel didn't realize the raider he hot was already dead. The high-powered rifle he was holding was swiped aside and a shot flew at the Knight's chest again. It ricocheted, flying upwards to lodge itself in his helmet just nanometres away from having been deflected into his throat. The slightest shift, and Daniel would have been dead.

He dropped back to his cover, sitting against the wall. His breath was getting faster and faster as his hands got a definite shaky quality. Cold sweat rolled down the soldier's face while bullets whistled on either side of him. The mind of Daniel tried to control his panic, and through it decided to contact the Initiate and Knight Sergeant. He didn't know how far they were but he had to try. "Get up here, now! – in combat!"

Hearing his own voice steadied Daniel's nerves, and as he scrabbled for his Gatling Laser he contacted the Paladin: "Sir, I'm sorry. Their Marksman is too good. I'll use my laser to lay down some cover, get back here fast. I… I can't deal with them like this, they're too good. Let's get them inside or at least closer, get in a situation our armour makes more difference okay?" though Daniel was still perfectly articulate, the Paladin would more than be able to hear the fear in the young Knight's voice.

As he held his Gatling Laser the lad looked side to side wondering where to strike until an idea struck him. He walked back to build up some momentum, before running forth and bursting through a wall. The moment the lenses of his heavy weapon saw the light of day it instantly began to spew searing beams across the landscape. He didn't hit much, all of this intended as just cover for Moss to get back. He noticed a cluster of raiders hiding behind a car and momentarily focused his fire on it resulting in another explosion.

"Hurry, Paladin!" Daniel cried out, keeping up the hail of fire as he slowly retreated himself to the depths of the warehouse.

The small fireball gave way to a plume of smoke. At least this time Moss was clear of the explosion, save the bits of debris sprinkling down from the sky. Warning helped. Let him brace, even if the shock of the thing still frazzled his senses.

Taking advantage of the haze, the paladin scrambled to his feet and ran back toward the warehouse. Ahead of him, far too the left, a chunk of the ground seemed to burst into the air. A failed attempt at his life. He ran faster, struggling through the growing resistance in his power armor’s joints. He couldn’t endure another shot. Estevez was right, this guy was too good.

But fortune was the side of the paladin. He barreled into the warehouse, sliding a stop and slamming the doors in one motion. A hole punched through the door a few feet from his head. The size of a mutfruit.

“Get down here and help me barricade these doors,” Moss shouted, anger and embarrassment flaring. "Yessir." Came the quick reply of the Knight, who rushed over with what debris he could grab and - just in case - some satchel charges.

Fallout: Rust and Steel

As the Knight kneeled by the Initiate he looked up to see McDowell rebuke him angrily to which Daniel gave a non-confrontational "Sorry, Sir." before returning his attention to Grimshaw. "Good!" he replied when she said she was indeed alright, helping the woman to her feet. "Don't worry, Initiate. You'd have done the same if you had the opportunity. Ad Victoriam." he said, before following his two comrades to rendezvous with the Paladin.

Daniel saluted to Moss, calling out his name and station reporting for duty as had Laura and Gregory. The Paladin gave them their orders to look through the warehouse, before turning to Daniel. “Esteves, I want you to explore the perimeter. See if you can spot the wreckage. Keep an eye out for signs of activity, who knows what we fell into here. I’ll stand guard in this position. Check in. We’re not losing anyone else today.” Elliott barked, to which the Knight quickly responded with a "Sir, yes Sir!"

The Knight was unarmed save for the Recharger pistol and combat knife with him, but he was also in power armour. He held both weapons in either hand before going off to explore the Wasteland. Truly this was a vile landscape, every single step through it incrementing the reading of radiation given to him by his helmet. His targetting HUD picked up a few readings of enemies in the distance, but it was mere radroaches, molerats and bloatflies which he ignored for the most part. The few that he came upon in his travels would easily be dispatched with a single swipe of his knife or a pull of the trigger. But there was much worse in the locale. Much larger bugs were flying about, stuff he did not want to interact with. He didn't know if they could get past his power armour but he wasn't particularly interested in finding out. At the very edge of his sight range he saw the all too familiar ghouls and Deathclaws.

Yet, in spite of the all out hostility of the land there were signs of civilization. But not just the relics of the Old World across all of America, somebody was here recently. Remnants of tent pitching, trashed fire pits, cans of foodstuffs with moisture still in them. There was even a rucksack that looked very similar to his. He approached it with his headlight shining upon it, and upon further examination it became clear it was in fact his. He rejoiced momentarily at having found his gear, quickly looking through it to make sure all was intact. Satisfied, he put away his pistol and knife and took out his M14.

The find invigorated Daniel, and with renewed strength he sped along the ground. He headed towards the red clouds finding much more of the same as before, the buttstock of his rifle used as a club to splatter what bugs impeded him. He considered turning back until eventually he came upon a creek of sorts, with much metal bits lying about in it. It was pristine rather than rusted by this wasteland and this made the lad hurry over to it. It was some sort of crate from the Vertibird which after stowing away his rifle he heaved onto dry(ish) soil. With little effort the man opened it, and voila there was McDowell's hammer. What had he called it again? Atomic Anne, yes that was it. Well, it certainly was a beauty of pre-war technology. He gave it a light twirl and a few experimental swings. Yes, Daniel was a marksman but with his training he could certainly appreciate the brutal efficiency of the weapon. It almost made him want to seek out foes on his way, to journey on and find something to splatter with each strike on a heroic search for the Vertibird.

But this was mere fantasy, he had orders and he would follow them. This weapon had to be returned to Gregory and he had to report his findings to the Paladin. In truth, he thought he was figuring out what had happened to the previous expedition. If they had flown the same way Moss's squad had then chances were they too came upon this radioactive hellhole and malfunctions would have struck them in a similar fashion to this squad. Since nobody would willingly live in such a place, the fact that there were signs of human life could only point to the presence of the Brotherhood of Steel.

Super-sledge in hand, Daniel sprinted back to the warehouse witch each footstep hitting the soil to much noise produced. True, he might arouse the interest of some local fauna but as remarked previously he had a subconscious interest in this. The warehouse entered his vision, but the built-in Geiger counter of his helmet seemed to spike far more than it had on his way to the creek.

Strange, perhaps, but soon apparent as to why. From the earth sprang a radscorpion, one glowing green. It didn't roar of course, bugs didn't tend to have the vocal chords to do so but it most certainly chittered menacingly. The young man was momentarily lost, but quickly resolve entered him and with a broad overhead swing the super-sledge hit the beast and flattened it's exoskeleton. Ichor splattered all over the Knight which he quickly wiped off for he knew lead plating wasn't an excuse to keep wet radiation upon himself.
It was a very, very satisfying encounter. But he had wasted enough time and quickly got to sprinting back towards the warehouse. He entered it hammer in hand, calling out to his team.

"Hey! I found something! I saw a bit from the Vertibird, I got the Knight-Sergeant's hammer out of a crate and I found my rucksack. I think if we keep going past the creek that the box was stuck in we might find the bird or... well, what's left of the rest of our team."

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

After Laszlo's appearance, Castigus didn't right away get his chance. Krynne seemed to deal with some sort of communique, before immediately after an Ogryn - clearly a Khornate of some sort - entered the scene. What with the ripper gun, the horns, and the cry that was either a demand or a praise of blood and skulls it was clear he was a Khornate. Well, another sack of muscle was nothing to be scoffed at. Then a man of some sort of frontier world came in, who after giving him a quick glance he dismissed for the most part. Just a grunt, he'd have to keep an eye out for him since he'd be far wiser than either of the ogryns and would certainly have a higher potency for deviousness but there was nothing about the gunslinger to say he'd be either a great asset or obstacle to the Alpha Legionnaire.

At last Castigus had his chance, and he spoke up. It was a short and quick introduction, as was expected. The Legionnaire knew that all this lack of bloodshed was taxing on the Night Lord. Nostroman Astartes were born to kill. It was their nature and to deny it was as cruel as any sort of torture. But Laszlo reasoned internally that this was necessary, and his cousin's abstinence from slaughter would soon be rewarded with great slaughter. After all, he didn't expect someone like Eromulus to be actually creative enough to assign anything beyond that to the Marines, even if Slaaneshis pretended to be great patrons of the arts.

Another figure followed, a woman who was clearly a Slaaneshi of some sort. He gave her a quick glance, and much as the gunslinger dismissed her. Of course the modifications in his head did their work making a more handsome visage under his helmet lest he need to ask something of the mortal woman, but he wasn't very sure he'd ever find his work parallel to her's and it was unlikely or impossible he'd get a chance to ask her of her services. Not that he'd want to, given the nature of anyone particularly devoted to any Chaos God save Khorne. Khorne in his simple, violent villainy was reliable and almost unchaotic in nature.

Almost on cue of his thoughts regarding Khorne, what he initially thought to be a Daemon stepped in. But... something was off about the bull headed beast. Slowly but surely the realization of what was before him dawned, and a single pulse of laughter came from him accompanied by a heave of his shoulders. He looked back to Castigus, and the fact his monstrous comrade was still somewhat taller if not exactly larger than the Khornate mutant Marine.

Regardless, it was time for work. The promise of slaves was not very enticing, the Alpha Legionnaire had no need for a few fleshbags that he wouldn't be able to so simply mould into operatives. At least, not quickly enough for the investment to not be easier to have been made from scratch. However, after this job, he imagined that Eromulus Krynne would indeed make for a potent ally. He followed Laverna into the shuttle, standing by his Brother with his combi-bolter at the ready.

He faintly listened to whatever chatter might emanate from the degenerates just in case it would come in useful in the future. But that was quite quickly interrupted. The ship came into some sort of turbulence which (given the realm they were in) was most likely anti-aircraft fire. The mortals flew, stumbling and striking the walls of the shuttle which elicited a hearty laugh from the Space Marine. In truth there was nothing humourous about the situation but the laughter was made to put all the airborne fools in their place. It was to make them feel small, to to make them feel insignificant and demeaned.

But in spite of this, the situation had to be saved. For starters, the people within the shuttle needed their pilot back. As though picking up a toy he lifted Laverna by a shoulder and then he placed her back into her seat and used a hand to brace her still to make sure no AA fire would again get her out of place.

"Get us down. Now. We'll do the job and then get vengeance on whoever did this." Laszlo said.