<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
This fight might end with Adrianne going all UNLIMITED POWER on the warp monstrosity!
Emperor Palpatine, if you would please?
Eisenhorn
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Emperor Palpatine, if you would please?
<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
That's daemons in a nutshell! They live for the moment, not thinking of the consequences ^^
(unless they're Tzeentchian!)
As for Maltheus, expect desperate crawling while we deal with Astrid's 10ft tall warp monstrosity... that also has awesome psychic powers, mainly biomancy and telepathy!
Oh I don't think our friend Maltheus will be going anywhere really quickly, not with a bayonet in his gut, and (once our good Sister is posted for) blown apart knee caps from a certain Armsman's pistol. And of course our 10ft tall warp monster has pysker powers, being born from a psyker and all!
This miiiiiight be Smiles time to shine since, well, Sis is shocked on the deck and Stukov is pretty much one stiff breeze from being knocked over again. Not sure how many more times he can take that, either.
<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
Pssh, considering Chaos, it could have been worse! :P 10ft isn't THAT big... all chaos-muties considered.
Imagine if Maltheus had empowered saleen instead, then we'd have to fight a giant daemonette who was already kicking our butts(aviza's at least) while in her default size! xD
Fair, but I blame Saleen for knocking the Galvanic Rifle right towards Stukov who, you know, for not having any vocal cords, being slammed about like a ragdoll in a tornado, and generally getting his ass handed to him by the untamed powers of the Warp that he is sporadically channeling, is the last person to give a really powerful rifle to. So I suppose we should thank Saleen for taking herself out of the equation, yea?
All I know is that when this warp spawn is dead, Maltheus is going to really, really, really not enjoy what happens next.
Great, as if things couldn't possibly get any better, we got ourselves a grossly oversized spawn of chaos.
Stukov glared callously at the black armored goon raising an autogun at him, intending to finish off the battered and wounded Armsman. To his credit, he had his sidearm trained on the man in return, even though it would take a good, well placed shot to punch through the abnormally thick carapace the goons appeared to be wearing. At least he gave Maltheus a damn good injury to worry about, might slow them down long enough for the rest of the retinue to catch up and put him out of his misery. As soon as the door blew off its hinges inwards, however, a battered, knowing grin was on the armsman's face. He knew what that was as Smiles and Sis stormed in, Sis holding some Cogboy rifle while Smiles was all her usual grand psyker power house. Some might have even called it a shit eating grin, because every single heretic in this room was about to get right proper destroyed. The one turning his autogun towards the two entering the room forced the downed Armsman to act, firing off several rounds that glanced off the black Carapace they were wearing, which promptly got his attention again before getting torn to shreds by bolter fire.
The cogboy rifle seemed to be frying the other thug before the man detonated, sending bits of carapace and blood all over the place. Well, shit, he needed one of those rifles, Stukov couldn't help but think as he started forcing himself into motion. Still fighting to be done, Astrid and her pet daemon, as well as dealing with Maltheus. Spotting the daemon before Sis did, he tried to get out a warning to her but little more than a gargled choking noise came out, as well as forcing him to spit blood onto the deck. Great, he couldn't speak, that was going to make things difficult. But the daemonette was besting the Sororitas sister, sending the cogboy rifle clattering right to his feet as it began sparking and glowing like it had right before Sis fired it before. "Not how I wanted to get one, but it will suffice." Stukov thought as he grabbed the thing, hauling it up to his shoulder and taking a dead aim on the Daemon. No fancy one liners, no bold quips, just a quiet trigger squeeze and the harsh noise of the weapon discharging, sending a round hurtling dead center of the daemonette. "How about no eye, you daemonic, warp spawned abomination..."
The rifle was discharged and that left Astrid, and Maltheus. The hostile psyker had gone and engaged Smiles and was giving her a rough time, and giving his newfound weapon a quick look over, he cycled the weapon's bolt and watched it charge back up. It wasn't a fast firing weapon, then, and he drew his sidearm, taking careful aim at the hostile psyker as she stood facing Smiles and opened fire, emptying the magazine her direction. Other than the mask, she hadn't appeared to be wearing heavy armor and the rounds he kept loaded in his Naval Pistol were devastating on flesh and light armor. Even then, it was all an effort to get the attention of the hostile psyker off Smiles as he stood up fully, rifle in one hand and the Naval pistol in the other, empty magazine dropping as he slung the rifle, reloading the sidearm while the cogboy rifle recharged. He was keeping half an eye out for Maltheus trying to run, because if he did, he would be gunned down. That man had his bayonet, and he would be reclaiming it before this was said and done.
The cogboy rifle seemed to be frying the other thug before the man detonated, sending bits of carapace and blood all over the place. Well, shit, he needed one of those rifles, Stukov couldn't help but think as he started forcing himself into motion. Still fighting to be done, Astrid and her pet daemon, as well as dealing with Maltheus. Spotting the daemon before Sis did, he tried to get out a warning to her but little more than a gargled choking noise came out, as well as forcing him to spit blood onto the deck. Great, he couldn't speak, that was going to make things difficult. But the daemonette was besting the Sororitas sister, sending the cogboy rifle clattering right to his feet as it began sparking and glowing like it had right before Sis fired it before. "Not how I wanted to get one, but it will suffice." Stukov thought as he grabbed the thing, hauling it up to his shoulder and taking a dead aim on the Daemon. No fancy one liners, no bold quips, just a quiet trigger squeeze and the harsh noise of the weapon discharging, sending a round hurtling dead center of the daemonette. "How about no eye, you daemonic, warp spawned abomination..."
The rifle was discharged and that left Astrid, and Maltheus. The hostile psyker had gone and engaged Smiles and was giving her a rough time, and giving his newfound weapon a quick look over, he cycled the weapon's bolt and watched it charge back up. It wasn't a fast firing weapon, then, and he drew his sidearm, taking careful aim at the hostile psyker as she stood facing Smiles and opened fire, emptying the magazine her direction. Other than the mask, she hadn't appeared to be wearing heavy armor and the rounds he kept loaded in his Naval Pistol were devastating on flesh and light armor. Even then, it was all an effort to get the attention of the hostile psyker off Smiles as he stood up fully, rifle in one hand and the Naval pistol in the other, empty magazine dropping as he slung the rifle, reloading the sidearm while the cogboy rifle recharged. He was keeping half an eye out for Maltheus trying to run, because if he did, he would be gunned down. That man had his bayonet, and he would be reclaiming it before this was said and done.
Long post is long, and here I am making such short posts in return.
Stukov went to fire the autogun and put this madness to an end, and yet as much as his mind and soul wanted, his body rebelled and remained frozen, shuddering subtly as he fought to force the finger of his trigger hand down enough to discharge the weapon, but no matter how close he got it wasn't enough. A grimace spread on his face as he forced his head far enough to see, in his perephrial vision, the one behind him that was apparently causing this. Gold mask, the bitch from the servo skull recording. So the two events were linked after all, couldn't call him surprised in that regard. The cloud of smoke revealing a daemonette certainly didn't help matters at all as he strained against the invisible bindings on him, the unseen chains tormenting him and preventing him from acting against his target so close in front of him, the strain would be noticed by Astrid as abnormal, since it suggested a sheer determination to never give in or buckle. The perfect kind of man that Chaos loved to break, when they could, but he would not submit lightly regardless of whatever they attempted to do. He could feel the strain was not doing him any favors, but that wasn't going to stop him until his body physically could not operate any further. Straining still, he watched the cultist leader order his men to execute him, and before the Daemonette stepped in, those near him would hear his muttered defiance. "Bold talk for a traitor that will be changing his robes later."
Both obvious and subtle insinuations aside, when the Daemonette stepped in, Stukov only increased his straining against the unseen bindings. The warp spawned abomination loomed well over him, the damned creature's hand smearing the blood that had been running down one side of his face and interrupting the otherwise symmetrical lines of blood loss down his face. It defended the interference, claiming something that the Armsman refused to believe. He was no psyker, whatever damned lies the thing was spinning was none of his concern. A Daemon would always lie, just to get its way, and if that meant whatever liking it had taken was satiated, he had seen better men than himself break and crumble under their ministrations. He would not be going anywhere with this lot, and even as the daemon had pushed the autogun aside like chaff before a scythe, the tension and fight to raise the weapon at the cult leader was palpable, even obvious to those observing. The warp spawn asked for a name, moving ever closer, and he made a desperate ploy, tension loosening in a false surrender.
"My name...."
His left arm dropped back, following the way the unseen chains had been pulling, falling to his side as he was apparently pulled upright, autogun's sling tugging the thing at an awkward angle, bayonet pointed towards the ceiling as it slipped off his shoulder, barely not falling out of his grasp but no obvious threat.
"...is Senior Armsman Alexei Stukov and I will not..."
Within a split second his eyes went from their natural hues to the burning, sapphire blue that was fueled by sheer hatred and spite for the Warp spawned abomination and those that would consort willingly with such beings, and with the damn creature so close there was no avoiding his move, unaware of the unchecked powers surging forward, amplifying his actions and speed by magnitude, all a subconscious survival instinct to catch this Astrid off guard and as the autogun fell down, an echoing, keening howl backed fueled by the pain, suffering, and spite that welled up for the Warp and its agents, amplifying his latent powers. Coupled with the thin boundaries to the warp, the action could be comparable to a Banshee's Wail, with far more force and the closest to be affected would be the warp spawned freak and her handler, the renegade Psyker.
"SUBMIT"
It was not a finished phrase as the word blasted outwards with warp power and Stukov wrenched with all his might, breaking the bindings enough for his hand to blur towards the autogun as the two grenades next to his left hand fell to the deck, his last flashbang and concussion grenade, both missing their pins as he yanked the bayonet blade off the autogun that now fell in slow motion, arm whipping not at the Daemonette but past her, launching the blade hurtling towards the cult leader Maltheus in the desperate last hope to at least cripple the heretic bastard. He could feel his vocal cords, damaged as they were, be torn asunder by the foreign forces, completely crippling any means of even whispering and coughing out what little he had already, and he kicked off towards the far wall. If things went well, the concussive force would slam him into the wall with enough force to kill him so he could not be taken alive. Second best, it bought the others time to hone in on the sudden noise and violence breaking out. At worse, he could try to force them to kill him by not submitting, he still had his pistol yet as the autogun tumbled out of reach.
The concussive force would throw him into the far wall with considerable force, cracking the carapace plate he wore and forcing him to wretch up splatters of blood onto the ground as he slid to the ground in a sitting position, amplifying the previous impacts with even more blunt trauma. He was alive, vision unharmed due to the shades he wore, the ones he had picked up before making landfall from the Inquisitor's armory. Reaching into his coat, he dragged the Naval Pistol out of it's holster, struggling as he lifted it and aimed at anything that so much as twitched and would fire, whether it was in defiance of the Daemon or the Psyker, or making a few last spiteful strikes against the cultists and their leader Maltheus. He had made his last ploy, for whatever good it would be, and now it was in the Emperor's hands to either accept him, or deliver him from Evil.
Both obvious and subtle insinuations aside, when the Daemonette stepped in, Stukov only increased his straining against the unseen bindings. The warp spawned abomination loomed well over him, the damned creature's hand smearing the blood that had been running down one side of his face and interrupting the otherwise symmetrical lines of blood loss down his face. It defended the interference, claiming something that the Armsman refused to believe. He was no psyker, whatever damned lies the thing was spinning was none of his concern. A Daemon would always lie, just to get its way, and if that meant whatever liking it had taken was satiated, he had seen better men than himself break and crumble under their ministrations. He would not be going anywhere with this lot, and even as the daemon had pushed the autogun aside like chaff before a scythe, the tension and fight to raise the weapon at the cult leader was palpable, even obvious to those observing. The warp spawn asked for a name, moving ever closer, and he made a desperate ploy, tension loosening in a false surrender.
"My name...."
His left arm dropped back, following the way the unseen chains had been pulling, falling to his side as he was apparently pulled upright, autogun's sling tugging the thing at an awkward angle, bayonet pointed towards the ceiling as it slipped off his shoulder, barely not falling out of his grasp but no obvious threat.
"...is Senior Armsman Alexei Stukov and I will not..."
Within a split second his eyes went from their natural hues to the burning, sapphire blue that was fueled by sheer hatred and spite for the Warp spawned abomination and those that would consort willingly with such beings, and with the damn creature so close there was no avoiding his move, unaware of the unchecked powers surging forward, amplifying his actions and speed by magnitude, all a subconscious survival instinct to catch this Astrid off guard and as the autogun fell down, an echoing, keening howl backed fueled by the pain, suffering, and spite that welled up for the Warp and its agents, amplifying his latent powers. Coupled with the thin boundaries to the warp, the action could be comparable to a Banshee's Wail, with far more force and the closest to be affected would be the warp spawned freak and her handler, the renegade Psyker.
"SUBMIT"
It was not a finished phrase as the word blasted outwards with warp power and Stukov wrenched with all his might, breaking the bindings enough for his hand to blur towards the autogun as the two grenades next to his left hand fell to the deck, his last flashbang and concussion grenade, both missing their pins as he yanked the bayonet blade off the autogun that now fell in slow motion, arm whipping not at the Daemonette but past her, launching the blade hurtling towards the cult leader Maltheus in the desperate last hope to at least cripple the heretic bastard. He could feel his vocal cords, damaged as they were, be torn asunder by the foreign forces, completely crippling any means of even whispering and coughing out what little he had already, and he kicked off towards the far wall. If things went well, the concussive force would slam him into the wall with enough force to kill him so he could not be taken alive. Second best, it bought the others time to hone in on the sudden noise and violence breaking out. At worse, he could try to force them to kill him by not submitting, he still had his pistol yet as the autogun tumbled out of reach.
The concussive force would throw him into the far wall with considerable force, cracking the carapace plate he wore and forcing him to wretch up splatters of blood onto the ground as he slid to the ground in a sitting position, amplifying the previous impacts with even more blunt trauma. He was alive, vision unharmed due to the shades he wore, the ones he had picked up before making landfall from the Inquisitor's armory. Reaching into his coat, he dragged the Naval Pistol out of it's holster, struggling as he lifted it and aimed at anything that so much as twitched and would fire, whether it was in defiance of the Daemon or the Psyker, or making a few last spiteful strikes against the cultists and their leader Maltheus. He had made his last ploy, for whatever good it would be, and now it was in the Emperor's hands to either accept him, or deliver him from Evil.
<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
Don't worry about it, Adrianne's managed to wriggle her way out of worse situations before :D
Aviza: "Stukov... you're a psyker?"
Adrianne: "Ohhh, no, no-nono! ... I just hit him with one of my abilities by accident. The sparks are just normal and will fade in time...
*Leans over to Zhevon*
Adrianne: (hushed) "Inquisitor, we got a problem!"
Stukov: "..."
Meanwhile he's screaming in his head since he can't actually get any words out and is stuck dealing with the fact he is actually a psyker, and is stuck with the warp powers he really has a problem with typically. Warp in general, and now its even more invasive in his daily life. Guess he'll have to learn, or it'll go and consume him. We shall see, sure as sure. But yea, time to work out a post then and make things interesting (and painful for Stukov, more so than already done), but mostly more interesting, I assure you all!
<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
Of course. Despite almost destroying his own vocal cord with uncontrolled psychic powers, he's more than capable of weaving together a speech with honeyed words rather than barely intelligible gargle xD
On the bright side, Adrianna and Aviza aren't far behind! ... let's just hope the latter doesn't go grenade-happy before noticing Stukov's in the room!
That's assuming Stukov doesn't muster up the strength to drop the last two of his grenades with the pins pulled! And anything more than a soft chatter will probably irreversibly destroy whats left of his vocal cords, so of course nothing would possibly happen to require augmatic or vat grown replacements!
And dear Sister Aviza might not be terribly happy having an unsanctioned, heavily warp exposed, and untrained raw psyker running around. Especially if she realizes it then and there in the den of evil.
<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>
I don't know why, but I seem to make my posts unintentionally bigger all the time xD
... oh, and that's my way of saying: POST UP! ^_^
Well, I am sure Stukov is going to have a very eloquent, well spoken, and cunning manner of dealing with this problem and it won't involve him fighting back at all.
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