Eisenhorn

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Stukov kept a stern expression on his face as he kept the shotgun trained steadily on the one who tried to leave early in the first place. Keeping the weapon steady, he listened to the information as it was pretty much spilled out as fast as she could manage. A bunch of nobles were gathered up and some warp spawned abomination was hiding under the illusion of their power was spouting some rather bold claims about two of the Chaos Gods leading to wonders unknown. Typical offers of power, prestige, and whatever else these nobles would want. They apparently feared being executed for reporting what happened, and chose to hide out in their comfortable gardens and just let the problem fester. Still, Celeste decided to have them arrested by local forces instead of summary execution, and that was a notable restraint from a Bolter Bitch. Granted, he'd learned to restrain his commentary until necessary, but he fell in line as they departed from the first pair they'd interrogated. If they were smart, they'd stay put, running now would just put them even further on the radar.

Once they were out of earshot and begun discussing daemons and their forms, Stukov would give it some thought, given his experience. That Throne damned purple haze had came over quite a few junior men, forcing them to either put down the lucky ones, or have to abandon the unlucky ones, so the idea of a disguised one seducing the nobles with promises of expanded wealth wasn't terribly surprising. "Smiles has a point, its a coin toss which of these bastarding chaos servants are more cunning and deceitful. Mix the two, and that's going to be the worst kind of trouble. Now, as for this woman who's...oh hell!"

The statue was secondary, the coal black eyes of the woman had him swinging the shotgun up, racking a shell but, unfortunately, he was nowhere near inhumanly fast enough to prevent the events from occurring. Bracing himself to get thrown, instead the fast thinking that Smiles showed buffered those not wearing power armor, the remaining force causing his longcoat to billow in the wind, though that meant Celeste was launched with enough force to buckle a tree in two. Rapidly unloading his shotgun, sharp eyes would see him loading specially marked rounds, and those that knew him well would note that was probably buckshot that he'd sought blessings for just to handle daemonic trouble. He also barked out orders, clarifying on Smiles own declaration, assigning specific people to specific roles. "Cogs, Kid, get to Celeste and check her over. Power armor should have absorbed most of that, but she'll need help. Smiles, cover me and keep an eye on the surroundings. Throne willing this was an isolated attempt, if not be ready to repel hostiles."

Making sure one of the blessed shells was racked and ready, he advanced on the statue and, well, very unfortunate remains of the waiting warp bomb of a woman. More concerning was a statue openly dedicated to Khorne, who normally the servants didn't rely on trickery like suicide bombers, that was the tricks of Tzeentch mainly, in his experience. He was looking for any signs of further trouble outside the very obvious, that a Khornate statue was here, and a target had just warp bombed with enough force to launch and possibly incapacitate a senior Sister of Battle.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Stukov cocked an eyebrow at the mention of 'combat robots', since that was well and truly beyond his measure of understanding. He wasn't about to go asking how she secured that kind of help. Gunship support was a positive thing too, so he would take that for what it was. Next was his question and, sure enough, there was no solid idea or intel on what was going to be awaiting them. No other safe houses or forces on hand, so it was just them, the tin cans if things got bad enough, versus whatever was going to be waiting for them in the city itself. Great news there, he thought with a sarcastic tone, but didn't say it out loud. His job was to kick in doors and kill heretics, not complain or think too hard on how the powers that be got their toys.

Sure enough they were off again, with little fanfare, boarding he strapped in again and immediately dozed off, the transport's movement and shacking seeming to do nothing to interfere with his ability to rest. Old habits died hard, and getting rest whenever he was in a position where he couldn't do anything wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Eventually the slowing transport woke him up from his dozing, shaking his head briefly as the restraints released and he was on his feet, heading off the transport in close step after Celeste. He noted the smart ones legging it the moment they saw the heavily armed squad touch down out of relative nowhere. Definitely not subtle, and odds were at least one of them was already alerting the local heretics of the rather sudden arrival. Still, Throne willing they would nail at least the first target before things got hairy.

Speaking of, he checked his data slate when Sis chimed in over the comm, memorizing age, appearance, various details for this specific person of interest. Walking in step with Celeste, Stukov was scanning the information being processed over the slate, glancing around routinely as they moved. He spoke just loud enough for Celeste to hear without him screaming for all to hear. "Right, let's move quick. Kick the door in, grab her, extract what information is usable, and deal with her from there. At least one of those who ran is probably raising the alarm, so clock's ticking as it were."

Veritas Lux Mea

Ansgar Staudinger

"BASTARDING PIECE OF SHIT!" Ansgar roared as he lobbed another broken piece of electronics at the modest pile of scrap that was currently in the center of the engine room. He'd at least been considerate enough to start the pile, that had of course came from him lobbing a piece of broken machinery in that direction, away from their temporary pilot and navigator. He was digging through the running engines and finding the parts that were completely shot so he could finish putting together a manifesto of parts and replacements he would need, starting from ideal and running down to workable. He didn't expect any of the ideal replacements to be practical, given their recent luck, but a man could dream damn it. At least he was about as far from family as he was going to get in this universe, which was a small mercy at least. The comm buzzed and he caught something about meeting down to prepare for docking. Fuck.

He crawled and disentangled himself from the engine and side stepped the pile, all but storming down to the cargo bay before pausing, he thought, out of sight and taking a deep breath. This was going to be an annoying argument, since no doubt the Lass wanted him to relax and unwind, and that was just not an honest to god option. Steeling himself mentally, he walked down into the cargo bay proper. He still had his protective overalls on, somewhat more singed now than before, and he made a point of unzipping the top, all but drenched in sweat from the work he'd been doing, and tying it off around his waist to at least get a brief breather before returning to the engine room. "Hope this won't take long, Boss, I've almost got the engine room's part list together and then I can start preparing to get invasive systems replaced, including the bridge. That's a lot of work that can't wait, and that's before the replacement parts start arriving."

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Stukov offered a nod to the rest of the group as they filed in to begin the briefing, and he turned back to focus on the briefing once it began proper. The longer the brief went along, the more trouble he expected this mission to be. Sure, it was probably their best approach since none of those present were exactly going to be, well, able to undertake quiet or subtle operations easily. Crossing his arms, he was about to speak up with Smiles beat him to it, asking if there was backup when it came to rapid response forces. A squad of stormtroopers on standby would be a huge relief should things go poorly, being able to have an escape option is always good.

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Smiles. Having an escape option in terms of backup would be extraordinarily useful. How much resistance are we expecting from these individuals that we're...paying visits to? Element of surprise should be on our side for the first few, but bad news is one of the fastest things in the galaxy. And for heretics? An inquisitorial retinue is some very bad news indeed." What would concern him would be that, should the first of those visited would already be ready for them, that would give away the fact that someone high up in the chain tipped them off that trouble was heading there way. Nothing that couldn't be sorted out with a shotgun, just need the right ammunition. Still, he was waiting to hear the word on any potential backup, as well as the targets in question and their readiness for intrusions.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

<Snipped quote by Eisenhorn>

A fair point! ;D

I mean, isn't he a pure fighter type character whilst also being one of the weakest members of the group?

@Rithy

I mean, in a group with power armor, mechanicus augmentations, defensive fields and the like, he's just a dude with some halfway solid armor and a shotgun. I'd say he's got luck on his side, but luck only holds for so long!

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Given Stukov's track record? Probably him. He needs them cybernetics to really start throwing his weight around!

The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP

The conditions of the augmentation among those who bore even junior titles was a sorry thing indeed, however, the Magos did not interfere with the rituals and soothing of machine spirits present, allowing the foundry personnel to handle their operations. Moving down into the depths of the foundry, it was clear that production had been undertaken regardless of orders, altering mission parameters appropriately and noting the subtle details and specifics of the rituals. The lack of proper attire was also noted, though given its a hiveworld foundry and a far cry from the glory of the Omnissiah's explorator fleets, let alone the Forge Worlds themselves, it was likely a byproduct of their resources.

Finally, they reached the most secure depths of the foundry, and the weapons were brought forth for his personal inspection. The subtle clicking and ticking of built in counters would announce what these blessed munitions were before even visual data could be collected and gathered. If such munitions had been known to be here, instead of mere melta munitions, Vanugard forces would have likely been tasked with deployment. Still, the weapons would surpass any dreams the Inquisitor might have had, though she likely would have preferred melta torpedoes instead. It was...unlikely the location being secured could safely store atomics, given the ticking of the counter already, and inspection would commence with such things in mind. He was no Vanguard, but radiation meant little to the Magos who had so little flesh left. "Praise be unto the Omnissiah, such blessed munitions will serve well."

"How soon can the blessed atomics be prepared for relocation? Reports and plans must be made to accommodate these armaments, and what status is your foundry in?" Once sufficient information and time tables could be gathered from the Foreman, the Magos would have to see to contacting the Inquisitor and ensuring she was aware of the new development and resources that had been put at her fortunate disposal. Should the shielded depths of the foundry prevent communications, the Magos would relocate as necessary to inform the Inquisitor of current goings on and status of the foundry mission. The mechanicus forces present had not proven heretical in nature, despite their lack of augmentation, and would prove useful. Doubly so should the foundry be able to remain secure and continue producing munitions and armaments for the Omnissiah.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

The armsman laughed at the question of whether or not they were being fattened up before being thrown to the wolves. Oh no, if they were being treated well before suicide, they'd have broken out the liquor. You didn't waste expensive food on grunts, liquor was cheap and the rank and file wouldn't know the good shit from what got them drunk, for the most part. Some regiments that came from jumped up nobility might know, but they were the relative minority, far as he was concerned. "We're fine Kid. It's when they break out the strong booze that you should start worrying. Good food? You'll be fine, hell, that's a reward if anything else."

Stukov had laughed, but he was honest in his words all the same. Kid needed an eye kept on, but at least he wasn't maladjusted or otherwise unable to work with others, he suspected whatever had caused that little dressing down that Celeste had given was, well, an anomaly rather than a standard. Well, he hoped that was the case at least, he would save his prayers for more dire straits. Another relative unknown, though a far more dependable one from profession alone, had offered him a nod when setting up to work on his kit. The armsman returned the nod politely, not having much to discuss given the fellow had been relatively silent during the tour and such leading up to now. Guard kit, looked like a pressure helmet was kept on hand, probably Guard that deployed from Valkyries and the like. Good men, those, finding folk who could stomach deploying like that were rare, and he'd have to keep half an eye on Icarus there to make sure he didn't end up dead too fast. "Good to see someone else cares about keeping their kit in order. Sound off if you need to borrow any tools I ain't using."

In due time, as he finished maintenance and fine tuning his kit, the alert came to report for duty. Stukov nodded to the Guardsman, assembling his kit and slinging it before making his way to the meeting point. The Kid had beat him here, that was surprising, while Celeste and Sis had also been here already. Those two were less surprising, mind, but he gave the Kid a joking tone as he remarked on him. "Beat me here Kid, good on you. Always was faster on voidships, though. Alright Celeste, once our merry band of misfits has formed up, what're we looking to do? Kick some doors down, hopefully nothing subtle, Throne willing. I don't think our skills lend themselves well to subtle."

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

Stukov took the good natured ribbing over his preferred brand of suffering, as they called it, in stride. Let them lack the taste for something a bit finer in life. Bold thoughts for an armsman, of course, but he wasn't going to argue the fact the drink was strong at the best of times. Brewed poorly, and one could all but strip paint with it. Fortunately it was brewed well, and wouldn't take the lining of his throat with it as he drank. Having finished his food, he casually nursed and took his time while the discussion on this place, in response to his own question, was made. A stronghold should the planet be assaulted, from within or without, and of course a rare monument to the activites and glories, indirect as it may be, of Celeste's accomplishments. He'd not say that out loud, of course, but he finished his drink in a timely manner, sighing quietly in a rare content. Smiles and Cogs got up to discuss Throne knows what, and he glanced at the Kid. "You've been quiet, Kid. Relatively speaking, what's rattling in that head of yours?"

The Kid was an unknown, literally and figuratively. Sure he carried fancy kit, but that wasn't any promise that he knew how to use it. Cogs might have written him off as another Prank Victim, and Throne knows what Smiles thought, he didn't pretend to, but he didn't like unknowns. No sense being a prick about it though, might as well offer him a chance to speak up. He'd spent enough fights being the odd one out, a mad bastard with a shotgun surrounded by faceless Inquisitors, seasoned veterans, irate Bolter Bitches, obscenely powerful psykers, and that was just to name a few. Kid was probably going to need an eye kept on so he didn't get his head removed not so neatly from its neck. He'd rather know he can't rely on the Kid than have it come up as a rude shock, if he was lucky the Kid might be salvageable. Sure, he'd gotten a dressing down from Celeste, but he'd butted heads with her before as well. And now she was in charge. Such was life in the Imperium.

Celeste decided it was time for them to go on the grand tour now, and Stukov offered a nod to Sis as he stood up and made sure his kit was slung properly. Moving in step with Celeste, he quietly considered what she said as they moved. It reeked of Rogue Trader tastes, near as it was to his encounters to compare to. Moving down a corridor of artwork, of varying...interest, and he couldn't help but make an offhand remark, directed at no one in particular. "Long as you aren't keeping a corridor of statues, I won't have any comments to make..."

Smiles probably would remember that one, but Stukov didn't elaborate for anyone who didn't. Striding along into the medical wing, another Bolter Bitch was working the place. It wasn't surprising, mind, but he still was going to make a mental note of it. Drawing from old postings was smart, it ensured loyalty, doubly so beyond the whole Inquisitorial authority business. Still, given the fact she'd be the one stitching them up when the injuries began mounting, no sense being rude. Of course, not rude by Stukov's means was, well, still nicknames and offhand commentary. "Honor indeed, Sawbones. I'll try and keep the internal lacerations to a minimum after nasty brawls."

The tour continued, and Stukov made mental notes of each location. A swing by the armory would be in order, he wanted to grab a mono knife to serve as a last ditch backup weapon, do some digging to see if any other toys stuck out to him before heading for the engineering bay to do routine maintenance on his kit. The shotgun was going to be the quick one, and if the opportunity arose, he would have to see what Cogs could do to make it hit harder. He wasn't quite as, what was the word, twitchy over 'inventive' modifications. But that would have to wait, no doubt Smiles roped her into some madness or another. The last thing to be shown was a swimming pool, which was apparently just for show. He...didn't know how to swim, it wasn't something an armsman really needed to know. Sure, he could probably figure it out if it was swim or drown, but that wasn't something he was going to engage in for his own amusement. Booze served that well enough.

"We'll see how long that lasts, knowing our luck. Right, have fun you lot, I'm flagging a room for myself, doing an inventory of the armory, then going to put some elbow grease into my kit in engineering. Make sure its all shiny and good to go, you know where to find me." Stukov would first make his way to the Armory, true to his word, finding himself a mono knife to strap to his boot, buckling it in place and giving it a few experimental weighs and basic motions. It would do nicely for a 'Fuck me' moment. He then took some time to inventory the armory, doing a count of what was around and available just in case he was in a hurry coming through here at some point. Next was flagging the least gaudy room available, not that he suspected there was much difference, and then he was off to engineering. He'd find himself a bench to start field stripping and working on his shotgun, and over the next remaining two and change hours would be other weapons and such, chain-cutlass included. If anyone needed him, well, they knew where to find him by his own admissions.