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17 Days (RP)

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17 Days (RP)

Post by Aaron on Fri May 20, 2016 4:37 pm

Garr pulled the letter from his pocket again, the first couple of lines were the usual Ordos boilerplate, "request" this, "require" that, "all possible haste."

It all boiled down to the same thing; the Ordos has a job for you. 17 days on board an old Navy fast transport, the Paisley Park, with a bare handfull of Acolytes enroute to a dead system in the Halo Stars. The letter didn't say much more, a recon and rescue mission for some high value asset the Ordos wanted. It did mention a Space Hulk though and those are never good news.

The Captain of the Paisley Park had been generous, opening the ships armoury and stores for the Acolytes, inviting them to dinner in the officers mess and allowing them use of the ships meager recreation and training facilities. Garr had taken full advantage of this, stashing as much hard alcohol and cheese as he could, along with training at the gym and the firing range.

The ship had exited the Warp 10 minutes before and the call had gone out for the team to assemble in the ships sole flight briefing room. True to form the Naval Troopers were seated in the first row, smoking tabac and swapping exaggerated stories of shore leave conquests.

Garr had settled himself three rows back and set to putting on his warpaint, something he did before every operation. A heavy application of black grease over his forehead down to just past the eyes. It had been a tradition of his Reclaimator bilge section to grease their heads before a shift, an offering to the Emperor and was said to bring luck. The irony of his section being wiped out by an Ork boarding party while painted was not lost on him, still it had brought him into the Commissars service and that was infinitely more preferable then dying in the bilge.

The Commissar had saved him from the bilges, the filth and from the Ghilam that lurked the lower decks. Garr might not care for the Navy, the ship, or even the Imperium as a whole but he cared about the Commissar. He was fair to him, and there was no way he was going to go back into the filth forever.

But there would be time to demonstrate his loyalty soon enough, the sound of approaching footsteps signalled the arrival of the rest of the team.
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Re: 17 Days (RP)

Post by mikey on Wed May 25, 2016 10:40 am

Being early for the briefing, Commissar-select Bith decided to stop at one of the gun decks.  He was, after all, still a Navy commissar even while tasked by the Inquisition.  He purposefully let the hatch squeal loudly as he entered and felt the eyes of the entire gun crew turn to him, then widen as they noticed his greatcoat, peaked cap, and frogged tunic, all topped with the armored greave/boots he'd affected when he met Garr and the sash in the vivid deep blue of the Obscurus fleets.  The uniform of an Imperial commissar rarely meant good tidings.

The gun crew snapped to attention, while one crewman hastily bent to retrieve a discarded shirt.  "Relax," chuckled Bith, "I know it's hotter than a mukaali's balls in here.  At ease."  There was a round of relieved laughter among the men as Bith continued, "I'm not here to enforce uniform codes or regulations.  You have ship's officers for that.  On that note, look sharp - Lieutenant Lyrian is prowling the deck below, and he'd likely beat you with a stick for being out of uniform... if he could get the stick out of his ass long enough."

There was another beat of laughter among the men, this time more genuine. Relaxed by Bith's friendly manner and easy humor, a grizzled veteran crewman turned to his neighbor and commented, "Mebbe we could go for a liberty and let him and the Emperor fight their own damned fights."

There was a peal of thunder that echoed up and down the metal-shod gun deck, and a crater appeared in the side of the head of the man who had just spoken.  The crew looked on in horror as he crumpled to the ground while Bith coolly broke open the breech of his shotgun pistol and slid in a new shell.  "I may be friendly," he said as he closed the pistol, "but I am not your friend.  And I may be less interested in regs and codes than you might have expected, but I will NOT have the seeds of sedition, treason, heresy, or even unwillingness to give everything you have take root.  As you were... I'll have someone come for that."  He indicated the corpse of the deck, then strode out through the hatch and toward the briefing room.
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Re: 17 Days (RP)

Post by mikey on Sun May 29, 2016 10:05 pm

The echoing clang of Bith's armored boots on the deckplate preceded him into the briefing room.  As the commissar strode up to the lectern, he exchanged a brief nod with Garr and then acknowledged the naval security troopers' attention and salutes.  "As you were," he muttered, slung his greatcoat carefully over the back of one of the front benches, and observed while the armsmen resumed their seats.  They were without their customary black armor and most of their sidearms, but wore well-fitted black fatigues trimmed in BFO blue and rigs for their traditional naval short swords.  The sergeant-at-arms sat in front with his squad, similarly uniformed but with a far more ornate cutlass at his hip and an officer's pistol on the other side of his sword belt.  

Bith cleared his throat, causing all eyes in the room to turn toward him.  "Gentlemen," he began in a practiced and ringing baritone, "I will hopefully answer most of your questions.  Some may remain unanswered, and that will have to be the nature of our mission.  I apologize, but there it is."

Bith stepped out from behind the lectern and clasped his hands behind is back.  "First, let's introduce our heirarchy.  For those unfamiliar, I am Commissar-select Bith, and considering my dual role as commissar of the IN and acolyte of the Holy Ordos of the Emperor's Inquisition, I will be in operational command of our mission.  In the event of my incapacitation, my aide-de-camp Garr will assume command."  Bith raised a hand to indicate the reclaimator in eyeblack toward the back, then continued, "Third will be Sergeant-at-Arms... er..."

"Howruck," supplied the NCO with a face that could have curdled milk, and added, "Begging the commissar's pardon, but shouldn't an actual member of the navy be 2iC, sir?"  He finished with a pointed glare at Garr, who looked somewhat disinterested and the complete opposite of the buttoned-up armsmen.

"I believe that I've already answered that question before it was asked," Bith replied with a note of steel in his voice.  "If, however, you are going to demand to hear the protocol involved, I will supply it.  This is an Inquisitorial mission to which your squad has been seconded.  Garr is an agent of the Inquisition, as am I - and as you aren't.  Further, Garr is my adjutant, aide, dogsbody, and confidant; and as such he is in a better position to take over for me.  In any event, Sergeant Howruck, I will still depend on you to maintain tactical command of the squad.  I do not want to have to manage the squad as well as prosecute the mission."

Bith stepped closer to the front bench, bent to look Howruck in the eye, and went on in a quiet gravelly tone, "That is, I'd hate to have to excercise commissarial authority when I could be better employed furthering our mission.  I trust we are in accord?"

"Of course, sir," Howruck answered quietly.

"Excellent!" Bith answered brightly, and returned to the lectern.  "Now, as to our assignment.  You all are perhaps aware of the hulk that has emerged from the warp nearby.  On that hulk, it is believed, is a naval intelligence assett which is wished to be retrieved intact."

A senior armsman spoke up as Bith paused.  "Do we know what sort of target, sir?"

Bith glared down at the man, waited a beat, then replied, "It is a naval... intelligence... assett."

The armsman coughed slightly and said, "Of course, sir."

"Now," Bith continued as if no interruption had occurred, "The Paisley Park has managed to map most of the upper level of the hulk."  Bith turned on the pict-screen on the wall behind him and a top-down rendering of a riotous mash-up of ships of different styles, ages, colors, and even species appeared.  "We will be inserted via lander here, and the lander will remain on site for exfiltration.  Informational support will be provided by the Park's auspex-enabled lighters.  We will execute a top-down search pattern, starting with high-odds areas and then spiralling outward.  We will maintain squad integrity unless Sgt. Howruck deems a split into fireteams necessary to best attend orders."  Howruck nodded at the accession, and Bith continued, "There will be some non-standard kit in addition to your standard load-out.  In addition to normal boarding kit, you will be taking microbeads, an small array of grenades, and void rounds, along with blazer rounds for the shotgun troopers.  I have already made arrangements with the ship's QM, so please see the armory after this.  We are still closing on the hulk's position, so I will perform an inspection at the squad berths at 0900 tomorrow and we will tentatively expect the 'go' authorization at 0700 the day after.  Since there are no questions-"

One of the younger armsmen began to timidly raise his hand.  Bith massaged the grip of his shotgun pistol lightly, and the trooper let his hand slide down again.  "Since there ARE NO questions, you are all dismissed."

After the troopers rose and smartly marched out, followed by the ramrod-stiff Howruck, Bith stepped toward the benches and sighed.  "Will they hold together among all these secrets and inexplicable orders?"

Garr inspected something under a fingernail.  "Hmm.  Only need 'em for a few days."
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Re: 17 Days (RP)

Post by Deepcrush on Tue Jun 07, 2016 10:26 pm

Ishim knelt by the xeno body, it's twisted and naturally violent form clearly built only to bring death. The hive that drives it's will having since departed left the creature without what little guidance it must normally have. Speaking into a small recorder, Ishim made what he prayed would be a the next in a long series of logs.

"The creature stands upon two legs with four arms with which to strike. Upon all of which bare talons to slash. While we have heard stories of such creatures, I report now that the stories are true. These hive creatures are real."

His report should have been more, but the fear of the creature had cut him of words. As if on a shared switch, turning off the recorder was rewarded with a long distance howl of some more of the creatures. The hulk was alive, filled with life and little of it friendly. Such treasures haunted by such dangers. A fitting place Ishim figured for his first solo mission... though likely his last as well.
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Re: 17 Days (RP)

Post by Aaron on Sat Jul 02, 2016 11:09 pm

Day 15 0745

"This one is very old", Garr comments to himself as the shuttles spotlights illuminate their destination. The shuttle was making for a large launch bay that ran the length of a ship, oddly ribbed and peppered with fighter launch tubes, she matched no current human design. She had obviously been a cruiser once but what had happened to strand her amidst a huge conglomerate of warp trash was unknown. She bore no obvious battle damage.

Warp beasts? Overcome by Ghilam or a possessed Navigator? Who could say.

The thought of psykers draws Garr's attention to a last minute addition to their team; the ships Astropath and friend of the Captain, Eli Yannis. As aide to the Commissar, Garr encounters the odd menagerie that makes up the ships higher ranks more often then most but psykers usually attracted problems. And Eli was known to be the disagreeable sort. Still, at least they would be able to call for help.




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Re: 17 Days (RP)

Post by Aaron on Sat Jul 02, 2016 11:10 pm

Day 15 0745

"This one is very old", Garr comments to himself as the shuttles spotlights illuminate their destination. The shuttle was making for a large launch bay that ran the length of a ship, oddly ribbed and peppered with fighter launch tubes, she matched no current human design. She had obviously been a cruiser once but what had happened to strand her amidst a huge conglomerate of warp trash was unknown. She bore no obvious battle damage.

Warp beasts? Overcome by Ghilam or a possessed Navigator? Who could say.

The thought of psykers draws Garr's attention to a last minute addition to their team; the ships Astropath and friend of the Captain, Eli Yannis. As aide to the Commissar, Garr encounters the odd menagerie that makes up the ships higher ranks more often then most but psykers usually attracted problems. And Eli was known to be the disagreeable sort. Still, at least they would be able to call for help.




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Re: 17 Days (RP)

Post by mikey on Sun Jul 03, 2016 5:11 pm

After the automated bay door slowly struggled open in response to the shuttle's presence, the lander slid into the long bay and dropped onto the deck with an almost blasphemous thump that rang through the church-like silence of the hulk.  All seemed lifeless so far, though the forces which had pressed these ships together into a twisted, fused mess had also made the bay walls slump and lean at disturbing angles.  The troopers made their way through the pneumatic steam of the landing ramp and fanned into a practiced cover formation, led by Howrick.  Commissar Bith followed, forcing himself to tread calmly and slowly into the midst of the armsmen's formation.  He scanned the bay and frowned, seeing nothing but somehow disconcerted by the weird geometry of the hulk.

Finally Astropath Elias creeped down the ramp and into the bay, sliding the foot of his staff ahead of him.  One of the troopers reached out to grip the green-robed figure's arms to guide him, at which the astropath swung the end of the staff over to crack against the young man's shin.  The steel bearings which filled the older man's eye sockets gleamed dully in the dim light as he turned his head, eerily fixing his blind stare on the armsman.  "When I want to be touched, I'll ask," the astropath grumbled, "and I'll ask someone considerably more feminine than you."

Subtle, atavistic fear replaced surprise on the trooper's face, and the rest of his squad leaned out of range of the astropath as he slowly stepped forward.  Finally he stopped, held up a single finger for silence, and drooped his hooded head in concentration.  A few random hisses of breath emerged from the squad of troopers, while Elias remained quiet and Bith stared at him with his left hand almost casually resting on the butt of his shot pistol.

At last, Elias looked up and tilted his head back a touch while he sniffed the air like a bloodhound on a scent.
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