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Post by theredauthar on Apr 13, 2023 1:43:53 GMT -5
One moment the Domination is there. The next it’s a roaring inferno.
It only takes a mere second for the scene to fully process in Sonnam’s Brain, but the whole process seemed to play in slow motion. The shot from the Battlesuit’s Railgun immediately drawing his attention from the combat in the quarry, just in time to watch his comrades die. Die without a chance to even fight back.
Cassim can fight back, and avenge them. He moves quickly to take his shot.
LanternO'Red Request: [4df+2] Roll: [+, +, , -] Result: 3
“FILL YOUR HANDS YOU SON OF A-” Screams the sergeant before the Sentinel’s Engine roars over his voice as if voicing its own rage at what just happened. The Lascannon whines and fires into the Battlesuit. The blast bursts through the sky in a flash of light towards the Battlesuit.
Even as the attack travels, Cassim is already shouting down to the Gunner, “GET BEHIND ME! GET BEHIND ME!”
Would the Sentinel be able to stop this thing? At the moment Sonnam doesn’t care, he’s going to try anyway. And if it allows the gunner to get to safety, he’ll take that risk.
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Post by blinddeadmcjones on Apr 13, 2023 2:17:38 GMT -5
Hawke had barely made one step when it happened, she may not have seen the event, but she didn't have to, anyone who has been in the Astra Militarum will immediately recognise the sound without much difficulty, and in the surroundings of a quarry it was almost impossible to not hear it the unmistakable tell-tale crack of a las-weapon discharge it took only a moment for it to register in her head, but when it did it felt like time was slowing down, all she could feel and hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, looking down she see's the beacon has stopped blinking and when she looked up again she could see some of the camp guards raise their weapons oh.
Frak.
Fire churns in the air, that only the psyker can feel, and their chest tightens as they catch only the emotions behind the Tau broadcast. Rage. Injustice. They want us dead. Worse than that- At that moment, the black box stops flashing, and Clacky is hit by an even stranger sensation, one of a purpose fulfilled. Then suddenly, it's pushed aside by the surge of terror and panic in the crowd. Ringed by anger, outrage. Grief. Suspicion. Confusion. "Get down, Miss!" unwilling to touch Hawke without her understanding why, the psyker does however grab Yul by the shoulder and pull him down behind the bulk of the cart... Mere seconds before the camp guards open up, firing across the market. "Hell." Kleckhe turns their mind's eye toward the crowd. Searching, closing their eyes to focus, but unwilling to raise their own head above the level of the thick wooden boards to get a deeper read. Concentrating, they track the confusion and horror pouring from Krast, the Lieutenant still easy to find, and the point he is fleeing from- Oh no. "A civilian was killed." Kleckhe suddenly looks over to Hawke, horrified, "Everyone here thinks it was the Guard, so they're retaliating... But..." they swallow, "I caught something in the air- just before it happened, the Xenos were broadcasting. They're so angry that they want everyone here dead. Not just the military." before clacky had even finished uttering his warning the cadian was already reacting, immediately diving to one side behind the same cart the other two had ducked towards. hands immediately grabbing onto her lasgun and bringing it to a ready position as they hunkered down. "you serious?!" she replied tersely as clacky gave the news about what had transpired, while she wanted to doubt what she was told, after her very recent experience with psychic communication and seeing the expression of horror on their face she knew that it was probably the closest thing to the truth that she had heard frak me sideways
Clacky glances sideways to the mess tent, remembering the promise they'd made less than an hour ago. Despite their sense of self preservation, the guilt claws at them. A tent is no shelter from a stray bullet. "You can both run, or I can get us across the market, unseen. But I promised a child that I wouldn't let anything bad happen to her, and I won't be made a liar." Kleckhe gestures toward the mess tent, "Please, give me a moment first to find her." They shudder as a round hits the ground in front of the stall, trying to think of a convincing reason, if altruism isn't enough, "She's the daughter of the camp medic, if I can return her along the way, it may help calm things down, just a little." Without waiting, Clacky darts away, between the stalls and into the mess tent, staying low. "Miss?" they scan the tent, finding the girl huddled under an empty table. The psyker crouches and holds out a hand for the child to take, "Miss, we need to go. Let's try to find your mum, yes?"
(( Request: `[4df+3]` Roll: `[+, , , ]` Result: `4` Clacky interpreting the vibes and scuttling to retrieve the kid, rather than bail ))
frustration welled within hawke as clacky decided that now was the perfect time to play hero and darted off before she could respond. despite her frustration she stayed put and kept an eye out, she may not be the best guardsman around but she was still a guardsman, a Cadian at that. "you got three minutes!!" she bellowed at his retreating form as she drew her bayonet, attaching it to the muzzle like she has a thousand times before while her eyes swept the area, spotting three other guardsman who had just managed to take cover before the bullets started flying "you three! Bastion 31 stance! staggered fallback!" hawke ordered, briefly inwardly wondering if she technically could issue them orders given they were all the same rank. worry about it later. she chastised herself as she looked around to spot anything, be it friendly or hostile. [blinddeadmcjones Request: [4df+2] Roll: [ , , -, -] Result: 0][rolling quick, looking to spot anything that might help] |
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Post by Archer on Apr 13, 2023 10:20:16 GMT -5
A familiar roar of engines, seems the Navy had decided to get off their arse and come take a look at what the hell was taking so long, three Valkyries two for hauling troops, one Sky Talon all of them running light for weapons to ensure extra air time. As they began their approach over the quarry a single figure in black carapace was looking over the four Lucifer Blacks with him. "Alright we go over this one last time. We are here to find the Cadians and their boys, support them, and complete the mission if it can't be completed we are to evac them. First priority though get the damn vox back online. Skyfire one through three are on standby. We've all got target designators we will have to point at the target, so no help is coming unless you get a bead on it. We stick together we clear it smooth and we find Lieutenant Krast. Flare guns too for letting the Valkyries know what's up without being able to talk." Luca walked them through it looking them over, they were going in armed to the teeth and ready to get whoever they could out.
"First order of business... Let's get that frakking netting off." One of the Lucifer's started to grab for a flamer they had packed, figuring it would be the fastest way.
"We are cutting the damn thing not setting it on fire. It's not like a hive with automated fire suppression and I'm not gonna try and run an op through a raging inferno get your head out of your arse." Luca snapped. "We will drop and cut the nettings attachment points in the middle and fall into the central quarry. No clue what's down their so the Valk's will be doing loops until they can see, flyboys can bit a of a little bitch when it comes to risking their necks."
Skyfire one, yelled into the back. "I heard that Lucifer! You are all are buying when we get back since we were out here saving your ground pounders!"
Luca rolled his eyes behind the helmet slapped it down to make sure it was air tight. "Chutes are good, weapons are hot, shut your mouth and get the ramp ready." As the trio soared over the quarry five black dots began their descent not firing their chutes nearly halfway down as Valkyries broke apart and began to make long circles keeping an eye on things.
As their grav chutes fired the hit the ground and pulled their knives setting to work cutting the covers above the town, unaware of what went on below as they worked to open up sightlines, of course any stray fire or person who looked up upon hearing the roar of the Valkyries may take notice. They needed to work quick to get the netting loose otherwise they were sitting ducks up here, of course buckles and straps to tie it all together kept getting it his way as he tried to saw through the damn thing... They better be thankful for this...
Archer Request: [4df +1] Roll: [ , , -, -] Result: -1[rolling quick, trying to cut through netting to open up a path down]
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cyg
Junior Member
Posts: 58
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Post by cyg on Apr 13, 2023 14:56:56 GMT -5
Krast had just turned around when he heard the signature crack-snap of long range las fire. His first instinct took him to a crouch, pulling at the hotshot holstered to his back. His second was to sweep his surroundings for hostiles.
That’s when he spotted the just crumpling body of a. Bloody Frakking Eye! Of all the times for something to go wrong. Time seemed to slow as Krasts mind kicked out everything irrelevant, everything outside his training, everything outside of instinct. The first thing he processed was his helmet was off, and by drilled practice slapped the full helmet onto his head. It was a second after he got the helmet on did he hear someone yell “Remember the Rages!”
“Oh that’s just bloody great.” He muttered, and drew his chainsword. He didn’t expect, over very well want to, use it on anyone, but it took a very brave, or very very stupid, to charge someone with an active chainsword. Thumbing the activation rune on his sword, Krast also tried the Vox one more time.
++All units, all units. This is Lt. Krast report in. Return to the convoy immediately, do not engage civilians. I repeat, do not engage civilians, return fire if fired upon but Emperor help me if we turn this mess into a blood bath!++
++El Dorado, Domination, report what’s happing in the rim?! Who fired that frakking las!?++
He got mostly static, but prayed his words got through. But eye take him if he was gonna pray for a miracle and not help himself. If the vox wasn’t gonna work, there was a sure fire way he knew could get his orders out. Thank the Emperor for Varvaxian battle tactics. Revving his chainsword, and holding his hotshot in one hand, he pushed his way through the crowd as gunshots and lascracks started to fill the air and ricochet off the quarry walls.
[[Rolling Forceful to push past any obstruction to the convoy, Result 3]]
“Form up! Sentinel-45! Get your arses moving Guardsmen!” He bellowed as he passed a small clutch of Cadians who had holed up in a now bullet ridden cargo container.
[[Roll flashy to rally the men, result 2]]
“What a frakking mess,” he muttered to himself, and hoped this wasn’t going to be a graveyard soon. He then heard something that did him good, and pulled his attention away from the immediate fight. Engines, fast and off a ways, but Krast had fought in so many battles he could recognize the sound of a Valkyrie anywhere. “Well Navy finally got off theirs and came to help.” He thought as he focused back on the ground. Turning to the men and women starting to form up on him in a loose defensive group, he shouted "Air Support is here! You lot going to let them have all the fun?!"
"No, sir!" came a weak but defiant reply from the half dozen or so guardsmen he had with him. A few fired shots at the market guards, giving them all cover.
“Get them home, Kragg,” Words muddled through his mind as he pushed on.
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Zink
New Member
Posts: 24 
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Post by Zink on Apr 13, 2023 20:13:59 GMT -5
The wide patrol around the Quarry's far-side was fairly dull, two Kasrkin doing quite good work of scaring off any potential leads - though if they were pushed inwards towards the rest of the patrols, Caerrick saw it as an acceptable outcome. Hawke and her recruited 'specialist' were no doubt doing their jobs by now - the last she'd peeked at them before splitting off involved some conversation with a civilian and a... Psyker? She wrote them off as a Noble Attendant, or perhaps an aide on an errand. A curiosity for later, but nothing that drew her immediate concern. Hoyt would surely be disappointed by the lack of any hands-on action, but she was his limiting factor for a reason. There was a time and a place for these kind of things, and scaring civilians into compliance was easy, but not really necessary here. Especially not under orders to the contrary, orders which didn't do the guard any favors in conducting this investigation. Rapping her fingers across the surface of her Lasgun, she kept a slow and methodical pace through the inroads, keeping her thoughts to herself as she played the part of an obvious, intimidating Imperial presence.
Well, it wasn't any grox-hide off her back. A milk-run was always something to be enjoyed-
The resounding Crack of Las-fire brings stillness to the Quarry.
Time slows.
Adrenaline floods her system and sharpens her focus to a knife's edge.
She's already aware of what's happening before her mind has fully processed it. The looks on exposed faces, civilian and militia alike, warping between shock, fear, and hatred in a slow, but collective realization. Lips moving, shouting out cries of surprise and rage - a voice overhead, screaming something to agitate the crowds. She wasn't focused on those details, they were irrelevant. What she was focused on was the collection of Militia surrounding her position. A handful, eight from what she could spot, and more besides. Their swiftness in assuming hostility was commended by some small part of her brain, the commentary lost in the face of the realization that they were all substantially armed - armed, and raising their weapons at the pair. Their movements were slow, like molasses to her perception, these brief few moments of adrenal overload allowing her to make a judgement that saved her life.
She faced the fire, and charged headlong.
(Quick reaction to counter-charge and have her carapace eat the surprise volley [4df+1] Roll: [+, , , -] Result: 1 )
What felt like a minute of slow observation was executed within a few seconds - as soon as the Militia began to spit out death at their position, she was already moving. Leaning forwards, she assumed a dead sprint - Hotshot tucked tightly against her chest as she ran into the fire - civilian-grade auto-weaponry was of an insufficient caliber to penetrate the carapace, what few shots of their aggravated surprise volley landed on her spalled off or deflected entirely, doing little more than throwing off her run by the slightest margins from the force. Lasrifles scored pocket-marks into the surface of the armaplas plate harmlessly, and the bulk of their fire proved ineffective - at least long enough for her to push herself to the nearest cover; A storage crate lined up neatly against one of the many shanty-habs' walls. Leaping forward, she tumbled behind the crates with all the grace of a woman wearing a few dozen kilos of kit could, scrambling up against its surface as the hail of fire continued. Only an idiot would eat fire from that many sources, and even assuming a split in fire, four guns to her armor was bad odds - all the justification she needed for that slightly panicked scramble to safety.
Her next choice was fairly simple. Engaged with lethal intent, poised in the middle of what appeared to be a riot, and the vox-bead in her ear only screaming static from anyone beyond tight-beam range, it wasn't just the simple choice, it was obvious.
(Firing into (one of) the militia squad's lasgunner [4df+2] Roll: [+, , -, -] Result: 1)
Gripping tight her Lasgun, she pushed herself upwards - suffering but a few moments of fire to brace her Hotshot on its side against the crates, and taking off a snap-shot at the Militia ahead. Under such pressure, her fire wasn't as precise or sustained as she'd like, but she still struck true. A series of rapid, pulsing flashes of crimson was all the warning the Militia had before one of the men simply ceased to be - each lance bisecting him for but a moment before the rapid heat-differential caused his blood to boil and burst, a pair of legs and an unrecognizable mass of meat falling to the ground by the time the last lance of energy ceased its pulse. Caerrick wisely didn't take the time to appreciate the hit, ducking back down behind the crates for the inevitable reprisal, tapping her comm-bead in anger as it fizzled out.
Oh well. Shouting would do.
"Hoyt! Maneuver Egress, Pattern Terminus!"
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Post by Warsmith Wolf on Apr 14, 2023 1:52:17 GMT -5
513's crew Forcefully firing at the Cargo-8s. High explosive on the flak truck: [4df + 3] Roll: [+, +, -, -] Result: 3
Hull lascannon on the stubber truck: [4df + 3] Roll: [ , -, -, -] Result: 0
MacVrenner going ham on the heavy stubber into the attending infantry: [4df + 3] Roll: [+, +, , ] Result: 5
Mk.4 G4, High Explosive, 120mm, Militarum Issue. It started life as one amongst millions, churned out from the arsenal forges of Hekaton VII. It was the nine hundred and ninth shell to be produced on Shift 12 under the watch of Overseer Radler Tetch, in the Year of Our Emperor 300.720.M40. It was loaded with a hundred-fold of its kin into a shipping cradle, there to be blessed by red-robed adepts of the Blessed Machine. Hear ye now the Consecration of Holy Detonation. 01010111 01101111 01100101 00100001 00100000 01010111 01101111 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100100 01100001 01101101 01101110 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110101 01110000 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100101 01101110 01100101 01101101 01101001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01001101 01100001 01101110 00100001 00100000 01000001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 00100000 01111001 01100101 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000011 01101111 01101110 01110011 01100101 01100011 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001111 01101101 01101101 01101110 01101001 01110011 01110011 01101001 01100001 01101000 00100001 00100000 01010100 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01111001 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000101 01110101 01100011 01101000 01100001 01110010 01101001 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01000010 01101100 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100101 01100100 00100000 01000100 01100101 01110100 01101111 01101110 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100001 00100000 01010111 01100001 01110010 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01111001 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110101 01101100 00100000 01100001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101110 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100001 01101100 01100101 01100110 01100001 01100011 01110100 01101111 01110010 01110011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01010000 01110010 01100101 01101101 01100001 01110100 01110101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01001001 01100111 01101110 01101001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100001 00100000 01010011 01101101 01101001 01110100 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01111001 00100000 01100110 01101111 01100101 01110011 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01101000 01101111 01101100 01111001 00100000 01000110 01101001 01110010 01100101 00100001 00100000 01010000 01110010 01100001 01101001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001101 01100001 01100011 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100101 00100000 01000111 01101111 01100100 00100001
The shell travels now to the Arsenal World of Dwent, where it lies in its Munitorum-issue container for many centuries, awaiting the day where it is at last called upon to serve. Seven hundred years it waits. Seven hundred years it lingers in silence, as brethren batches of munitions are called upon before it. 220.474.M41. A Munitorum official opens the case, and finds the shells inside to pass visual inspection. Another priest chants invocations of awakening, rousing the munitions to their long-awaited purpose. 01010010 01100101 01101101 01100101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01111001 00100000 01001000 01100001 01110100 01110010 01100101 01100100 00101100 00100000 01001111 00100000 01000010 01101100 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100101 01100100 00100000 01001101 01110101 01101110 01101001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00101110 00100000 01010100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00101110 00100000 01010100 01101000 01111001 00100000 01110000 01100001 01110100 01101001 01100101 01101110 01100011 01100101 00101100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110111 01100001 01110010 01100100 01100101 01100100 00101110
The shell is brought to War. It is carried in the reserve arsenals of the Varvaxian 2487th Armoured Battle Group (Adler's Avengers) for many centuries more, until that formation is much reduced at the Seventeenth Battle of Ryker's Fell. The 2487th's survivors - including what remains of their munitions reserve, this shell included - are folded into the newly re-founded 404th Armoured, serving as a veteran core to the fresh troops. The shell is assigned to the racks of the Leman Russ Battle Tank 631 Ceaseless Conqueror II. When Atlas salvage crews drag the wreck of the tank from the Battle of Halligan's Crag, they find this shell in the wreckage. One round left in the rack. Never fired. As the Munitorum never put anything to waste, the shell is duly placed back into the arsenal, assigned to the reserve stockpile of a different battle tank - 5th Company, 1st Squadron, 3rd vehicle, 513 Bellicosa.
Leto Larken never puts much thought into the order in which he loads the shells into Bellicosa's ammo racks. This one just so happened to be the last one slotted into the ready rack, and thus the first to hand. Nevertheless, for a moment when his hands brushed against the casing, he somehow felt that this was right. Like he'd made up for an old insult. He doesn't remember it now, sweating as he rams home the shell with a cry of "UP!", barely pausing to see it vanish into the battle cannon's breach. Perhaps the shell remembers. It certainly flies true. Across the quarry it sails, the very omen of Death itself. Mk.4 G4, High Explosive, 120mm, Militarum Issue. Older than the men who fired it by a dozen generations, its craft holds true. The detonator fuses upon contact with the thin metal of the Cargo-8, sending the kill-pulse a fraction of a second after impact. Do the crew see it, one wonders? Do they realise the manner in which Death comes? It will be a mystery with no answer. The high-explosive shell detonates just behind the driver's cabin of the flak truck - right in the ad-hoc ammunition stowage. The Cargo-8 does not so much explode as vanish, turned into a cloud of smoke, light, and deafening noise as all of its anti-air shells cook off at once. One barrel of the flak cannon is cast so high into the air that it snags itself in the aerial netting, arresting its momentum, before lazily falling away to the ground far below. A death over a millennia in the making, at last come true. The blast from Hess' hull lascannon, meanwhile, melts the second Cargo-8's frontal spotlights clean off, but fails to do any other damage. Not every shot can be catastrophic, one supposes. |
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samo
New Member
Posts: 10
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Post by samo on Apr 14, 2023 10:44:51 GMT -5
Hoyt is shot.
(Quick reaction to avoid being hit anywhere important: [4df+2] Roll: [+, , , -] Result: 2)
Sensation is born in blinding revelatory impacts. The mind becomes overwhelmed. Slug-rounds impact against carapace. Craters are formed. Smoking, ugly scars against the olive-green body armour. Every strike against him blinds and deafens him. Reality and all it's stimuli become a syncopated ennui against the immediate. The now. Screaming nerves and beaten muscles demand his every attention. Overwrite his mind to it's most primitive, most basic of operandi. Shot. Instinct tells him. Bleeding. That animal-impulse howls at the back of his mind, whilst the furnace-hot sting across his body comes as a prelude of pain to come for days after. Yet every impulse is weaker than it's predecessor. Dissipating as crude instinct is overwritten. As control is regained by the matter behind the meat.
Hoyt! Caerrick's voice is a bastion of authority. An anchor amidst the chaos of pain and fear. As it has always been. It reminds him of what he is. Who he is. Hoyt! Her voice echoes in his head with illuminative clarity. She needs him. As now and as ever. And in that, nothing else mattered. Not pain. Not fear.
"Engaging." Hoyt said. His voice a distorted hiss of static through the vox-bead in his respirator. But even the metallic corruption of his voice couldn't hide that rage. It was nothing as petty or as useless as the blind rage of a man who sought to exchange pain taken for pain given. It was focused. Honed. Trained.
And it pushed him forward.
Hoyt did not run. He wanted the guard to continue their firing effort upon him. Rounds against him were rounds not against his Sergeant, or civilians. Slow targets were easier to hit. Militia whose training had waned in the lull of duty as town guards would not overcorrect and hit something besides him. Those shots that found their mark against him shaved more armaplas from his carapace. His limbs jerked violently at they were struck. He staggered, or paused to regain his balance. But it did not stop him. Hoyt bore closer. Incapable of moving faster than a sure-footed march.
Because firing a bolter moving any faster than that was very, very unwise.
(Forceful Action to fire bolter. Feat Bonus of +2 due to close quarters engagement: [4df+5] Roll: [+, , , -] Result: 5.)
The Bolter was deigned with a singular purpose by it's creator, the God-Emperor of Mankind.
Eradication.
Twofold is it's reverence then. As a holy manifestation of His Wrath by the Ecclesiarchy and as a testament to His master of the technoarcane by the Mechanicus. The Priesthood of the Ministorum believe the weapon a divine extension of his vehemence. The Priesthood of Mars see it as a perfect amalgam of heat, cavitation and kinetic force. As Hoyt's finger compresses the trigger of the boltgun gripped white-knuckle tight in his hands, both these schools of thought are given a bloody corroboration.
The first round ejects from the screaming barrel of the rifle and two men die. One cut in half by the conjunction of speed and mass of the bolt. Then, the man behind him is cut to a charnel ruin by a swarm of shrapnel. Another round. This time, a man bursts like over-ripened fruit. Exploding in a mess of viscera and bone shards. The man beside him it cut to tatters by the remnants of his comrade. Blinded and screaming, he falls to the ground, clutching at what remains of his face.
A third round ends his misery.
Finally, finally, Hoyt allows himself the luxury of cover. Colliding shoulder-first with the pile of crates, beside his Sergeant.
"Doubt they'll consider that a fair exchange." Hoyt's grin could be felt in his voice. "Never been one to give like for like. We need to regroup with the convoy, Sergeant. Colonel was right and I was very-" He was interrupted by a burst of autogun fire overhead. "- very karkin' wrong. Bringing the Russ was a golden idea."
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Post by Fate's End on Apr 15, 2023 11:37:47 GMT -5
Fire churns in the air, that only the psyker can feel, and their chest tightens as they catch only the emotions behind the Tau broadcast. Rage. Injustice. They want us dead. Worse than that- At that moment, the black box stops flashing, and Clacky is hit by an even stranger sensation, one of a purpose fulfilled. Then suddenly, it's pushed aside by the surge of terror and panic in the crowd. Ringed by anger, outrage. Grief. Suspicion. Confusion. "Get down, Miss!" unwilling to touch Hawke without her understanding why, the psyker does however grab Yul by the shoulder and pull him down behind the bulk of the cart... Mere seconds before the camp guards open up, firing across the market. "Hell." Kleckhe turns their mind's eye toward the crowd. Searching, closing their eyes to focus, but unwilling to raise their own head above the level of the thick wooden boards to get a deeper read. Concentrating, they track the confusion and horror pouring from Krast, the Lieutenant still easy to find, and the point he is fleeing from- Oh no. "A civilian was killed." Kleckhe suddenly looks over to Hawke, horrified, "Everyone here thinks it was the Guard, so they're retaliating... But..." they swallow, "I caught something in the air- just before it happened, the Xenos were broadcasting. They're so angry that they want everyone here dead. Not just the military." Clacky glances sideways to the mess tent, remembering the promise they'd made less than an hour ago. Despite their sense of self preservation, the guilt claws at them. A tent is no shelter from a stray bullet. "You can both run, or I can get us across the market, unseen. But I promised a child that I wouldn't let anything bad happen to her, and I won't be made a liar." Kleckhe gestures toward the mess tent, "Please, give me a moment first to find her." They shudder as a round hits the ground in front of the stall, trying to think of a convincing reason, if altruism isn't enough, "She's the daughter of the camp medic, if I can return her along the way, it may help calm things down, just a little." Without waiting, Clacky darts away, between the stalls and into the mess tent, staying low. "Miss?" they scan the tent, finding the girl huddled under an empty table. The psyker crouches and holds out a hand for the child to take, "Miss, we need to go. Let's try to find your mum, yes?"
(( Request: `[4df+3]` Roll: `[+, , , ]` Result: `4` Clacky interpreting the vibes and scuttling to retrieve the kid, rather than bail ))
A scrawny face pokes up from where the youth was hiding under the table, fear alight in her eyes as gunfire echoes around. "Why are they shooting?" She cries out, "What did we do? Is it the ship? We didn't shoot it down. Mom says it crashed. By the time she found it they were all dead. She buried them . . ." The words come out in the jumble, tears streaming down her face as she runs to Clacky's side. She takes the psyker's hand, her own arm shaking violently with panic. "Have you seen my mom? She's the camp nurse." |
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Post by Draeci on Apr 15, 2023 12:59:32 GMT -5
Sugar cookies, melting in water.
Buried them. That means no survivors to tell anyone else the truth...
Clacky feels the girl's confusion and fear before they even make contact, it's uncomplicated, focused and kicks like a boot to the chest.
"I know." they look the girl in the eyes, and Clacky looks somewhat sad themselves, "And I think the T'au know too. But sometimes when adults are very, very sad, they get angry, and do the wrong things. And they hurt people that don't deserve it. It's like being confused."
They pull the child right up to them as they stand, and speak quietly but firmly, "I'm Kleckhe. If we get separated, you'll need to shout for me: Kleckhe. But stay this close at all times, okay? Even if we bump, or I let go, keep next to me." the psyker wonders how much they should tell the girl, "I have a power that makes it hard for people to see us. It's how we're going to try and get across the market."
They wait just long enough to check the girl has heard their name well enough to repeat it, and to dry her very wet, sticky face on a spare handkerchief.
With that Clacky sets off out of the tent with her at speed.
"Behind the stalls a moment, that man who was with me before needs to get out as well."
They slid behind the stalls once more, and drop back down next to Yul, with a thump, and an additional child, "Thanks for waiting, lad. I can obfuscate us if you want to pick a route."
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Post by silverruby on Apr 17, 2023 12:51:58 GMT -5
Yul had a feeling that morning, that today was going to be a Very Bad Day- Just a general bad feeling that worsened when the Guard rolled into the camp. It did not please him when his hunch was proven right as gunfire went off in a moment of confusion and discord erupted around the quarry.
[Careful to avoid getting shot by stray fire, Silver Ruby Request: [4df+3] Roll: [+, +, -, -] Result: 3]
Just as he had started walking with Hawke and Clacky, he reacted immediately when Clacky gave him a shove, diving behind a pile of crates to duck and cover as bullets chewed into the wood, raining shards down over him. The hunter unholstered his laspistol, loathe to actually use it, but keeping it in hand, he crawled over to the edge of the pile to take a peek, waiting for Clacky to return after they had sprinted off to the tents- Or not- if the psyker decided to catch some flying shrapnel.
He loathed the idea of staying in one place when guns were hot and both Militia and Guard shooters were looking for any target that matched their description of an "enemy". He glanced toward where he'd parked his bike, hoping that it would still be in one piece, but as the seconds rolled by, he was starting to have reservations about waiting around for Clacky to return in one piece with the kid.
When he had just about made up his mind to abandon the psyker and Maddie's child, they appeared around the corner to find him prone and holding his hat, glaring up at them. "Took y'all long enough."
Yul got to his feet quickly, and stayed crouching as he looked over the tearful child and the witch. "We've got maybe two choices. I've got my bike, we can maybe get out, but I don't think I'm getting around the tank on the ramp."
There was a moment where the bounty hunter is clearly thinking of an alternative, his gaze focused on Beth, before he glanced out toward the camp to take in the pandemonium of screaming and deafening fire. A sense of forgotten noblesse oblige bubbled up in the back of his mind, even if he had squashed it down years ago to become one of them. While Yul didn't particularly like children, he was sympathetic to the little girl's dilemma: of being trapped between factions and considered a bargaining chip. And unfortunately, tools were made to be used.
"These're good folk who don't deserve to die like this. Maddie's got the respect of the Militia- If it's a Xenos trick, we better get them to stop shooting the Guard or we're definitely dead. I didn't bug out of Plenty to die in a hole."
The Bounty Hunter checked the charge on his laspistol, before he nodded toward Clacky and put his faith that the Emperor would protect the trio into the psyker.
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Post by Draeci on Apr 17, 2023 22:48:37 GMT -5
"You'n me both..." Clacky murmurs, nodding in agreement. They flinch at the distant thumps of heavier guns than the militia could possibly be using, and the screams of Guard artillery in the air.
They take a deep breath, and trying to shake the sensation that heading towards the people with guns may just be the worst idea possible, stand up beside Yul.
"This won't do much to stop stray fire, but anyone close will be pretty much invisible to anything with a living mind. And it may just tweak the odds in our favour." the psyker rolls their shoulders, and taking hold of the Bounty Hunter's free hand, starts walking with purpose into the chaotic market.
For a moment, things feel absolutely normal, and the insanity of striding out into the midst of things is almost unbearable. The urge to dive back into cover, for anyone but Clacky, is all too real for a few seconds longer.
But then there's a sensation like fresh, cool air, stemming from where they make contact with Kleckhe, and breathing feels crisp, like inhaling on a frosty morning.
The shots passing are missing by a slightly wider margin, but far more noticeable, is that regardless of how close they get, nobody seems to be looking at these strangers and the child with them.
Sweating ice, Kleckhe weaves through the market, pausing to let panicked traders and civilians charge past, and stopping dead occasionally, a heartbeat before the ground erupts in front of them from a spattering of loose gunfire.
It's nerve-wracking, but the further they proceed, the more it feels possible to actually reach the far side of the market unscathed.
As they draw up close to the aid station where the nurse was last seen, Clacky drops down behind a stack of crates and supplies, and breathes heavily for a few moments, before managing, "We're visible again. Figured it's probably best we don't march into a stand-off and appear out of thin air."
(([4df+2+2 on Sneaky] Roll: [+, , -, -] Result: 3 - Chameleon to get across the market.
[4df+2 lying] Roll: [+, , -, -] Result: 1 - lying to Beth that casting Chameleon actually lowers liklihood to get shot. It doesn't. ))
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Post by blinddeadmcjones on Apr 17, 2023 23:17:42 GMT -5
"You'n me both..." Clacky murmurs, nodding in agreement. They flinch at the distant thumps of heavier guns than the militia could possibly be using, and the screams of Guard artillery in the air. They take a deep breath, and trying to shake the sensation that heading towards the people with guns may just be the worst idea possible, stand up beside Yul. "This won't do much to stop stray fire, but anyone close will be pretty much invisible to anything with a living mind. And it may just tweak the odds in our favour." the psyker rolls their shoulders, and taking hold of the Bounty Hunter's free hand, starts walking with purpose into the chaotic market. For a moment, things feel absolutely normal, and the insanity of striding out into the midst of things is almost unbearable. The urge to dive back into cover, for anyone but Clacky, is all too real for a few seconds longer. But then there's a sensation like fresh, cool air, stemming from where they make contact with Kleckhe, and breathing feels crisp, like inhaling on a frosty morning. The shots passing are missing by a slightly wider margin, but far more noticeable, is that regardless of how close they get, nobody seems to be looking at these strangers and the child with them. Sweating ice, Kleckhe weaves through the market, pausing to let panicked traders and civilians charge past, and stopping dead occasionally, a heartbeat before the ground erupts in front of them from a spattering of loose gunfire. It's nerve-wracking, but the further they proceed, the more it feels possible to actually reach the far side of the market unscathed. As they draw up close to the aid station where the nurse was last seen, Clacky drops down behind a stack of crates and supplies, and breathes heavily for a few moments, before managing, "We're visible again. Figured it's probably best we don't march into a stand-off and appear out of thin air." (([4df+2+2 on Sneaky] Roll: [+, , -, -] Result: 3 - Chameleon to get across the market. [4df+2 lying] Roll: [+, , -, -] Result: 1 - lying to Beth that casting Chameleon actually lowers liklihood to get shot. It doesn't. )) "now just hold on a minute!" hawke chimed in, irked at what was being suggested along with being ignored by the pair "shit's currently FUBAR and you both want to go further into the market?! i can understand getting the kid out of the line of fire but-" a couple of bullets smacked into the boarding above her head, showering the guardsman with splinters, cutting of her line of thought as she flinched. cart isn't gonna hold up much longer, it's no aegis line that's for sure
as she looked to check if the others were hit, hawke was stunned to see them stand up straight and begin moving off like they were having a morning stroll, she also felt the temperature of the air go down. cursing to herself she immediately got up and followed them, grabbing the now defunct beacon as she went. "hey arseholes!!" she finally yelled when they stopped to catch a breather "think you could let me in on what you're planning before you go unilaterally standing up and walking around like a blind grox in the middle of a damn firefight!?! RGH, you're just like someone else i knew..." taking a second she composed herself before continuing "just so you know our orders were to pull back to the entrance if things went pear-shaped, so what we should be doing is that, at least you'd all have something more solid to take cover behind, so. now, hows about you actually come up with an actual plan this time instead of wandering aimlessly!?" |
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Post by Draeci on Apr 18, 2023 0:54:50 GMT -5
Resting with their back to a metal crate, Clacky lets go of Yul's hand and covers Beth's ears while Hawke berates them.
They don't argue, and seem to let it all flow along with a quiet serenity - probably from sheer fatigue of maintaining the covering illusion. Or, simply riding the high of having survived at all, it's impossible to tell.
Letting go of the girl's head, they hold her shoulders gently, apologetic.
"That entrance, there?" Kleckhe seems bemused, leaning sideways to look around the stack of crates to the nearby huddle of guard and vehicles, before leaning back into cover, "You could run over to the transports as and when, Miss. You're in uniform, you won't get shot at by your own people."
They point at themselves, "On the other hand, I just sent an uninvited message to your CO, and then someone else's head immediately exploded. I can't get any closer, at least until you vouch that I wasn't involved."
It's now clearer that the main reason Clacky has actually been holding Beth's head and then shoulders, is to stop her turning to look past the crates, and seeing the nearby corpse of Alvira pooling blood into the dirt.
"...Plan?" Clacky scratches their chin, "I guess let's try the simplest option first."
They place Yul's hand on Beth's shoulder, and gesture for him to keep the child facing away from the mess between them and the Aid Station.
Popping up over the nearest crate, and resting their elbows on it, Kleckhe cups their hands to their mouth, and yells out toward the tents, "Hey! Maddie! We found your kid, she's fine! You all good? Can we bring her over to you?"
Ducking back behind the box, they take over comforting Beth once more, "If she's there, we'll find out."
(( [4df+1+2 Flashy and Manners Maketh] Roll: [+, -, -, -] Result: 1 - Clacky attempting to make a positive impression rather than sound like a hostage negotiator. ))
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Post by blinddeadmcjones on Apr 18, 2023 7:18:33 GMT -5
Resting with their back to a metal crate, Clacky lets go of Yul's hand and covers Beth's ears while Hawke berates them. They don't argue, and seem to let it all flow along with a quiet serenity - probably from sheer fatigue of maintaining the covering illusion. Or, simply riding the high of having survived at all, it's impossible to tell. Letting go of the girl's head, they hold her shoulders gently, apologetic. "That entrance, there?" Kleckhe seems bemused, leaning sideways to look around the stack of crates to the nearby huddle of guard and vehicles, before leaning back into cover, "You could run over to the transports as and when, Miss. You're in uniform, you won't get shot at by your own people." They point at themselves, "On the other hand, I just sent an uninvited message to your CO, and then someone else's head immediately exploded. I can't get any closer, at least until you vouch that I wasn't involved." It's now clearer that the main reason Clacky has actually been holding Beth's head and then shoulders, is to stop her turning to look past the crates, and seeing the nearby corpse of Alvira pooling blood into the dirt. "...Plan?" Clacky scratches their chin, "I guess let's try the simplest option first." They place Yul's hand on Beth's shoulder, and gesture for him to keep the child facing away from the mess between them and the Aid Station. Popping up over the nearest crate, and resting their elbows on it, Kleckhe cups their hands to their mouth, and yells out toward the tents, "Hey! Maddie! We found your kid, she's fine! You all good? Can we bring her over to you?"
Ducking back behind the box, they take over comforting Beth once more, "If she's there, we'll find out." (( [4df+1+2 Flashy and Manners Maketh] Roll: [+, -, -, -] Result: 1 - Clacky attempting to make a positive impression rather than sound like a hostage negotiator. )) for a second time, Hawke found herself at a loss for words, if it weren't for life and death nature of the situation it would've been quite comical. how could one individual be quite switched on in some aspects yet act in ways that suggest sheer obliviousness to their surroundings "i was about to say..." she began "why don't you do that trick you did with me to send the message earlier? pinpoint where this nurse is that way? also in regards to my buddies you do realise that if you go over with me would also avoid getting shot by them because a) orders were don't shoot civies, and b) you being next to me would mean them shooting at you would risk them hitting me, so they wouldn't shoot at you, because blue on blue never looks good to the regimental commissar, just a thought." |
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Post by silverruby on Apr 18, 2023 10:57:00 GMT -5
When Clacky places his hand on the child's shoulder, he opens his coat and shepherds her inside, cradling the back of her head with his free hand to keep her face buried against his side, and away from the gristly sight laying by the tent. It stung to see a fallen acquaintance, even for someone as hardened as the bounty hunter.
"Look, it won't hurt to ask Maddie nicely that the Militia stop shooting first, and if that don't work, I suppose we might as well run into the welcome arms of the Guard." Yul finally gives Hawke a look over, his expression decidedly annoyed at her questioning his choice. "Besides, you being here and not shooting Maddie's kid or us on the spot proves that the Guard aren't the devils in disguise."
"How are you going to convince the locals otherwise, if we absconded to your captain? Yell from the vox-lauder that y'all didn't mean it? And if we tried that trick again? There's no visible proof for Maddie to show her men and women that you aren't a threat. They're angry, scared and armed, and I doubt a witch is going to make that any better. Alvira-" He points in the direction of the dead leader of the camp, his face schooled into an expression devoid of emotion in reaction to her sudden demise, "Supposedly took a shot from one of yours. I'm pretty sure if someone shot your captain's head off you all wouldn't be willing to give us quarter either to work things out, innocent or not."
"If you don't like it, head back to follow your orders like a good little soldier. Or, you can try helping us stop this before more civilian lives are at stake from a misunderstanding." It was the most he'd said in one breath to either of them since meeting the psyker and the guardswoman.
"The Guard is our backup." He adds, meeting Hawke's gaze to let her in on his thinking, "That's the plan so far since shit's gone belly up."
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