Re: The Restless Sands - Action

[Norabder]

*joins Meros in the cockpit*
I'm not sure leaving those two alone is a good idea but at the same time I'm certain being stuck between them is a worse idea.

[Segovax]

Segovax ignores the black templar and his shove which bounces off his armour, he sees the heavy bolter and hefts the large weapon down, looking down the sights and inspecting the workings of the gun. Pleased he wraps the belt feed around his fore arm and grabs anymore belts that are spare. sitting down across from senera, his gaze through his helm's visor unflinching and dead silent.

[Apothecary Meros]

Norabder
"I'm sure we can smash our way out the window if they do get a bit too active down there." Meros grimaces, closing the door and taking the co-pilot's seat. In the seat beside him, working the controls feverishly, is an overdressed Valhallan guardsman, wearing the typical white and blue associated with the Ork-hunting Tundra regiments.

"Good day, comrade Space Marine." He nods respectfully, speaking in an accent carrying the strength to knock a Baneblade from it's treads.

Senera
Segovax passes by and takes the shove without further incident, and takes the seat directly opposite, with his new Heavy Bolter in his lap, and eyes like torches glaring back. The Boltgun feels weighty, and appropriately maintained, though there appear to be a few scratches on the case and a small dent on the handle. Senera also notes that he only has one magazine at the moment, with no more in plain view. The hull begins to shake more, but the vessel is still far from it's goal.

Segovax
Senera takes his seat, with a shiny new Boltgun on his hip, so naturally, Segovax parks himself directly opposite (having secured just the single belt of ammo, giving him a good 100 or so rounds). The increasingly violent shaking throughout the craft sends memories flooding back, of when Segovax bore blue and white, streaking down from the sky on wings of fire toward the Imperial Palace.

[Norabder]

Do you have any other guardsmen hidden around here I should know about?

[senera2000]

Senera switches his Godwyn Pattern bolter to single fire mode to conserve his 30 bolts.
He then recites the litany of Durability to the weapon so that it may serve him well.
Senera returns the heretic's silent stare with one of zeal and wrath, as he stays seated like a statue.

[Segovax]

Segovax continues his hard, silent stare at Senera

[Apothecary Meros]

Norabder
"There's a Vostroyan holding the door closed and a Catachan hiding in the landing gear." Meros replies in a mocking tone, with his smiling teeth illuminated by bright flickering flames collecting around the cockpit window, almost obscuring the sandy terrain below. Norabder's already yellow armour glows a faint golden colour, though the the serene appearance is ruined somewhat by volcanic turbulence, to the point where standing becomes a strenuous task. In typical Lamenter fashion, Norabder is unlucky enough to knock his head on the doorframe as he staggers back into it.

"Ease her up now, lad." Meros turns to his guardsman, who complies by savagely wrestling the stick toward his chest. A blood-red sun comes into frame, bathing the horizon in scarlet tones. There's little more to the landscape other than "sand, sand, and more fucking sand" - to use the Apothecary's own words.

Senera and Segovax
As the Templar's noble speech comes to an end, the void sees forth the Trumpets of Jericho, masking every sound, word and thought with a terrible roar. Despite this, the warriors never break their cold, emotionless stare. After no more than a minute, the Thunderhawk's occupants feel an uncomfortable lurch through their gut as their descent starts to level out, and the air outside gradually settles. A few moments pass, before the craft's engines cease with a piercing hiss, and a gentle thud signals that they have indeed landed.

[Norabder]

Bugger.
*grabs hold of something to steady himself*
Sand huh? I'm gonna be cleaning that out of my bolter for weeks.

[senera2000]

Senera continues his fiery stare of zealous wrath, even though the aircraft has landed.

[Segovax]

Segovax stands up leaving the templar without a single further glance and stands before the bay doors, slamming his massive, armoured fist against the button to open the doors heavy bolter in hand and soul render shealthed on his back.

[Apothecary Meros]

Norabder
Meros pushes open the cockpit door, and hops down to the troop bay. "It might be a bit of a trek until we find the first Ork, but keep your eyes open."

Through the window, the orange dust settles and calmness finds itself restored. The Valhallan peers across the dunes intently, wiping the sweat from beneath his furry ushanka.

Senera
Over the sound of the gunship's powering down engines, and the grinding mechanisms of the front assault ramp, Senera hears a distant rumble, reminiscent of a powerful armoured spearhead.

Segovax
The ramp slowly descends, assaulting your senses with blinding sunlight and the smell of an arid, toxic wasteland. The red sky seems to bode well, given your current allegiance, though there is no indication of anything else to slay once the door is open, other than your allies of course.

[senera2000]

After the heretic leaves the ship, Senera allows himself to get out of his seat with his anger still restrained.
But the sound of the armored spearhead makes the heretic very temporarily secondary as Senera focuses on the sound and gets out of the thunder-hawk to investigate it.

[Norabder]

*completes a quick weapons check before following Meros*

[Segovax]

Segovax slowly leaves the ship and scans the area for anything, if not he feels very disappointed

[Apothecary Meros]

All
The four Astartes venture from the gunship's front ramp, armour glazed in crimson red by the sun, and their feet sunken slightly in the soft, orange sand. While at first only the Templar could hear it, the distant rumble soon plagues the entire group with a low purr vibrating through their skulls.

"The gunship will stay here, hopefully nothing else will pass through." Meros begins, taking a look around. The points directly ahead and states "this way is north, toward the arctic regions." He gestures with a sweeping arm at the surroundings. "It was difficult to spot anything on the way down, so my guess on where to go is as good as yours." He continues, showing an uncomfortable grimace at an unseen force.

Norabder
As far as the Lamenter can tell, the rumbling sound is coming from directly behind him, and appears reminiscent of the sound of Imperial Infantrymen marching in perfect unison, only a duller and lower sound. Unlike the glorious sound of an Imperial march, the frequency irritates and clouds his mind to a certain degree.

Senera
The sound persists, though the source of the noise is impossible to distinguish. It may simply be wind, for all the Templar knows. However, the resultant thickness of the air triggers the instinctive recognition of immaterial malice.

Segovax
The untainted stand with Segovax in a loose group, all looking fairly uncomfortable. He hasn't the slightest clue why - maybe they are also disappointed that there are no Orks to kill at the present moment.

[senera2000]

Senera instinctively assumes a combat-ready stance the instant he notices the presence of the immaterium.
"It seems that there is a more foul presence than the Orks at work on this planet," Senera says for the group to hear.
He then continues to take a look around and runs a few scans using the auspex in his helm as well.

Then he turns to address the group.
"Our first priority should be to identify the source of this immaterial malice and eliminate it. The foul forces of chaos shall not be allowed to fester on this world of the Imperium. It must be cleansed of the chaos filth through faith and fire."

[Norabder]

*spins around and brings his bolter up*
I agree with the Templar, although I suspect finding it won't be difficult. I think it's found us.

[Segovax]

The world eater kicks the sand in anger and pain as another painful jab of the butchers nails punishes him for not killing anything, but he bears his teeth and speaks 'north, greenskins like the heat blood angel. If their here its here'

[Apothecary Meros]

All
"Immaterial malice? Are you sure you're not just standing too close to Segovax?" Meros scoffs, though it would appear he spoke far too soon.

Like the red dust which curled in the air from Segovax's disgruntled kick, the tips of the dunes surrounding the Thunderhawk are vaporized into a fine, dusty mist. The phenomenon travels inward at a marching pace, before the sand settles, ending no farther than a twenty metre radius around the gunship.  

Norabder
Through the sights of the Lamenter's bolter, a being begins to manifest. Incandescent blue bulbs shine above a gaping, toothy maw, connected by a patchwork of green, leathery skin. Spikes of silver hair decorate it's scalp, and a cloak of the same shade flows into existence over the top of a midnight blue chestplate. It's facial expression reflects an odd sense of curiosity.

Senera
Around Senera, rows of brutish, ugly greenskins begin to seep into the material realm, as their ethereal cloak slowly peels away. They bear an array of primitive metal blades and bludgeons, though some appear to have fashioned vaguely round shields as well. Shoulder guards, helmets and other plates are displayed in no particularly organised fashion, though there is a consistent shade of dark blue found where the paint somehow remains bonded to the metal scraps. They make no attempt to advance, and simply observe.

Segovax
Without warning, large green beasts leak into view, with the familiar smell of Ork stained upon them. Their enticing flavour begs for a devouring, and Segovax can almost see the blood flowing through them; the blood, oh how sweet it is - and just look at how much there is.

[Norabder]

That's a new trick...
*readies a grenade*

[Segovax]

Segovax roars a word in an unknown, gutteral language and aims his heavy bolter firing bursts of the mass reactive shells into the enemy ranks, a grin of appeasment on his face that consumes his original scowl from under his helm.

[senera2000]

Senera holds his shield to defend against any ranged fire while being slightly confused. He expected Deamons, or at least something of Chaos. Not Orks.

Senera then walks up to the Ork horde shield still held, ready to defend himself and deliver the Emperor's fury upon the Greenskins on a millisecond's notice. If possible, he seeks out the commander of the group but if he fails to do so, he walks up to the nearest Ork. After walking up to the Ork, Senera stares it in the face. Partly to learn if it's real or not and partly to discern its intentions. Normal Orks would've started shooting right now.
"Are you capable of speech Greenskin?"

[Apothecary Meros]

Norabder
Norabder primes his grenade, with the sapphire-eyed Ork directly ahead, and Boys all around. However, the Templar moves into view, past him and toward the leading figure, briefly conversing with it.

With a feverish snarl, the Berzerker unleashes a deafening streak of bolts into the assembled mob, instantly provoking a stampede of greenskins to set the Astartes in their sights and charge. Due to the Lamenter's position, the Orks don't quite reach him yet, most of them instead clustering around the World Eater and Meros behind him.

Senera
Senera see a taller, older looking Ork amongst them, clad in a dusty cloak with glowing, blue eyes - the tell-tale signs of a psyker. It takes a step back as the Templar approaches, though relaxes upon realisation that it isn't going to be brutally murdered, yet.

"Yer don't speek like der uver uns." It replies, in a typically Orky fashion, though the words appear uncomfortable to say for the creature. Every syllable is accompanied by an expression of deep thought.

It's eyes widen suddenly, as a staccato of powerful booms and a grizzly roar shakes the ground from behind Senera. He looks prepared to flee at a moment's notice.

Segovax
Three weary greenskins are blown away in a shroud of shrapnel and gore, though their places are soon filled by the next sweeping tide. With sword and maces held above their wailing heads, about 10 Orks descend upon Segovax.

[Rolled D6 for Segovax Overwatch attack - 4]

Another 4 Orks collapse in piles of meat and bone, torn to ribbons by his insane assault.

[Rolled D6 for Ork Close Combat attack - 2]

Their weapons clank uselessly against Segovax's Astartes warplate, unable to find purchase. They're easily shrugged aside, giving Segovax a moment of breathing room. Meros is caught off-guard in the melee, with 6 Orks choosing to try and go through him.

[Rolled D6 for Ork Close Combat attack - 4 (+1)]

An eager greenskin spears a barbed mace into Meros' abdomen, while another particularly large Ork punches the Apothecary in the face, cracking the right side of his helmet and sending the Astartes staggering to the ground. He retains his composure, rising briskly and sweeping his Chainaxe upward.

[Rolled D6 for Meros Close Combat attack - 6]

The Angel's assailant receives a powerful swing between the legs, ravenously carving a path upward and through the beast's skull, sending both halves of the Ork into the dirt.

[Segovax]

Segovax drops the heavy bolter, barrel smoking with heat, drawing his daemonic blade he unleashes his rage and sets himself into the horde bellowing and slobbering more like a beast than man

[Norabder]

*throws the grenade over the charging orks aiming to land it just behind them*
Really? The Templar is the one who tries diplomacy. Bloody hell the universe must be doomed.
*draws his combat knife and charges to help Meros*

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