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Deathwatch - The Dread Hulk [Game thread]

Started by Wargamer, September 28, 2012, 09:38:06 AM

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Wargamer

+++Class IV Warp Conglomerate Detected.+++
+++Analysing... ... ...+++
+++Composition:
27% Unprocessed minerals.
14% Ice and frozen liquids.
38% Synthetic debris (including an estimated thirty-three spacecraft of various origins).
21% Unknown - scans unable to penetrate to Hulk's core.+++
+++Threat Classification: Alpha Extremis.
Hulk's course will take it within striking distance of vital Inquisitorial installation on planet Thera.
Loss of Inquisitorial installation unacceptable!
Protect at all costs!
+++




The Deathwatch stood in the centre of the teleport chamber, surrounded by all manner of arcane machinery. Their Strike Cruiser was holding position a hundred thousand kilometres off the Hulk's starboard flank, having located a suitable insertion point via passive scanning.

The team's mission was simple; board the Hulk and disable it at all costs. Their insertion would place them just prow-ward of an Ork raiding vessel fused to the surface of the Hulk. Power signatures from the wreck suggested that some of its systems still functioned, which in turn meant there could be survivors.

An Inquisitorial cogitator in an eyeless black hood turned sightlessly toward the Deathwatch. "My Master advises you to move against the Orks with all speed. Silence what weapon systems you can and secure a landing platform - once we have a foothold, we can move additional men and supplies aboard the ship. Until then, you are on your own; we have no means of extracting you."
This came as no surprise to any of the Deathwatch. The air of the chamber became thick with the smell of burning metals and the foul stink of Warp Space as the mystical device gathered the power required to sunder reality.

The teleport itself was a sudden thing - a brief lurch, a sudden chill of being exposed to the void, and the Strike Cruiser was gone. In its place was a darkened chamber that had perhaps, in ages past, been a mess hall. Now it was forgotten, its port wall crushed inwards and its floor upheaved. The aft door stood ajar, half slid into the wall and halted by power failures. The only other exit was a door to starboard, powered down in the closed position. There were no signs of Orks here, though the faint smell of them drifted through the stagnant air.
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system

Ravager Zero

Brother Gideon hefted his hammer with both hands, feeling its satisfying weight against his armoured gloves. He shook his head slightly. Even a brief transit through the immaterium left him unsettled. It was an unavoidable fact that the only way to move so quickly over vast distances was to skirt the edge of death and madness. The stench of Orks permeated the chamber, faded with time or distance. Relaxing slightly, Gideon set his auspex to scan the surrounding area for any hidden passages or survivors.
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Vyper

Isidur checked that his helmet seal was still fully connected, which it was. The smell of orks was foul even through the filters.
As they appeared to be in no immediate danger, he lowered his weapons and instead looked around the area that they had arrived in, although there was not much to be seen.

Mabbz

Samuel swiftly recovered from the teleport. Drawing his pistols, he moved to check the aft door.

The Man They Call Jayne

Severus performed a rapid check of his servo harness to ensure nothing had been damaged by the teleport. Activating his auspex he began to scan the area. He walked over to what seemed to be the main door to the chamber and he inspected the control pad for functionality. It was a little damaged but a few loose wires were no challenge.

He then began to hunt for a functioning dataport so that he might learn what parts of the ship were still functional, and what parts we going to be blocked off to them.
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Railgun Convention

After a taking a moment to recover from the disturbance in the warp, Zoltan set his psy-senses to examining the local area. Finding nothing, he ran a quick sweep of himself and his systems before taking up position by the main door.
So how many crashes have I survived now?

El ShasOcho

Brother Connolly shook himself a couple times to get the affects from the warp jump out. He was still getting used to it, having never used it while with the Black Knights. He could smell Ork, but it was stale, they were alone for now. He sheathed his sword and slung his storm shield over his back, looking around at his Battle Brothers. "Brother Severus, anything of use on the auspex reading?" He asked, bolter now drawn out.

Quote from: Lee Lee Declis on August 06, 2010, 03:14:38 AM
Although, it must be said, one should always have a Fantasy in

Lord Sotek

#7
It didn't matter how many times he traveled this way; Isaac knew he would never get used to teleportation. It was worse somehow than translating through the warp in a ship, perhaps due to the more personal nature of the Immaterial jaunt.  To be frank, were he still the boy he had once been, a Fleet Serf deckrat lacking the lyman's ear and improved constitution of a space marine, he knew he probably would have vomited all over the floor. As it was, he flashed into being with shield and weapon at the ready, only permitting himself a moment to shudder nausea out of his limbs after he finished sweeping the room.

With the indescribable smells and sensations encountered during warp-transit abating, the Torchbearer could quickly tell from his filter-contaminant readouts that the hulk's stale air was expectedly thick with Ork spores and impossibly ancient dust. But Isaac was quite at home; he had been born in environments like this, though less dilapidated, and hadn't set first foot on solid ground until well after his twentieth year. He just praised the Emperor his mental conditioning had been sufficient to overcome the resulting agoraphobia.

Keeping his weapon trained on the only open door, with a wary eye towards the second, he spared a bare moment to examine his new battle-brothers. He had only recently been nominated for this prestigious posting, and their summons here had been urgent; there had been no opportunity to get to know the Astartes in his team before starting his first mission for the Deathwatch.

He noticed with approval as the Astartes with a bloodred claw marking one shoulder moved to cover and investigate the sealed door, impressed by the variety and potency of the uncommon and high-tech weaponry the Marine carried. Baraquiel resolved to learn how the warrior obtained such ordnance, though he hoped it was not through close partnership with the ignorant, self-aggrandizing leeches on Mars.

Likewise, he noted the tabarded, hammer-toting marine with keen interest. Though the Bright Lords were not of Dorn's line, their initial training cadre had been from the Imperial Fists, and veneration of the knightly heroism of Sigismund was in their bones. It would be fascinating to learn more about such a spiritual foster-brother. The marine next to him, crimson sword marked clearly on one shoulder, was not of a chapter Isaac knew, but his bearing and the sword in his hand suggested that here too was another Astartes of chivalrous mold, and it lifted his spirits in this oppressive place.

The Apothecary surprised him. Though he was somewhat uncomfortable at the thought of being treated by another Chapter's hospitaller, he knew the book-and-blood-drop marked Marine might well prove the difference between life and death, and the success or failure that brought to their mission. He wondered that a chapter would willingly part with so vital an adept; did they have an unusually high number of them, to lend one so?

And... He couldn't quite make out the chapter symbol, but the meaning of a psychic hood was unmistakable. He was honored to have the mystic lore and wisdom of one of the safr
Quote from: Saulus on March 17, 2011, 06:16:56 PM
Often I hear delusional ramble like "I painted and collected my army as ultramarine tyranid hunters....but Pedro is really good, so now I'm using him, but I'm just going to call him Jimbob-Fistpumper, cause that fits with my

The Man They Call Jayne

Severus turned to Connolly as he was addressed. "I am not detecting anything in the immediate area. We need to shut down the weapons on this Hulk, or at least take control of them." We should head to the bridge first.

He moved to the main door once again and opened it. The gloom before him was thick so he activated his shoulder mounted spotlight. His ornate bolt pistol extended before him, he took a few steps out into the passageway.
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TopBanana

Having served with Deathwatch for many years, Jarda was well-acquainted with teleportation insertions.  Familiarity though did little to mitigate the peculiar un-naturalness that accompanied the experience; the sudden lurch, subtly different from that of a drop pod, and chill of the warp, sharper than any natural weather.  Pushing the feelings aside, Jarda grabbed his bolter from where it hung on its strap and checked to make sure his power sword was still sheathed securely at his side.  Even through the filters in his helmet, he could smell the scent of orks in the air as he moved to cover the partially open door to the rear of the room.
â€Ã...“Four and a half centuries of bitter, relentless war. A war that has swept seven sectors and hundreds of worlds. A war that has seen dozens of planets burn in the fires of Exterminatus. A war that has known the soaring heights of victory and the black depths of defeat. A war that must

Wargamer

Auspex sweeps of the chamber were a nightmare to decipher. The Hulk didn't read like a normal vessel - just ten feet to the left was a chunk of mineral ore three hundred metres across. To their right, beyond the sealed door, was nothing; where there should have been corridors there was simply a void. Beyond, if the bouncing, mangled returns were anything to go by, were more remains of crushed starship and random space debris.

The lifesigns were equally confused. They were mostly small things - likely rats or Squigs or one of a thousand kinds of vermin that found their way aboard the less well maintained starships. Some were big - large enough to be Orks - but precisely where they were was hard to tell. Perhaps fifty to a hundred feet ahead, one deck up, down or on their level.
"The rocks are dense in rare minerals," Severus said to Gideon. "Their unique properties will distort auspex and vox signals. We will have to move on for more accurate scans."
"And how do you know that?" Gideon asked.
Severus nodded to the terminal he was stood at. "I have a working system. The ship's Enginseers performed a basic mineral evaluation before the Orks overran their position. I have found more than reports, however..."

Both doors sprang open together. The starboard door did indeed lead into a void - a drop of six or seven decks into a pile of ruined metal. The aft door, beyond which lay the vague life signs, seemed a far more direct path.
I wrote a novel - Dreamscape: The Wanderer.. Available in paperback and pdf.

Quote from: Liberate the Warhammers
People who have no sense of Sportsmanship have NO PLACE designing any Gaming system

Mabbz

"So... I suppose we should go aft" said Samuel, looking at the empty space beyond the starboard exit. He turned to the Bright Lord. "I agree. You are best equipped to take point. I shall endeavour to keep you covered."

The Man They Call Jayne

"Agreed. Aft it is. I will bring up the rear, ensure we are not followed by anyone who may seek to impede us."
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El ShasOcho

Returning his bolter, Brother Connolly drew his power sword and bolt pistol. Giving the blade a few quick twirls he moved behind brother Isaac and prepared to move out.

Quote from: Lee Lee Declis on August 06, 2010, 03:14:38 AM
Although, it must be said, one should always have a Fantasy in

TopBanana

Readying his bolter, ammunition selector set  for standard bolts, Brother Jarda fell in behind Brother Connolly.  He kept a watchful eye on the passage ahead.  It reminded him strongly of the passages beneath the surface of Arrivia, where his chapter fought long against the Tyranids, where he lost his arm and eye but upheld the honor of his chapter.
â€Ã...“Four and a half centuries of bitter, relentless war. A war that has swept seven sectors and hundreds of worlds. A war that has seen dozens of planets burn in the fires of Exterminatus. A war that has known the soaring heights of victory and the black depths of defeat. A war that must