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#Post#: 215--------------------------------------------------
Round 3 Narratives
By: Syresyphirin Date: November 30, 2012, 7:16 am
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Like the title says, post round three narratives here.
Journals of Epistolary Luriziel : Falon's Regret : Entry 3
I have avoided donning my Terminator armor since operations on
Martyr IV. In light of recent events however, I've had no choice
but to lock away my pride for the sake of those under my
command. As watchers prepared the armor for battle I entered
into a meditative state, performing the necessary rites to
cleanse my body and mind. I turned my thoughts inward,
reflecting on the weakness which had allowed my enemies to
suppress my psychic ability on the battle field in the weeks
previous. My self anger rose as a purifying flame, and at the
height of my concentration I was granted a vision by the
Emperor.
In this vision a series of imperial ruins was set upon by a band
of Night Lords, traitorous sons of the Night Haunter. Despite
their obvious heraldry, my eyes were compelled to the sky where
black clouds roiled in the sky, to reveal a blasphemous
distortion of the Dark Angel heraldry. The path was laid bare,
clearly a member of the fallen had hidden himself amongst these
other pitiful traitors to conceal his activities from my eyes. A
futile quest. The Emperor sees all, and I am a vessel of his
judgement.
I immediately equipped my armor and summoned Squads Raphael and
Malachai to my side. We were supported by a revered Whirlwind
and a Landspeeder from Ravenwing Squad Solas. Cursory scans of
the immediate area, made clear a number of ruins which fit the
description of my premonition, and with the help of the
Ravenwing it was not long before I was able to deploy my forces
against the agents of the Night Lords.
As we entered into combat amongst the rubble of ancient
buildings it became clear that the Night Lords were installing
heretical devices at certain locations throughout the city.
Their forces were intent on protecting these devices and made an
aggressive push towards our front lines with rhinos and
predators.
I ordered a concentrated volley on the Rhino, in an effort to
crush their spearhead head before melee could be joined. Brother
Philas, of Squad Malachai shot true, and the warped rhino
exploded, rending the flesh of the traitors inside. Even so,
from the wreckage emerged the form of a chaos lord and what
remained of his retinue.
Even as I ordered the whirlwind to fire on their position, the
cursed predator destroyed its main armament. It was a victory
short lived for chaos, as the Ravenwing Speeder flanked the
predator and annihilated it from behind as befits the brothers
of our second company. Meanwhile, the rest of my brothers and I
set our bolters upon the cursed lord and his followers. The lord
let loose a torrent of bale fire from the mouth of of whatever
wretched armament he possessed. My psychic energies shielded
Squad Raphael from the worst of the flames, but the weapon
attacked the soul as well as the body, and some casualties were
sustained. I knew I had to remove this threat from the field
lest it ultimately overwhelm my forces. With a prayer to the
Emperor I aimed my storm bolter and Emperor be praised my shots
were true. The chaos lord lurched backwards onto the bloody
pavement of the shattered road, and was quickly pulled back by
his lackeys. As I moved to cut them down my squad was pinned in
by a unit of chaos marines on bikes. My annoyance raged into
righteous anger as I realized that the fallen was amongst them.
As the bikers charged towards us at full speed I stepped to the
fore of the unit and hefted my spear towards their leader.
“Fallen Angel! Make ready your soul for judgment, the Emperor
and the Lion call to you!” To the traitor's credit he accepted
the challenge and rode for me at the double. As we collided I
forced my halberd into the hull of his bike, using the bulk of
my armor to deflect his blow even as I ran the bike into the
ground. The Fallen was sprawled at my feet, unconscious.
I could not afford to keep the field and risk the death of this
traitor. In keeping with our customs I ordered a withdrawal back
to Heaven's Fall. I have no doubt that Interrogator Chaplain
Sarakiel will see to it that this traitor is made to divulge the
purpose of chaos on this planet, and that he will be made to
repent for his millennium old sin.
#Post#: 226--------------------------------------------------
Re: Round 3 Narratives
By: olsen Date: December 8, 2012, 4:04 am
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Pre-Battle Report 1 and The Beginnings of Enlightenment.
As Psyker-Lord Alain Krowles calmly sat in his hastily
converted quarters, he stared into the billowing green-white
smoke wafting from the heavy black urn in the corner. The urn
was not truly black, but it took staring at it for countless
hours to see it was a deep, dark blue, chased with greens and
purples. He had found it on the planet Arx in a camp that had
been long abandoned. Re-focusing his thoughts, he let his mind
draw shapes and ideas from the smoke with all of its folds and
twists and weight and depth and warmth and cold. He saw a body
of men walking across a light forest. A man with a heady aura
of command carrying a weapon across his back that glowed with a
selfish, hungry and giggling presence. A smoking, grinding
behemoth that shouted death at its enemies. This and more he
saw over the next nine hours, but he trusted little of it. The
smoke occasionally lent aid, but often it merely showed
information that was only useful if certain events came to pass.
The events rarely did. Still, Alain knew he still had much to
learn and welcomed whatever gifts he received, as long as the
cost was not too high.
Confident that he had gleaned as much knowledge as was
available, he left his room. His personal bodyguard fell into
step with him as he walked across the courtyard of the small,
but lavish house. Those men were once members of the 8th
Kasrkin (Strike) and led by a gruff individual of very few
words. Not the poems or songs or other verbal culture for these
few, no they never spoke to outsiders and only their leader
spoke to Alain. Alain did not insult them with an attempt at
conversation.
Arriving at the source of oddly loud, lizard-like hissing,
Alain greeted the boisterous, ****y leader of the “Hell Riders”,
as they took to calling themselves in the last few months.
“Squadron Corporal Major Bellmont, take your men around to the
far side of the valley to the east. Report any enemy activity.
I expect you back in two days.” “Yes, Sar! Alright you men,
shake a leg! Three day pack! I want you all ready for
inspection in thirty minutes! Move it, move it!” Squadron
Corporal Major Tarin Bellmont (addressed by full title, if you
please, Sar) was once of the 3rd Dragoons and was an individual
that only knew how to live one way, and that was the way the
Dragoons had raised him. So he set about in full fervor,
preparing the men in the boisterous and ****y way that only a
Dragoon could truly act.
Alain quickly walked down to the area of the compound where
Leftenant York's men were bivouacked. The leftenant was not
blunt or ignorant like many of his kind were, he was already
briefing his serjeants to prep the men for movement. Alain
nodded at the leftenant who called the group to attention and
saluted the psyker-lord.
A runner had already beaten Alain and his bodyguard to the next
stop and the engines of the armor started with full-bodied
roars. The crews of the “Voice of Enlightenment” and the
“Hellreign” began pre-mission checks. A couple men from each
scurried about topping off fuel and ammunition. “Yes,” Alain
thought to himself, “it is good to have a well ordered and
disciplined gathering of followers.”
Alain walked to the balcony overlooking the courtyard and
addressed the men. “Today, we march on the followers of the
False God. Today, we bring death to those that betrayed us.
Today, will have our glory that was denied to us for so long!
Knowledge is strength!” Cheers rose from the courtyard and
Psyker-Lord Alain Krowles, Traitorus Extremis, smiled.
#Post#: 229--------------------------------------------------
Re: Round 3 Narratives
By: Jarrod Zerbe Date: December 12, 2012, 10:20 pm
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Even though I lost, I must admit this is a kick butt
introduction.
#Post#: 230--------------------------------------------------
Re: Round 3 Narratives
By: olsen Date: December 13, 2012, 4:24 am
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I just read this on here and i guess I shan't be using the word
"Charlie Oscar Charlie Kilo Yankee" even though there is no
negative connotation and miriam-webster has it in the
dictionary. Political Correctness at its finest. And thank you
Jarrod.
#Post#: 233--------------------------------------------------
Re: Round 3 Narratives
By: olsen Date: December 21, 2012, 8:02 am
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Round 3, Post-battle Report 1 and the Beginnings of
Enlightenment.
Psyker-Lord Alain Krowles watched the men go through the last
minute checks over their gear; a one trooper did a jump-shake,
another checked his lasgun power cell, the assistant gunner for
an autocannon did a quick round count, Serjeant Brennen revved
the motor on his chainsword and then fiddled with the exhaust,
all the little rituals in preparation to take the mind off the
bowel-clenching, blood-chilling terror of feeling impacts
riddling the nearby corpse that once shared a meal and a
lho-stick with you.
They had spotted the Inquisitor and his force patrolling in the
nearby area and had set a hasty overwatch with reasonable fields
of fire. Whatever it was that the Inquisitor was looking for,
he would not achieve it easily, or with little bloodshed. Alain
turned to Leftenant York and nodded. Leftenant York took a
breath and addressed the troops.
“Alright men. Listen up! Corporal Rimly get your squad over
here! Alright. Now, you all know the drill. Autocannons on
the hill. Heavy bolters on the right flank. Staff Serjeant
Valish, your men in the center. I will be on the left. We will
try to keep them at range and let the big guns to the work. I
do not want to see any heroics. This is a simple ambush, not
the war to end all wars. Now, get to it.”
The “Hellreign” trundled up after the troops took their
positions and hunkered down. The Manticore had been a good find
in an abandoned depot and the mechanics had done a phenomenal
getting it running again. The original name was still barely
legible through the new paint, and as is tradition, a new crew
gets to pick a new name. Alain had actually liked the original
as it evoked a certain image of an infantry battalion being
overrun and last minute salvation rained down to punish the
hated enemy. “The “Glorious Intervention”. Yes, it was a good
name,” he thought.
The Inquisitor's forces showed a surprising bit of initiative
upon contact and took the high ground immediately, but for
naught. Serjeant First Class Brenekke and his men took out the
light artillery early on, but paid for their prowess with a
withering hail of las-fire that even heavy carapace armor was
not proof against. The autocannons slowed the advance of the
enemy Hellhound enough to allow the “Voice of Enlightenment” to
pound heavy Demolisher shells into it. Captain Bront commanded
that Leman Russ with the gusto of a man who had never lost a
tank duel, roaring forward and shrugging off heavy small arms
fire to devastate the enemy time and again.
The Manticore raised a terrible hiss-shriek-bang followed by
multiple earth-shattering blasts each time it fired, but the
results were worth not being able to hear for several minutes.
It slapped down a Chimera and then the troops inside, including
the twice-damned Inquisitor and his bodyguard. The Inquisitor
and the remnants of his bodyguard fell back towards their lines
as enemy mortar fire covered their retreat. Alain was pleased
with the men as they stood well and never shirked under the
steady ponk-ponk-ponk, CRUMP-CRUMP-CRUMP of the man-packed
artillery barrage. Corporal Rimly and his crew even managed to
put down a Sentinal that was creeping up behind an old decrepit
graveyard.
As the Inquisitor was mustering the last of his troops together
and making a well-ordered and well-managed fire-and-fall-back,
Leftenant York set the troops to rounding up casualties and
treating wounds. They had won the day and had taken a fairly
inexpensive victory from the Inquisitor. Alain addressed the
tired men from a hill top that he had rested behind for the
duration of the battle. “We have taken this day. Let none
assume that we are not vigilant or proud. Even the puppets of
the False Emperor have seen that we have the will and the
fortitude to hold what we claim. Truly, this was not a simple
victory, but a symbol! To all who stand against us! We will
fight! We will win! Knowledge is strength!” Even though
half-deaf from the recent noise, Psyker-Lord Alain Krowles,
Traitorus Extremis, heard the cheers of his men and smiled.
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