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WH40k: Warspite - An Astra Militarum Adventure

@Wampower Cool, that'd do I think.

WH40k: Warspite - An Astra Militarum Adventure

Fury in 40k? Neat.

Is it just a standard Leman Russ?

@Skwint

Pretty much, although I was also considering a Conqueror or Exterminator.

Right now I'm just seeing if I can get the necessary crew together, if only four people end up being interested (for example) then it will most certainly be a standard Mars Pattern Russ.

They're poor PDF after all.

WH40k: Warspite - An Astra Militarum Adventure

The Premise

"No one had expected this, or at least no one will now admit to expecting it! For months the Planetary Governor had been trying to his best to weather the after-ripples of the Great Rift, strengthening the PDF regiments and the like... but it was not enough... not enough..." - Last recorded statement of Private Artor Luss, 59th Kiervet Planetary Defence Force (Executed for Heresy)

The Kiervet System is in turmoil, uprisings taking place on three of its four occupied worlds, space-range communications seemingly jammed or at least limited by something or someone, and with only Kiervet Tertius - a civilised Imperial colonia world, used to house Militarum veterans on discharge, grievous injury, or when they are more trouble than they're worth - retaining some sense of order in these darkening and uncertain times; plausibly this is due to the number of former Guard who enlisted in the PDF of Tertius for monetary gain, out of boredom, or to gain some form of reputation among the civilian populous.

Ardeth Mishkol the Fifth, governor-primus of Kiervet Tertius and a former Militarum regimental commander himself, has sent out the call for every able-bodied veteran he can get his hands on.

Although packed to the brim with the poor bloody infantry, there is a distinct lack of armoured might on Tertius and Ardeth knows it, which is why he has specifically asked for those possessing the requisite skills to single themselves out and make themselves known to the relevant authorities at the recruitment office.

This is where you might answer.

Like most in the Imperial Guard you were trained foremost as an infantryman but, through whatever pathway or skills learnt in life, you have held... or wish to hold... yourself to a more vehicular standard.

In one of the vast warehouses on the largest PDF base of 'Castadon Ridge' is a hangar used to house those old machines of war made more-or-less redundant by necessity. Now they are not so. Time to resurrect a giant.

What?

If you've read this far then thank you.

So, what does all that writing mean?

Well in plain English we shall be taking on the roles of former (or recently joined) members of either a Militarum regiment or the local PDF force on Kiervet Tertius, from wherever you like planet wise, and yes I will be accepting Abhumans.

Together we shall form the required crew of the recommissioned battle tank Warspite and take the fight against whatever and wherever we may be required; that means at least four, but up to a maximum of six/seven people (1 Driver, 1 Main Gunner, 1 Loader, 2 Side Gunners for sponsons... and possibly an Enginseer.).

If that sounds like something that may interest you, hop in and tell me.

As always, the Emperor protects.

Wh40k: One Step Beyond - A Rogue Trader Adventure (Closed)

Edmund Andamar - Rogue Trader

@Erezrim@Jeddaven@POOHEAD189@BangoSkank

Boarding, in this situation? Edmund looked over his already bloodied warriors with a keen eye, and knew in his heart that - as battered and bruised as they already were - they truly would follow whatever command he gave them... including throwing away their lives in the cramped and damned corridors of a Chaotic raiding vessel.

One minute... two... three... four...

Time moved slowly for the Rogue Trader as he considered all his options, his ship having flung itself alone back into the wide-ranging depths of realspace, no sign of their escorts forthcoming. Not for the immediate moment at least. That left them at quite the disadvantage, or at least it would have had not the Purpose been built how it was and for situations just like this one.

"Master of Vox, send a distress call through whatever confirmed Imperial channels you can. Even if we stop one vessel, we shall need reinforcements. Mister Kurg, I should like you to bring us into boarding range, a full throated burst of our plasma and macro batteries once we are close enough, I think... give them a bit of a wake up."

Tyg Kurg, old by mortal standards but still as sharp as ever in mind and body, gave a swift salute and set about processing targeting vectors and weapon ranges with lesser members of the bridge crew.

Making sure his sword belt was secure, and his sidearm slotted neatly into its holster, Edmund straightened out and gave a smile to his retinue.

"Shall we proceed to the torpedo tubes?"

---

By the time their footsteps were clanging along the walkways of the ship once more, the lower deck crews had already slotted boarding torpedoes into a number of specially crafted mechanisms. Just one more thing that his father had thought of, the old bastard.

All around was organised chaos - Andamarian Marine contingents gathering into cutters and gunships, prepared and ready to follow their leader in his do-or-die flight and fight, members of the tech-priesthood blessing torpedoes and vehicles all with sacred chants and holy (frankly foul-smelling) unguents, and all the while the Purpose itself was turning to bring it's batteries to bear on their defiled and corrupted enemy.

"We await the firing of our guns," Edmund explained as he strapped himself tightly into the small conical interior of the six-man torpedo, larger than regular munitions and even standard-pattern boarding machinery, "with the God-Emperor's blessing it should create a hole in their shields - if not tearing them completely asunder - large enough for ourselves and our support to follow our path. We shall be penetrating the Idolator-class as close to its bridge as possible, taking command and Emperor-willing diverting it away from the pilgrim vessel." He gave a small shrug in his restraints, "not much of a plan, and I can not promise every one of us a safe return... but there it is."

With a shuddering of the entire ship signalling the firing of the broadsides, smaller tremors indicative of lower-level fire being returned at the Traders spaceborne home, Edmund counted silently down in his head. Another broadside came not soon after the first, the interior lights of the torpedo throwing everything into a nice shade of crimson, and the auto-gravity stabilisers initiating themselves to stop those within from internally pulverising themselves.

"Here we go."

Wh40k: One Step Beyond - A Rogue Trader Adventure (Closed)

Edmund Andamar - Rogue Trader

@ClocktowerEchos@Erezrim@Jeddaven@POOHEAD189@BangoSkank

A trio of his retinue had appeared not long after the conclusion of the heretical scrap, Edmund having already given out strict orders for every body to be burned and every inch of the ship to be once more cleansed by blessing or flame - this would no doubt mean the loss of further life, teams getting turned around in the depths, hidden enemy units conducting opportunistic attacks on isolated teams and the like - but the Rogue Trader doubted they would be in any more serious trouble... at least from within.

"The Ogyrns will get some shiny awards," he confirmed with a half-smile, glancing only briefly away from the viewscreen as Grimri and Dahti made themselves known, as well as their own opinions on recent events. Each was listened to, even if it appeared that Edmund was mentally far away, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Please, since you are the only ones here, what do you make of this?"

A nod to his helmsman bought a crystal-clear image up at the place where a plasteel viewing window should have been but, this being an armoured command bridge and with no windows to speak of, images relayed from exterior pict and data recorders were the source of information from the void without.

Four vessels leapt into perfect clarity in the relative darkness of the bridge, each with data-tags showing their class, known names, and varying assortments of data; the ship in the centre was identified as a Jericho-class Pilgrim Vessel, hundreds of Imperial devotees doubtlessly trapped aboard as the three aggressors circled her. A Soulcage-class Slaveship hovered nearby, while an Infidel-class Raider and Idolator-class stripped away its shields in colourful blooms of impacting weapons fire.

"I do not doubt that it is to one of these ships that our heretical mole has escaped, nor do I doubt they wish to abduct every pilgrim aboard that transport. I wish to know your opinions on lending assistance to it. Our own escorts are not yet out of the Immaterium, and we are recovering internally from a mutiny, our loss of effective workers surely a handicap against these raiders. Nevertheless, we remain within Imperial borders, and I am loath to allow an enemy to get away when they are right there."

Edmund held his own council, but would listen to those around him, even if he chose to disregard any advice given him, such was his fancy as captain and commander.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP (Black Crusade Inspired) [CLOSED]

Nujia'tzie – Native PDF Scout

@Jeddaven@GingerBaron@KSix@Bright_Ops@BangoSkank@Eisenhorn

The Da'ah Hinterlands, centre of native resistance on Arishe 42.9.

The wind of Ti'achi blew all about the near-naked body of one of her native sons, his hands lacerated and bleeding from his climb but he was unable to half his climb, or to let go entirely, should he allow the snaking gale that lashed his bared skin to send him tumbling down into the lower valley then it would be the end of all he was or could ever be. This he could not allow.

Inch by torturous inch he ascended higher up the mountains, spreading out behind and below him the steaming jungles of the so-called 'Hinterlands' – one of the only places remaining that had not been defiled by the Imperial occupiers – and ahead and above him the sacred plateau upon which he knew the prophet of his faith would be waiting.

Nujia'tzie had made sure to shed himself of all Imperial iconography, even the Cadian-pattern helmet covering his head had been studiously scoured of the aquila adorning the forehead, his torso bare of any clothing against his copper skin and his bottom half wrapped in a pair of grox-skin leggings that left the feet exposed.

It took nearly an hour more, his muscles burning with lactic acid and fatigue, dark eyes half-closed as he rolled over the edge and lay motionless on the comparatively flat top of the mountain plateau.

“So,” came a voice from afar, Nujia'tzie leaping to his feet and pulling a Militarum-forged combat knife from his hip as he did so, eyes scanning the treeline close at hand and passing from left to right... left to ri-

“You have finally arrived, my son.”

This time the voice, as well as the figure that had appeared from nowhere into his line-of-vision, stood but a few feet away.

They were clearly a native of the planet, their long black hair with bones and other fetishes entwined, the skull of a saurian jungle predator perched atop their head, and a pair of eyes astoundingly blue for one of the native race. In one hand they held a spear-cum-staff topped by an eight-spoked wheel, and in the other a series of meditative beads. A one-size-fits-all robe of dyed red hempen fibre covered them like a sack with arm and legs hole, a single belt of interlinked bones pulling it in at the waist.

“Put away your blade, child, and follow me.”

It was only now that Nujia'tzie noticed the Dreamwalker had not opened their mouth once.

---

For over an hour they walked in complete silence through the more woodland-like environment of the mountain, starkly contrasted against the tropical valleys below, coming eventually to a wide open clearing containing a man-made structure of standing stones; four of the stones, all as tall as five men atop anothers shoulders, had been placed in a circle around the middle of the clearing, between the tree edge and the middle of the place. In the perfect centre stood another stone, this one clearly older and baring more marks than its siblings. Lastly, cut into the waist-height grass that was the floor of this place, were straight paths leading off in eight directions.

“Welcome to my sanctuary,” tittered the androgynous speaker of the Gods, taking deep breaths as they pointed to each stone in turn, “these are the stones of Ch'gorn, god of war and of the blood, this one of Saanch, our lord of wisdom, lore and knowledge, his stoic but morbid relation Un'gurl is the protector of this stone, and lastly Laseanch the mistress of fertility, health and perfection.” A smile could not help but appear on the holy representatives full feminine lips as they spoke in ten different voices.

“This one?” Questioned Nujia'tzie, making his way into the circle of stones and placing a hand tentatively against the most central.

“Ah, a joining of all four, to represent convergence of each of the divine majesties.”

“I see,” acknowledged the PDF scout, turning to face the Dreamwalker, “you summoned me here Eh'haya'tey, but did you Viper Lance alone?"

"You are perceptive, young warrior. No, I have summoned a coterie from this planet and beyond, messaged them in a multitude of ways, individuals that may be of service to us and to the Gods in the coming times of hardship and vengeance ahead. Yes... we shall need warriors... but we shall also need the wise, the foolish, and those who pray to the Gods for many things.”

Now they would have to wait, for others had been summoned and others would come, to help or to hinder, as ally or eventual enemy, only the Gods knew.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP (Black Crusade Inspired) [CLOSED]

@Jeddaven I like it! Pop them in the Character Tab, thank you.

Wh40k: One Step Beyond - A Rogue Trader Adventure (Closed)

Edmund Andamar - Rogue Trader

@ClocktowerEchos@Erezrim@Jeddaven@POOHEAD189@BangoSkank

It was true that Edmund was not a soldier, no, his brothers had always been the ones destined for the vast battlefields of the Imperium, on the other hand Edmund had joined the Imperial Navy and served his people with distinction. On a personal level he had always been 'the duellist' over 'the warrior', a one-to-one combatant who studied the science behind combat as well as the methods to dispatch an adversary, it was this know-how that he now employed against the treacherous mutineers.

“Parry, step...”

The face of the Chaos-marked rating was one of utmost confusion as the Trader stepped aside, speaking to himself all the while, his sabre (the power field unengaged at this point) deftly slapping aside a sharpened steel lever recently wrenched from a door further down the hall.

“And... there.”

In a motion so fluid that even he barely saw it the blade had slid between the cultists ribs and pierced his heart, blood gushed over the hilt as it was withdrawn and Edmund wrinkled his nose as a small pattering marked his pristine gloves.

“Emperor damn it Te'un,” he half-whined to the Kroot fighting beside him, the avian predator barely paying any attention to his employer, “how am I to fight with all this unpleasantness?!”

[i]”Navigator Andrafall to Lord Andamar, please respond.”[/b]

A free hand went up to his wrist as the commander slammed his swords shell-hilt into the nose of another enemy, a sharp riposte cutting the woman from sternum to groin.

“This is he, what is it honoured navigator?”

“Milord, we shall be translating into real space within the next few minutes, it will be... rough, to say the least.”

Edmund acknowledged this with a return signal through his wrist console, a few more taps opening vox channels to all those he now considered his closest crew members.

“This is the Commander. You have all done well, and your efforts are not without recognition. I must report that he shall be making an emergency translation back into real space in a matter of moments, so please secure yourselves as best you an. Andamar out.”

---

Reality bent and buckled in on itself as the Purpose tumbled from the immaterium, tendrils of warp essence flailing about as they tried to keep the cruiser isolated in the guts of Hell but slackened as actuality reasserted itself. On thrusters alone the Ambition-class vessel slewed to somewhat of a halt, facing off course and back the way it had come, gliding to a full stop in a burst of engine power and a flickering of a deactivating Gellar Field.

Aboard the ship itself things were returning to normality at a rate of knots; in the bowels of the ship, at key points all around the innards of the Purpose, and leading off from the enginarium, bridge and other central resources, the bodies of half-naked and marked traitors made a rather macabre carpet of the slain.

Zola Demir may have been expected to panic at these developments, his flock having achieved none of the goals that he had set them toward... but no... far from it. On the contrary he seemed in a position of near bliss, his eyes having become milky white and the movements of his mind working rapidly, before he at last returned to the present with a wide-mouthed grin.

“All according to plan,” was all he whispered, moving back as if he could force his material body through the bulkhead of the ship, shadow wrapping about him and a stray wind picking up from absolutely nowhere... and then he was just gone.

In the meantime Edmund ordered the putting down of the last vestiges of rebellion, as well as flamer teams joined by attached members of the Mechanicus and Adeptus Ministorum to cleanse the ship both psychically and spiritually, a vox message recalling him to the command bridge with the utmost haste.

“Edmund to retinue members,” he would never get used to calling them that, it sounded far to Inquisitorial for his taste, “please report to the bridge for debriefing and... something else that I think we may need to discuss.”

Clicking the ship-wide vox off, he peered again out of the viewing port as the ship swung slowly round to face into the general direction of the expansive abyss once more, eyes narrowing at the scene he looked upon and the button flashing red at the command console of his vox-master.

Well, things just kept getting more interesting.

Wh40k: One Step Beyond - A Rogue Trader Adventure (Closed)

Edmund Andamar - Rogue Trader

@ClocktowerEchos@Erezrim@Jeddaven@POOHEAD189@BangoSkank

Agathe to Bridge. We have momentum, and are continuing to push out of the lower decks and toward the Enginarium to aid the Mechanicus in securing the Gellars. Sustaining acceptably minor casualties as of present - I've rallied several of the labor Ogryn and a great number of the crew - no time for a headcount but will attempt to rally more when Any possibility of emergency translation into realspace? Expect that cultists are attempting to disrupt Gellar Field generators to affect a daemonic incursion. The Emperor Protects.

Edmund allowed himself a somewhat sardonic smile, as well as a nod of his head, because of course Sister Agathe would be making her way into the thick of it. To even consider that she would be anywhere else, well, that was quite ridiculous. As to her suggestion...

"Well, Mister Kurg? Do you think our resident Navigator would he happy about such a manoeuvre?"

Tyg Kurg gave a grimace of his own, his wrinkles wrinkling up on their own wrinkles as he shifted his facial expression, "blow me if I know, milord! She's got the right idea though. Either we fight in the Warp and give 'em a chance to summon Emperor-knows-what, or we take the risk of bailing out while we can."

A cutting gesture toward Vox-Master Arsune was quickly followed by a crackling of vox - the screeches of the damned and the whispers of daemons excluded - before a weary voice answered.

"My lord Andamar, what is it you require?"

"Apologies for the breach of focus, but-"

"Yes, it is possible. I shall need time, vox-silence, and a clear path... but I can guide us back into realspace."

The Trader did not even question the response, answering in the affirmative and cutting the link.

"Hmmmm..." He hunched over the interior blueprint of the vessel, dots shifting and swarming like a good game of regicide, when Dahti's efficient voice came over the bridge vox.

Dahti to Bridge: I've sent you my teams' locations. Bravo and Echo are secured. Moving into the Enginarium now.

This was good, and the further along time went, the less Edmund feared the loss of the enginarium - apart from numbers, he did not truly believe that these accursed cultists had anything that could match his trained soldiers and those of his retinue. Nevertheless, numbers had a quality all their own.

"Bridge to retinue, continue on your course of action. Yet please be prepared for translation back into realspace as soon as possible."

I cannot wait here, thought Edmund to himself, a fist now closing about the grip of his sabre, time to put my regimen to use.

Cold eyes found their equal across the bridge, those of a human looking momentarily into those of the alien, Ak Te'un not even needing a prompt from his employer to heft his bladed Kroot rifle into a position of readiness. Together he and Edmund stepped to the bridge door, a nod to Ship's Master Kurg opening the portal with a hiss, and Kroot and human stepping out as one.

Let the hunt begin.

---

Demir watched as more infidels were dragged kicking and screaming into the vacant storage room (which had since become an abattoir of flesh and faeces), overseers, Martians, or marine it mattered not. All and any would serve.

Allowing the noise all around him to slip into the back of his mind, the former Imperial slave gently shut his eyes and began to hum a tune; allowing himself to half fall to the floor, his legs folding up beneath him until he sat on his own heals, the tune contracted and expanded with the motions of a living heartbeat, colours of all hues coming alive and flashing behind his eyelids.

Breath knowledge into me Wayfarer, allow your servant to see with the true sight.

Yes... yes... the assault upon the enginarium was going as planned, wave after wave of true believers giving away their lives for a deity and cause worth dying for. It appeared the Imperials were moving as expected, that blundering, mannish, Sister of Battle and her bull-like bellows as futile as her past. The half-robots... well... what were they anyway? Nothing, so much scrap metal and desiccated flesh. Hmmmm, and Abhumans, now that was curious.

I hear you, my feathered master. Your will be done.

All was going according to plan.

An Unholy Mass: Warhammer 40,000 RP (Black Crusade Inspired) [CLOSED]

@GingerBaron If you can, could you hop onto the Discord? If not, that's fine, just easier to disseminate information there.

Anyway, I'll give it another couple of days - just to see if anyone else is about, or puts up a CS - then I'll see about the first post, so if anyone else is interested, there you go.