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The Tired One

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In Chronicles of the Grim Crusade - Warhammer 30000 RP Side Thread → 2 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
In Chronicles of the Grim Crusade - Warhammer 30000 RP Side Thread → 2 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Generously written by @MarshalSolgriev







In The Grim Crusade - A Warhammer 30000 RP → 2 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
//Planet: Saghall
//Designation: Fortress World
//Governor: Delegatos Seighard Romulus
//Status: Open Rebellion (Class Alpharius)

After the trials and revelations spurred upon the conclusion of Nikea, Usriel had retired back to his normal duties of administrative work and logistics preparation needed to support future endeavors. Yet, just as he had plotted a course back to Vion 5, the Astra Telepathica had relayed a communicae from one of his ruling sons, Delegatos Seighard, that a rebellion had occurred on one of the Fortress worlds designed by the Nineteenth. The occurrence was far from uncommon, but what had warranted the attention from Usriel was the scale as the main citadel has been put to siege and remained unbreakable as redoubts and outposts become overrun. Their forces consisted of rogue Imperial Army forces, foolish mortals whose goals were beyond the Primarch, and normally such a force would be quashed quickly, but the suddenness and organization was beyond normal expectations. He had his theories for sure, but he decided it best to restrain his paranoia for whatever lurked within the shadows.

Usriel lowered himself over a map of the citadel, noting how the anti-air towers had been the first to fall and how the rebels had proceeded to establish footholds at all the entrances to the inner sanctum, cutting off the Astartes inside from most lines of resupply. Yet, the Ninteenth always had contingencies for such events and thus the forces that were stubbornly holding the inner sanctum had secret exits that allowed them to ferry in some much needed supplies, but not in mass as to not give those entrances away to prying eyes.

“The mortals are amassing on the southwestern wall, and I suspect that they will be attacking within the day,” Seighard spoke in a static-touched vox as Usriel continued to stare at the diagnostics of the fortress. There would be no massed landing, no organized breakout, only the fury and chaos of a drop landing. It would be hell but it was necessary for their retaking of the fortress. This he had concluded, the fortress was merely too hazardous to lay to siege and he did not have the numbers of Eiohsa’s daughters. Seighard’s voice came to bring Usriel back, “The defenses will repulse them, the Neophytes have been cutting bloody swathes down each attempted assault.”

Usriel looked to the anti-air towers, knowing that they would kill many of his sons before they could reach the ground. As many as possible would need to be retaken before the drop would commence, minimizing what casualties they would take during the upcoming conflict. The Primarch spoke to the Delegatos in a slow, deliberate tone, “I will be sending in the Eldest to retake the batteries, once they are down we will be dropping in force.”

“Father-“

“Once we have impacted you will lead the counterattack to retake the fortress,” Usriel finished, looking away from the diagnostics finally, his blue eyes wondering towards the glow of his plasma pistol. There was a moment of hesitation of him reaching for his weapon, the tool of the Emperor’s will. It was a brief moment of weakness as his face relaxed and his hand found its natural place on the grip of his pistol - nothing would stop him from his duty to the Emperor.

A lithe frame caught his attention, moving to his side and looking over the diagnostics of the fortress - forcing Usriel to quickly shut down the schematics so that no mortal may see the intricacies of his designs. He looked to the mortal and instantly recognized the form of Belloris, not that who the human was would have changed his reaction, but he did relax ever slightly and holstered his pistol. The serf studied the primarch for but a moment before her back straightened and she spoke, “I have arrayed the Auxilia for battle, my lord. I expected that you would want them to land outside of the fortress and cut off the traitor’s escape routes.”

“You would be correct, Belloris. I want you to give no quarter,” Usriel replied simply, moving past the mortal who turned to follow.

Belloris for her sake made sure to stay behind the Father of Sentinels, but still spoke openly, “Aye. No traitors will leave the perimeter and none shall enter.” Yet, Belloris would stop abruptly, looking at her lord with worried eyes - Usriel need not even look at her to know her gaze. All the same, he stopped so that she may speak, “I want you to be careful, lord. I fear that the head of these snakes is more insidious than we may believe.”

Usriel’s head turned slightly, the corner of his eye catching Belloris’ own purple eyes, yet there would be no assurances from the Primarch - only the absence of mortal emotion could be seen by her. She bowed her head in silence and allowed him his leave to prepare the terminators, the Eldest, for battle in the pit of vipers that the Sentinels were about to enter. The only thing that would remain in the room after he left was desire unrequited, for no mortal could sway Usriel - yet no other human would be worthy of his attention. Belloris knew that in his subtleness, she was the only one that could subdue his mind. As such, she brought herself to follow the Primarch out into the hallways of the ship, keeping close to him just as any well intentioned serf would.

“Will the Eldest require any support, my lord? I can have some drop troops sent to aid them,” Belloris asked after a long period of silence in their walk.

“No, they would only get in their way,” Usriel said simply, keeping his eyes trained forwards as they walked, evidently not wishing to continue any conversation with the woman.

Yet, she would continue to speak, this time in a playfully sarcastic tone, “Ah yes. Your sons are clearly able to do anything as long as they set their mind to it.”

Usriel shot a look to Belloris, a glare that made her silence her antics immediately - not even having to dignify her with a proper response to her words. She should have known better than to joke about the capabilities of the Sentinels, especially when one of his own fortresses lay half-fallen to the machinations of the traitors. Belloris looked down, not wanting to incur more of such attention from Usriel, clearly only wishing for him to confide in her as he would normally do. The two needn’t share any more words to know that the conversation between them was done.



The break of dawn had come in a tide of blue fire and the screams of death as the terminators descended upon the fortifications that they well knew. Men, traitors, had not been caught off guard by the sudden arrival of the Eldest as they teleported upon the anti-air batteries, but against the armor of contempt their weapons were useless as las-shot could do nought but be absorbed by shield or be deflected by armor indomitus. The wrath of the Sentinels came upon them in calculated and deliberate destruction, forcing the enemy back into the choke points of hallways in the walls of the outer and inner fortresses. However, the Terminators would not advance, instead content to hold their objectives rather than chase down their fleeing foes.

Yet, it still allowed drop pods to rain from the skies, a hail of steel landing into the thickets of the metallic fortress sounding the rise of the counterattack of those that remained in the fortress. Neophytes of all ages poured from the citadel, many sporting autoguns or bolters as they had not undertaken the rites to wield the temperamental choice of weapon the Sentinels were so keen upon using, fighting with a fury to prove themselves not just to their older kin but to the Primarch as his own drop pod landed amongst ranks of traitors and chattel. A giant amongst the mortal men, Usriel fired his plasma pistol into the hordes of men, each bolt the size of a plasma cannon shot. His fist ran through them, sending gore and viscera into the terrified men whose shots did not even connect with the demi-god - his psychic barrier refusing to let their pitiful shots grace his form.

His sons fought with a ferocity only beaten by the likes of the Serpents, their weapons firing until their barrels warped or their weapons ran too hot. No full-blooded Astartes had yet been felled by the traitors, though the neophytes - especially those who had not yet been versed in the tribulations of warfare - fared worse, their armor not of the same standard as their full-grown brothers. Their tenacity made up for it, overpowering their adversaries by following their teachers, chasing down those who fled and finishing those who could not escape the wrath of the Sentinels. The hallways were choked with bodies as Astartes made their way through the once adamant attackers, clearing them with the blessed blue light of their armaments. In a short amount of time, the coordinated counter attack had successfully pushed the traitors back from the inner walls to the next layer of defenses, reclaiming what equipment had been sealed in locked away supply caches for the defenders.

Usriel pressed the attack, pushing forwards in a wash of flame and blood - always in the thick of combat for no man could run fast enough through his halls to outpace him. No mortal man was bold enough to face their doom, only fear and death stalked those battlements as he outpaced even his honor guard. Despite the wanton killing, however, there was no emotion to be sensed from the father, calculating and meticulous death was the only thing that registered from him even as the vox spat out reports of the battle to him. He did not pay attention to where he was being led to, though, with only the liberation of the fortress on his mind as bones were crushed beneath his boot and bodies made to slag.

As he turned a corner, a heavy round slammed into his psychic shield, energy dissipating around him as he was forced to set a heel back to steady himself. With a grunt Usriel looked to see the plasma cannon of a tank pointed at him - a clever trap to try and kill him, but he was a Primarch, and such things would not lay him low. As a reflex, a single shot rang in response, a shot cascading directly into the barrel of the turret before detonating, sending an explosion rippling through the halls of the fuel cells to the weapon detonated. Usriel stared at the blue fire that clung the halls and began to walk through it, the warm embrace signaling the failure to such a pitiful trap. Yet still, had he not been more cautious then perhaps he would have met a grizzly wound for sure. He came to an intersection and looked between each path, he could hear more traitors down the leftmost but he still looked around.

As his eyes came to the path in front him, Usriel caught a glimpse of a form far too lithe to be human - thinner than his sons but nearly just as tall. The cold calculation turned into a rage as he took in the form, visions of his sons dying in front of him filled his mind as his hands clenched and his teeth gritted. Usriel knew what he what stared upon him, knowing that look even more so than any of the forces that he had commanded - save for his sons. With a grunt, Usriel began to sprint down the halls and at the same time the lithe form moved out of his sight, clearly running out of fear at the sight of the raging Primarch. No sign of life past him - no trace of traitors or other such forces could be found and even his vox had gone quiet. Even still, he pushed forward in a desperate hope to catch the elusive form and confirm his suspension.

The lithe form was certainly elusive, but the long hallways of the fortress did it no justice as the Primarch swiftly caught up. It became clearer and his suspicions were confirmed - aeldari scum crept through his very halls, a fact that brought no end of anger to Usriel. Yet, as the Primarch reached out to grasp at the alien, it made a sudden turn and disappeared into a small service crevice that he merely could not fit. In desperation, he pulled his plasma pistol and fired into the thin hallway, but the creature had already disappeared into the maze of service tunnels, nothing to show for his chase save for a few scorched walls and broken pipes. With a grunt Usriel, backed away from the service tunnel and looked ahead of him.

He had instantly known how and why this rebellion had been so organized and meticulous - the Aeldari had come to distract him. Had the announcement of the Craftworld siege been leaked so soon? Had a traitor been in their mists while the talks had gone on? No - there had only been Astartes in that room, there was no way that it had leaked to the Eldar already. The rebellion was a freak occurrence, just meant to destabilize him and kill more of his sons much like upon Atis. The thought of the massacre brought sadness to his mind, though he did not act upon it, instead marching forwards, still not noticing that his vox was completely silent. His mind continued to grasp at the Aeldari threat that loomed within the fortress’ halls - HIS halls, the very that raised his sons and forged them into Astartes. There was a distinct worry that began to form in his mind; had they come to kill off some of his progeny? To kill those that had been best selected to be compatible with his gene-seed?

His teeth grit as paranoid and conspiratorial thoughts clouded his vision, calculating all the possible routes that the service tunnel could lead to - none of them critical, luckily. It was still nerve wracking to the Primarch as he walked through the now mostly empty halls, only charred corpses and slag being the only thing to keep Usriel company. Then, static broke him from his stupor, broken words that were neigh unintelligible coming through his vox - forcing him back to attention. Usriel tried to piece it together, his mind working as much as any scribe in the Imperium - if not more - but nonetheless he did.

’Inner wall retaken. Father - no contact.’

It seemed that his overzealous nature had caused worry amongst his sons, but the fact that he had lost contact with them within his own fortress had made him curious. The Father of the Sentinels looked back to the path that he had been following, knowing now that scramblers had been deployed. He knew then that he had been being led away from the combat, away from his sons and singled out, but it seemed that he had moved too fast for them to be fully prepared. Usriel was tempted to chase down the aeldari still, tempted to purge them from his halls, but he knew better than to give in to his emotion. That is what had led to him being separated in the first place, yet, it provided him with an opportunity to find where the scum hid - for now he knew they were in the walls.

Usriel turned and began to walk down the bastion, hearing that his sons’ voices grew more distant and more muddled and only when they were silent did he stop. It was then that he would close his eyes and focus his mind, focusing the latent abilities that he rarely called upon - save for the psychic shield that he would raise. His mind’s eye looked and felt the touch of the scrambling spirit, noting how it isolated him in a haze that seemed more of a fog, and like a machine his soul traced it near perfectly. Usriel was attuned to the machine spirits, perhaps not like Augor was, but he was used to their presence given his upbringing on Vion 5. Then, the connection was found, his mind had become synchronized with the scrambler, and he could feel it far from his body. Now he knew where to go and so his boots began to move, stepping like a machine the Mechanicum would employ, his eyes unopened as he hunted for the device.

Another force began to impress itself on the connection, however, like a knife trying to saw through a cable - Usriel picking up his pace to light jog. The force was alien to him and much more refined than his own use of the psychic powers, sweat began to form on his face as he began to run through the halls as he struggled to maintain his connection. Yet, another suspicion was confirmed - that a warlock stalked his halls. No - the power was too strong to be a mere warlock, too refined to be able to battle his mind in such a fashion, he knew not the rank but he knew their position must have been important. Usriel knew he could not keep the connection for long, not even as he sprinted, but instead the primarch suddenly refocused his power and sought the connection to the xenos. The connection was formed briefly before a jolt of pain ran through both his and the aeldari mind, but for that brief moment he felt the tainted blood of the alien course through him.

It was then that he knew what he would be dealing with, ripping the name from the alien at the very least. Anger would creep through his being once more as his eyes shot open and he came to a sudden stop in front of a bulkhead, rage culminating as he began to snarl like a wild beast struck with bloodlust. He would mutter under his breath, the words like poison seeping through his mouth.

”Farseer.”



//Four Hours Ago
//House Ordinator Belloris Miniro

The hull of the retrofitted cargo ship cracked as they entered the upper atmosphere of the planet, sending chills down the spines of most of the mortal men that prepared themselves for what lurked below. The fortresses of Usriel were legendary to them, almost mythical, and knowing that their foe had breached it and thrown back the defenders caused much worry amongst their ranks. Yet, slumped over a seat was none other than one of the commanding liaisons, Belloris, injecting more than enough stimulants into her bloodstream to make even a Daughter of Iron be queasy. Another needle dropped to her side - none of the men questioned it - but she still remained sober and she looked to the medic, a desperate anger clear across her face, “Give me another.”

“Sorry, but I don’t have any more. Achilles has been tightening the noose on my supply,” the soldier said before fiddling through his pack, “All I have are things to keep you from overdosing, my lady.”

Ever since her tribulations upon Inrade, her body had been demanding further and further stimulations to keep her sane and it grew harder and harder by the day to even find something strong enough. She wished that she could have sampled the alcohol that the astartes of other legions used, knowing that it would have brought her a sweet release past recognition. Though her true high had always been merely being near Usriel, being at his side was the best drug that Belloris could have ever imagined - but being away from him meant she needed other sources. Other sources which are rapidly drying out, much to her chagrin.

The great Belloris now lurched there, sweating bullets as if she were some cadet who was just now heading into their first bout. It was a horrible feeling, and a grimace tainted her perfect features, her brow wrinkling out of disdain for her current condition. The sound of chaff released her from her focus, a swift dive followed and she quickly pulled herself into her seat, only barely saving herself as the ship brought itself out of its dive. Her instincts told her that the enemy had secured fighters or interceptors, their quality or make was one that she did not know nor could she see from the confines of the dropship.

Metal splintered and wailed and fire from an enemy craft hit them. Men were torn in viscera and bloody remains. Their blood stained all around them, including those who still lived after the brief hail. The soldier next to her cursed Usriel’s name for sending them off to another suicide mission, but an angered look from Belloris sent him back into a fearful silence as he clung to the straps of his seat. The ship lurched forwards as it slammed into the ground, not crashing but merely having been forced to land as quickly as it could to dispense the soldiers who now ran off the ramp and scattered into the plains surrounding the fortress. Belloris herself walked off, chainsword in hand and ready for a fight, but there was only silence save for the sounds of the dogfights that occurred far into the air. She revved her chainsword in mild disappointment, hoping the adrenaline of battle would have brought her mind back into the haze that was a high.

Instead she looked to the distant fortress, seeing a blue fire rise from the differing redoubts and bastions as the Sentinels fought hard to reclaim their fortress. Yet, Belloris felt disconnected from herself in a brief moment as familiar whispers gripped her mind - they urged her to fortress, to her love to protect him. She blinked and now she was at the very walls of the fortress, the visor of her helmet covered in blood and her chainsword twisted and bent as if it had been used against someone with too much armor. It was dusk now, she felt cold and she wanted to retch but her body refused to obey her sensations. Confusion wracked her brain only momentarily before a pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders and her own voice greeted her in a soothing coo, ”Go to him.”

She stepped forward, into the fortress and into more confusion. Each step did not feel as if it were her own, her vision blackened only to find herself by the corpses of traitors. For a moment, she could think clearly again - her own self began to shout to be free, to be in control. In the moment, she cried out for her friends and family that had long since died from old age, while she remained young and beautiful. Belloris wanted to drop to her knees and sob - anything to regain control of herself. However, she couldn’t, and so as quickly as her old mind had come, it had been silenced by whispers and promises of ecstasy. Another black out, more bodies, though these were laid out ornately as if they died in a beautiful ballet. She smiled at the calming sight of it and began to dance through the halls of the fortress, revving her sword.

Then, silence.

She could feel eyes upon her in the dark, a delicious gaze that yearned for her everlasting attention. Belloris allowed them to look upon perfection, for how could they not gaze upon magnificence that was only rivaled by the likes of Usriel. Their flavor was felt on her tongue, she could feel their very spirits looking upon their end and their new beginning. A delicious madness seeded itself in her mind as desire corrupted her form, a knowing glimpse into what was to be offered to her. It was far too tempting to ignore. Her head snapped to them, their form hidden by darkness yet shined so brightly to her; like a flame to a lonely moth.

“Poor lost lambs,” she said in a voice far more sadistic than would be her normal, though the figures now knew they had been noticed. As the sleek forms stepped from the shadows, a viscous smile grew across Belloris’ features as three aeldari made her relish her own existence. Ecstasy shot through her form and further whispers promised her far more if she would kill them. Her mind was aflame with haunting joy as she stepped towards the eldar before a singing taunt came from her lips, “Come now, let me show Usriel my undying affection as I arrange your corpses in a great ballad!”

Another voice joined them, responding to her taunt with cold calculation, “That beast holds no love for you, serpent. Any such delusions are but wool pulled over your eyes by beings beyond your own comprehension.” Her eyes snapped to the side as another Eldar revealed itself, this one adorned in robes more ornate than she could recognize. All it did was make him all the more delicious, but the disciplined aeldari did not move from their position, instead opting for a stand-off as they stared each other down. The robed one spoke again, the reserved nature of this eldar brought sickness to her clouded mind, “You are unwell human. I know not why my master believes you to be important for the future, but you reek of taint. I will do you a service and make this quick.”

The three warriors raised their pistols, stepping forwards in unison. Belloris was upon them in an instant, moving with a supernatural speed and bringing her sword through the neck of one. The other two panicked, one sprayed small needles at Belloris and missed while the other swiftly turned and raised a sword of unknown design. Her blade raised itself and caught the blade coming down upon her just as she upholstered her las pistol and shot into the one who had missed, sending enough las shots into him to ensure his death. Yet, her body seized. Electricity shot through her body as the robed aeldari jettisoned lightning through his hands- she screamed an inhuman wail as the energy coursed through her body.

The other Eldar took a moment of reprieve, swiftly plucking stones from the fallen before backing to the warlock. “A fair play human. Your corruption has -” he was cut off as a bright light erupted from Belloris hand - she had activated a blind grenade and sent chaff and a brief electromagnetic smoke into the room. The warlock raised his hands in surprise and ended his assault on the serf. It created an opening for her to suddenly rush the other warrior, who brought his blade up just in time to block the chainsword, but nothing could be done as she sprayed further laspistol shots into his torso. The warlock turned on his heel, activating his blade.

Belloris dodged under the strike, turning to thrust her own blade up but the warlock was quick to react in a swift movement. He turned to the defensive as she rushed after him, spaying shots that went into walls and slashes that caught not but air. The two locked blades for a moment and Belloris attempted once more to shoot him, but instead felt as her laspistol was wretched from her hand and thrown somewhere. Yet, in the opening she grabbed the warlock’s forearm with her now free hand and brought her legs around his neck. She moved like a serpent - her form coiling around the warlock and forcing him to the ground where she swiftly brought her hands around the aeldari’s throat.

Belloris squeezed with all her might as the aeldari struggled to get free, gasping for air and clawing at his predator’s face. She did not budge, and past her visor the warlock could see her maddened purple eyes contorted into a smile as sadistic laughter filled the air. He struggled and struggled, her head slammed into his helmet, cracking the visor open before a hand moved itself. It grasped the stone on his chest and threw it to the side. Tears came to his face as it began to turn purple. His vision began to not turn black, but violet as the laughter grew louder and louder in his skull. He could see Her and he fought with all his might to resist Her painful embrace. Yet, soon that was all he felt as his hands fell to his sides.

Laughter subsided as Belloris' form still remained haunched over the now dead warlock. She began to breathe heavily, exertion becoming apparent as he eventually fell to the side, allowing herself respite after the brief but tracking battle. The pain from the psychic energies was still present in her mind, but it was a feeling that made her high all the brighter as she basked in the afterglow of her murders. After a few minutes, she would get up, leaning against the cold wall of the fortress. Her eyes looked upon the corpses, she would make her previous promise come to fruition.

They would make great pieces for her ballad.



//Usriel Andredth
//Present

Heaving the bulkhead up, Usriel was greeted with a dark room only illuminated by the dim red lights of the emergency power. He stopped at the entrance, scanning over the large room filled with nothing but darkness, the Primarch, and presences that he scantly felt in the immaterium. Usriel knew this room and he knew to step lightly - only to step upon a pathway known only to the Sentinels. The red glow from his helmet scanned the room for the presence that he had felt, settling upon the center console where one of his sons would be guarding the room - and there laid the corpse of the guardian of this chamber. His form was slumped over the console, his power sword bloodied and embedded in the ground behind him.

Usriel knew that he had died intentionally over the console, stopping those who had come into the room from finding a crucial control. Yet, he could not focus on his fallen son and the precious items that he had died guarding. Instead, as he stepped to the central console, he gazed upon the form that he had registered in the warp.

“Usriel Andredth, Primarch of the Steel Sentinels. I bid thee welcome home,” came a hauntingly smooth voice that echoed in the otherwise silent room. The primarch would not respond, instead feeling the grip of his pistol in his hand - despite being hesitant to shoot in the room. The cackle of the energy field of his powerfist registered in his mind as he stared down the aedari that gazed back at him with the glowing green of a helmeted face. The aedari spoke once more, “It seems that what I have heard is true, you are a powerful beast. One hellbent on the destruction of my people.”

The nineteenth son did not respond once more, merely holding his position as the two continued to gaze upon each other, daring the other to make the first move. “Your progeny had held that position for a long while, he slew the humans we had sent to kill him and even some of those under my command had found themselves meeting fate trying to subdue him, before I had to kill him personally.”

Usriel turned his head and suddenly fired into the darkness. The blue flame of his shot illuminated the entirety of the room. An inhuman form as tall as himself reeled back as the plasma impacted its form, scorching its chest. They were upon him in a near instant as eight others charged his position - bringing to the sound of war to a peaceful room. Yet, the Primarch adeptly dodged the strikes, his prescience being enough to ensure his safety before a punch the abdomen sent one flying back. Shrapnel launched as the wraithbone form shattered, sparks impacting the metallic floor as it landed. Usriel fired another round, though this one narrowly missed its mark as the construct moved to the side.

The aeldari spoke more as the battle occurred, his vile words corrupting the sanctity of the room, “I foresaw you, Usriel. Much like how you long to protect your sons, I must protect my people, otherwise I will not have come here.”

With those words, Usriel began to see double, images of constructs that were not there entered his mind - strange images and patterns dulling his senses. Still he fought on, staying reliant upon his prescience to allow him to dodge and block the incoming attacks of the wraiths. One raised a cannon to fire upon him but he shot far before it had the chance to strike him. The construct’s head came off in an instant - nothing but slag where the head would have been. Usriel went to put up a barrier to block an incoming attack but where the weapon should have harmless bounced away, the axe swung towards him and he narrowly dodged by shifting his weight backwards. He cast a knowing gaze to the farseer.

Without another word the farseer’s hands moved, a cackling psychic field wrapping itself around Usriel before it began to rapidly close around him. The primarch held back the field with a combination of his own psychic abilities and his own strength. Then an axe embedded itself in his side, blood gushing from the newly found opening in his armor before another strike came down upon his shoulder. He dropped to a knee, swiftly bringing up his pistol again and shooting. The blue crashed with violet and the crushing orb erupted before Usriel wrapped his fist around one of the constructs heads and maneuvered it to block another incoming strike.

They fought in a blur, a battle of speed and focus as Usriel minimized damage to himself and the room while the farseer aided the wraiths. Soon a power blast sent the Primarch off of the central console and sprawled onto the open floor. One of the constructs leapt after him, bringing its axe down at the primarch in savage strike. Instinctively, Usriel rolled away and easily dodged the strike. Yet, the battle came to a standstill as a realization dawned upon him and crying filled the air. The cry of a toddler brought all the warriors to a halt. The small bunker that had held the child had been wrought open by the strike and fear had gripped it. The father of the sentinels felt his breath leave his body in the moment before he launched himself with a speed and savagery to match Nelchitl. His fist tore the construct in twain, his form standing protectively over the bunker.

In the first time of the bout, Usriel would speak, a protective anger seeping from his voice “Never again! There will never be another butchery of my sons!”

As the wraiths descended upon him, he would fight as a man possessed, dodging and striking with such ferocity that not even the farseer could truly keep up with the battle. All the farseer could truly do was focus on making sure to allow the constructs to properly operate, even as Usriel tore them apart. He knew the battle was no longer in his favor, the beast had been disturbed and the carefulness of the primarch had given way to anger and bloodlust. Yet, he looked to the entrance and saw the form of a human standing there. Reinforcements would be trickling to the battle and so the farseer knew it was time to retreat.

The primarch dodged a cannon shot, rushing the one that had fired and throwing it into another of the constructs. He kicked the knee in of another and gripped the head of one that dodged his own plasma shot - crushing it swiftly and letting it fall loudly to the ground. He looked to the farseer and there he saw the form of the aeldari locked in single combat with a familiar human form. Usriel knew it was Belloris by the build of her, even from just a glance, but she struck with a speed to match his sons and a gracefulness far more apparent than any aeldai movement. Not questioning it, Usriel focused on the remaining wraiths that surrounded him, the last four to threaten his sons.

In the brief opening, gravitic forces slammed into his side, tearing away more of his armor as the canons of one of the wraiths hit him. Usriel did not give them another opening, launching himself upon them as a rabid animal and dismantled them in a hail of plasma and strength. Exertion began to claim the demi-god, his mind having been exhausted from overuse of his own abilities. He fell to his knees, breathing deeply. The sounds of farseer’s struggles continued to resonate throughout the room but his focus went to the toddler, who had by now climbed out of the small bunker. A brief moment of calm would wash over the primarch as he brought the child into an embrace, making sure it was safe within his arms.

“My son,” he muttered, though he knew that the child had yet to even receive the first implant to become an astartes. Usriel did not care at the moment, instead allowing himself to show a rare weakness.

A sharp scream of fear from the farseer brought him back to his wits, it seemed that Belloris had managed to deal with the eldar. Instead he would gaze up to see her form slowly hobbling toward him, she would stand over the kneeling primarch and the child for the moment before falling onto him. Belloris' own exhaustion seeped into the Primarch, but they had achieved a victory.

“Usriel, I came as fast as I could,” she said softly.

“You abandoned your post,” he growled in response, though allowing his anger to melt away into a mere annoyance, “But, I will thank you for dealing with the Eldar.”

A smile would creep onto her face, the thanks of Usriel pleasing her beyond recognition and filling her to the brim with ecstasy. She would raise herself to her feet before letting out a soft coo to him, “I will get your honor guard, I doubt they are too far.”

“No,” Usriel responded, the eyes of his helmet meeting her now purple ones, “Stay.”

“As you wish, lord,” Belloris said, kneeling with the Primarch and embracing the child as well. She knew they would be found like this, like a mother and father soothing their scared child after a trying time. They would be seen as a family and the idea brought a far too hedonistic smile to her face. She would become the mother of the nineteenth, and maybe then Usriel would finally reciprocate her feelings.

They would be perfect.

Together.
In Star Wars Saga Edition → 3 yrs ago Forum: Tabletop Interest Checks
I for one love Saga edition, probably my favorite way to play any form of Star Wars TTRPG
In BLOOD & IRON: IMPERIAL AMBITION → 3 yrs ago Forum: Nation Interest Checks
Think I’ll try my hand, might be a small colony to a nation that’s a bit late to the game
In The Ghosts of Napoleon → 3 yrs ago Forum: Nation Roleplay
@Lauder

I'm sorry to say fam. As glad as I am to see a Poland I do have to say: but since you name dropped The Congress of Vienna and ended the Napoleonic Wars at 1815 and didn't continue the period on as if they weren't extended in this time-line, I'll have to ask you to look over the OP again and try again.


You’ll have to forgive me, I didn’t precisely see the start date of the 8th coalition war. It won’t change my sheet too much, regardless.
In The Ghosts of Napoleon → 3 yrs ago Forum: Nation Roleplay


In The Ghost of Napoleon → 3 yrs ago Forum: Nation Interest Checks
I’ve been having fun cooking up Poland, but with the fun “What if” of Konstantin being crowned King of Poland.
In The Ghost of Napoleon → 3 yrs ago Forum: Nation Interest Checks
<Snipped quote by Lauder>

muahahhahhhahahahhahahahhahahahahhahaha


In The Ghost of Napoleon → 3 yrs ago Forum: Nation Interest Checks
I shall stake my place as the Land of the Poles! Maybe this time they won’t be eaten by three separate countries and constantly turned into a puppet country!

Poland can into space!
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