W40K RPG, Line of Damnation- Memoria

[Imperial Overlord]

Jolan consulted the repeater screen on the back of his arm. Nav coordinates said they were close now. It had been a three hours hard march through the jungle, making slower progress than he had expected. Maybe he was getting soft and maybe it was just that spending the last two years in urban enviroments and space had thrown him off a little.

The heat and humidity would have been brutal without the enviromental bodygloves. Not that Two Feathers seemed to be bothered. Chou was as uncomfortable as hell, always fidgiting and not used to trekking along with a pack over his shoulder. The inquisitor drifted back in line and matched the smaller man's pace. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

Sweat ran down Chou's face. "It ain't what I would be like to be doing boss, but I'll hold up." He was carrying less gear than the rest of them. Gix looked at him closely, nodded, and then headed for the front of the line. The Rangers didn't like him moving around. Everyone had their own spot in the line, their own job. The Inquisition impossed its own priorities, including having the commander move around and check up on people.

Strange birds cawed above them. Their calls sounded like tom cats fighting over right of way on top of a fence. The canopy was too thick to see them properly. "Jolan," came Severa's voice from ahead. She had moved her hand to call a halt. Everyone was grabbing the nearest cover.
He lengthened his stride and joined her behind a tree.

"Human bio readings. Ahead, less than fifty meters." She had her Necromundia pattern unslung and ready for action.

"Keep calm," Jolan ordered. "We want to make peaceful contact with these people. But if they attack, take them all out." He peered ahead. Severa's auspexes said their should be something there, but he couldn't see them.

"Hethor?" Jolan asked.

The big soldier pointed. "There and there. They're good at this." He had done his share of jungle fighting, although this mist shrouded piss pit was worse than what he served. Well, maybe not. No commissars and the officer was a hell of a lot better.

Gix looked. "I don't-, now I see them. Clever." He stood up and made a move to step out. Severa had a vice grip on his arm.

"Someone else" she hissed. She nodded. Hethor got up and stepped out. The veteran slung his Triplex pattern las across his back as he stepped forward.

Hethor bellowed. "Serel, get you butt up here."

The scout moved forward. "Tell them that we've come to help them," Gix said.

The scout repeated it in the local dialect. Then white painted warriors emerged from behind trees and fern like bushes. Their forms were indistinct and easily lost in the fog that shrouded them. One of them shouted back. The scout turned back to Gix. "They will take us to their hetman."

[Imperial Overlord]

The village of the Mist Walkers was compossed of long houses built on stilts. Wooden walkways connected the houses in a semi-circle of human habitation. Women and children went about the tasks of daily living. They were unpainted and resembled the rest of the inhabitents of the planet. Slim and short, although a lighter shade of brown than most. The first part would eventually change, of course. The planet's gravity was slightly lower than average, but much of their diet was compossed of local foods of limited nutritional value. As the Imperium spread, so would crops and livestocks that were fully compatable with human biology.

The warriors lead them into the largest long house. Mats and weapons hung from the walls and a dirt and stone lined hearth was dead center. Three score men, mostly young, were ranged around the dead hearth waiting for them. Weapons were by their sides, mostly stone headed spears and man killing clubs. The men in the center were older and wore more spectacular plumage. Several of them were armed with steal machetes. The senior warriors, lodge leaders, and shamans of the community.

Jolan extended his warp senses. A grey haired wrinkled man flickered with mostly constrained power. Either missed by the Schola Psychia sweep or they had died before reaching this village. Delta, high delta at the most. He wore gorgeous turqouise and jade feathers.

The old man might be a torch, but the white painted boy marked with black streaks was a bonfire. He looked at Gix with souless eyes, measuring. Ice creeped down his spine as he looked closer. Not soulless, scarred. He's seen too much, even at this tender age. He had seen the insanity and monstrousness of the warp, and perhaps more. So be it. Gix had not been innocent at his age either. The Black Ships and the dungeons had dissabused him of any childess illusions he had bee harbouring.

A man with cyan and scarlett feathers spoke. Gix turned to Serel. "He invites us to sit and speak with him in council."

"Tell him we accept," said Gix. He sat, crossing his legs tailor fashion. Hethor and Severa knelt. The Rangers remained standing.

The chief spoke again. Serel translated. "He says there has been much change in the last few years. That many strangers have come to the People. And there have been changes among the People. He does not approve."

Women came around with bowls of an earthy smelling substance. Severa tapped an instruction and then nodded. Her auspexes had cleared it. Gix took a sip. It tasted a little like potatoes, perhaps spiced with paprika. He slurped noisely as was the custom and put the bowl down.

"Tell him we have come because we have heard of a great evil that may soon opress his people and ours."

Serel nodded and exchanged more words with the chief. The shaman and the boy continued to look a Gix suspiciously. "He doesn't believe us. He says the ones who came before made that claim, but took his spirit talkers as slaves. He says why should he choose between the Sky Men and the Death Walker?"

Gix's eyes narrowed. The witch-king had been a rumour, but these people seemed to know him. Good. "Tell him that speaking with spirits is dangerous and that we have lore that will protect them." Half true. "Tell us of the Death Walker."

Serel nodded. He exchanged more words. The chief wasn't happy. "He asks us what we will give him for compensation for the insult."

Throne cursed Gix. "Ask this fool what he wants," he growled. The Schola party had been large enough that it had been able to take what they wanted. Now the chielf thought he could extract some concessions. There was only so far Gix was prepared to go.

Serel turned back to Gix. "He wants a rifle. And Severa."

Jolan said softly. "Drop everyone but the chief. Don't finish the wounded."

Gix struck without warning. The boy was enveloped in column of blue-white fire that incinerated the men next to him. The boy screamed, but that was probably just the air being blasted out of his lungs. The Rangers opened up with the thunder of their autoguns.

Warriors were mowed down before they could stand. Bullets smashed through the front of skulls, splattering the area with blood and brains. Torsos were punctures, limbs shredded, and organs ruptured as the high velocity soft slugs dumped their energy into human bodies in a most destructive fashion.

Severa blew the head off of the shaman with her naval pistol and then put two large calibre rounds in the chest of another warrior. Within ten seconds, everyone was dead or dying but the chief.

He had sat stunned for a moment and then charged with his machete. Hethor had battered the weapon aside with his armoured forearm and thrown him the ground.

Gix uncrossed his legs and took a red case out of his backpack. He walked back over to the hetman. "Now, let us discuss the Death Walker again."

[Imperial Overlord]

A short burst of autogun fire echoed came from ahead. Another short burst followed. "Clear," a voice rang out. Serel moved ahead. The corpse of a sabre fanged tredont was twitching on the ground, it's torso and skull punctured by the Ranger's bullets. The rest of the group gave the carnovaur a large berth.

Serel walked over to Gix. "You desire to seek out this Death Walker?"

Gix replied. "Yes."

"He must by a mighty witch to make these people afraid of him."

Gix shrugged. "Probably. I'm more concerned about the Schola Psychia sweepers that dissappeared. They were going to investigate this witch-king, whatever he has taken to calling himself. They didn't come back."

"You think the Death Walker killed them?"

"Probably. And we will kill him. In any case, the idea that a renegade psyker can resist Imperial authority is unacceptable. He is going down regardless."

Serel hesitated. "By this you mean you will kill him?"

"Yes," Gix replied.

"But you suspect he has overcome Imperials who were ready for him? A large party?"

"Yes."

"And you have gathered a war party of less than a dozen men to kill him?"

"No. They-" Gix swept his hand to indicate to the people around him, "are here to kill his minions. I will kill him."

"You alone?"

Gix shrugged. "Yes. Why not? It is what I do."

Serel eyed him. "So the talismans you possess will allow you to overcome the Death Walker."

"Possibly," Gix replied. "But I don't think I'll need them. In the end, everything burns."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Right there," the Ranger whispered. Gix followed the Ranger's finger.

"Well camouflaged, but around our good friend the hetman said theywould be." Jolan crawled back throught the underbrush. "Sev, get your auspexes to work."

"Already on it," she whispered back. "There's nearly a thousand adult humans in the vicinity. If a third of them are males of fighting age, that's over three hunded enemy combatents."

"Inquisitor, we are with you," Captain Leran began, "but the odds are fifty to one against and we know they have psykers."

"Yes," answered Gix. "We cannot allow any part of this planet to successfully defy Imperial authority."

"With all do respect a gunship attack-"

"Will either be destroyed with a psychic counter attack or kill a few and scatter the rest. No, we will attack and finish the job ourselves. Just not yet."

He pulled an amulet on a plastic string out of his pocket. He handed it to Serel. "Put it on."

The scout obeyed. "What is it?"

"Psi-blocker. It will help protect you from psychic assault. Heth, set up a watch schedule. Everyone else, catch whatever sleep you can. We hit them at two hours past local midnight."

[Imperial Overlord]

Under the canopy of trees, neither the moons nor the stars could be seen. The Imperials crawled forward through the underbrush with nightvision goggles on. Their enemies were easily visible through the green murk and Severa's auspexes sent data to the repeater on Jolan's sleeve.

There were sentries posted, of course. And dogs as well. Behind was Serel Two Feathers, with a pair of goggles courtesy of Hethor's bag. D'eckor himself used his targeter eyepiece for nightvision and benefited from the superior Necromundian technology.

Jolan slid around the perimeter. Some of the dogs were beginning to stir.
Earlier than he would have prefered as everyone wasn't in position yet. So be it.

Grenades flew from his harness and into the windows and doorway of the largest house. Although they were hung with branches and built next to the trunks of great trees for concealment, they were essentially the same design of those of the Mist Walkers. Most of them detonated with noisy cracks as they filled the air with shrapnel Several detonated with duller thumps.

Autoguns opened up on the sentries and dogs. Flesh was torn open and bones shattered by the small calibre, high velocity rounds. Severa's skulls floated through the darkness, the hunter taking up position above the center of the village and the gun-skull gliding towards the largest lodge. Jolan unslung his Necromundia pattern lasgun and began to shoot the warriors as the exited their lodges.

Bright beams pierced the night and flesh exploded as water flash boiled. Bodies jerked and fell as the killing hail continued. As the Rangers, Jolan, and Severa concentrated on killing the Death Walker's men as they emerged, Hethor closed the distance.

Matted to his Tripex pattern las was an underbarrel grenade launcher. He pumped grenades into the doorways and windows of lodges. They exploded the dull thumps. Heth smiled under his breathing mask. These poor bastards had no defences against poison gas, which Jolan's plan took ruthless advantage of.

Hethor burned down two men and a screaming woman before Severa's warning caused him to turn to the left and put two beams in the chest of a charging adolescent. His ribcage blew open, spraying blood, tissue, and bone into the air. Heth put another grenade into a window.

Severa fed data to the Rangers, warning them of warriors moving along their flanks as she picked her targets and burned them down. The indicator marking Gix was advancing. Behind her she heard the sound of Serel's rifle and another blip stopped.

"Jolan, what in the Emperor's Name are you doing?!" she screamed over the channel. Keeping that damn inquisitor alive was a full time job.

"They're about to mob Hethor!" he snarled back. His las burned a brilliant bar across the night as he fired it rapidly. The loud cracks of detonating frag grenades followed it.

Hethor burned through the las shot in his power cell as the screaming band approached. He had gotten cocky. They didn't have enough firepower to bottle up all the houses. The body count had been terrible, but not enough to deter them. He dropped the Tripex and drew his pistols.

Two gun shooting was usually stupid. There are exceptions. Charging mobs are an exception. He alternated kills, putting high calibre slugs in bodies with his left hand and burning las holes with the right. Men and women fell with gruesome injuries as the swarm closed.

Then loud cracks ripped through the mob as frag grenades detonated among them. Chunks of arms and legs flew through the air in a bloody spray. A full auto las tore through the survivors. Hethor added his own las to the carnage. In a few more moments their was only the moaning of the wounded and the cries of the dying.

From behind came alternating bursts as the Rangers killed. Jolan and Hethor methodically reloaded. Hethor had just picked up his Tripex when Jolan suddenly twisted his head.

A humanoid figure drifted out of the door of one of the smaller lodges. It was naked, with skin was pierced with bone needles and ivory amulets. A crown of of small horns covered its head and a thorny member dangled to its knees. Hellish blue light shone from its eyes.

"A good plan," it gloated. "Kill the psykers while they sleep and then mop up the rest. Frag grenades and poison gas will kill just about anyone if they are unprepared. But they won't kill me, Jolan Gix. And now I will kill you."

[Imperial Overlord]

"Perhaps not," replied Jolan. The air shimmered as a blast of telekinetic energy knocked the daemonhost back into the lodge. Gix slung his las and pulled out his force rod. His other hand removed palmed a small object from a pouch. Plans and contingencies, such was the mind of Jolan Gix.

Hethor broke to the side and rammed the Triplex to its highest power setting while feeding more grenades into the launcher. The daemonhost screamed and floated out the doorway, illuminated by a poisonous green light. Bullets struck it, but failed to penetrate. Hethor stitched three bloody holes craters across it's chest and ducked to the side. Claw-like strokes of blue light tore up the side of the lodge he had been hiding behind.

The daemon snarled and then screamed. A blue-white lance of psychic flame struck it. The lodge behind it burst into flames from the heat. It's skin blackened and curled. "Nice try, Jolan Gix. You can hurt me, but you can't-"

The roar of the impacting fireball drowned out it's reply. The impact spun the daemonhost in the air and knocked it back into the burning building. It's exit was preceeded by four curved clawlike strands of light that lashed out and closed on Gix. Light flashed from their impacts and the inquisitor staggered.

The daemon floated forward. "You're strong and you would have gotten stronger, Gix. But your career ends now, as your agony begins." The daemon's words were punctuated with a thump. It turned towards the sound as the krak grenade impacted on its arm.

The explosion flayed the limb, shattering the bone and sending muscle tissue flying. It cursed and swore in a language that Hethor did not speak as the veteran took cover. The daemon unleashed a flesh flurry of light-talons that shredded the lodge. "You are doomed, you pathetic mortals! Nothing can change that! You can only buy yourselves more pain!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Wrong on two counts,thought Jolan Gix as he triggered the injector and sent another fireball into the daemonhost's side. The ball of green witchfire detonated in a brilliant flash. Jolan was already running for cover. He could already feel the spook beginning to take effect.

The daemon turned back towards Gix as he vanished behind several trees. Its skin, what little remained, was blackened and cracked. The flesh underneath was red and seared. It tore a two meter wide tree apart with a flurry of its light talons and shredded the underbrush behind it. The great tree fell on its jagged stump, slipped, and began to topple. No sign of Jolan Gix.

Gix's voice rang out, loud and mocking. "Did you really think I wasn't prepared for you, little daemon slave? That I wouldn't consider the possibility of a daemonhost? Come on, oh lordly one. Slay me, if you can!" The inquisitor walked out into the open.

The daemon raged and struck with its light talons. Light flashed, as bright as a lightning strike. Gix was unmoved. Power was coursing through his veins. Spook made even blunts psykers, for a while. Psykers like Gix, it made even more powerful and sometimes it unlocked hidden talents. It was potentially dangerous and quite illegal, like many of the tools of the Inquisition. He raised his force rod.

The blue-white lance burned through the daemon's abdomen. It screamed, fire errupting from its mouth. Terrible talons grew on it fingers, claws charged with deadly warp energies. It flew at Jolan Gix like a falling star.

And was held, three meters from the Inquisitor. The daemon host snarled. "You can't hold me forever Gix. Soon your strength will drain away. You can't strike me down while pinning me here, you need all your power for that. You. Still. Lose."

"Wrong," said a woman's voice behind it. Severa's power blade severed its right arm and then it's left in a pair of strikes that took less than a second. Her power cutlass bisected its head quartered its torso in a flurry of horizontal strikes. Jolan dropped the quivering mass to the ground and gestured for Hethor and Severa to retreat.

"Burn," he said and a pillar of flame lit the night.

[Imperial Overlord]

Jolan reched over for the decanter and poured more juice into his glass. There was something wrong with the building's blowers and the sticky heat of the outside had crept in and settled. He poured another glass for Severa and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said. "What now?"

"A sweep and purge. The survivors of the region will be examined and assigned to whatever tasks the Imperium needs manpower for or dispossed of."

Anjun looked up. "So everyone gets enslaved or killed."

Jolan took a sip. He didn't mind the heat as much as the others and couldn't bear to spend another unnecessary moment in his body glove. He was wearing loose fitting slacks and button down shirt of vibrant red silk. "Yes. It's unfortunate, but we aren't merely talking about renegade psykers but a full blown chaos cult in the region. Cleansing isn't enough. They must be scowered."

"And the innocent?" asked Chou.

"As always, they suffer. But it ends with this, hopefully for a long time. There will be no more witches rising to power without restraint and dominating tribes for generations. It was more difficult than I expected. Their witch-king managed to bind a daemon host and not a mere lesser daemon but a daemon prince. Fortunately, it was neither strong nor lightly bound."

Severa looked at him. "It wasn't lightly bound?"

"However a daemonhost is formed, whether by deliberate summoning or possession, it is a body possessed by part of a daemon. Several things affect how powerful the daemonhost is. The strength of the host, as a powerful daemon will quickly consume a weak host and fall back to the warp. The strength of the daemon, of course, and the strength of the binding. Stronger bindings mean greater control over the daemon but limit its power."

"It was close enough for my taste," Chou said. He had merely sniped from the edges during the fight. By the time he had gotten close enough to use the inferno pistol, others had been in the way. Not that anyone could complain about Severa's results.

"I still had a trick or two left," replied Gix. "But pinning it for Severa was by far the best choice at that point."

'I hate this place," said Chou. "When do we leave?"

"Leave? Someone has to supervise the purge. We're going to be here another four months, at least." Chou groaned. Gix smiled. Before they left, they should check out some beaches. Maybe get a little fishing in.