StarDestroyer.Net BBS

In which the Dozen choose their cabins and begin to interact with one another:


Chapter 3

On the other side of the hatch was a series of large bags, each labeled with the name of a different marine. As they boarded, they all retrieved their personal effects and went to find a shipboard room that would suit them.

The manner in which they did so was as varied as the marines themselves.

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Cyran immediately went to the captain's quarters, a well-appointed room advantageously set near but not too near both the bridge and the closest hangar. Looking around, he made a mental note to pull down the overly garish decorations at the first opportunity. For now, he set the large duffel on the bed and opened it, retrieving his precious chainsword and bolter. Once those were in place he immediately began to feel more like himself again. With that, he sat on the edge of the bed and began reviewing the dataslates of his available resources and time frame.

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Gulgamesh wandered through the ship, poking his head into room after room until he came to an oversized set of wooden doors. Tilting his head curiously, he approached and cautiously eased one of the doors open. Beyond was a large room with rows of pews, subdued lighting, and a high, arched ceiling. Gulgamesh realized that at one point it must have been the ship's chapel, though all the religious paraphernalia had been either removed or defaced. Closing the door behind him, he made his way down the aisle and dropped his bag into the first-row pew. Then he laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles before walking over to the wall. Extending his claws, he used them to get a firm grip and began to ascend; his hand- and foot-claws helping him find purchase where there was none. Once up the wall, he continued up the arched ceiling until near the zenith, at which point he pulled his hands away, crossed his arms over his chest, and slowly straightened his legs until he was hanging upside down like a bat.

Although unable to grin, he nodded in satisfaction. "Perfect."

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Dalton picked a room much closer to the ship's engines. Not a proper bedroom at all but more like a storage room. An empty one. Dalton strode inside and dropped his bag on the floor before turning to the back wall. Tapping at it in several places, he listened for the hollow sound of the ducts that carried off the excess fumes. At the fourth rap, he nodded to himself, stepped back, and struck the wall with his scythe. The ancient weapon punched right through the metal and gases erupted from the puncture. Even through his helmet filters Dalton could taste the stink of them. He removed the helmet and breathed in deeply. Maybe this way I'll catch something, he thought to himself.

He sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall for a little shuteye.

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Jadeite walked into a room and plucked a few strings on his guitar. A few moments later, he shook his head and walked out.

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Ghornal's choice was the first room he walked into. Unslinging his axe, he used three quick strokes to cut a rough triangle into the wall, then added a set of barbs. That done, he bared his arm and used the axe to cut a gash into it. Dropping the axe, he held the gash open to slow down his coagulation and pumped his muscles so that the blood sprayed all over the symbol. Task complete, he put his armor back on and poked his head back out into the hallway just in time to see Kuja before he turned a corner. "Hey sorcerer!" he barked. "Can I borrow some of your blood?" Kuja's response was to glare at him for a moment before turning back around and walking on. "Jackass," Ghornal muttered as he retreated back into the room. "And they wonder why Khorne is the bane of psykers."

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After his encounter with Ghornal, Kuja walked for some time before deciding on a room for himself. Largely ignoring the accoutrements, he instead turned right back to the door and began carving runes of protection and warding into it, copying them out of his book. Once done with that, he retrieved a few objects from his bag and positioned them on the dresser to create a small shrine. That task complete, he checked the time, pulled out a small piece of heartwood along with a small knife, and began carving a small figurine resembling a man the heavy armor of the World Eaters.

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Jadeite walked into another room and struck a chord. Once again, he shook his head and walked out.

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Nongenti Scalk wasted no time in decorating his room with the various symbols of Chaos. One wall bore the infamous eight-pointed star while the others displayed the symbols of the four gods. Seated cross-legged in the center of the room, Scalk offered a short prayer for a safe passage. Standing, he wondered if the ship had a chapel where he might hold a proper service. He left his room to begin looking.

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Sheppard and Domini were much more deliberate in their room selection. First, they found a pair of rooms at the end of an easily defendable hallway. Second, they used Sheppard's power claw to rip a hole in the wall separating the two rooms, after which they took the debris, piled up against the door of the second room and melted it all together, thus ensuring the door could not be opened under any circumstances. Once that was done, they dragged both beds into the second room and pushed every other available piece of furniture into the first, knocking them over to create a wall they could hide behind in case of a firefight. Once the 'guard room' was done, they retired to the 'bunk room' to distribute ammunition and work out a guard schedule.

Sheppard and Domini were Iron Warriors to the core.

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A moment after entering his room, Typhonis pulled his bolter and shot the light out. "Much better," he said to himself as darkness fell. Then he turned his bed up on its side and set the end against the back wall, dragged the dresser across the room to stand near the bed, lay the mattress across the top of both, and used the small desk to complete the enclosure. Work done, Typhonis hunkered down in his little enclosure and eagerly anticipated the first fool to come through the door. He hummed to himself as he crouched, feeling more in control of the situation already.

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Rather than choose a room and tie himself down, Talen simply crouched in the hallway and removed his effects from the bag. Everything within was either a weapon or an effect that could be hung off his armor, a result of spending a lifetime on the move. Talen decided that he would walk the halls of the ship during the day and retire to a different room every night.

It just wasn't in the nature of an Alpha Legionnaire to stay in one place.

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Jadeite entered and summarily rejected a third room.

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Seth's choice was one he felt to be much more poignant than a simple shipboard cabin. He chose the rearmost of the ship's observatories. Although right now all he could see was the metal of the ship's dock, he knew that once they were underway he would have a direct line of sight to space itself. Pleased with the selection, he turned his mind to the coming mission.

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Sheppard and Domini both stood bolt upright and ran for the guard room as a knock came at the door. Once he had knelt behind the firewall and Domini readied his arsenal, Sheppard cleared his throat and said, "Enter."

Cyran opened the door and paused at the sight of the two Iron Warriors and their on-board fortress. Then he shook his head and entered. "Here," he said as he held out a dataslate.

"What might this be?" Sheppard asked as he cautiously reached out to take it.

"You two are Iron Warriors," Cyran replied. "With your reputation, I think you're that first ones I should turn to for siege warfare." He pointed to the slate. "On there are the blueprints we've got for that Imperial refueling station. We need to get on there somehow because there's no way we can board the Dylan itself. If you two can figure out a way to crack it open, let me know." With that, Cyran turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Sheppard looked at the slate for a moment and then turned to Domini. "He's giving us a chance to blow open an Imperial station," he said. "I think I like this guy already."

Domini nodded.

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Jadeite entered yet another room and plucked at a string. This time, however, he grinned as the sound faded away. A moment later his fingers attacked the strings and began a fast-paced solo. Jadeite had definitely found the room for him.

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On the way back to his room, Cyran heard angry voices erupt from somewhere ahead of him. Launching into a sprint and drawing his chainsword, he quickly found himself standing at the entrance to the ship's chapel. Inside, Scalk and Gulgamesh looked ready to come to blows. "Hey! What the hell's going on in here?" he bellowed as he marched in.

Scalk was the first to recover. "I was inspecting the chapel to see about reconsecrating it when this aberration dropped out of the sky and knocked me to the floor!"

"Hey, you're nothing special, I do it to everyone!" Gulgamesh protested.

"Oh, I'd love to see what a Bloodletter could do to you, little one-"

Cyran banged his chainsword on the deck. "Chaplain!" he barked. "No summoning daemons aboard ship without my explicit permission! And Gulgamesh! No dive-bombing of someone who knows how to summon daemons! Are we clear?"

"I was just protecting my roost! He's the trespasser!"

Cyran sighed inwardly. "Gulgamesh, you are not under any circumstances making the ship's only chapel your personal stalking grounds. We'll find you another high ceiling somewhere. Now, get your effects and let the Chaplain be about his business."

Scalk waited until Gulgamesh was out of earshot before saying, "Thank you captain."

Cyran, reminded of his earlier statement, waved his chainsword in a vaguely threatening fashion. "No daemons," he said again.

"By Chaos Undivided," Scalk said with a hand over his primary heart. "No daemons."

"Glad we're clear on that," Cyran said as he left to meet Gulgamesh in the hall. "Now, let's see if we've got a mess hall we don't need..."

just you wait until the chaplin summon's Cthutlhu you said no daemons you didn't say anything about Outer Gods.

Also last time I checked 1k sons don't bleed, they don't even have bodies....

oooh but Daemons can be prettty as well as very rowdy.

I hope they blow the thing to smithereens

*approval stamp*

The Yosemite Bear wrote: Also last time I checked 1k sons don't bleed, they don't even have bodies....

Sorcerors were exempt from the Rubrik of Ahriman.

Lindar wrote:oooh but Daemons can be prettty as well as very rowdy.

Slaaneshi Daemonettes . . . perhaps, I'm still not with the whole young woman/cloven extremities.

[ego]And I'd eat a Bloodletter for breakfast. I can fucking fly baby. Can't kill what you can't hit.[/ego]

Yeah, rock on again Kuja.

Bloodletters can fly too, you know. As can Lords of Change, Screamers and Furies.

*Hefts Icon* Now, what's that summoning spell again?

However, I agree with the dive-bombing lunatic. Never stop, Kuja!

Pcm979 wrote:Bloodletters can fly too, you know. As can Lords of Change, Screamers and Furies.

Bloodthirsters can fly, bloodletters cannot. Plus Bloodthirsters and Lord of CHange really need to possess someone rather than be summoned.

'Thirsters' is what I meant.

My point about the Screamers and Furies holds, though.

Pcm979 wrote:'Thirsters' is what I meant.

My point about the Screamers and Furies holds, though.

Gulgamesh was likely involved in enslaving Furies, however. It's a Raptor thing. Screamers . . . not so much.

In which Cyran meets his ship's captain, the Dozen look upon each other, and the planning begins:


Chapter 4

The bridge of the Black Dart was three stories tall, with the upper two being filled with the servitors and cogitators that would be instrumental in keeping the ship functioning. Although launch was still two hours away, the bridge was already full of the noise caused by their work. Cyran was looking up at them as he entered, gaze drawn by the noise they created. So it was that he initially missed the figure pointing the gun at him.

"Ye be holdin' it right there, laddie!" the rough and not-quite-sane voice barked. Cyran snapped his gaze down and began to reach for his bolter before remembering that he was not, in fact, suicidal.

The figure was human, or had been once. A rough, weather-beaten face sporting a heavy beard surrounded a pair of surprisingly soft brown eyes. The man wore an old-fashioned tricorner hat sporting a multitude of jewels, bangles, and sewn-on patches Cyran couldn't identify. The rest of the man's outfit was equally garish, the bright blue of his longcoat clashing with various gold and silver chains, multiple weapon holsters, what appeared to be pieces of bone, and even a sheathed sword. The man sat in what appeared to be a combination of command chair and life-support unit that either encased or replaced his legs.

He had bad teeth, too.

"Be tellin' me who y'are lad, or I'm'a gun ye down where ye be standin'," the man said, and Cyran noticed the long-barreled laspistol he held.

"Captain Cyran, Black Legion," he said.

"Ah, so you be the one commandin' this little jaunt!" the man said. Cyran tried to place the man's accent while he watched him put the laspistol into his coat but with no success.

"And you are?" he asked dryly.

"Well blow me down, laddie, I've gone and forgotten me mannerisms!" The man removed his hat and swept it down as he sketched what would have been a most handsome bow had he not been stuck in the chair. "I been the cap'n of this here lady for nigh on three thousand years!" he said grandiosely, "me name be Aran El-Heru! A pleasure and a delight to meet ye!"

"I was told my men and I would be aboard the ship alone," Cyran said without coming closer.

"Oh, he!" the man laughed as he replaced his hat, "ye men o' the sword be fine soldiers lad, but ye don't know yer prow from yer port! An' that's what I be here for! After all, ye can't expect this bunch'a clodheaps and caskheads to do it for ye without someone watchin' 'em!" he said with a gesture at the servitors.

I take back that good feeling I had, Cyran thought. This is hell. "What happened to your legs?"

"Aye, ye've noticed me little handicap, eh? Two year ago, or was it three now? Anyway, my dear lady got hit by a boardin' torpedo. Me and the lads had to fight 'em off. Lost some good men that day. 'Twas a black one, aye!"

"You're a rogue trader," Cyran said.

"Ah, bless ye laddie, I was for a good long time! Three-hundred and thirty years I was! Then I fell into some bad deals and hard days and made a deal what's kept me around here ever since!"

"So you know what you're doing," Cyran said.

"Aye lad! I can run rings around any battleship in the galaxy if the engine don't overheat and I've had me morning rum."

"Alright then." Cyran finally came forward to shake his hand. "Good to meet you, Captain El-Heru."

"Ach, be callin' me Heru lad! I been bored o' that name for long now!"

"Alright then, Heru."

"Ah, you be improvin' already! Now, where be the rest o' the swillers?"

"I planned to discuss our mission here," Cyran replied. "They should be showing up-"

At that moment, Kuja walked in the door. After a quick look around, he made his way to the charting table, took a seat, and opened his book to resume his reading.

"Not the most talkative of lads, that one," Heru muttered.

Kuja was quickly followed by Gulgamesh, his upright posture and stiff movements transmitting his continued annoyance at the earlier incident. Moments later came Talen, followed immediately by a creeping Typhonis who looked like he was trying to pinch one of the Alpha Legionnaire's trinkets. Scalk came through the doors next, crozius tapping on the floor as he thought.

When Ghornal entered, Cyran was utterly nonplussed to see Kuja look up and beckon him over. As Ghornal took the seat next to him, Kuja flipped to another page in his book and pointed something out. The two began conversing in muttered tones.

"Well now, there's somethin' ye don't see every day," Heru commented.

Seth, Dalton, Sheppard, and Domini, all came in without fanfare, seating themselves around the table. Sheppard pulled out a short stack of papers and placed them on the table in front of him.

"That be all?" Heru asked.

"No, one's missing. Has anyone seen Jadeite?" Heads shook. "Damn. Alright, Gulgamesh and Talen are with me, let's go find him."

Even as the two of them rose, Jadeite burst into the room. "You're late," Cyran said acidly.

"Sorry, I just found a room with these awesome acoustics-"

"I don't want to hear it." Cyran gestured to the table and Jadeite contritely went to take his place. As he walked to the head of the group, Cyran was suddenly aware that this was his first time addressing them as their leader. He took a breath. "Alright," he said calmly. "We're all fuck-ups. We all know it. There's no need to hide it or dance around the issue. But here's my deal. I don't care. I really don't give a fuck if you pissed off your superior officer, shot a fellow marine, or blew up the wrong building. As of right now, you have a clean slate with the only person that counts." He jerked a thumb at his chest. "Me. Do your jobs and follow orders. Knowing the disparity in our ranks, I'm not going to say 'don't start fights'. I'm sure fights are an inevitability here. But make sure they start over something worth fighting for. If I catch any of you fighting for the sake of beating on someone from another legion, I'll cap you myself and throw you out an airlock. Is that clear?" Heads nodded. "Good. Now that that's out of the way, it's time to start planning. Helmets off, gentlemen." Cyran reached up and undid the clasps on his helmet, placing it on the table in front of him. The others followed suit except for Domini, who had no helmet and Scalk, whose helmet was hanging from his belt.

Cyran looked up and down the table, memorizing each marine's true appearance. To his immediate left was Sheppard, his bald head sporting a steel plate on the left side. His teeth looked like they were made of steel and Cyran was not surprised to find that one of his eyes was augmentic. Next to him, Domini remained a hulking presence, his face deformed by the amount of equipment that had once been part of his armor and was now grown into him.

Jadeite's features were sharp and narrow, framed by his long brown hair. Had it not been for the short horns sprouting from his forehead and the fact that his teeth had been dipped in some bright red substance, he probably might have passed for a more normal marine. Seth's appearance was much the same, his utterly normal features and short brown hair betraying his lack of affiliation with true Chaos. Talen's eyes were pools of blackness and Cyran wondered if they were all pupil.

Across the table, Scalk's heavily scarred face remained unchanged. A tattoo of the eight-pointed star mounted his right temple, just above the red glow from his eyes.

On Scalk's left sat Ghornal who was idly picking at his teeth, all canines. His red hair appeared to have been dyed with fresh blood. Closer to Cyran sat Kuja, each of his three pairs of eyes looking in a different direction. The normal pair looked at him, the pair above that continued to scan his book, and the last pair looked up at the machinery. Typhonis' appearance was no less strange. His hair was dark blue, spiked and mussed apparently at random, giving him a wild look. His eyes, too, seemed to glow a faint bluish color. Strangely enough it didn't look like sorcery to Cyran but natural bioluminescence. He wondered what Typhonis had had done to himself.

Dalton's dark skin and hair were unmarred, no surprise when one considered why he'd been kicked out of the Death Guard. He looked heavy for a marine, though. Cyran idly wondered if the Death Guard bothered to keep in shape. Knowing there modus operandi, he doubted it.

But the be-all-and-end-all of weirdness was immediately to Cyran's right. He'd known Gulgamesh was a raptor, and he'd known most raptors had mutated since the Heresy, but he hadn't expected a literal raptor. Gulgamesh's eyes were the wide and bright hazel of an eagle's, the feathers that covered him were a lustrous black, and his nose and mouth had grown together to form an honest-to-Hades beak. The flying trooper cocked his head just like a bird to stare at Cyran with one large eye. "Are we going to plan a mission or just stare at the bird all day?" he asked aloud.

"Polly wanna cracker?" one of the men on the other side of the table – Cyran thought it was Seth – asked aloud and the entire table erupted into laughter.

Gulgamesh waited until the gale of laughter had begun to ebb before commenting, "Polly wants your mama's sweet ass," prompting another round of laughs.

"Alright, that's enough," Cyran finally said when they had finished. "Let's get to work." He sat and gestured to Sheppard. "A little while ago I approached these two with the plans for that station we're heading towards. Since the Iron Warriors excel and battering down well-placed defenses, I wanted to see what they could come up with. Sheppard?"

Sheppard stood and checked his papers. "Domini and I put our heads together and came up with a few ideas," he said. "Plan A. We use the ship's lance cannon to punch a hole-"

"Ah, lad," Heru interrupted. Sheppard glared at him.

"This is Heru, the captain of the Black Dart. He's the one keeping us from getting lost in the warp, so be nice to him," Cyran explained.

"Yes?" Sheppard ground out.

"Er, this ship doesn't have a lance cannon."

"Oh." Sheppard discarded the top two papers. "Plan C. We come in fast before they can bring their guns to bear and make a quick flyby of the bridge, using the boarding torpedoes to-"

"Lad. No boarding torpedoes," Heru said sadly.

Sheppard shook his head, muttered a curse, and removed the next three pages. "Plan F." He paused and looked at Heru. "Does this ship have torpedoes of any kind?" When Heru shook his head, Sheppard grunted and removed three more pages. "Plan I. We use the rings of the nearby gas giant to mask our approach, coming as close to the station as we can. Then we make the hop from the rings to the station in one of the shuttles and sneak on board. We plant the biggest, nastiest explosive we have – by the way, I want to look at our weapons manifest – and leave before it blows up."

"The problem is that the blast might not do enough damage to the station or the Dylan," Domini rumbled.

"What if we were to plant one on the Dylan itself?" Scalk queried.

"I don't think we could get close enough to the ship without being noticed," Sheppard replied. "An Emperor-class battleship is much more aware of its surroundings than a podunk asteroid station. We need to come at the blind spots."

Seth spoke up. "Actually, I think there's a way we can board the ship. We come in on a nonthreatening course and when we're hailed, we pretend to be Space Marines. They'll let us right on board."

There was a moment of silence followed by more than a little laughter. "You're joking, right?" Jadeite asked. "I think they'll recognize traitor legions when they see them."

"That's perfectly true," Seth said calmly. "They would recognize traitor legions when they saw them. But last I checked, the Dark Angels were still loyal to the Imperium."

He sat back and enjoyed the expressions of astonishment on the others' faces.

... That's just devious. I love it!

YEEEEESSSSSSS!!! -dances happy dance-

-Calms down- Ahem. Kuja? You rock.

Nifty. Just remember our theme song lads(to the tune of Plucky's theme song on Tiny Toon when he was a space adventurer):

"
We...Loot, loot, loot for Just us,
We pillage small towns till we're served,
We'll plunder your planet for Freedom, and

We...Enslave worlds for justice,
We crush liberty till its served,
We'll end Freedom for Freedom!"

Like the Team America theme, I've found that this song goes to just about anything.

heh


I love it

Excellent! Most excellent!

In which a plan is formed and Cyran reveals his secret:

Chapter 5

A few moments passed as eleven marines and one ship's captain stared wordlessly at the Dark Angel.

Sheppard was the first to speak with, "that's crazy."

"No, it could work," Typhonis argued. "They'd never expect it."

"Because it's crazy," Sheppard insisted.

"It strikes me as ironic that a man who has associated himself with daemons and violent destruction for ten thousand years is calling a plan crazy," Dalton piped up.

"Shove it," Domini promptly replied.

"Fine, it's not just crazy, it's damned stupid," Sheppard amended.

"But maybe it would get us close enough to plant your bomb," Gulgamesh interjected.

"If we can get that close, I might as well plant a Bloodthirster on their bridge and have done with it!" Scalk replied.

"A daemon?"

"You can't trust them!"

"Especially when you're not there to watch over their shoulder!"

"But take out the bridge and the job is done!"

"No," a calm voice interceded. All eyes slowly turned to Kuja. "It is a common misconception that the destruction of a ship's bridge entails the destruction of the ship itself. While using a daemon to wreck the Dylan's command center is tempting, an Emperor-class battleship is more than six times the size of this sprint trader and stocked to the brim with weapons and onboard troops. Although a summoned daemon would do great damage, even a Bloodthirster could not destroy the Dylan entirely. And while I have no doubt that the destruction caused would set repairs back by months or even years, during that time the ship would more than likely still be functioning well enough to adequately protect the repair station. And do not forget, if we fail in our attempt to destroy the Dylan, they will most likely summon aid from the nearest Imperial ports. And then we will have no hope whatsoever."

Again the table lapsed into silence.

Ghornal grinned. "You don't say much, sorcerer, but when you do speak up, you sure say a mouthful." Kuja shrugged.

"Which leaves us at square one," Jadeite grunted.

"I don't think you're giving my idea enough credit," Seth insisted. "I was a loyal Dark Angel for three centuries. In the five thousand years since, they haven't changed a bit. I know their mannerisms. Their methods. I can imitate them perfectly. I've done it before."

"And they won't ask questions when a lone Dark Angel shows up and asks to board their ship? They won't wonder where the hell your battle-brothers are?" Sheppard jabbed.

Seth drummed his fingers on the table. "Yes, that would be a little suspicious. But there's a way to counter that." He plucked at his robe. "All Dark Angels make their own habits. There's nothing stopping me from making more."

"You want us to masquerade as Dark Angels?" Gulgamesh screeched.

"No, not all of us. I think Captain Cyran could pass for one, so long as we cover up his legion insignia. "Talen's armor would require a little work but it's dark enough to pass so long as we don't run into another Dark Angel. Same story with Typhonis, although we'd have to cut those bat wings off his helmet."

Cyran looked at nobody in particular but rather stared down at the table as a plan formed in his head. "If we four were to fake being Dark Angels, we might be able to distract the Dylan's higher-ups from what might be going on around them," he said.

Heads zeroed in on him.

Cyran rested his hands on the tabletop. "A plan is forming in my head," he said aloud. "We can destroy the Dylan and make it out alive. We split into three teams. Seth, Talen, Typhonis and I masquerade as loyal Dark Angels and demand to meet with the Dylan's captain behind closed doors. While they're occupied with our meeting, groups two and three slip into the Dylan's corridors. Group Two will consist of Sheppard, Domini, Dalton, and Ghornal. They'll make their way to the Dylan's genarium and plant the biggest bomb we can cobble together on the way there. While they're doing this, Group Three will make a distraction. Scalk, Kuja, Gulgamesh, and Jadeite, I want you four to make your way from wherever we dock to the nearest port to the station, making as much noise as possible." Jadeite visibly brightened. "When you get to the docking station, I want Scalk to summon the nastiest, most psychotic daemons he can think of and shoo them down the hall. Kuja, you're a sorcerer, you can help him. Once that's done, rampage your way back to the ship as quick as you can, where hopefully Sheppard and the others will be waiting for you. Meanwhile, we 'Dark Angels' will feign complacency and come to intercept you, then we can all get onboard and take off. We run like hell, the Dylan blows up, and the station's crew get sliced to ribbons. We have the last laugh."

Silence.

"That could work," Gulgamesh said softly.

Scalk steepled his fingers. "Yes, it could be done. I'll start thinking about what I can summon to our aid."

"I'll start working on our bomb," Sheppard said, standing. Domini joined him.

"I'd better get to work on those robes," Seth added as he stood as well.

"Hold it," Cyran said. Everyone froze. "Don't think you're all going to go off and do whatever you damn well please for the next..."

"Five weeks," Heru supplied.

"Five weeks," Cyran repeated. "You are still Chaos Marines and I am going to work the living hell out of you. In between exercises, drills, and inspections, we are going to sit down and brainstorm a working plan out of this idea of mine. We are going to look at it, break it down, analyze every portion of it, and fashion something that might get us out alive. We'll meet here tomorrow at 0200 hours. Until then, consider yourselves on free time. Dismissed."

The marines gathered their helmets and departed, all except for Gulgamesh, who remained seated. "So, boss," he said. "You really planning on fighting through this?"

"Yes," Cyran replied.

"Good. I'm willing to go down in flames, but dammit I'm taking a few of them with me when I do it."

Cyran grinned. "Good." The expression slowly faded away as a thought occurred to him. "You haven't heard anyone making statements about just rolling over and dying, have you?"

The raptor shook his head. "No, at least, not yet and not where I can hear them. I guarantee there will be sooner or later though, when you think about just who this crew is and what we're doing." He blinked his large eyes. "And speaking of which, before our briefing we were exchanging our reasons for ending up here. Except for you, brother-captain. Care to share, one Black Legionnaire to another?"

Cyran glared at Gulgamesh for a moment. He'd known this question had been coming, but he hadn't expected it quite so soon. Still, maybe it would be better to get it over with. "Have you ever heard of brother-captain Mekkalas?" he asked.

Gulgamesh stroked his beak in thought. "Doesn't ring a bell," he finally said. "But then I was out of touch a lot."

"He was a fellow captain in my chapter," Cyran explained. "He and I competed hotly for prestige. We forced each other to buckle down, work harder, plan better in our efforts to outdo the other. We made each other better soldiers, even though we couldn't stand to be in the same room."

"So one day, it came to a head?"

"Not exactly. Our commanders liked to play games with us, first placing one under the others' command and then the reverse. They wanted to see which one of us would break first."

Cyran laced his fingers and looked at them. "It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if our styles hadn't clashed so much. If we were given the same target, we would find completely different ways of taking it. I got tagged with the nickname Patient because I favored careful, stealthy attacks that minimized casualties and kept the mission time down. Mekkalas, though, he liked to hit hard from the front, terrifying enemies and smashing them flat. Problem was, his method tended to lead to high casualty rates."

"But as long as he did his job, the big guys were willing to overlook it," Gulgamesh supplied.

"Right," Cyran confirmed. "Then came one day where my squad was placed under his command for a fortress assault. During the fighting, he ordered my squad to proceed down something called Corridor Five and take a nerve center. Except that I'd just received a report informing me that the position was being held by a pair of Rhinos and a Leman Russ."

"You get blown up and he's down one rival."

"Yes and no. He was nearby in Corridor Six with his command squad and a heavy weapons team. When my squad jumped out to distract the vehicles, he would take them out. My squad would get wiped out first, though. Just another sacrifice for the victory." Cyran paused. "I refused, point-blank. Then I commandeered another weps team, fought my way to the far side of the Imperials and blew them up from there. Didn't lose a single man."

"And that's how you earned the title Backstabber?"

Cyran grinned in a feral fashion. "No, I earned it with what happened next. Mekkalas was hounding me over a private communications line and I snapped. I gave my weps team a set of coordinates and told them to fire, no questions asked."

"Mekkalas' squad?"

"No, I couldn't be sure they would kill him. I ordered them to fire on their fellow weapons team. The lascannons set off the other team's promethium for the flamers, which set off the warheads in the rocket launchers. Both them and Mekkalas' command squad were blown to shreds."

Gulgamesh nodded. "Cold as ice, boss."

Cyran nodded as well. "It was reported as friendly fire, except someone must have been listening in on the communications line. The truth came out after the operation was over and I was hauled off for interrogation and punishment. They were still debating what to do with me when I was hauled off for this."

"Better than some things I could name."

"Aye lad, could'a been much, much worse'n that! Why, I seen things that'd turn a man's stomach done for less!"

Cyran looked over at Heru, realizing for the first time that he hadn't left with the others. "Enough," he said. "I have a schedule to prepare and you have a ship to launch. Gulgamesh, not a word of this to the others."

Gulgamesh raised a hand, smallest finger and thumb tucked into the palm. "Scout's honor, boss."

"Get out of here. Enjoy your free time," Cyran said with a nod towards the door.

Gulgamesh saluted, collected his helmet, and marched out.

Past the first bend in the corridor, he found the other ten all waiting for him with great anticipation. "Well, spill it," Ghornal said. "What's his secret?"

"Okay, here's the story," Gulgamesh began.

What, you mean we weren't blatantly eavesdropping? I am shocked, shocked I say at the trust we are showing in what Gulgamesh is saying.

It seems as though Gulgy possesses an aura of 'Trust me, I don't lie.'

Because multiple people requested this:


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Notations from the Files of the Warmaster

NAME: Cyran Heitzen
AFFILIATION: Black Legion
MARINE TYPE: Captain
TIME IN SERVICE: Ten millennia
TRANSGRESSIONS: High Treason of the Second, Third, and Sixth Ranks
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Treason of the Second Rank consists of the murder of a superior officer, Third the murder of fellow soldiers, Sixth the undermining of an ongoing operation.

NAME: Gulgamesh Questrierinal
AFFILIATION: Black Legion
MARINE TYPE: Raptor
TIME IN SERVICE: Ten millennia
TRANSGRESSIONS: Multiple counts of gross insubordination
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Heavy mutations are common amongst the Raptors. Rugged individualism is as well, which is quite possibly why Gulgamesh reacts to unfamiliar situations and individuals in such drastic fashion.

NAME: Ghornal Dire Terreque
AFFILIATION: World Eaters
MARINE TYPE: Berserker
TIME IN SERVICE: Ten millennia
TRANSGRESSION: Dereliction of Duty
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Lack of kills is considered a capital crime amongst the World Eaters and is actually considered a type of heresy.

NAME: Robert Entil Dalton
AFFILIATION: Death Guard
MARINE TYPE: Plaguemarine
TIME IN SERVICE: 500 years
TRANSGRESSION: Heresy of the Second Rank
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Despite claims of lack of mutation, ultrasound scans reveal a mass inside Dalton's chest cavity. It is unidentifiable and may be growing.

NAME: Kuja Diadron
AFFILIATION: Thousand Sons
MARINE TYPE: Chaos Sorcerer
TIME IN SERVICE: Ten millennia
TRANSGRESSION: Insubordination
ADDITIONAL NOTES: The exact nature of Kuja's transgression is unknown, as the Thousand Sons insist on keeping their own council and Kuja himself is not talking.

NAME: Jadeite
AFFILIATION: Emperor's Children
MARINE TYPE: Noisemarine
TIME IN SERVICE: Six millennia
TRANSGRESSION: Insubordination
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Wild and uncontrollable. Best used as a distracting element.

NAME: Typhonis Drellek
AFFILIATION: Night Lords
MARINE TYPE: Chaos Marine
TIME IN SERVICE: Nine millennia
TRANSGRESSION: Gross Insubordination
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Typhonis has had his eyes modified beyond most marines' (rumored to have been done by Fabius Bile himself) and has unparrelled nightvision.

NAME: Marcus Sheppard
AFFILIATION: Iron Warriors
MARINE TYPE: Terminator
TIME IN SERVICE: Ten millennia
TRANSGRESSIONS: High Treason of the Third Rank, Gross Insubordination
ADDITIONAL NOTES: It is unkown whether Sheppard's CO was actually conspiring against him. Given the Iron Warriors' legionwide paranoia, either possibility is equally realistic.

NAME: Duomilleanno Domini
AFFILIATION: Iron Warriors
MARINE TYPE: Obliterator
TIME IN SERVICE: Eight millennia
TRANSGRESSION: High Treason of the Third Rank
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Unquestioningly loyal to Sheppard. Origin unknown, he took his current name after entering the Iron warriors exactly two thousand years following the Horus Heresy.

NAME: Talen
AFFILIATION: Alpha Legion
MARINE TYPE: Chaos Marine
TIME IN SERVICE: Four millennia
TRANSGRESSION: Dereliction of Duty
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Expert at silent infiltration, details of his transgression are not clear due to the distance of the Alpha Legion relative to the Eye of Terror.

NAME: Nongenti Scalk
AFFILIATION: Word Bearers
MARINE TYPE: Chaplain
TIME IN SERVICE: Ten millennia
TRANSGRESSION: Dereliction of Duty, High Treason of the Sixth Rank
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Let it be a stern lesson that even the most talented and dedicated soldiers must not rely unquestioningly on the vagarities of creatures spawned from the stuff of Chaos itself.

NAME: Seth Elexus
AFFILIATION: Fallen Dark Angels
MARINE TYPE: Space Marine
TIME IN SERVICE: Five Millennia
TRANSGRESSIONS: High Treason of the Fifth Rank, Heresy of the Second Rank
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Details of his transgressions are unclear and possibly trumped-up. It is well known that the Fallen do not work well with 'true' Chaos Marines. High Treason of the Fifth Rank consists of the undermining of soldiers' morale.

Kuja wrote:Because multiple people requested this:


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Notations from the Files of the Warmaster


NAME: Robert Entil Dalton
AFFILIATION: Death Guard
MARINE TYPE: Plaguemarine
TIME IN SERVICE: 500 years
TRANSGRESSION: Heresy of the Second Rank
ADDITIONAL NOTES: Despite claims of lack of mutation, ultrasound scans reveal a mass inside Dalton's chest cavity. It is unidentifiable and may be growing.

Pardon?

Just an observation on 'my' character: Skalk doesn't seem like the betraying type from what I've seen. Of course, loyalty from someone who can't control the Daemons he summons has problems of his own.

*applause* Well done, very well done.

Gossip makes my spidey senses tingle... more please.

Ford Prefect wrote:Pardon?

What? I can't use the character notes for my own devious foreshadowing purposes?

*insert laugh(type=evil)*