Editing Republican Commando (section)

===(33) Biohazard===
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The Deimos Predator has been returned to the Blade for maintenance and work, and the crowd in orbit around Rechner is beating a hasty retreat. They had their fun, but with the Sector navy most likely on the way, it's time to go. Cortain is still salty as all hell about the race, but the proceeds go a long way in making him at least slightly approachable. Cyril storms to the training deck to reduce some training automata to scrap, unwilling to speak to anyone except through vox.

"Guess it didn't go yer way, eh lad?" Rockfist asks, as the Deimos is guided into the Manufactora for repair and rearmament.
"I blame Bryn for all of this," Cortain sighs, "Khodexus is a distant second."
"Not only did the WRETCHED Eldar take first," Cyril hisses, "Our Chaplain fails to properly respect Machine Spirits."
Brynjol throws a grox bone at Cyril as he leaves, uncaring.
Rockfist's beard bristles, "Of all the competitors...eh, no use cryin' about it now. I'm sure yeh all did yer best. Ye should be considerin' yer next target. Given it any thought?"
"I wish to see Shady again, but I have been outvoted," Cyril admits, "It is time to save the Mechanicus from themselves."
"Very well, lad," Rockfist nods, "We'll set a course right away. Don't want to be caught up in any problems, inadvertent or otherwise, when the Sector Fleets get here..."

The Blade sets a course for Mithras, leaving the world as a series of cruisers and battlecruisers warp in. Cortain decides to work out his remaining frustrations on reprogramming Omega Rho Decima, and making a firing range full of Tau and Dark Eldar in House colors in the training deck. Curiously, he notes one of the Hololithic chambers seems occupied. Executor Thexus and Rose appear to be within, though it is impossible to see what they are seeing from outside. Cyril, in the meantime, eventually finishes venting and seeks out his Battle Brothers.

"The Predator needs repair... and placation," Cyril sighs, "The Squats will have begun already, but we should participate."
In the Manufactorum, Rockfist and some of the Engineer's Guild bow as Cyril enters, before returning to work repairing the energy damage the Predator suffered. Cyril assists mending the silvered finish, leading a hymn. As he sings, the Squats slowly rise up and join him. The Manufactora is a chorus honoring Ancestor and Emperor, Duty and Valor. Cyril notes that while the Engineer's Guild representatives are present and accounted for, there are a number of guards off-station.

Cortain is marginally satisfied with Ordeci's Cortex programming, and decides to take a moment to look up about the planet and how well-hidden this "nonexistent installation" was.  He pops through the list of installations all about the sector. While his search picks out rumors of hidden installations on worlds such as Hesphri J62G, Monolith, and Zemoo, there is no record of Mechanicum presence whatsoever, even in the most secret archives. There is, however, intercepted traffic about shipments made to a prefabricated colony in Mithras's forests, though no magos can understand where they are shipping supplies to, and WHAT is being shipped.

Brynjol spends his time grumbling about his woes, taking after the squats a bit closer than he may like to admit, his Serfs standing ready to assist should he call upon them, he does note a steady train of Squats all heading towards O'Malley's over time. Brynjol prepares to make some gentle enquiries, collaring a Squat and holding him close. 

"What's all this then?" Brynjol asks.
"Ah, Praetor..." the Squat says as Brynjol grabs him, "We were just headin' to the hololith casters at O'Malley's. The Executor and the lass are goin' at it with some sorta game."
Brynjol stares intently.
"Not sure if ye'd find it interesting," the Squat says, "But it's somethin' to watch during the trip at least."

Brynjol shrugs, deciding to check it out. Cortain grabs a peek at the Holo-Projector as well. Wandering over to O'Malley's Bar and Grill, the Hololith casters show Rose and Thexus facing off each other. One Hololith Caster is labelled "Previous highlights" and shows the two playing each other in a large hololith version of regicide. The other is labelled live, and depicts them playing a different game, deploying different troopers on a wide field.

"Welcome, beardlin's," O'Malley nods while polishing a drink, "The Lass an' the Toaster have been going at it for a while now."
"Regicide. Interesting," Cortain states, "What is the record?"
"The Lass challenged the Toaster," O'Malley says, "Well, ta put it kindly, she got quite wrecked. They've switched t' a new game now."
The Commandos lean in, trying to make sense of the new game as Cyril and Temur join in.
"It was the lass's idea, it involves placin' black-armored an' white-armored troops on a grid to gain territory," O'Malley shrugs, "Neva saw such a game before, but it's MUCH more evenly matched. Even tie so far - the Toaster's battle experience vs the Lass's presience."
"I am impressed..." Cortain nods.
"Said it was an old game from 'er childhood," O'Malley sighs, "Regardless, can I get ye anything?"
"Odd," Cyril observes, "I thought her culture eschewed war."
"Thexus modified the pieces, 'e said playin' with colored stones was unbecoming an Auxilia," O'Malley said, "Nonetheless, I may have'er teach me the game later."
Black and white colored stones, placed on a grid to gain territory...

"I recall Chapter masters playing this game," Cortain considers, "I recall Sir Calgar having a long record of victories since he became Chapter Master of the Ultramarines."
"Surprised he can pick up the pieces with those bloody mittens he wears," Brynjol mutters.
"Eh, 'e jus' yells, an' the holo-troopers deploy," O'Malley says, "One of the benefits of the Hololith Chambers."
"It comes with practice, the Chapter Master tells me," Cortain reminisces, "The only other person I recall with a record as good as Lord Calgar's is...I think Lord Commander Dante of the Blood Angels."
"There is a similar game played by both the Wolves and the Brotherhoods of Chogoris, an invention of Leman Russ himself, it is said," Temur says, 'Where the very board can be moved and adjusted, not just the playing pieces"
"Aye, hneftafl," Brynjol nods proudly.
"Need a tissue, beardlin'?" O'Malley asks. Brynjol ignores him.
"If legends are true, then it was shown to the Brotherhoods during the Legion days, and it became popular with us because of its representations of the shifting landscape of war," Temur continues, "Perhaps we should see if we can recreate a board, Brynjol?"

As the week grinds down, the Squats are riveted to the game. The final score ends up 2-2, with a draw as the fifth. Rose and Thexus finally leave the Hololithic chamber, Rose completely and utterly exhausted, Thexus having triggered numerous overheat faults in his automata frame. Cyril is waiting outside when they do, applauding politely,
"It's so hard...to keep up with him," Rose coughs, "He was always so many moves ahead, and his plays, no human would have made some of those plays..."
"THE AUXILIA IS AN...ADEQUATE COMBATANT, PRAETOR," Thexus declares, "I LOOK FORWARD TO A REMATCH."
"I will judge that for myself," Cyril states, "But her skills at strategy are more than satisfactory."
"Aye, machines are hard to outwit when it comes to cold strategy," Brynjol points out, "They fail on the battlefield."
"WE SHALL SEE, PRAETOR," Thexus says oddly, "PERHAPS IN THE FUTURE."
>Perhaps one day one will remember this line.
"War isn't like a board game, not like one of these, anyway. Pieces change their colours, weak pieces can change the tide of battle, while the strongest pieces can fail before they have even been deployed," Brynjol sighs, "It's not... simple, like this."
Thexus is silent for a very long time, understanding full well what he means.
"THE PRAETOR'S WORDS ARE FAULTLESS," Thexus says to Rose, "WE SHALL CONTINUE ANOTHER DAY. WE HAVE ARRIVED AT OUR OBJECTIVE. THE CRUSADE AWAITS."

Finally, the Blade pops out of the Warp, and with another day of travel, takes holding position over the shadowy world of Mithras. Numerous Squats are readying at their stations, as the Blade continues holding pattern.

"Is there any new information on this 'nonexistant' outpost?" Temur asks.
"Nay, lad," Rockfist replies, "Passive augurs aren't pickin' up anythin', we may need to search more intensely."
"There are some intercepted voxes, some clues lead to here," Cortain adds, "But not much that is conclusive."

Temur performs an active augury, leaving no part of the deep forests untouched. As the Blade's augurs sweep the world, he notes a spike deep in one of the forests - a sprawling frontier outpost of Imperial-standard construction. It is completely out of place to the iron age settlements passed over. Augur readings seemed biologically anomalous, but from orbit it's impossible to tell further.

"That spot, in the forest, something is down there," Temur declares, "Begin a surface charting, navigational data for a grid hunt will be useful."
"Aye, lad," Rockfist nods, "We'll prepare a rough missive fer ya."
"What is the approximate size of that higlighted region?" Temur asks.
"Looks ta be about 10-15 square kilometers," Rockfist states, "I'd estimate the outpost as a small city in itself."
The Commandos review the augury results. Though much of it is interspersed in dark forest, it's still a fairly sizable area.
"As fer how ya hide an outpost that size, well, I couldn't begin ta imagine," Rockfist shrugs.
"A flier might be a good idea, then," Cyril suggests.
"Jus' remember, lad, we can support ya jus' fine when yer outside," Rockfist states, "But if ya go into buildin's, we won't be able to drop ya anything."
"We will remember," Cyril declares, "Squat brotherhoods and battle automata will be called down if we find areas that need to be secured."
"Aye, lad, We'll be on standby," Rockfist states.

Cortain walks back and returns with a book from the librarium - an aged, ancient book, the Logos Lectora.
"Now that we are the Praetors of old, I feel that there is a method that should be enforced," Cortain offers, "I speak of the Logos Lectora, father of the Codex Astartes."
Brynjol settles down for a quiet snooze, helmet on. Cortain briefly glances at Brynjol, before shutting the book. "I will share this while en route.
"We'll make the appropriate preparations," Rockfist nods, "Jus' remember, while we can mobilize things like interceptor strikes an' turrets relatively easily with this Rite, orderin' further troops down won't be possible."

The Commandos begin to gather their gear. Brynjol decides on the Teeth of the Blizzard, a Triflame Vambrace, a nuncio vox, demolitions charge, valkyris, and haywire grenade. Temur goes all in, with an inferno pistol, plasma pistol, a Skapulan bolter, and assorted bits and bobs to cover every situation. Cyril decides to dump all his requisition into assets. 

Cortain is last to ready his gear. As he is in the armorium, he feels a tap on his pauldron, and finds a note there. It advises him to bring a Volkite weapon of some kind. He ultimately selects a Volkite Caliver w/ Motion Predictor, Barrage Plasma gun, Siege Auspex, Multikey, Combitool, and Cryogrenade.

As part of the Rite, the Commandos are granted access to a pair of Squat Brotherhood Warrior Squads, and a Damocles Rhino. Readying a Castellax and Vorax maniple, they also order a Stormbird for personal use. Numerous Stormbirds are prepared to hold and deploy these assets, as the Commandos board a Stormbird prepared for them and their gear.

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Recover the Mechanicus outpost. 
SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: Search for and extract any survivors found in the Mechanicus outpost. 
TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: Search for and extract any survivors found in the surrounding frontier city.

The Blade's energy fields are brought down as the atmosphere cycles - the Stormbird Fleet is deployed. The fleet makes progress behind the Commandos as they cut through the hot, damp mists of Mithras. Flying over a number of dark ravines, past what seems like endless forest, the Commandos finally confirm construction of Imperial origin ahead, in an artificial clearing amongst the trees. A Thunderhawk Transporter drops off a Command Rhino, with a squad of Squats moving to dedicated escort positions out of one of the Stormbirds, which flies off. Another set of Stormbirds drops off a further Squat Brotherhood Squad, as well as a Vorax and Castellax maniple.

Cyril performs final checks on his weapons, considering the last time Cortain led the squad, and resolves to keep an eye on Brynjol. Brynjol lands on a relatively open area on the outskirts of the city outpost. The doors of the Stormbird open to a hiss, and autosenses kick in to compensate for the low light levels outside. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJgj9Q6Hw6g

The first thing the Commandos notice as they disembark the Stormbird...is how utterly empty everything is. It's evident that there were numerous fires burning, fallen trees, and crashed autocarriages. Cortain's auspex picks up electromagnetic currents - the power infrastructure is in one piece, at least.

"Empty. Not unexpected, and certainly preferable to rampaging experiments," Cyril nods. However, the immediate concern on Cortain's and Brynjol's auspexes is a biohazard warning. Brynjol is especially interested.
"Praetors, the Rhino's pickin' up high levels of viral contamination," a Squad leader states, "I'm orderin' me lads to use breath masks."
"Do so," Cortain acknowledges, "Bryn, helm on."
Brynjol looks at Cortain, helmet firmly on his head. "When do I ever bloody take it off during a mission?"
Cyril sighs and leaves his seals on. "It looked like a nice atmosphere, too. At least we can contain the viral taint."

Cortain links his auspex up to the Command Rhino. It picks up lots of biological signatures in a tall building a small distance away. It also picks up the occasional biological signal here and there, flickering in and out.

"There is one building where the biosignatures emanate from. Perhaps there are stragglers," Cortain observes.
"Try and hail 'em first," Brynjol suggests, "If we go blundering in with our size tens and break some sort of biosafety protocol they've got, we might be killin' the last people to survive whatever... this is."
"All units, overwatch that building," Cyril commands, "Destroy any nonhumans exiting it until further notice."
"Yes, Praetor!" a Squat Brotherhood unit says, raising lasrifles.

The Commandos march on forward, through the ruined city outpost as they receive another vox.
"Praetor, this is Damocles Escort Squad. We've advanced the Rhino to what seems to be a city plaza," a Squat says, "We have good coverage here. We'll remain deployed here until ya command us further."
Acknowledging the asset positions, Brynjol, Temur, and Cortain can catch a good view of the area. A large building stands a few hundred meters ahead, where the biosigns originated. In the distance, about half a kilometer away, there is what seems to be an Arbites station. There's also a short, wide building, emblazoned with the cog-skull of the Mechanicum. In the immediate area, however, the Commandos can see a billboard. It has a paper fluttering on it, in the weak wind.

"Arbites?" Cyril wonders, "I suppose even secret outposts need policing..."
"We move in," Cortain commands.

All about, though, there seems to be a strange fungus growing all about. It looks kind of fleshy. The Squats don't like it too much, and the Squad Leaders order their charges to not touch. Cyril starts eagerly towards the Arbites station, and goes to experimentally spray some fungus with his cryopistol. Brynjol whacks his aim off before he can do so, however.

"Don't be a pillock all your life, what if it's some kind of freaky telepathic fungus?" Brynjol asks, "We've seen that before!"
"The Hellstar had mold and slugs" Cortain wonders, "The mold was also glowing."
Looking closer, however, Cortain notes this mold is NOT glowing. The Hellstar's mold was blue. This mold seems pinkish, like flesh. It's clearly different.

The Cryotheum, as much as Cyril can put on target before Brynjol disrupts his aim, seems to lay evenly on the fungus, freezing it. Cortain fires some shots, shattering the frozen fungus, revealing the ground below. Temur, in the meantime, looks at the paper on the billboard.

[[Special:Contributions/24.205.112.238|24.205.112.238]]
"Welcome to Saint's Landing, forged in the name of the God Emperor to support the noble work of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Clear skies, crisp forests, truly the saints smile upon our noble endeavors as we give glory to the God Emperor, and live our lives according to the eternal teachings of He on Terra."
[[Special:Contributions/24.205.112.238|24.205.112.238]]
(Document Acquired: City Guide)

"Bollocks be to operational security, then?" Brynjol sighs, spraying a few gouts of flame about himself.  Where the flame touches the growths, it retracts as it burns.
"Oh, so it's okay when -you- purge the unclean..." Cyril mutters.
"Praetors, we've advanced to the biological augury," a Squat Squad Leader states, "Holding Overwatch until given further orders."
"Alright, so can we go IN now?" Cortain sighs, wondering why anyone would EVER want to be Squad Babysitter.
"Well you pack of goons have already potentially dropped us in the midden," Brynjol quips, "So I might as well join in."

Cyril breaks off to check out the Arbites station. He notes it looks like it's been through a warzone. There's all sorts of burned fires, crashed Repressors, and damage of all kinds. There are no bodies, however. Cyril looks for somewhere to plug in and read files, finding a cogitator. Unfortunately, it's somewhat difficult for him to connect, causing Cortain to loop about to interface with it. Reviewing the list of crimes, Cortain immediately notes that there's barely any violations of the Lex Imperialis, nothing worse than a few events the Enforcers could handle. Then, a few weeks back, a ridiculous amounts of violations in one day, and then nothing after that.

"This seems to be a flash flood of outbreaks," Cortain thinks aloud, "Perhaps this fungus can possess people?"
"Praetor, we're seeing movement in this building, it appears to be some sort of Schola," the Squad Leader on overwatch states, "Not responding to hails. Nothing has left yet. Remaining watchful."
"Copy, Damocles," Cortain comments, "We might as well investigate."
"En route," Cyril offers.
"Cyril, I'm going to go ahead and tell you now," Brynjol says, "If this fungus turns out to be psychic, I am going to shave your head."
"It will grow back," Cyril states, declaring his hairesy evident to all, "It always grows back."
"With phosphex," Brynjol retorts.
"We had a chat about your penchant for threats," Cyril reminds him, "I do not want another."
"Cyril, I am doing you a favour. Your hair is just awful," Brynjol looks directly at Cyril, his wolf skull helm always grinning.
"When is the last time you even saw it?" Cyril asks, "I wear my armour more often than not."
"I have pictures," Brynjol reveals.
Cyril snorts. "Out of date."
"Can we stop with this married couple banter?" Cortain demands, his temper capacitors close to overheating.
"You don't get to talk like that, Cortain, you weren't at the ceremony," Brynjol laughs, "It was beautiful."

Cyril as the advance scout passes by the Damocles Rhino and its escort. They report no issue, and all accounted for. Moving past them, a few hundred meters down, he reaches the Squats, who have split around and taken defensive overwatch.

"Lord Praetor, we've seen movement inside. No response to hails," the Squad Leader states, "This whole situation doesn't sit right with me."
"Allow us to look in," Cortain commands, "Keep Overwatch."
"Acknowledged, Lord Praetor," the Squat nods.
"Nothing of a strangeness ever will," Temur lectures, "It is something you learn to live with. Let it help keep you on your guard."

There is a heavy door, engraved with the Emperor, arms outstretched to beckon whiteshields to him.
"A door," Cyril sighs, "Our dread nemesis."
"I'm sure between us we can flame/cryo/kick it in," Brynjol offers.
Cyril signs a respectful Aquila at the engraving and opens the door. Pushing the door open, the Commandos are in the main hall of a great Schola. Passages to classrooms, all ruined, as well as a chapellum and gymnasium, can be seen. While Cortain gets some odd interference, everyone else can hear steps and shuffling inside one of the classrooms on one of the upper floors. There is a set of flimsy wooden stairs that leads further up. 

The Commandos are inured to fear. Nothing scares them. Even the Hellstar has no hold on their hearts. And yet, these stairs...

After a moment of hesitation, the Commandos advance across the stairs into the upper levels.

"Finally, some action..." Cortain says, eager to get his mind off kindergarten duty. Stepping up, and reaching the upper levels, autosenses are still picking up static. However, the Commandos can see something standing in one of the classrooms off to the side. It appears to be a child. They're just standing there, standing at the wall, dressed in the normal rags of a commoner.

"Civilian children sighted," Cyril murmurs into comms, "Wearing rags, staring at a wall. Likely tainted."

Cyril sneaks into the room. He can see a number of children about. They're all sitting down or standing, facing walls, or in the shadows. Augurs are going fukken nuts over biohazard warnings. There is that fungus partially on the wall. One of the children facing the wall twitches. Then all of them turn around simultaneously. They smell him.
"Cyril, you had best draw your guns..." Cortain advises.
They raise their rotted, decayed forms, as they begin to shuffle towards him, groaning.

The immediate concern is the horde of about 20 rotten-looking children, groaning about as they advance. Brynjol is immediately reacting, tricking his Burning Claws and charging the rotted husks that were once Imperial citizens. As he flits about, he takes down about 12 of them.

"Poor kids," Brynjol sighs. Cyril adds to the firepower, his bolter and Chronophore taking down a further 6. Cortain is last to fire, raking his plasma gun about and incinerating the husks. The Commandos are surrounded by dead, smoking corpses. They look quite rotten.

"Be advised, there are infected bioforms in here," Cortain voxes the Damocles,  "Nobody comes in or out without our explicit say-so."
"Aye, Lord Praetor, readying shield wall," the Squat Squad Leaders state.

Cortain notes one of the rotted husks was carrying a book of some sort. Its pages are somewhat ragged, but it survived the onslaught. Cortain picks it up from the child's hands, her empty, rotted eyes staring up, and leafs it over in vague interest. Cyril hangs over, reading as well.

[[Special:Contributions/24.205.112.238|24.205.112.238]]
(Date illegible. Estimated 3 weeks to current date.)
"My mom says that if I study hard, then I can become an adept and be closer to the God-Emperor! I wanna make sure he's smiling, so I'll make sure to say some extra prayers tonight before tomorrow's test.

(Date illegible. Estimated 2.5 weeks to current date.)
"Today an alarm went off through town. The drill abbott said that the Mechanicus were having some issue. I feel bad for them. Maybe if they asked the God-Emperor, he would try to help them. Drill Abbott says the God Emperor always listens."

(Date illegible. Estimated 2 weeks to current date.)
"I'm scared. We haven't been able to go home for days now. Drill Abbott says it's not safe. I hear screams and cries outside. There's lights too - flickering through the stained glass. I want my mom."

(Date illegible. Estimated 1.5 weeks to current date.)
"I wanna go home, but everyone who tries to go outside never comes back. I'm so hungry, but the Drill Abbott says to stay in. His arm was bleeding, and he looked sick. He says he needs some time to pray. I think something terrible has happened, but it's okay, because mom says that when bad things happen, the Republican Commandos will come and save us. So they'll come, because we're in trouble. I know it. 

(Date illegible. Estimated 1.4 weeks to current date.)
"It's thundering out, and there are fires out. So many fires. Where's my mom? The Abbot is coming, he looks kind of sick though. Maybe he'll tell us a story. I hope it's another story about the Emperor. I love those."

-The rest is covered in blood.-
[[Special:Contributions/24.205.112.238|24.205.112.238]]
(Document acquired: Scrawled Diary)

Cortain takes a moment to accept all this before leaving. "We continue our hunt. Mourning at this point is a wasted effort."
"And we tarried with the wretched Tau's fool illegal race..." Cyril whispers, "Yes, we press on. There is naught else to do for them."
"This...thing seems to have some ability to control motor functions," Cortain observes.
"Poor fellows," Brynjol shakes his head.

Regrouping, a peal of lightning echoes through the town.
"So why were the children the only bodies around?" Cyril asks.
"Perhaps they are recent infected?" Cortain asks.
"Do you think the fungus perhaps consumed the others?" Cyril continues.
"Lord Praetors, we're seeing targets advancing. They look rotted," a Squad Leader says, "Don't worry about us, we'll hold them off."
"Do NOT let them close to melee," Cyril advises, "They may be able to spread their taint."
"Acknowledged, Lord Praetor," the Squat nods, "For Ancestors and Emperor."
"Let us find the source of this mess," Temur declares.

The Commandos decide their next can still see the Mechanicum skull icon building in the distance. They begin making their way over. Cortain, however, gets a sudden ping over...private channels.

"Operative? Ah, Operative, do you read?" a voice says, as a female Tau pops into your viewport, "We have news for you."
"I read," Cortain says flatly, "This phage...it seems to influence motor functions."
"Ah, good, we were concerned we lost you in interference," the Tau handler says, "We have a mission for y-...High Commander?"
The female Tau is pushed out of the way, as Korst'la VII himself takes the screen. He looks beyond furious.
"This is a damned mess," he says, "This is beyond anything I can think of."
"What do you want, Korst'la?" Cortain asks, "What did you sanction here and how in the Emperor's name did you get the Mechanicus to go mum about it?"
"It is simple. The Mechanicus were never involved in the first place. This is not a Mechanicus installation. This is MY installation," Korst'la says, "But the Magos we put in charge, he's made a BIG mistake. I never commanded anything like...like this."
"Is that so?" Cortain asks, "What DO you know about it...?"
"Believe it or not, I'm not one to order the death of a captive market," Korst'la states, "There are, however, others who would. I'll give you more information over time, but I'm giving you an immediate objective."
Cortain pauses a moment.
"Your objective is to seek out the Magos in charge, and execute him for disregarding my strict orders," Korst'la states, "You are to use Volkite weaponry. I want him nothing but ash. I'll be supporting you directly on this mission, and I'll have more intel as I recover it."
"Fine," Cortain sighs.
"He is not to say a single word in his defense," Korst'la states, "He most likely uses defensive measures. I'll try to find a code that can disable them for you."

The Commandos continue their advance through the streets. They can hear the moans of the infected people all around, amongst the still-burning fires, the ruins, and the trees. Bio-auguries ping all about in the hundreds, too many to fight without getting bogged down. 

"Contact," Cyril voxes, "Hundreds, noncohesive. I may be able to sneak past, but they will certainly detect jump pack use."
"Agreed," Cortain nods, "Any outward aggression will only make it harder for us and the Squats."

The Commandos ultimately arrive at the large building marked with the cog-gears of the Mechanicum. It's quite evident that this building is the focal point of the city. What was once a set of armored ceramite doors can be seen ahead, below the cog, under some flying buttresses. They have been blown out by some sort of massive explosion. Temur examines the wreckage - given how the explosions came from within the building, blowing the doors out, it was most likely a containment measure gone wrong. The Commandos decide that sending in Cyril first to scout, with the main force a dozen meters or so behind, would be for the best.

"I am glad I left Notomok ready to be deployed via Dreadclaw for a change..." Cyril says, concerned about his fleshy friend in a biohazard emergency zone, "We can call him in later when everything's cleared."
"The Logos Lectore Rite of War forbids drop pods," Cortain reminds him, "You goofed, to put it locally."
Even Temur laughs at Cyril's sudden misfortune.

"Be careful, Brothers, there may still be armed traps inside," Temur notes as everyone forms up.
"Count on it," Cortain agrees, "Mechanicus Outposts are built upon redundant security protocols."
"One more word of advice for now," Korst'la states over hidden channels to Cortain, "That facility likely has more than just those biohazardous cadavers. Keep watch for further problems."
"Skitarii subordinates?" Cortain asks, "I can manage."
"This place was a bioweapon research facility," Korst'la states, "It's evident the Magos in charge has deviated from what he was hired to do, so I can't say what you'll find down there."
"Bioweapons? Of what variety?" Cortain asks.
"Viral and mutagenic," Korst'la states, "It's not my normal field, but the contract was too good to pass up. I'll let you know further as my Detachments bring me the briefing."

The infected remain oblivious for now, as they wander away. Cyril takes the lead, everyone else a little behind, entering the Mechanicum Outpost.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5kuSr-ImdM

The Commandos are greeted immediately with a wide entrance hall, banners of the Mechanicus swaying from breeze blowing in from holes in the wall. There are all sorts of ded skitarii rangers about, what little remains of their flesh gnawed and bitten.

"This is...horrific," Cortain says, his weapons raised.
"At least they are not on fire this time" Cyril mutters to himself, remembering Xomula many episodes back. 

The Entrance hall seems to converge onto a security checkpoint. The Servitor-Turrets are long destroyed on the ground. Cortain picks up remnants of electromotive force within some of the skitarii. He keeps his guns trained as the Commandos reach the Checkpoint. Cortain and Cyril interface with the cogitator, and find the same issue as in the arbiter station - everything's k, then a day of absolute hell two weeks back, then silence. The Commandos disengage from the cogitator memory archives, as the corpses of the Skitarii begin to stir. Some get up, and others crawl, hunger in their rotted optics.

Cortain remained ever vigilant, and gets a quick salvo off, burning six infected Skitarii rangers with Volkite deathrays. Brynjol is soon fast into it as well, cutting through almost a dozen Skitarii with his burning claws. Cortain continues the pressure, incinerating another six, as he is joined by Ordeci, his Thanatar, blowing up more infected Skitarii with mauler boltcannon fire, and crushing an incredible amount with its graviton ram. Cyril and Temur soon finish off the Horde with bolter, plasma, and chronomantic energy.

From their current location, the Commandos can see a set of glass doors. Beyond them appears to be some sort of laboratorium, which Cyril believes to be the source of the vile rot. Cortain moves up and forces the glass doors open with a swift servo-punch, noting there are all sorts of chemicals about.  That odd fungus is here as well, growing on some of the tables, while the lab looks in a relative state of ruin and rust. There are chemical spills all over the floor. Some are corrosive. The Commandos take small steps to avoid the acidic pools as they engage a waiting cogitator.

[[Special:Contributions/24.205.112.238|24.205.112.238]]
(Date corrupted. Estimated 25 +/- 4 years prev. to current date.)

I have been placed in charge. Finally, a position where I can show my genius. The task ahead of me is simple. Some time back, a chemical was discovered within the minds of people eking out a pitiful existence in the Scar - we grew to call it Beta Hetero Nonserotonin. Studying the chemical, we learned rapidly two things. First, the chemical has malleable properties; if we could find a way to grant the chemical a vector, we could allow for rapid mutagenic experimentation. Second, the chemical seems to only occur in the brains of young people born in the Scar. I will petition for a constant source of the chemical from my benefactors. 
[[Special:Contributions/24.205.112.238|24.205.112.238]]
(Document Acquired: Magos's Note 1)

"Experimental chemicals from the Scar...STRIKE 1," Cortain announces, before switching to private channels.
"Use of Beta Hetero Nonserotonin to augment our troopers went as expected," Korst'la states, "But it seems that more was done with it here..."
"This came from the Scar," Cortain says, "This has to have mutated somehow."
"I know. New combat drugs and augments were forged," Korst'la states, "There has to be more to it though."

Searching the lab further, the Commandos note a wooden door off to the side, and another glass door further into the facility. Cyril checks out the wood door, opening it into a fairly big supply closet. Of note are the numerous boxes of chemicals stacked up, an old archeotech typewriter on a desk, and a blue torch to the back.

"Got a selection of good things on sale, stranger..." the Merchant rasps.

The Commandos set to work augmenting their stuff. Brynjol manages an Energized Chain Blade for his VF/SS Fighter. Temur acquires a Teleportarium for the Blade, to better assist in deployment of assets. Cyril picks up a Shipmaster's Bridge for the Blade, replacing the overall fleet bonuses for a direct combat bonus. Cortain decides why the fuck not, and barely manages to squeak by with an ancient Abeyant. As a team, they augment Crusader Invictus with Coated Optics, increasing their God Machine's ranged damage.

"Heh heh heh, thank you..." the Merchant hisses as he walks behind some boxes.

"And thus the Blade was sharpened," Cyril states, before turning to Cortain, "Cortain, can that thing even fit through this place's doors?"

Cortain floats on his gigantic pimp chair to the other glass door, proudly leading the way now.  The other glass door opens with a hiss, and the Commandos pause. The room on the other side is absolutely gigantic. Ahead is a five-leveled shaft sinking down, lined with stasis pods and test subjects. Great servitor-controlled mechanisms move the pods about. In the center, a wide, circular elevatus. The Controls on the Elevatus itself are clear - there's the Origin, Level 1, Level 2, Level 3, and Level 4, in descending order.

"This must be the production and experimenting floor," Cortain observes.
"Party of five, going down?" Cyril asks.
Cortain presses the 1 button. the Commandos hear a great thud, as the Elevatus begins to descend down. Brynjol adjusts the tanks on his flamer, fixing the drooling accelerant, as he kicks up his jump pack and floats over for a good look. Much of the caskets appear to contain human forms. Signs of viral contamination and mysterious growths are evident as his eyes pierce the stasisy fog. There are some caskets, however, that are clearly NOT human.

The Elevatus finally comes to a small docking platform. A sturdy scaffold-pathway extends to a rather large armored bulkhead. Off to the side, there's a metal plinth. It seems to have a depression, as if something was meant to fit within. The Plinth's depression is circular, about half the size of one's pauldron. Cortain sees there's a note on the plinth.

"The Laboratorium Primaris awaits a show of faith, Man and Machine as one."

"Dolboyeb Magi..." Cyril mutters, "Improper containment is bad enough, but such lack of caution in a facility experimenting on xenos is unconscionable."
"I would expect such heavy security in a place like this," Temur offers, "We might need to find the remains of one of the genetors for a primaris key."
"We have a Techmarine," Cyril points out, "I am sure it will recognize him. Cortain, what do you make of the socket?"
"It is not a basic Electoo conductor," Cortain replies, "I can see what happens, though..."
Cortain puts a hand on it.  The fake one, just incase the chucklenuts Magos put a trap. However, nothing seems to happen.
"We move down," Cortain declares, "This is perhaps gene-coded."
"And keep an eye on Cort," Brynjol grins, "In case he's got space rabies or something."
Cortain stares. "What do you take me for in sanitation protocol, Bryn?"
"Bloody nothing compared to me, chummer!" Brynjol boasts, "When it comes to aseptic technique, I am the opposite of friendly."

Descending down to Level 2, there is a far more ornate heavy blast shield. This one, however, lacks any sort of plinth or cogitator. There are great carvings of the Mechanicum cog, and lines of Electoo-circuit "art." However, the electoo-circuuits are all currently off.
"It seems power to the upper floors has been interrupted," Cyril observes, "Perhaps we should be grateful the doors are sealed, and that whatever lies behind them remains contained."
Cortain places his hand on one of the electoo-circuits, and the brief burst of power within them begins to cause the patterns to glow. He can see words and ideas embedded within the circuits - Command Annex. The Command Annex Blast Shield is currently primed to receive command codes, but it will take a lot more power than he alone can produce to actually get it to open.

"This door might be opened, but I doubt that I alone will be sufficient to power it open," Cortain notes, "Down again."

Arriving at Level 3, the Commandos are greeted by a glass set of cleanroom doors. These are not covered by blast bulkheads of any kind, and they can see the lab on the other side leaking sanitizing fog.
"At least we can look in here without fear of something being locked out," Cortain declares.
"Assume nothing, and tread with caution." Cyril suggests, "We do not know what that fog may be suppressing."
Cortain levels the Volkite caliver, "Oh, I guarantee it."

While auspexes are going fucknuts about viral contamination, the door itself probably only needs a good push or so. The Commandos, armored in full Praetor artificer, augmented with the miracles of the Dark Age of Technology, and armed to the teeth with multiple weapons, proceed to spend about 25 (19:45 to 20:10) minutes making a plan to breach and destroy whatever lays on the other side of a transparent door. Their concern is not without some merit, however - auspexes detect so many biosigns, probably from contamination, that it's almost a solid sea of red. However, as signals echo down the room, it picks up a pair of heavily emanations, opposite each other, reminiscent of shields.

"Hm. The animate corpses proved frustratingly resistant to boltshells, but I can still do more damage with them than with my blade," Cyril says, "Cortain and I will lay down fire; Brynjol, you know what to do."
"Today's anatomy lesson is on the dismemberment of the humanoid corpse," Brynjol nods, "Got it."
"Agreed. We open it, we fire first," Cortain concludes, "Anything left standing becomes Bryn food."
Temur silently keeps his eyes on the sides and rear, watching for movement or augur contact.

Brynjol pushes the door completely open. Cyril, then opens up, his Overwatch trigger of "Door Opens, no Uninfected" triggers.  Cyril fires into the safe zone, sending bolt rounds flinging in every direction. Some shatter tubes of biological material and acids, spilling it onto the fungus mat below. Others blow apart cogitators nearby. Most of his rounds shatter the armour-plas door on the other side of the safe zone. At least that drifting fog seems to be disabled now.  Beyond the shattered door, he can see a break in the path - left and right, both descending. From the purification chamber, however, it is impossible to tell how deep. 

Cortain floats in to observe the blobbage, Cyril behind him.
"It seems the mist cannot suppress the fungus," Cyril sprays the chemical spills with cryothium, just to be on the safe side, "And where are the biosigns? Is the fungal agent in the air so dense?"
Some of the biomaterials are rendered inert by the cold. Some cause terrible chemical reactions with the cryotheum, leading to minor popping explosions.
Floating over the fungal growths, Cortain carefully reviews the fungus mats. It seems identical to what he saw earlier.  Oddly fleshlike, and sometimes even pulsating. Volkite and heat weapons in general seems to work very well, incinerating the growths. It is also proven that Cryotheum has a similar effect.

Descending down the Left, the Commandos reach what was once a minor laboratorium, but now a charnel pit. Corpses are everywhere to one side, and concerningly, not all are augmented in the Omnissiah's mysteries. To the right, they can see specimens in stasis, of a clearly nonhuman bent. A Cogitator blinks nearby. All the way at the end, however, they can see a power field holding something, with an access panel below. Cortain, trying to access the cogitator, accidentally plugs into the stasis casket itself, turning it off. One of the fleshy masses within flops out, twitches a bit, and falls still. The pink, fleshy, headless mass nonetheless seems to have two limbs and perfectly smooth skin. Brynjol fails accessing the Cogitator as well, leaving it to Cyril to intone the Omnissiah's mysteries properly. There's a research note, it seems.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
Introduction of Virus into captive Skinks causes rapid devolution of xenos form. Amphibian skin loses all color, and body structures such as head and rear legs atrophy and disappear. Physical strength is greatly decreased, and neotenic form does not possess offensive talents or traits. Markedly increased regeneration potential noted, but potential as a bio-organic weapon is minimal. Project shelved until regenerative potential can be extracted.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Document Acquired: Stasis Tank Log 1)

"Xeno experimentation," Cortain sighs, "Would this count as Strike 2?"
"This is extremely complicated business," Brynjol trails off, "I haven't read about experimentation like this, except..."
"There is nothing wrong with xenos experimentation," Cyril states, "What worries me is that they sought to extract infected skinks' regenerative abilities... perhaps for insertion into humans?"
"Fail to recall any logs over Cataclysm," Cortain shrugs, "Would be less...morally objectionable."
"The subjects devolved into a neotenic form..." Brynjol continues to muse, "They were regressing them back to a more differentiable stage of development. I'm just shooting in the dark, but I doubt there'd be any 'regenerative' potential to extract - if you regress a human to the womb, they'll have vastly increased regenerative capability just due to increased numbers of pluripotent stem cells..."

The rest of the commandos merely stare.
"Anyone interested in going down the other way?" Cortain asks.
"Yes," Cyril nods hurriedly.
"I'll want to take some samples back to the Blade, if we find any," Brynjol finally mutters, "This could be useful, regardless."
"Do xenos even have similar stages of growth?" Cyril asks.
Brynjol shrugs.

As the Commandos begin to leave, the flickering light of the power field container at their rear, the corpses all about begin to shudder, and they hear an odd bestial roar echo down from the ceiling. The infected skitarii and locals begin to crawl forward as the ceiling gives way as a series of swollen, reptilian, mutant creatures surge down, ready for attack.

There are about five of the creatures that descended down to the right, alongside a fairly large horde to the left. The Commandos spread into battle mode. Brynjol bounds forward a few steps, then activates his jump pack, cannoning him into one of the beasts, whereupon it dissolves into a puddle of ichor due to sword and claw. Frost streams off him. Temur begins moving, hefting his Grav Cannon and spraying into the Mutant Lizards as well. As the infected horde begins to move into melee with Cortain and Cyril, the Commandos are struck by a thought - those mutant lizards, they kind of look like Saurus...

Cortain, Cyril, and Ordeci hold against the barrage of toxic, corrosive claws, while drawing out their weapons and cutting into the Horde. Cryo-Pistol, Volite Serpenta, and Gladius Invictus all begin cutting through the horde. Brynjol weathers the storm of attacks from the Mutant Saurus, countering where he can and pressing the attack. Spinning about in a mighty RASHIDO, Brynjol finishes off two Mutant Saurus while beheading a third with his frost sword. Temur moves in closer, crumpling the final saurus with Grav. Now free of distractions, Brynjol and Temur move in to assist in clearing out the horde, which finally falls to Temur's bolt fire and Ordeci's Grav Ram.

The Laboratorium is now quiet, aside from the hum of the shield projector. The stasis pods are fully powered, and there is no more sign of movement, from Zombies or Mutant Slann. Brynjol takes a few judicious samples from various corpses before flaming the lot. However, as he goes to rejoin everyone patching their armor up, he sees something flickering inside the shield projector, something shiny that catches his eye.

"There's something inside the shields..." Brynjol says, looking closer. Cyril turns off the shield. The light fades, and he can pick up a silvery object. It is reminiscent of the Symbol of the Mechanicum. The silver mechanical half.
(Item Acquired: Silver Skull Frieze)

Cyril lifts and examines the frieze. It is rounded, almost half the size of his pauldron. However, it appears to be meant to connect with something.
"Union of man and machine?" he wonders, "We have the second half."
"It looks like half of a lock," Cortain agrees, "We move to the other side, see if the second half is there."
Cyril brightens considerably. It's just like his Nixarterian cartoons! Er, training programs.

Heading up, and moving up and over to the other side, this laboratorium is...cleaner. There are further stasis tubes around, an unlocked cogitator nearby. These look frog-like. There is also another shield projector on the opposite side. Cortain connects to this cogitator, and finds another research report.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
Virus introduced into captive Galg, frog-like auxiliary of the Tau Empire. Minor devolution of xenos noted. Xenos Intelligence reduced to semi-sentient levels, and front legs' muscles augmented from viral contact. Creature's tongue now secretes a polymeric adhesive, and can stretch to numerous times its body length. Creature attacks by ambushing, using its limited claws to strike, or strangling prey with prehensile tongue and swallowing. Little potential as bio-organic weapon noted, compared to Saurus variants - amphibian xenoforms as base deemed inefficient.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Document Acquired: Stasis Tank Log 2)

"This is based on a Tau auxilia," Cortain sighs, "Not much threat, but that casket remains locked. Now, about the shield..."
Cortain floats over and disables the shield. Once more, the Commandos are greeted with a half of a skull, bone white this time, carved out of some sort of native stone.
(Item Acquired: White Skull Frieze)

Cortain and Cyril combine the two halves, snapping them together. Perfect fit!
(Item Acquired: Mechanicum Skull Frieze)

"The symmetries and connections between..." Cyril says, "We have the key."
"To Floor 1 Immediately," Cortain confirms.
"Are you certain?" Cyril asks, "We are near Floor 4 as is..."
"True," Cortain admits, "But I am curious about the Plinth on the first floor."

As the Commandos rush back up, through the Clean Room entrance, they suddenly hear a deep groan. Something is walking towards them.  It appears human, but its skin is sickly grey, and it is as tall as they are. As it approaches, raising its simple claws readying a charge, the Commandos prepare to meet its approach.

"I am NOT in the mood," Cortain declares.

Cortain, meanwhile, gets another communique.
"Care," Korst'la says, "That thing is a Tyrant-class Wrack. The formula was only recently perfected. It will try to attack with its razor-sharp claws."
"Wracks?" Cortain exclaims, "Are you MAD?"
"They are a cheap and effective bio-organic weapon," Korst'la says, "We've found them quite useful. I'm still looking into this facility my Father set up. I'll keep you updated."
Cortain groans.
"Something seems...off about it, though," Korst'la concludes, "Be on your guard."
"I would hardly be surprised if that mold got on..." Cortain suggests.
"That might be the problem," Korst'la says, "The experimentation going on here, it goes far beyond the Wracks my father and Khodexus pioneered."
Korst'la leans back.
"You know, I was there when the chemical that would form this virus was first found," Korst'la says, "I was about two at the time, still struggling with the concept of sentences and words. I was accompanying a special operations detachment."
Korst'la breathes out slowly.
"We quickly realized the potential of this, and when a contract came up," Korst'la says, "My father took it."
"Why am I hardly shocked," Cortain sighs.
"Because you're a naturalized resident of this sector now," Korst'la laughs, "I'll have more as I come up with it."
".......This does the opposite of comfort me," Cortain retorts, "This gives me a feeling of loathing for this entire forsaken sector of space."

The Commandos form a gunline. Cortain opens up with his Volkite Caliver, sending screeching death rays into the Tyrant-class Wrack, while Temur lays down further bolt and plasma fire. The two Commandos' withering hail is enough to make the Wrack shudder and fail, though only barely. Normal wracks are definitely not this tough. With the Elevatus in sight, the Commandos resume their duty.

"Well that was...inconvenient," Cortain states, "Now, where were we?" 

The Commandos arrive once more on Floor 1. Cortain approaches to the plinth and slowly mounts that Frieze on it, while Cyril intones prayers about the power of Man and Machine. The frieze slides in with a grinding noise. It's exactly what the Commandos needed. The eyes of the frieze begin to glow as the blast bulkhead rumbles slowly open. Ahead, the Commandos can see the massive expanse of the Laboratorium Primaris. While most of the stasis tanks are still in one piece, they can see one that suffered a power failure and something rather violently broke out. They can also see a number of ded techpriests, not adepts but full on ordained dudes, clustered around a cogitator. Cortain privately concludes that it must probably be where that Tyrant-class Wrack came from.

Walkin' over and scannin' the corpses, they appear dead. Large bits appear to be bitten out of them, clean bites through both flesh and cybernetic. Cortain shudders. A swift kick, and they are confirmed quite dead. Searching the cogitator, there appears to be another log here.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Date corrupted. Estimated 17 +/- 4 years prev. to current date.)
It has taken years now, but we have easily created a vector - by binding the chemical to a once-harmless virus, we were able to increase the chemical's mutagenic potential, with an easy to spread viral model as a transfer agent. The Virus itself has undertaken rapid evolution, now halfway between a virus and a true cellular bacterium. Initial tests proved promising - we introduced the virus to a team of guns for hire on a little out of the way agriworld - mutations of what we now deem the Tyrant-Class Wrack proved unstable, but much data was acquired. We now have an idea of how to improve both reliability of augmentation, infection speed, and that annoying swelling that exposes the heart. Our benefactors will be pleased.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Document acquired: Magos's Note 2)

"A Wrack...?" Cortain announces, "And...if it was what we just met, then that makes it STRIKE 2."
"That is - I may be a bit unorthodox on the subject of xenotech, but Wracks are RIGHT OUT!" Cyril yells.
"As I said, STRIKE 2," Cortain repeats, "He had best pray that he has an alibi worthy of moving the High Lords to tears because I am this close to vaporizing him."
"Who? The individual in charge of this facility is already dead," Cyril states, "By our hands, if need be."
"Exactly. I am hoping he is alive," Cortain agrees, "So I can kill him myself."

As everyone reads the archive, Brynjol notes something sparkly on the ground. He quickly scoops it up, magpie-style. It's a key. It appears to have an ID tag on it.
"Found a key, Brynjol says tersely, "To the lab."
(Item Acquired: Test Subject Annex Key)

The Commandos begin to head out, when Cortain and Brynjol hear skittering up above.
"Quiet!" Brynjol whispers, "Something's above us!"

Thin, emaciated creatures with translucent gossamer wings surge down screeching.
"Oh what the...Cyril, is this another Vampire?" Cortain asks rapidly. He has no idea how correct he is.
"Wings? That is new. Perhaps they captured Vespid to experiment on?" Cyril suggests, "We are fairly near the Tau, even if the Black Caste do not use auxilia..."
The Commandos weather the surprise attacks, Cortain and Brynjol prepared to dodge due to hearing them. One hit's Cyril's shield, triggering a bright flash of light and illuminating the creatures. No skin, thin muscles, empty eye sockets in an exposed skull, gossamer wings, vaguely...bat-like. it's clear they've been heavily mutated by the experiments. And yet, the Commandos feel as if they've seen such things before...

"Korst'la, there had best be a reason why you have WARP VAMPIRES in here!" Cortain yells over private channels.
"To be fair, Vampires are xenos creatures of the materium," Korst'la replies, "But I would never sanction anything that could touch the warp. As I said, something has gone terribly wrong."
Korst'la returns to his archive search.
"Regardless, it's imperative you find the Magos in charge and execute him," Korst'la says, "I salute your patience for dealing with these trap infested puzzleways. He must have had some spare time."
"Mechanicus outposts are meant to be this complex," Cortain reminds him, "They usually do it to prevent intruders from reaching vital info quickly and discourage traitors from stealing data."
"Really? Since when is the last time you saw a Mechanicus puzzle that wasn't some sort of prayer intoned 12 ways to Terra?" Korst'la retorts, "I mean, come on, a frieze? I'm reasonably sure this guy was playing too many noosphere games on his offtime. Even I'm not this crazy."
"Admittedly, that is curious," Cortain relents, "Hardly the weirdest lock I found however."

The Commandos now must fight as the five infected Warp Vampires begin to attack. Brynjol is in his element, rapidly annihilating one Warp Vampire in a storm of claws and swordplay. Temur, who has branched into melee AND ranged competency, draws his Paragon blade, and successfully triggers instant death from his Consul Champion training. Cyril is not so lucky, having specialized himself into pure ranged, and is at a severe disadvantage. Nonetheless, he manages to get a good hit in, the Photonic Blade cutting through flesh and armor alike to seriously damage the Infected Warp Vampire. Cortain as well strikes out with the Gladius Invictus, dealing some damage, and ordering Ordeci to attack with everything it has, scoring a good smack with the gravity ram. The Infected Vampires counter-attack, however, damaging Cyril and Ordeci. Brynjol moves to cover Cortain, deleting the Infected Vampire threatening Cortain. Temur now has a choice - support the Consul Delegatus who is not the best in melee, and has taken some serious hits, and can probably wipe the other vampire once his go comes up, or the Robot.

He selects the robot.

"No, no, that is fine, help the AUTOMATA," Cyril mutters.

Temur swoops in and finishes off the Infected Warp Vampire threatening the Battle Automata. This leaves the Vampire to go full flex on Cyril, cutting into him with warp based claws, and causing the severance of his leg. Now gravely concerned, Cortain orders Ordeci to fire its mauler boltcannon at the Vampire, forcing it away to gnaw at Cyril's leg. Brynjol finally advances towards Cyril, leaving Temur to finish off the Infected Warp Vampire with a melta pistol shot. 

"I'll try and get him stabilised," Brynjol offers, as he begins to approach.
Cyril forces himself up into a sitting position, "I am stable. Kill the thing. Cortain, I would like a chrome finish on my new leg."
Brynjol nonetheless rushes to Cyril's side, and begins application of medicinal herbs and ancient Fenrisian medicines. Cyril is less than enthused, Brynjol's constant cajoling rapidly grating on him. Working with the Larraman organ, Brynjol manages to patch everything up at a basic level.
Brynjol grins at Cyril,  "You're mine now!"
Temur stows his weapons and helps Cyril off the floor, once Brynjol has stabilized his wounds
"I know where you sleep," Cyril mutters.
"And I know where you keep your hairspray," Brynjol laughs.
"Cortain, grab the leg if you would," Temur requests, "Tt would not do to leave a piece of Cyril's armor behind."
"Thank you," Cyril nods, working on balancing himself, "I do not fancy my chances getting around on a Jump Pack with my balance so thrown off."

Cortain orders Ordeci to carry Cyril, Master-Blaster style, as the Commandos reform, ready to move on down.
"Bottom of this hellhole," Cortain commands, "NOW."
"You know, I've got a nice leg for you, Cyril..." Brynjol taunts, "Just finished growing..."
"To hell with you and your weak flesh, Brynjol," Cyril mutters, not in the mood, "I will have a limb of steel and adamantium."
"Lay off him, Brynjol," Temur advises, "You have all the time for banter when this place is done being purged. Cyril, we stand with you."
"Experience has proven that stabbing Brynjol is outside my skills," Cyril sighs, "So if he tries to reach me aboard Ordeci it is comforting to know you all can defend me."

Taking the Elevatus down to Level 4, the Commandos note the metallic pristine sections of the Laboratorium give way to cut rock.

"Right now we have one man down a leg," Cortain states over private channels, "Trust me when I say that there had best be accountability for this atrocity."
"There will be, provided you make the shot," Korst'la states, "I've found evidence of a code that can shut down the magos, disable his protectivae, and whatnot. Once I find it I'll give it to you."

Cortain scans the local area with anger. And contempt. There is a sturdy looking door, along with a keyhole. There's also a rather rotted scroll of vellum, that states "Test Subject Annex"
"Glad I have this multikey," Cortain states.
"Let's try this mysterious key!" Brynjol suggests excitedly. He use the key, and finds it is exactly what is needed.
"Maybe next time, Cort," he says, as he pats Cortain on the mechadendrite comfortingly.
"Floor 1 has chambers. Floor 2 has Command Annex, Floor 3 is lab, Floor 4 is now Test Subject Annex," Cortain summarizes.
"I am looking forward to finding the master of this facility," Temur says, "And holding him while Cortain and Brynjol remove his limbs.... slowly."
"You're a real team player," Brynjol replies.
"He has wounded one of us, but he has desecrated the calling both of you chose," Temur points out, "To rob you of retribution would be...insulting."

The heavy wooden door is now set to open. The Commandos, before proceeding, head back up to Level 1 to address some final doubts. The Infected Warp Vampires still lay where they died. Taking a moment to carefully review them, Cyril can most definitely confirm that these...things were once Vampires. Returning to Floor 4 and the Test Subject Annex, the Commandos note something concerning - passing by Level 3, the corpse of the Tyrant-Class Wrack is gone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wJM-l0K1uHY

Beyond the now-open armored door lies the Test Subject Annex. Carved out of the bedrock itself, the lighting has been replaced by dull torches, and leaky puddles in the rocky floor. As drops of water echo through the rock-cut halls, the Commandos note that, embedded within the walls, there appear to be holding cells. Rather dirty and nasty holding cells.

"This looks...unsanitary," Cortain declares, "How long has this dungeon been here...?"

Brynjol moves closer to take a peek into the cells. Some of the cells are empty, but some contain locals in common imperial garb. All are dead. One of them is holding a sheet of paper, partially soaked in stank-water. Drops of blood are also evident on it.
"Bastards," Brynjol hisses.
Cyril growls in agreement with Brynjol, "Does the Mechanicus not have REGULATIONS ABOUT THIS SORT OF THING?"

A little further down, the Commandos can also see a simple iron door that bars the way. Temur moves to watch everyone's backs, while Brynjol initially moves to take point. Putting his helmet to the iron door, he can barely hear a dull buzzing echo down the halls.

"There's something through here..." Brynjol relays, "Sounds like bees."
"Buzzing? That sounds unpleasant..." Cyril says, "Like everything else in this accursed den of failure."

Cyril takes a moment to think about what he means, and briefly remembers the Administratum tantrum spiral back in Episode 14 for some reason, before realizing he probably means the little insects, variants of which are found all across the galaxy. Looking at the door itself, however, it seems quite sturdy and reinforced - and locked, with no keyhole. Being common metal, though, it looks like enough force can make a path.

"Before we open the door to let whatever it is in, perhaps we should check what that citizen was holding?" Cyril asks.
Temur goes and grabs the paper from the holding cell, handing it to Cyril while checking the bodies for further clues. Cyril scans the paper, reading intently.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Analysis of blood estimates 2 weeks from logged date, not including Warp travel delays)

They gave me a shot. Why did they give me a shot? My arm, it burns.

(The following is scribbled) Another shot I keep seeing it every time they drag me past the hololith the golden triangle pointing down to the depths the red sphere above it the unbroken ring of runes it scares me

(The following is near indecipherable) pain make the pain stop my head hurts it hurts all over why hungry hurts head foggy cant see help save me com man dos so itchy hungry
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Document Acquired: Test Subject Scribblings)

Cyril clenches his fists, dropping the paper into his lap lest he crush it.
"That sounds... Chaotic," Brynjol suggests.
"Chaos is not the only abomination to use runes, but these icons are...unfamiliar," Cyril states.
"...Considering the fact that he already experimented on wracks, I consider this still Strike 2," Cortain says.
"This is far beyond strike two. I estimate the strikes in the low fifties," Cyril replies, "Musing on it will accomplish little. Shall we go meet Brynjol's bees?"

Unwilling to use their breaching charge to breach the door, the Commandos bring all their power weaponry to bear and go fucking nuts on the door. Brynjol's Burning Claws and Cortain's dedicated servo-arm smashing eventually punch straight through, the shards of the door falling in pieces, opening a way to a rocky path cut through the ground. Cortain has the bot go first, seeing the metal get crushed further to accomodate so much metallic death. Clanging through the halls, the walls get wider as the cavern spreads out. Tubes begin to emerge from the rocks, great conduits thrumming with power. Finally, over a rather sharp drop, the Commandos can see two things.

The first is a Genetorum, geothermal, connected to dully glowing magma below, accessible via a sturdy metal grating. The second is a pulsing grey mass, vaguely fleshlike, almost as large as the genetorum. It is covered with some sort of organic paste. It hangs over the genetorum, leaking shit all over it.

"That looks heretical," Cyril says, stretching himself defensively over Ordeci, "I suggest we shoot the everliving warp out of it before its guardians show up."

"I don't know what that is," Korst'la says to Cortain over private vox, "But you said bees earlier. You know what that thing reminds me of?"
"A Beehive?" Cortain posits.
"Precisely," the Tau nods.
"Oh great," Cortain sighs, "Is it Vespid?"
"I don't think so. Vespids carve caves from crystal," Korst'la offers, "They don't make organic hives."
"Alright then. So it's yet another possibly-local abomination," Cortain decides.
"Perhaps. But I can't think of any large-scale insects in this sector that would create such things," Korst'la says, "I don't get it, everything should have been logged, why is it missing?"

Cortain agrees, deciding to comply to the AMSHA guidelines and apply liberal beams of martian death to it. Together bolt rounds, chronomantic energy, and volkite death rays pound into the mass, causing strange matter to splatter about and cut supports. The hive begins to fall, bouncing off the genetorum, as the buzzing begins to get ever louder. Out from pipes and access grates, more infected locals begin to crawl forward, as the buzzing is ear-splitting now.

"Brace yourselves..." Cortain declares, "I think we just angered the locals!"

Cortain declares Hold Fast as part of the Logos Lectora, and Brynjol rushes up first. The Infected Locals are about 6m away and approaching fast. However, he smells something off about the air. Above the Zambambos, he can barely even register anything with sight, but there's a group of five...somethings approaching fast. He doesn't need eyes to see - he knows exactly where they are. Brynjol charges forward, slicing into what appears to be empty air for the other Commandos, sending claws out in a wide arc. His claws are suddenly slowed by something, before resuming at normal speed. All can then see an insectoid creature materialize out of thin air, the two halves falling to the ground with a splat.

"I recognize them now," the harsh voice of Khodexus, some distance behind Korst'la, states, "Insectoid Q'orl. Surprising - they are normally found on the opposite side of the galaxy."
"And as for how they got here?" Korst'la asks behind him.
Silence.
"Wait a minute...Q'orl Mind Grubs?" Cortain asks.
"These aren't grubs," Korst'la says, "Most likely the adult version. And they've learned some new tricks, it seems."

The Infected Q'orl, invisible to all but Brynjol's unnatural senses and the targeting scopes of Temur's Parthinian Serpent, surround Brynjol. He dodges and shields against their myriad claws, while ducking sprays of bio-corrosive substance, the same substance that was covering the hive earlier.

Cyril and Cortain decide to spend their time culling the Relentless horde, Ordeci ordered to help, sending bolts, chronomantic shots, grav waves, and Volkite beams into them. Temur, in comparison, moves to assist Brynjol. Hampered by his inability to fire Blasts or Spray weapons at Invisible creatures, he does the next best thing. He tosses a Cryo-Grenade at Brynjol, who shields the blast himself, but catches two of the insects in the cryo-blast. Though one toughs it out, a second is caught in the frosty blast, a cold fog forming around it. As the Infected Locals begin their advance, Cyril, Cortain and Ordeci try to hold back the tide, nuking a few more as they reach combat. 

Brynjol returns to being the Blender, cutting down two more Infected Q'orl, as Cyril, Cortain, and Ordeci handle the horde with cryo-spray weapons. Dodging further corrosive sprays, Temur downs one with his Parthinian Serpent, an arrow of Energy piercing its thin armor, and Brynjol cuts down the final one in a charge attack.

The room is now quiet. The Genetorum lays across the scaffold, a ded Infected Q'orl laying on a railing, a cogitator softly glowing near the genetorum. Cyril taps Ordeci on the leg. 

"One to pick up, please," he requests. Cortain sends the appropriate message, and Ordeci collects a Q'orl for study. Walking over the scaffolding, and accessing the Cogitator, Cortain can see two directives

>Re-enable genetorum from Safe Mode
>Remote archive terminal access

Accessing the Archive, Cortain brings up the entry it connects to.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Date corrupted. Estimated 10 years prev. to current date.)

We have made great strides in the bio-organic weapons we can create - our benefactors should be off our backs as a result. We have found that not all humans become Tyrant-class Wracks, only those with certain genetic predispositions. The rest will gradually become catatonic, die, and...resurrect under half-formed neural impulses. I have petitioned for further subjects from the Inquisitorial transports, but we were denied - the prisoners were destined for a place called "Barcarolle." No amount of pressure can sway them. Unfortunate. Regardless, we will make sufficient progress ahead of the deadline set for 12 years ahead - the world of Extermis Cratum is set as the target for the full field test - it seems even our benefactors have those they answer to.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Document Acquired: Magos's Note 3)

"As you can see, my father took the contract to create bio-organic weapons," Korst'la states over private channels, "The Contract was from the Inquisition. We are on schedule for the assault, which will not happen for years yet. You need not concern yourself with it."
"Extremis Cratum..." Cortain considers, "If that is the case, then so be it."

"Brynjol, while we read this, perhaps you could autopsy one of the creatures you engaged?" Cyril suggests, "We could not see them until they were felled."
"I can't do much of an autopsy here, mind," Brynjol says, "No diagnosticator gear or narthecium." Nonetheless, he kneels besides one of the corpses, and begins digging through with his Morknaife, intent on taking a few more samples.
"Anything interesting in the archive, Cort?" Brynjol asks, putting the samples into his pouches.
"More experimentation," Cortain says, "A possibility that these zombies are failed Wracks made from people."
Cortain pauses.
"And the fact that there's a potential test for a world called Extermis Cratum..."

Cortain decides might as well and turns on the generatorum. It hums to life, power flowing through the pipes. The Laboratorium now has full power. With a vague recollection that Level 2 lacked power, the Commandos decide on their next target.

Brynjol, however, reads the archives himself.
"This was done with permission from the Inquisition?" Brynjol asks, "I can't say I'm surprised, but still...it's disappointing."
"Consider the Wracks. How many Inquisitors can get Wracks?" Cortain asks, hoping everyone will get the hint, "IN THIS SECTOR."
"They petitioned for prisoners," Cyril says, "Whether they disclosed the subjects' purpose is unknown."

Stepping back, through the Test Subject Annex which hums with active power, the Elevatus is ahead. The four Commandos hear a tortured roar, and are easily able to hold as something lands from above. The Tyrant-class Wrack from before, but...it's different somehow. Its armor is heavier, its claws longer, its teeth sharper. It is almost...less humanoid.

"Well, hello again," Cyril begins.
"Let's kill it," Brynjol states.
"Let's," Cyril agrees, cracking a smile.

The Commandos form up, the Tyrant-class Wrack ahead of them. Cortain's codec begins beeping, however.

"That is not normal," Korst'la states, "Be watchful, it has most likely adapted. The same tactics or weapons you used before may not bother it."

The Tyrant-class Wrack's hide is now flatly immune to Explosive damage. The Commandos, however, do not realize it, and press the assault. Cortain declares his Squad Mode, Synchronized Assault, and rearranges everyone's initiative to better combat the beast. 

"Kill it to death!" Brynjol declares.
"Kill it to UNdeath!" Cortain reminds him.
"Not quite as pithy," Brynjol laughs, "But points for effort."

Cyril opens up with his storm bolter first. Much to his annoyance and concern, and no small bit of surprise, the explosive bolt rounds seem to harmlessly bounce off its reinforced armor. While the creature dodges his chronophore, Cortain moves up to support with a barrage of plasma, and a close-range beam from Ordeci's Sollex Heavy Lascannon. Temur is last to act, circling around and hefting his Grav Cannon. The beams of grav energy hit the Tyrant-Class Wrack, collapsing much of it, and parts of the Elevatus it stands on. The creature falls down, deep into the Elevatus pit.

"I figured as much," Korst'la says to Cortain, "You killed it with explosive bolt rounds last time. It adapted."

The Elevatus is heavily damaged, but still operational. It continues to rise to Floor 2 as Cortain ordered previously.
Cortain grumbles. "Damn it. At least this stalls it enough for us to reach up there."
"Perhaps, but the last time we thought it vanquished, it returned, changed," Cyril states, "Next time, we burn it."
"He is right," Korst'la says, "I am analyzing it. I believe that IS the last one."
"That sounds...reassuring," Cortain whispers.
"It is adapting based on what kills it," Korst'la says, "It really is a work of genius."

Reaching Floor 2, the Door is clearly fully powered now. Cortain approaches the door, hopeful that it actually opens this time without need for another keycode. It does open now, having already been prepped earlier. Ahead is a hololithic projector, currently inactive. Off to the side, system augurs and vox net access cogitators glow. At the seat is the mummified corpse of a tech-adept, the fungus growing partially on him. This one looks like it took a lasgun shot to the head. Cortain finishes the job, by hand-blasting the adept with his serpenta, and turns to the Adept's workstation.  Activating the cogitator, there is in fact an option to enable the cogitator. There is also an unfinished note in Mechanicum Notepad, it seems, left by the tech adept. He takes a moment to review the note first.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Time stamp estimate 3 weeks from current date, not including warp travel delays)
I fear for my safety. I have watched the Magos first use heretical refuse and prisoners for testing, which any servant of the Omnissiah would deem acceptable. I began to have doubts when people began to disappear from the surrounding town. I now know the Overseer has gone mad with power, as he has programmed his skitarii vanguards and rangers to undergo viral contamination as well. This is...not right. He will come for us soon, the other adepts who, with the Omnissiah as our guide, have made this research possible. He rambles on about benefactors - are we not sanctioned by the Fabricator and Magi of Augurus? I begin to doubt, despite all my teachings.

I hear the unceasing steps of the...monstrosities outside now. They come for me. I will die, but I will enable the savior beacons. This place must be destroyed by the cleansing light of the Omnissiah...

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Document Acquired: Tech Adept's Archive)

Cortain offers a simple prayer for the adept's soul. May he be returned to the Machine Trinity and the Golden Throne. Cyril begins mentally preparing a dirge of eulogy for the town.

Flipping the Hololithic Projector on, a series of symbols are projected on the door. A ring of runes, unbroken except on the left, surrounds a golden triangle pointing to the left and a red sphere below. It seems each shape can be rotated to one of four positions - the ring (orientation: the broken part left), the triangle (orientation: point, currently pointing left), the sphere (currently down), and up, down, left, right. 

"Hm. It seems the prisoner's fevered nightmares were based in reality," Cyril muses.
Cortain freezes. This calls for logic.
Temur, however, cautions calm. He moves towards the projection, "The scribblings of that unfortunate in the holding cell will prove useful."

Temur begins to adjust the symbols to batch the paper description. "The golden triangle pointing down...the red sphere above it...the unbroken ring of rune."
"Do we really want to tamper with this device?" Cyril asks, "It brought ruin to this place. Leaving and razing the site from orbit seems the prudent course."
"I agree, but not before we discover where the Magos has gone, or if he is still alive," Temur states, "I am loath to allow him to simply re-establish a new facility elsewhere and doom another world."

Temur aligns the Triangle Down, and the Sphere Up as per the note. However, the last piece eludes him.
"This ring of runes though, it was unbroken in the description..." Temur notes, "Perhaps a missing element?"
However, he realizes that if he twists the rune ring, if he positions the broken part behind the widest part of the triangle, he can't see the broken part. Unbroken. He adjusts the ring Up, so that the broken element is hidden. When he moves the ring, he hears a click.

Cortain finishes reloading his Caliver, "I want nothing left standing of that wretch. If he resists, then he will have even less remaining."
"I found it," Korst'la finally says over private channels, "The Code that will disable the protectiva when you meet the Magos in charge."
"Good. I have been waiting long enough," Cortain says.
"When you find him, announce the code '369-43056 INTONE' at the same time you attack," Korst'la says, "And it will disable his defenses and leave you a perfect opening."
"Note recorded," Cortain replies.
"Remember, use Volkite," Korst'la states, "I don't even want a body."
"Like I want him to spread his filth," Cortain spits.
"And I don't want his brain available for dissection or consumption," Korst'la concludes, "Do this, and you will be well rewarded."

As the Commandos stand in front of the door, it glows. It will open with a word.
"Open," is the single word said.

The door slowly opens. The room is well lit, but there are ded skitarii strewn about. At a desk, however, a man in the robes of the Mechanicus sits, laughing quietly to himself. He looks up at the Commandos.

"Remember, use the code at the same time you attack (at the same line as the roll) for it to take effect!" Korst'la commands, "Do it! Now!"
"369-43056 INTONE" Cortain declares, but critically, he does not say this at the same moment as his attack roll.

The Magos siezes up for the briefest of moments, but his cybernetics reject the code phrase after a few seconds. The window has passed.

"You fool! He was not to say a single word!" Korst'la stands, quite enraged.
Temur walks towards the man, hand on the handle of his paragon blade "Stand and meet your fate."
Brynjol follows in, idly scraping some guck off his armour with one tine of his claws.
"Bryn, please keep an ear out," Cyril teamvoxes, "The Wrack we fought may find another way in."
Cortain marches, "You are accused of deviance from the sacred Mechanicus code on experimentation of Xenos and unleashing an unspeakable plague upon this planet. How do you plead?"
"Ha...you've finally come..." the Magos laughs.
"Just delete him," Korst'la mutters, "Point blank if needed. Now."
Cyril maintains overwatch on the door to the elevatus shaft
"You merely blame the messenger..." he laughs, "There are others who desire what I have created...I have done nothing wrong..."
"An entire planet of dead people beg otherwise," Cortain declares.
"They are irrelevant to what we have done here...my benefactors have failed. I control the knowledge!" the insane Magos yells.
Cortain points the Gladius Invictus. "STRIKE THREE. I AM NOW READY TO DELIVER JUDGMENT. THE SENTENCE IS DEATH. HOW DO YOU PLEAD?"
"Volkite!" Korst'la yells, knowing full well only Cortain can hear him, "VOLKITE!"
Cortain flips his finger, and fires a point-blank Volkite blast.
"You may be Commandos," he sighs, "But you know so, so little. He has already w-"

The Magos bursts into Deflagrates, his emaciated mechanical frame disintegrating in the death ray's flames.

"Oh you comedian," Cortain says flatly.
"Could you not have let him finish?" Brynjol asks, "The megalomaniacal types like these just love to tell you their plans, you know."
Cortain double-taps the ash, incinerating the ash. A glow on the Magos's desk glows - it evidently has a cogitator within it.
"Brother Cortain, I am not well versed in the working of the Mechanicus, but perhaps you and Brynjol could still salvage data from what remains of his implants?" Temur offers.
Cortain shakes his head - the augments and everything are quite incinerated. There is no way to gain any information he held back now. Accessing the Cogitator, there is one private Archive, and a control to the Laboratorium's Self Destruct system. Reading the Archive, it appears to be the final one.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Date corrupted. Estimated 3 years prev. to current date.)
I no longer believe we need our "benefactors" - we can acquire new xenos forms for experimentation on our own now. We have already been able to create a new bio-organic weapon based on the Saurus we were able to sneak in, boosting their strength and durability. The Q'orl also showed promise, now able to cloak itself with a sort of biological invisibility. But the Warp Vampires we were given showed the most changes - with the introduction of leftover Q'orl samples, their bodies except for their bones and some thin muscles have atrophied away, increasing their agility ten-fold. I regret that we were unable to test on the tyranid bioforms - the transport was suspiciously destroyed in transit. I fear our "benefactors" are now catching on. I will complete this program, and overtake those who now wish to cage me!
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
(Document Acquired: Magos's Note 4)

"I am...surprised," Korst'la states flatly, "You are usually much better than this."
Cortain smirks. "Methinks the master is starting to slip in his control..."
"Hmm?" Cyril asks.
Cortain waves him away, "Now, any other business anyone feels should be attended to before we blow this installation Sky High?"
"If there is a self-destruct feature," Cyril suggests, "It may be a trap. I say we trust instead in our ship."
The Commandos take the time to review everything they've seen.
"The Q'Orl and Vampires were unsanctioned," Cortain observes, "They were made after this heretek decided to turn."
"And... if they were *given* the Vampires... who provided them?" Cyril asks.
"A question I do not want to answer," Cortain sighs.

"This entire escapade has been helpful, despite your lapse," Korst'la says, "It is evident that I must review the projects of my forefathers, and I will order the Ministry of Truth to double down on operatives' loyalty."
"Do what you must," Cortain quips dismissively.
"Enable the self-destruct," Korst'la leans out, "Your mission is complete."
"Time to bury this," Cortain finally says aloud.
Cortain triggers the second option. Enabling the Self-Destruct, the doors behind the Commandos close and seal. Ahead, a new door opens, with another elevatus ahead. However, the Commandos can see breaking dawn - the sky is open. Stepping aboard the Elevatus, rising high above, the Commandos finally hear something.

A tortured roar.

"Oh HELL no," Cortain yells.
"I expected as much," Temur sighs, "Let us end this!"

The Emergency Elevatus shakes as the enormous monstrosity lands ahead - its heart pulsating, its muscles swollen, its claws as long as its forearms. The creature's head has atrophied away, leaving only a gaping neck-maw.

>At this point, I must explain a most terrible mistake that occurred. When I first created Grav Weaponry in The Fringe is Yours, my second book of new gear for Rogue Trader, I made it all energy based on art of the weapon showing lime-green beams of energy striking the target. When FFG released official rules in DH2 Core, they swapped it to Impact, I assume to represent the damage coming from the crushing rather than the beam. I had completely forgotten this, and it really screwed things over. The Super-Tyrant-class Grotesque's whole thing was that it resurrects twice, immune to the damage type that killed it. In this case, what I thought was Explosive and Energy was ACTUALLY Explosive and Impact. Most of the Commandos' weapons were energy, and it severely hampered their offensive potential. While that offensive drop is perfectly acceptable, I am fully willing to own the mistake for messing up the weapon types. This, however, led indirectly to the second debacle.

>In Deathwatch, under the Power Weapons description, it states that Power Weapons can function as normal weapons when inhibited or damaged (Check for yourself, Deathwatch Core p. 154). I, as GM, saw this as a ruling allowing for not only Power Weapons inhibited in the case of Haywire attacks or overpowering damage like storm field overloads, but also allows for the user to turn OFF the weapon manually, turning it into a normal weapon. This would be partially clarified in Black Crusade and Only War. However, the issue is thus - my players had no idea this was possible, at least TWO of them treating that line as a fluff descriptor. This caused an argument, as one player who had already rolled his attacks had no idea he could do this, and demanded a do-over. I had to make a judgment call. Despite me feeling it was perfectly clear, the fact that more than one player had an issue meant it probably wasn't. I allowed for the disabling of power fields retro-actively, and declared for now and future that the sentence highlighted was a rule and not just fluff. The following combat breakdown will be edited for clarity and flow.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MC8J-N8FNFQ

"So...it's reached its final stage - the Super Tyrant-Class Grotesque," Korst'la states, "Combat data from this encounter will be quite useful."
"Are you insane?" Cortain asks.
"No, but the man who created it was. You have killed it to date with Explosive and Energy weapons," Korst'la explains, "I sincerely hope you have something else to counter it."
Cortain looks down at his own weapons, able to Impact and Rend as needed.
"Triggering the self destruct also triggered the graviton data packet backup," Korst'la says, "This facility will be of no more use, and the data has been confirmed received. You performed...acceptably. Until we meet again."

The Commandos stare down the Super Tyrant-Class Grotesque, now fully evolved and ready for action. Cortain rearranges Initiative once more, Cyril verifies its immunities with weapons fire - explosive bolt shells and chronomantic Energy bounce off harmlessly. Furious Charge is called, and Temur and Brynjol charge forward. Though their weapons are reduced to Pen 2, they are still devastating rending weapons backed by the strength of Astartes, and they begin hacking at the monster with Paragon Blade and Burning Claws. Brynjol is first into the fray, naturally, lashing his claws at the beast. Cyril draws his Charnabal Sabre and adds to the carnage, while Cortain relaxes - his Gladius Invictus, despite being a Power Weapon, does Rending damage. The initial assault digs deep into the creature, but its prodigious regeneration kicks in. It begins attacking Brynjol and Temur, who have damaged it the most. Luckily, the two shield and parry away most of the claws that are almost as large as they are. A claw goes for Temur but he luckily shields the grab attack. A final whirlwind attack is narrowly dodged by most, only Ordeci the Thanatar taking a hit, as the creature leaps out of melee, twirling around to resume the attack.

Well, by now, the Commandos have learned something - if Furious Charge didn't work the first time, do it again! Temur continues to hack away with the only weapon he has that would damage the Grotesque, as does Brynjol. Cyril joins in for ganking bonuses, and Cortain continues to swing his relic about. The Commandos know that they won't be able to safely escape until this beast is downed. Temur goes for a final few strikes, his Champion Toxic ability able to dull the Grotesque's regeneration enough for Cortain to perform a final punch with his servo-arm, shattering the Super Tyrant-class Grotesque's body.  As the creature disintegrates, it is now most assuredly dead.

Cortain pulls out what little of its spine there is.
"My trophy," he declares, "Mine."

As the Commandos reach the roof of the Elevatus, vox traffic is going nuts. The Squats are quite concerned - battle lines are failing, and the infected dead are rushing all positions.

"ALL FORCES, EVACUATE TO THE BLADE!" Cyril commands.
"We are en route," Cortain states, "We make for the Stormbird."
"PRAETOR, WE ARE NOTING COLLAPSE OF HELOT AND AUTOMATA LINES," Thexus yells, "YOUR ORDERS?"
"The facility is set to self-destruct, Thexus," Temur replies, "Immediate withdrawal is our priority."
"ACKNOWLEDGED, PRAETOR. WE SHALL DIRECT THE HELOTS TO RETRIEVE YOU."
"Rockfist, as soon as we are clear, I want this place blasted out of the earth!" Cyril commands, "Recall all forces, prepare medbay for treating highly infectious bites, and prepare all weapons batteries capable of planetary bombardment angles to do as Cortain says."
"Aye, lad, we'll ready a bombardment," Rockfist nods, "Jus' let us know when yer' clear.

The Squats begin to retreat to the Stormbirds, and one warrior squad of Squats even brings up the initial Stormbird to the roof, flying in close to pick the Commandos up. Cyril finally takes a deep breath.
"Cortain... should we authorize Phosphex?" Cyril asks.
Cortain thinks long and hard, "NOTHING MUST STAND."
"This is the only circumstance in which I am inclined to ever agree to it's use," Temur admits, "That facility and anything that remains of it needs to be nothing more than a blackened memory."
The Commandos look down. They are dooming a continent to Phosphex.
"There will be some collateral damage," Temur sighs, "But as long as we are clear with our instructions, we should be able to avoid an exterminatus-level event."
"Thexus..." Cyril hesitates, "Phosphex bombing of the site is hereby authorized."
"ACKNOWLEDGED, PRAETOR," Thexus declares, "THE WORLD SHALL BE CLEANSED."

"Lads, if ye can get us a firin' solution," Rockfist says, "That'd help. Use the Stormbird's Orbital Strike Targeter."
Temur heads to the targeters, and selects appropriate firing coordinates. Feeding it to the Blade, the voidship's cannons turn to the world's surface. The Commandos assume head of the formation of Stormbirds retreating, as the sky turns crimson. Red volkite implosion spheres buzz through the atmosphere, deflagrating all they come across. Trees begin to burn under superheated energy. Accelerator Cannon bombardment shells vaporize anything they come across, leaving only massive craters. Finally, masses of torpedoes fly forward, leaking the telltale blue-green smoke of Phosphex, which rapidly begins to spread across the frontier settlement. To top it all off, the Laboratorium fully explodes, sending debris in every direction.

"Cyril," Cortain asks while watching the spectacle. "How well-done do you want your leg?"
"Master Crafting is unnecessary," Cyril states, "But, it would be appreciated if you and Thexus can spare the time."
"Just asking," Cortain clarifies, "Bryn asked for a shotgun and I feel insulted that he never used it."
"I would like it to resemble a human leg, but with distinct seams - I will bring you a sculpt tomorrow, but for the moment I wish to pass out and recuperate," Cyril says quietly.

The Blade does not relent in its bombardment until the Stormbird formation lands. Once back within the Blade, Medicae Serfs are on standby, as well as Engineers to tend to the vehicles and automata. Numerous squats are wounded, and some even dead. Viral contamination procedures are in full effect.

"I think... that we have discovered a few flaws in our preparedness, as much as it wounds my pride to admit it," Temur explains, "Perhaps some examination of our combat doctrine is not unwarranted."
Cortain nods, as Cyril is brought to the Medicae Deck.
"THE SITE IS PURGED, PRAETOR," Thexus states, staring out at the burning, "MORDICUS WOULD HAVE BEEN PROUD..."
Cyril briefly looks up, before the morpha and medicae chymicals take him.
-------------------

Alarms blast all over Augurus Prime. Skitarii, Secutarii, and Sicarians rush about to battle stations. The ground itself rumbles.

"What is going on?" the Magos in charge demands.
"Honored lord," a Skitarius Alpha states, "The God Machine, it's...
Scaffolding and metal begins to rain from the sky as Crusader Invictus spreads its wings. 
"INTONE THE PRAYERS! CONTROL IT!" the Magos says.
Crusader Invictus crouches, as if preparing for something. Its Heavensward Wings glow a burning red. And then...it jumps.
"By the Trinity..." the Magos says, in awe.
Crusader Invictus continues to surge up, past the defenses, and into local spess. Ahead of it, a warp portal generates. As the God Machine disappears through the portal, the Magos exhales, the first time in a very long time.
"The Commandos are not going to be pleased at that..."

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