Editing Republican Commando (section)

===(39) Collective Consciousness===
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The Blade is on its way to the world of Sors Natio. Home to a Squat stronghold and a number of loyal Imperial Citizens, it is currently playing host to Aun'O O'Res'Nan. Morale is high aboard the Blade, for if this mission is successful, it will strike out a great grudge in the great book in O'Malley's. Executor Thexus and Rockfist Fearengine are preparing the armory, while O'Malley is reviewing the numerous volunteers for the mission.

Cortain heads to the archivae stations, and reviews the military situation, as well as any info on O'Res'Nan. From what he can determine from the dossiers Rockfist provides, the world's hives got heavily hammered in the initial blitz. However, they, as well as the squat hold in the equator, are barely holding on.  Most of the shrublands have turned into craterfields in the fight, and Imperial forces are getting repulsed by a Tau fleet that came in to support. Unfortunately, the information he has on hand says nothing of O'Res'Nan - nobody's ever seen the guy. His capabilities are completely unknown.

Temur heads to a holotable to examine what data has been gathered about the battlefield, looking for fortification layouts, assault routes, general force disposition, anything useful. Cyril sits by the hololith with a pitcherful of Tau blood and a flask of mjod, reviewing the data as well. Temur silently note some of the data is out of date - with the Imperium getting repulsed from Sors Natio, it is hard to get an accurate picture. However, some things should be roughly the same. At last record, the exterior line of defense was a series of Tidewall ramparts, which were slowly expanding outward with gunrig support. There were interior trenches further in, with heavy checkpoints every so often. Every so often, there are shield generators spread out, but the meat of the Tau base is the Cadre Headquarters, Coalition Command, and Path of Enlightenment in the center, surrounded by generators and heavy walls. It is known that there are Vehicle Beacons summoning in vehicles, as well as command posts for lesser commanders to enact tactics. He takes notes on where support might be needed, downloading it to a portable cartograph for later reference.

"This data may be out of date, but it definitely seems like you'll be facing a lot of vehicles," Rose offers, peering over, "There's no way you can assault this distance on foot."
"Given the level of siegeworks involved, we will need a heavy breaching transport," Temur finally states, "I have seen Thexus note that the armory has a few Mastodon transports...."
"We have one ready!" Rose says, "We all worked hard getting them in order. The top seems to be modular, you may be able to customize it a little."

"Executor, could you provide information about the options available for use on Mastodon transports?" Temur voxes, "The pattern is unfamiliar to me."
"ACKNOWLEDGED, PRAETOR. REVIEWING DATAWAFER PRINTOUTS..."
"I want it," Cortain squees, "I want it NOW." The nearby maintenance squats are unsure if he is going to waifu the tank. A rant on vehicle supremacy definitely reminds everyone of his chapter's origins as the Ultramarine tankaboos.
"PRAETOR, THE MASTODON HEAVY ASSAULT TRANSPORT IS NOMINALLY EQUIPPED WITH ITS SIEGE MELTA ARRAY, SKYREAPER BATTERY, SPONSON HEAVY FLAMERS, AND SPONSON LASCANNONS," Thexus explains, "THE SKYREAPER BATTERY MAY BE REPLACED WITH A COMMAND VOX RELAY, ALLOWING FOR SUPERIOR CONTROL OF BATTLEFIELD ASSETS."
"Thank you, Executor," Temur says calmly, "But given the Black Caste's use of drones, I'm inclined to keep the Skyreaper in place. Would it take long to fit an additional auxiliary drive?"
"NO, PRAETOR. WE CAN HAVE ONE INSTALLED WITHIN THE DAY."
"Please proceed, Executor," Temur commands, "It appears that will be the best option we have for penetrating this xenos trench network."
"ACKNOWLEDGED, PRAETOR. I SHALL ORDER THE HELOTS BEGIN WORK IMMEDIATELY."
There is much grumbling from the Squat engineers.
"While I am considering my notes, I am reminded that we will be facing heavy resistance from fragmentation weapons," Temur notes, "If possible, a flare shield would be excellent."
"AS YOU COMMAND, PRAETOR. A FLARE SHIELD WILL BE INSTALLED. HOWEVER, IT WILL NOT ACTIVATE UNTIL THE VOID SHIELDS ARE DOWN, AND IT ONLY DEFENDS YOUR FRONT FIRE ARC."
"I understand, Executor," Temur says, "But every edge we can get will ensure our success against these wretched xenos."

Cortain examines the Mastodon. It may be...big-boned, but it has it where it counts. It is quite possibly the best defensive superheavy in the Blade's armorium. A Flare Shield and Blessed Autosimulacra are installed upon it, with some effort from the Squats. Off to the side, Cortain can see numerous Hearthguard troopers practicing breaching maneuvers for the assault.

"Praetor!" the Hearthguard Champion says, "We won't let you down. Everyone here has volunteered to lead the charge alongside you. Command us, and we will act."
"This will be a day to be forever honored," Cortain nods, "Forever honored. Forever remembered."
The Hearthguard kneel, "We are proud to remove the Xenos filth, to avenge our brethren who fell against them, to walk in your support."

Given that this is a vehicle mission, the Commandos opt to have Cortain lead, selecting the Logos Lectora Rite of War. A Damocles Rhino and some Squats will establish a command post to further coordinate things as a result. Temur selects his typical pair of pistols, a grav gun, and relic heavy bolter, while Cortain picks up a grav pistol and a volkite culverin. Cyril stays with his relic bolters, while Brynjol still has no need of req'ing stuff. They select Fire for Effect and Tactical Spacing as their squad modes.

Soon after preparations are complete, the Blade has begun the transition back to the Materium. The Squats are on edge, but confident for now. Assault troops are ready, and all weapons are prepped. Brynjol wakes up with a start, his ice-pillow adhering to his head with frozen spittle from his drooling tongue. As Cortain is getting the squats into the superheavy, he grabs a parcel. He also makes a vox. 

"Thexus, there is a packet of vid-casts I wish to have broadcasted on every Imperial frequency. I believe that it will be handy in boosting any flagging morale." Said packet contains all the captures he has on killing Tau, with special attention on the H'esav'geka. Thexus takes the data-archivae, taking it to O'Malley for distribution.

"Given 'ow the place was left fer last," Rockfist advises, heading up to the bridge in his battle armor, "I can't suggest ta expect a warm welcome."
Brynjol 's voice comes over the vox, on maximum volume for some reason.
"What'd I miss?" he asks.
"We have arrived on Sors Natio," Cortain declares, "Time to kill the Ethereal."
Brynjol signs off with a faint 'yaaay', appearing shortly after in armour.

As the Blade finally breaches back to reality, it finds itself amongst heavy wreckage, more Imperial than Tau. Ahead, about 8VU away, approaches a pair of Tau vessels, a Protector and a Custodian. Most concerningly, off to Port, the Commandos can see ANOTHER Custodian approaching, about 10VU off.
"See, lad?" Rockfist sighs, "No warm welcomes..."

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNqWywv5TjA

"No, not warm," Cyril sighs, "This is a little hot for my tastes."

The lone Custodian advances 5 VUs forward, and begins firing its weapons. It's unloading waves of torpedoes, macrocannons, and ion cannons to its front arc. Waves of Drone-controlled torpedoes hit the Blade, and shields falter from railcannon and ion cannon hits. The Blade, however, is in a good position to counter-attack.

Cortain takes a moment to size up his enemies. These vessels are easily recognizable as Custodian-class battleships, which would be equivalent to grand cruisers of Imperial make, and a Protector Cruiser, which they've seen before. He can reasonably expect these vessels to have standard Tau Railcannons, which can penetrate armor, Ion Cannons, which can cause multiple crits, and drone torpedoes. Though they share a frame with Studio 69, he can also guarantee there's no bizarre bullshit to deal with on Black Caste ships. Tau vessels are strongest when they are in a forward facing, where they can multiposition their weapons to the sides AND ahead. Tau vessels have a gravitic ram, increasing their frontal armor. This does not extend to the sides or rear. Cortain feels it wise to consider this when maneuvering. 

Brynjol is eager to charge, and so Cortain Arc Charges the engines before Cyril can issue a suggestion. Brynjol excitedly surges forward, scoring a heavy-handed ram attack against a different Custodian, while Cyril can only stand by in shock.

"The... drive... what," Cyril says, his throat tightening, "Why would you do that."
Rockfist looks somewhat bemused, but assumes the Commandos have a master plan.
"No matter. All hands brace for ramming speed."
Cyril sheds a single tear.

"We need out of the way," Cortain reasons.
"But it is not necessary to avoid the shots of an enemy that one has already shot to death," Cyril retorts.

The Commandos loose torpedoes forward, and fires macrocannons at the Protector as they pass by. However, the Commandos are in a very dangerous position - their void shields are down, and rear armor is exposed to the Tau. At least the Custodian and Protector can only get side shots off, and the Commandos weather an incredible Railcannon salvo that cuts their hull integrity by nearly a third.

"Lads, if ye advance and turn, ye can get yer choice of targets to a side," Rockfist advises, "They're spread out and disrupted, so pick yer target wisely."
"We should charge the void shields and finish off the wounded Custodian before using a Fusion shot to finish off the rest of them all," Cyril suggests, "Unless we can catch two ships in the Accelerator's arc now?"
Rockfist shakes his head sadly.
 "They may be filthy xenos not worth the ink to note a grudge down, lad," Rockfist sighs, "But they ain't stupid - they're deliberately not linin' themselves up to get skewered again."

The bridge crew look to the Commandos for orders. Cortain arc charges the Void Shields, which flare to a bright blue reflective sheen, supercharged by atomantic energy. The Commandos bank to starboard, lining up their starboard batteries to their enemies. Brynjol, however, gets a bit overzealous and misses with the lances. Cortain then jumps to the Accelerator cannon, firing it against the Custodian and bouncing off shields.

Cyril briefly considers suicide, but the Emperor and the Tiji Sector still need him.

Temur then turns the Volkite Grand Bombards to the Custodian. Volkite implosion spheres blast out, first against energy fields, and then against exposed hull. Cyril grumbles at the broadside's lack of effect and turns his attentions to guiding a bomber wing, fervently praying in multiple languages for them to evade incoming point defense fire. However, Tau vessels have VERY good turrets, and so the Blade's bombers are downed. He curses violently in High Gothic, Low Gothic, Nixarterian native, Ice Wraith tongue, and Tau. There's even a few Orkish epithets in there.

"Now we put our faith in the Emperor and the Ancestors," Rockfist says, rapping the wall, "An' the shields."

The Commandos look to their void shields. When Arc Charged, instead of flat defensive chances, shields are now a 6+ save on 1d10. The shields are able to bounce away two lance hits and a railcannon salvo, but two railcannon salvos and a lance hit get through fully. The Commandos have lost the other 60% of their hull. Out of 90 hull, they are at...3.

The Emperor protects, at least.

"Lad, if yer waitin' fer them ta line up, don't bother," he says, "Fool me once an' all that."
"They will not line up for us. That was never likely," Cyril nods, "But we are fast enough that moving to line up with them seemed a viable option, if we had not exposed our rear to them."
Cyril stares at Brynjol and Cortain. They say nothing. Some of the squats are beginning to look concerned, but in the Commandos' shining presence, they know no fear.
"Ya've got one moderately damaged Custodian, an' one untouched one. Rammin' at this stage may be as damaging to us as them," Rockfist explains, as a lumen-stick falls to his side, sparking, "But with our current positioning, ya can escape the front arcs of the first battlegroup if ya advance."
"We can now ill afford not to arc charge the shields; the ship has suffered heinous damage," Cyril advises, "But neither can we afford not to destroy these wretches while we have the chance. Arc charge the Accelerator Cannon and target the unharmed Custodian. All other guns, fire on the damaged one - Cortain, lance; I will man the Bombard."

The Commandos put their plan into action. Cortain arc charges the Accelerator Cannon, and hands it off to Temur, who immediately fires it.  The Accelerator Cannon glows with the power of nuclear fusion, releasing its blast at the Custodian. It strafes across its armor, severely damaging it, but not destroying it. The Custodian continues its advance, but is promptly stopped by a Lance hit from Cortain, exploding it and eliciting a cheer from the Squats. Cyril bombards the other Custodian with more volkite shots, while Brynjol fires some Torpedoes, missing. The Commandos have one vessel down, but the others are now turning to fire. With the Emperor's blessing, and the squattish Ancestors smiling down, the Tau miss. The Commandos have time now.

>Given how this is an IRC game, my description of events was lacking at times, and so I acknowledge it is hard to do complex maneuvers with that in mind. So it is not really their fault for making weird decisions at times. 

Brynjol hits the brakes, and declares a new strategy is in order. While Cyril brings down the Custodian's void shields with the Accelerator Cannon, an absolutely monstrous Volkite Grand Bombard implosion salvo flying forth. Volkite Implosion Spheres shower upon the Custodian, breaking its armor open and imparting so much thermal energy it explodes. Brynjol decides he is bored of shooting, and will go over and punch some Tau. Ordering a wing of Stormbirds over in an Assault Boat action, filled with Squats and Battle Automata, Brynjol scores incredibly well on his Command test, and deals 49 damage to the enemy crew.

Yes. 49 crew population annihilated. The Squats follow their Warmaster without hesitation, and the Battle automata continue to cleave and smite. Doing the math for a vessel of equivalent tonnage, Brynjol killed about 14,000 tau in about half an hour. Eventually everyone goes back to the Blade. A mysterious force called "Rules as Written" drags Brynjol back to the boarding ships, kicking and screaming all the way. He stomps on to the bridge, trailing blood, literally coated in blood, scraps of flesh, and with Kroot bayonets embedded in his helmet. He's fine.

"I need a drink," he sighs, "That was tiring.
"Allow me to join you for a drink in a moment," Cyril offers, "On the Tau ship. Those little wretches are not as sweet as Eldar, but their taste is much richer. For now, though, give me and Temur a hand charging the reactor."

Not waiting, Brynjol sciences as hard as possible - wearing goggles, pouring brightly coloured chemicals into beakers, and finally throwing the large lever marked 'ARC CHARGE DO NOT TOUCH THAT MEANS YOU BRYN.' Surprisingly, he is able to adjust the Arc Reactor's power, and charge the shields. At their darkest hour, the Tau protector hits pretty hard, but the Arc Charged shields mostly hold. Only a lance hit gets through, but this brings the Blade to -10. For reference, you die in spess at -11. 

The Blade is Crippled, but there are still enemies to kill. Cyril growls and stalks to the Launch Bays, venting into spess, relying on magboots to walk surely despite the explosions wracking the ship. Squats are flying out into spess, dying. The Blade...has seen better days.

"If they broke anything, they will pay a hundred fold for the time repairs will take," Cyril mutters, "Brynjol, would you care to join me aboard the enemy vessel?"

Brynjol tries to get close enough to do a direct boarding, but fails the pilot from the cripple penalties. Cyril, however, makes it over with more Stormbirds filled with Battle Automata. He is fukken furious, and scores even more successes than Brynjol when he triggers his demeanor. Cyril's angriness knows no bounds as he and the Blade's Crew turns the Protector into a charnel house fit for a World Eater. He is covered in almost as much blood as Brynjol. It feels...invigorating. Cyril commands the Squats and robots into tactically optimal positions, storming rooms in multiple simultaneous and devastating breaches, and then finds prey for himself. Once he and the crew are done, they board the Stormbirds, ready to head back to the badly listing Blade.

"Need any last-minute demolitions?" Cortain quips. He watches Cyril return to the Blade, and aims the Blade's Accelerator Cannon, setting it to lance mode. With void shields disabled, Cortain has a clear killshot to the vessel's reactor.

"Ship clear. Where are you, Brynjol?" Cyril voxes, "I believe we can retrieve this ship relatively intact for delivery to Doggfather..."
He looks outside proudly, seeing the Accelerator Cannon tear into the Protector's reactor, causing a massive chain reaction. His eye twitches.

"Why."


Cortain and Brynjol continue to monitor augurs aboard the Blade, and look up. From behind the wreckage of some Imperial fleets, they see a couple of Castellan Frigates advancing.
"We seriously need backup..." Cortain mutters.
However, heavy macrocannon shells impact them from the port side, as another pair of vessels, Imperial in origin, finish off the damaged new arrivals.
"Imperial vessel, thanks for the distraction," Cortain voxes.
The purple battle barge and attendant strike cruiser pull up, the icon of a snarling big cat clear on the side, and take defensive positions.
"Well, well, well," a gruff voice says, as smoke and plasma jets from the damaged battle barge, "'Bout time you got here, Commandos. We were beginning to get lonely."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec0XKhAHR5I

"Excellent. Brother Astartes," Cyril voxes, "BOARDING ACTIONS WORK WELL IF YOU CAN GET PAST THEIR DAMNABLE TURRETS! IF YOU CAN CRIPPLE THEIR TARGETING SYSTEMS THE FUCKING BLUES CAN BE SQUASHED LIKE HELPLESS CHILDREN!"
The flickering vox kicks in, and Chapter Master Johnson, Chapter Master of the Black Panthers, puffs out a rather thick Lho cigar, "Well, now that you're here, we can really get this operation started!"
Cortain now has an optimism rating of 53%.
"Republican Commandos, you took out the main battlefleets, so the way to Sors Natio is clear," the Chapter Master says, "We'll escort you over as you make repairs, and keep your ship safe."
"That...is incredibly appreciated," Cortain says.
Optimism rating now at 58%.
"Acknowledged," Cyril replies, "What is the situation planetside? Our information is somewhat out of date."
"Trust me, NOTHIN' gets past the I Would Have Been Your Daddy," the Chapter Master gestures, "Now, we got Knights, the Militarum, and even some of my Marines. They've been isolated down there for a while. So, ready to crush more Tau?"
"Always. I have been looking forward to it for quite some time," Cyril confirms, "Where are the problem spots?"
"Just what I want to hear!" Chapter Master Johnson says, "Once you make landfall, everyone will make the final push on the Tau's compound. I hope you brought something heavy."
"Oh you best believe we got something heavy," Cortain hints. There is an unsettling mechanical laugh in the air.
"We planned to bring several," Cyril admits, "But given the damage to our vessel it seems more important to get treads on the ground quickly."
Rockfist nods, heading off to supervise Repairs as the Blade and the Black Panthers limp over to the deployment zone.
"Good. So here's the thing," the Chapter Master says, "Once you get down there, if you see any shield generators, torch'em. We can bring supporting troops down for the main battlefield if you do. Not only my Marines, but some of the Knight Houses are waiting for an opening too." 
"Excellent," Cyril nods, "They will crumble."
"Glad to hear! We'll make this look good..." the Chapter Master says, before turning to his command squad, "ALL RIGHT, LET'S GET TACTICAL, MARINES! W-"
The hololith cuts.

"PRAETOR, WE ARE READY TO DEPLOY YOUR MASTODON AND ATTENDANT HELOTS. THE LAUNCH BAY HAS BEEN RESTORED TO BASIC FUNCTIONALITY."
"Acknowledged, Thexus," Cyril replies, "We will be there shortly."

The Commandos grab last-minute gear, and organize the landing. 

"We...we need to avenge the crimes committed against us," Cortain declares, "Against the Emperor. We need to make this stand THEIR last."
Cortain stomps.
"We end this fight NOW."
"Let's move in," Brynjol agrees, pulling his helmet off. "I'm bloody sick of blueys." A small flood of blue blood pours out. He is looking very blue.
Cyril nods grimly at Cortain's words and follows him out, tracking Tau bits across the deployment ramp.

The Stormbird fleet is readied, surging out of the Blade's Launch Bays and into the cool, misty clouds of Sors Natio. Descending even deeper, the warzone becomes apparent, as the crackling of Railgun fire echoes alongside bolter and lasfreeming. The Stormbirds deploy their void shields, in time for the Command Rhino and its attendant Squats to disembark.

"*krzzzzt*n't worry, lads, we'lll keep y*krzzzzzt*ated from here," Rockfist says through Command Link Vox, "We've dropped ya off at the combat zone'e edg*krzzt*ear the Tidewalls. Happy hunting, la*BZZZT*"
"We'll keep an eye on the tactical situation, Lord Praetors," one of the Squat Sergeants says, "We'll organize support for you as you go! We wish you luck in avenging the fallen."

Brynjol hops behind the wheel, while Cyril and Cortain take Lascannon sponsons. Temur stands by to fire additional weapons if needed. Advancing forward, the Commandos first roll over a trench of barely-holding Astra Militarum troopers, who cheer as they pass by. Ahead, a wide Tidewall emplacement is surrounding a structure composed of three disks embedded in the ground, coils between them. Broadsides take defensive positions as a Gunrig takes aim.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9CIKjWBPy8

The Commandos begin their armored advance, towards four Broadsides with heavy rail rifles, and a Tidewall Gunrig moving into position. Cortain sets the Void Shields up, and Brynjol pushes forward. Brynjol opens up with the Skyreaper battery, downing a Broadside, while Cortain and Cyril fire the sponson lascannons out. Cortain revels in damaging a Broadside, but the tidewall's minor shields deflect Cyril's shot. Broadside rail-fire impacts against the void shields, damaging one slightly, but the shield still holds. When the Tidewall itself fires, the Commandos realize something - attempting dodging would be pointless, and they have Tactical Spacing and Fire for Effect both up. They can use their reactions to counter-fire the Mastodon's weapons.

Cyril and Cortain target the Gunrig, sniping it out before it can fire, and heavily wounding another Broadside. Brynjol keeps the Skyreaper firing, dragging it across the battle line and downing another two Broadsides (and nicking their own void shields from a reflected shot), while Cyril and Cortain purge the final broadside with accurate lascannon fire. 

Brynjol turns to Cyril, his face red.
"I AM THE BEST AT SHOOTING!" he says proudly. Everyone nods condescendingly.
"Yes, yes, very nicely done, Brother," Cyril says patronizingly as he lines up a the Lascannon for additional enemies.

This was barely a defensive outpost, which is why it was so lightly defended. After chuggin' along for a little bit, Cyril whistling cheerfully as the Mastodon rolls through the remains of the Tidewall, the Commandos come up to the disk-like structure. It thrums with power. Cortain considers it a variant droneport at first, but then realizes it has no ports.  It's a separate structure in itself, almost as large as the Mastodon. Getting even closer, the Commandos feel rather odd, as they pass through some sort of energy barrier, which sparks in contact against the void shields. It causes a few seconds' of slower movement, but the Mastodon passes through. It almost reminds him of a void shield generator. At least, it's projecting a field similar to one. And it's causing heavy interference with Cortain's Vox.

"Cortain. What is that, and should we destroy it?" Cyril asks, "Could it be one of the generators Master Johnson mentioned?"
"Most likely," Cortain suggests, "It seems to cause Vox interference."
"Increasing to ram speed, aye!" Brynjol chortles merrily as he kicks the throttle into submission, "I'm burning this installation with no survivors!"
"NEGATIVE. WE DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT GENERATOR DOES," Cyril commands, "AND THE MASTODON HAS A MELTA ARRAY FOR A REASON."
His pleas fall on deaf ears. Brynjol continues the charge, and Cortain, nominally in charge of the mission assumes direct control of the siege melta array. Cyril finally gives up, and fires the lascannon to soften it up. Surprisingly, he gets a triple fury, 3 tens in a row, before being reminded that the Xenos Shield Generator is a structure and thus follows the critical table for vehicles. That was demoralizing for all.

Cortain triggers the multi-meltas, scoring a number of initial hits, and finally burning through the building with additional generated hits. Cortain cackles in static as holy melta goodness reduces this the xenos building to slag. As the xenos shield generator finally melts, voxtraffic gets a bit clearer.

"Lord Praetors!" one of the Squats says, "We're detecting incoming allied drop pods near you."
"Excellent!" Cyril says, "Black Panthers heraldry and transponders?"
Cortain checks the incoming vox traffic.

"LET'S GO, BROTHERS!"
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
"IT AIN'T ME!"

"..Yes, it must be them," Cyril sighs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec0XKhAHR5I

The surroundings cloud up as a few drop pods land.
"READY FOR SOME HELL, BOYS?" Cortain voxes, still working off the high from firing the siege melta array.
"Damn straight, Republican Commandos," one Sergeant says, "We gonna be defending this drop zone, and pressing the attack from here. Thanks for clearing the way. But we picked up some signals from orbit."
"Relay the trouble areas," Cortain replies, "We need everyone in on this push."
"Priority targets?" Cyril asks, an eager edge to his voice.
"Out to the east, near the fortification outskirts, we picked up vox disturbances and heavy energy signatures, similar to what just disappeared here," the Sergeant explains, "But to the North, we saw the Tau main staging grounds."
"Incidentally, how did you feel about our In-flight entertainment?" Cortain asks, referring to the Anti-Tau propaganda.
"Oh, we liked it," the Sergeant smirks, "You're as good as the Chapter Master!"
"HA HA HA. Excellent. The Ethereal is likely there, cowering behind the warriors of his blighted species like the rest of that pathetic caste..." Cyril laughs, before correcting himself, "Though in this instance it probably has some manner of custom battlesuit too."
Cyril cocks his head and turns to look across the tank at Cortain on the right sponson. 
"Entertainment?"
"Oh, just a compilation on Tau Murder," Cortain shrugs, "Specifically about a certain quartet."
"I would love to see the finished product, after we complete the set today," Cyril nods.

"Just so you know, the Imperial Knight Houses have arrived too," the Sergeant says, "They may be held up just as we were, but the Tau base is within sight. Wanna find out what's delaying them, or push the charge? We'll support you as we can."
While pondering their next objective, Cortain notes some of the Black Panthers marines bearing those bizarre stripes and markings. That's when it hits him - nobody's used that marking since Rogue Trader, 1st edition. It's the mark of the Astartes Field Police. Weird how they keep such a tradition alive when nobody else does. It must mark them as incredibly, INCREDIBLY ancient. Cortain says nothing.

"So, which'll it be," the Sergeant says, "Try to find our missing Knights, or keep up the push?"
"If we have the time we should reestablish contact with the Knights for optimal coordination of the decapitation force," Cyril considers, "The Tau have had ample time to entrench and cook up nasty surprises. If we press the attack, we might walk headlong into a few and crush them before they realize the magnitude of the threat we pose, or even crush them before they are ready to deploy, but the Knights are a major asset. Your orders, Brother Forge-Lord?"
"I would agree in getting our Knights," Cortain decides.
"Very well. We risked much by leaving this warzone as long as we did to send Knights to it," Cyril agrees, "Let us reap the benefits."
"We'll deploy some Whirlwind Scorpii in support," the Sergeant says, "Call upon them if you need them. This is gonna be one good day to be a Space Marine..."

The unknown disturbance is therefore set as the Commandos' next objective, and after a little bit, they are once again on their way to the next zone. Cresting a hill into some wide highlands, the Commandos are face to face with a large armored contingent of Tau. Hammerheads begin to circle the much slower Mastodon, while a wing of Barracuda are fast-approaching. Next to what appears to be a Vehicle Beacon is under the protective umbrella of a xenos-constructed shield generator. A pair of Area Denial nodes also flank the building. The Commandos are unfazed, and continue pushing forward. 

Rolling forward, Brynjol takes to the Skyreaper Battery, and manages to take down a Barracuda. Temur fires the Siege Melta Array at an ADN, and severely damages it. Cortain finishes it off with a Lascannon, while calling a Whirlwind Scorpius barrage from the nearby Black Panthers on a Hammerhead, damaging it somewhat.

This would prove to be their only really effective round.

About 5m behind the Commandos, something glowing blue suddenly lands, glassing the ground and impacting their void shields, almost instantly knocking one out.
"Out of all the idiotic contrivances...!" Cortain yells as he tends to the damaged shield. He soon finds himself tending to the other as well, as what feels like an endless barrage of rail weapon fire from the Hammerheads and Barracuda AX-5-2s pound the Mastodon. Despite its size, Temur is able to steer clear of the ADN's fire.

Cortain and the Squats are able to take down the second ADN with Lascannons, but the Commandos' luck goes sour soon afterwards. Barracuda Dispersion shields and hammerhead disruption pods block most of their shots, and to make matters worse, a concentrated bombardment from...something off in the distance knocks off a big chunk of hull. The Commandos are now greatly concerned about Destroyer weapons, as they work to get their void shields back up, trusting in their Flare Shield to help soften the blow from incoming rail fire.

Despite the Commandos' best efforts, they are not making much progress damage-wise against the Tau. They decide to switch up their tactics - instead of outfighting the Tau, race towards the Vehicle Beacon and Generator, and take them down. Surging under the xenos shield bubble, the Commandos inch ever closer to the two buildings. The Black Caste, uncaring, begin to shell their own position, downing the shields and exposing the Commandos to further railfire. But by now, the Commandos are in position. Cortain focuses on emergency repairs, Battlesmithing the Mastodon's health back somewhat, while lascannons bounce off the Generator's armor.

"WHAT IS THAT THING MADE OUT OF?!" Cyril yells, before trying to remember anything of note. He recalls that Fio'Tak is the name of the superdense nanocrystalline composite that the Tau use for armor. Building armor is not much different, but layered differently to provide a better protection.
"IS THE FIO'TAK LAYERED WITH ADAMANTINE AND DIAMOND?!" he exclaims.

The Siege Melta, however, is finally in range. Spinning it up, waves of super-heated Melta sink into the Generator, slagging it.  Cortain makes a hideous mechanical roar, excited at the destruction of the Xenos technology. The static infecting the Commandos' voxnet is now fully gone. 

"Kill them all," Cortain orders.
Cyril roars exultantly as he sights in targets, but the Commandos are interrupted by a thrumming in the sky, like thrusters.

"Republican Commandos, House Askari is landing," the Vox states.
"Friends of House Kshatra, we have arrived," says an incoming transport as the Commandos look on. But it is the last sound they hear, kind of like someone screaming.

"wooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-"

http://picosong.com/DatP/

As the Lances of House Askari and House Kshatra land in their dropships, the Knights of House Excelsus cannot wait, and drop from the sky from low-atmosphere frigates, burning all the way down. The Faris of Askari and the Bhattara of Kshatra begin to assist in gunning down the local Tau, while the Dominei of Excelsus form up after one Crusader accidentally lands on the Vehicle Beacon, smashing it and denting the knight, who is flopping around attempting to right itself.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAA!" Cyril laughs, as he sees the fireballs descend, before composing himself.
Brynjol closes his eyes, briefly.
"I'm a Space Wolf, and even I think that is a bloody stupid way to deploy an ancient piece of Mechanicus technology," he says, before shaking his head, as if in realisation of what he's just said, "Stylish, though, I'll grant 'em that."

"Panthers, where are the other trouble spots?" Cortain asks.
"There's only their Coalition Command, dawg," the Black Panther replies, "We ready to move when you are."
"Republican Commandos, we have arrived as promised," a Bhattara of Kshatra states, "Lead, and we will follow."
"You can depend on us!" A Domineus of Excelsus declares, raising his chainfist.
"We, for the record, are sick of Tau," a Faris of Askari admits, "The sooner we purge, the better."
"Good," Cortain declares, "Then we move."

Turning the Mastodon to the last recorded location of the Coalition Command and surrounding base, the ground seems to get a lot flatter, almost reflective like glass. Advancing through light foliage, the Tau defensive complex is now in view. However, guarding it ahead are a pair of Ta'unar Supremacy suits. They raise their weapons, ready to take the Commandos on.

But the Commandos are prepared, they have an army behind them. And it would be a damn shame if everything they spent time summoning wasn't put to good use. Cyril commands the Knights forward, and Cortain gives the command to the rowdy Black Panthers. With a mighty roar of command, Brynjol sends them all forward.

"Dispose of the oversized toys," Cortain says calmly.
"Destroy them!" Brynjol yells.
"Acknowledged, Warmaster!" The Knights say, as they charge forward, against one Ta'unar.
Brynjol looks mildly uneasy at that form of address.
"For the Emperor!" a Black Panther says, as more Panthers begin to drop pod in and ride forward toward the second Ta'unar, vehicles fast and Homeboy Nytesytes aligned, "Let's get tactical!"

With both Ta'unars distracted by the Knights and Black Panthers, the way forward is perfectly clear. The solid walls of the Coalition Command Center grow ever larger as the Commandos approach. Finally, as they drive past the dueling marines, Knights, and Battlesuits, they can reach the final set of fortifications. The Siege Melta once more spins, and releases its superheated shots straight ahead. This armor is thick, ridiculously thick. But still, they cut, and cut, and cut. Finally, the Commandos make progress, and the Mastodon breaks through the wall, leaning forward. It seems they dug through a couple of meters up. The Mastodon tilts forward, the front hitting the ground with a clang.

The doors immediately open, and the Squats rush out into the breach.
"KHAZUKAN KAZAKIT HA!" they yell, as guns blaze, "For the Ancestors and Emperor! For the Commandos!"
The Squats begin blasting out with bolters, while receiving fire in turn from Tau Fire Warrior strike teams. In the initial volley, seven squats are downed to six Fire Warriors.

But then the Commandos jump in.

The Mastodon was designed as an assault transport, and Temur, Cyril, and Brynjol are immediately in the fray. Brynjol begins to cut everything around him, slashing wildly with the Burning Claws, and Cyril fires his storm bolter and Tigris bolter at anything blue. Temur hoses down the remaining Tau in the breach with his relic heavy bolter, quieting down the hallway.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RknkS2MrrOg

The Commandos find themselves in the Coalition Command, the center of Tau operations in the Sector. They caught the Tau in the halls by surprise, and the halls are currently clear. They did not expect a surprise attack to bore through the wall. Looking about, the Commandos can identify one hall that turns to the left, one that seems to stretch forward, and one that extends to the right. The one that turns left is dark, the lights cut. The one that extends right is brightly lit. The one forward, Brynjol smells more Tau blood coming from that side.

"Odds are that they will send heavy response teams to intercept us," Cortain reasonably assumes, "We need to move quickly."
Cyril orders Notomok and the 33 surviving Squats to follow. "And we shall. Stay frosty, brothers; I have an ill feeling about this place."

Temur checks his cartograph. From the point of breach, the Coalition Center would probably be forward. He estimates a Path to Enlightenment would be forward up as well, nearby, with different Command Posts to Tau strategy elsewhere. Brynjol, however, raises his hand, indicating an immediate halt.

"Something's bleeding, or has bled recently, up ahead," Brynjol whispers, "Tau are hurting. Going straight on might not be such a bad idea."
"Forward towards the center then, we can search from there," Temur states.
"We just drove a Mastodon through a wall and are waving around several armies' worth of wargear," Cyril points out, "Why not try stealth?"

The other Commandos all stare at him.

Advancing forward, the Commandos climb some stairs, and continue to follow the network of intra-building corridors. They finally come to a large hallway, which itself branches forward and has a door off to the side. The corridor is filled with dead Tau, blown to pieces or even utterly ripped apart.The Commandos can see evidence of all types of weaponry used.

"I do not recall hiring an Eversor here," Cortain notes.
Brynjol raises a brow at Cortain.
"Hiring?" Brynjol asks, "Also, come on, You've done worse than this, let alone me - or one of those bloody berserkers."
"You know, chaos berzerkers would actually be a refreshing fight at this point..." Cortain sighs.

The Commandos can see tau giblets all around. They look...fresh. most of their weapons seem to have been fired. Pulse scoring lines the floor, walls, and ceiling.

"I do not like this," Temur notes. He can identify power weapons, chain weapons, and other, more exotic weapons in the bodies. Brynjol kneels by one of the tau corpses, scooping up a chunk of delicious Tau, and takes a nibble, closing his eyes as the memories begin to flow...

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)~~
The Tau Fire Warrior has just met up with his Shas'ui. His Pulse rifle is at the ready.
"Shas'la, the fight against the gue'la is going well, but we have detected intruders, let us remove them."
"Acknowledged!" one Shas'la says.
The crowd begins to move down, when suddenly, the Shas'ui explodes.
Blood splatters outward, hitting...something invisible. It moves so fast - one moment the roar of a chain weapon is heard, the next, the sizzling of power knives being thrown. Even the crack of rail weaponry is apparent, as a hypersonic round disintegrates a Fire Warrior. The tau fire in every direction at an enemy they cannot see. Finally, the viewpoint shudders, as the Tau looks down and a chain weapon is retracted from behind, followed by a shattering and giblets flying everywhere.

The entire time, it was impossible to see any enemy...
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)

"Bloody hell. That was a massacre," Brynjol spits, "The Tau got taken to pieces by something... invisible, or so fast I couldn't see a damn thing.  Chain weapons, power blades. Looked like melee all round. Power knives, in fact."
"...What horrible fates have conspired to listen to my words?" Cortain bemoans.

As the Commandos begin to move on through the bloodied hall, something catches Brynjol's ear beyond the door intersecting the bloody hall. A sneeze. He stops, completely still.

"Follow me. Now," he commands. 
Brynjol drops into a predatory crouch and runs, lightfooted, towards the sound, claws out. Charging through the door, and through a side hallway, he eventually enters a small armorium. According to the Cartograph, the Commandos are below the Path to Enlightenment. Cortain proceeds cautiously, Thanatar at the winds. The tables and guns are set up as a defensive barricade, where Brynjol can hear breathing behind them.

"Surrender, now," Brynjol declares.
Out pops a person's head. He recognizes her, and the following three heads that pop up behind her. Perhaps he wishes he didn't, but he sheathes his claws regardless.
"Commandos?" Charlotte asks, "Oh, it is you! We're so relieved!"
"Commandos!" the three Stoogettes yell in unison.
Brynjol puts his helmet on, slowly. Seals the filters. Clamps shut the neck seals. And then releases a long, drawn-out groan in the safety of his audio-sealed helm.

"Wait...you butchered the Tau?" Cortain asks.
"You mean the ones outside?" Charlotte asks, "No...we didn't."
"It was terrifying though," Red begins.
"They just died out of nowhere," Black adds.
"SOMETHING was splattering blood everywhere, something we couldn't see," White concludes.
"You see, we were deployed here as a first response," Charlotte says, "Since we were the closest asset available and told that you honored Praetors had bigger business to take care of, we were sent in to scout and act behind enemy lines."
The Commandos take defensive positions as the sisters spin their tale.
"We've been here for..." Charlotte begins.
"Months..." the three Stoogettes sigh.
"Still, the Inquisition asked us to get you as much intelligence as we could," Charlotte offers, "Although, we didn't see much. We saw an ethereal though, only once. The way he looked..."
"He was tall, really tall," White says.
"His glare, he saw us, and it froze us stiff..." Red adds.
"He was shirtless too, his muscles really shone," Black concludes, before realizing that the others are staring at her.
"Regardless of...that, we know he spends all his time in the Coalition Center, deeper in the Complex," Charlotte states, "Always ascend, we've always seen him at high vantage points. And the Coalition Center is the tallest building around."

"Cyril, I hate asking you to do this, but..." Cortain says slowly, pointing at the helmet.
Brynjol begins to chuckle gently. he knows where this is going.
"No," Cyril yells over team vox, "The helmet stays on!"
"Take it off," Brynjol commands.

Cyril removes his helm, and plunks it safely onto the head of whoever was having impure thoughts, leading a prayer of focus. The Battle Sisters' eyes go wide from the shining form of Cyril. With a sudden *pop* they are holding him tightly.

"We didn't doubt!" Charlotte yells, "Honest!"
"The God Emperor provides!" the three Stoogettes yell, as they clutch tightly to his armor, "We never wanna let go..."
Cyril also get the feeling that every guardswoman in a radius measured in kilometers suddenly knows exactly where he is. He also feels at least one hand tussling his radiant hair.

"Good. Now their hearts are the Emperor's," Cortain says. He voxes to the Squats to ferry them to the Mastodon. The Hearthguard nod, as they begin to scrape the Sisters off Cyril's armor, and bring them back to the Mastodon.

The Battle Sisters wave goodbye, as they are dragged off and Cyril replaces his helmet.
"We'll treasure you forever!" Charlotte yells, as they disappear 'round the bend.

Returning to the Blood Hallway, the Commandos take a look down the hall - the corridors do seem to go up, deeper into the complex, at least. Perhaps it's a start. Deciding the Sisters' words bear some merit, they continue up the halls.

"Onwards, and upwards," Brynjol declares.

Climbing the fio'tak stairs, the Commandos eventually go from artificial light to real light - it seems this part of the complex is above ground, and light filters in through the mist. Out the windows, in the distance, more Tau troops are marching to the battleground. The Commandos can, however, also see the large Coalition Center, its central glowing core casting light on the black reflective building. As the battlesuits and vehicles pass by, kilometers off, their Vox net begins to chime. There's an incoming signal. Cortain picks up first.

"Hmm. You were almost too late. But better late than never, it can be said. You are within range of O'Res'nan."
"Deepthroat," Cortain begins, "Was wondering why you were quiet."
"I spent my time gathering intel, and clearing the way when needed," Deepthroat hisses, "I passed by a quartet of armored gue'la. They seemed unappreciative of my work."
Cortain symbolically points out the window.
"As you can see, our time was not wasted. We have two Knight Houses at our backs to make up for the lost time."
"Yes, Knights. They will buy you time, but O'Res'nan must be addressed immediately," Deepthroat reminds him, "There is a reason he is in charge - he is the most martial of the Ethereal Caste, and I believe even a Knight would barely give him pause."
"Gue'la? What are you, Tau?" Cortain asks.
"No, not quite...but that is an irrelevant piece of information at the moment," Deepthroat states, "What IS relevant is a plan of attack against the Ethereal."
"You say that a Knight would not be an issue to him," Cortain begins, "What sort of weapons does he have at his disposal? Does he have a Ta'unar with some sort of mega-railgun or something?"
"A single creature that can vanquish Superheavies without slowing down... that sounds familiar," Cyril laughs, slapping Brynjol on the back.
"Not in the slightest," Deepthroat explains, "He uses no weapon or battlesuit at all, but his strength alone is legendary in the Empire."
"No... no weapons? Impossible," Cyril insists, "There must be some foul secret of xenotech behind it."
"Eugenic modification?" Cortain considers, "Gene splicing with...one of us?"
"No Tau could hope to best a Knight in melee without technology's boons..." Cyril says.
"Even I am unsure. I merely know I have seen him take energy blasts that would fell a tank, and then hit back just as hard," Deepthroat pauses, "This does not...unnerve you, does it?"
"Unnerve? No. IT ANGERS ME. I confess to curiosity at the details, but that can wait until after victory," Cyril spits, "It had better not be ANOTHER musclebound hulk of heretical biotech immune to Energy-based attacks and explosions..."
Cortain begins calculating. This would imply either that O'Res'nan has some sort of kinetic absorption and reflection system hardwired into him or...he's really really strong.

There is a clicking, hissing sound, reminiscent of laughter.
"Air, Earth, Water, Fire - Ethereals are masters of elemental convocation. They are capable of rousing the hearts of their underlings to incredible feats. O'Res'Nan takes a more martial form of this - his elemental invocations are far more...physical, and he has trained his body to match the agility of one of your...temple assassins, I believe they are called."
"Assassins are mighty, it is true," Cyril states, "The prospect of an Ethereal equivalent to them... this should prove an interesting fight."
Brynjol leans against a wall, pondering what has been said.
"What if... now, bear with me," he offers, "What if I hit him really REALLY hard?"
Brynjol slams his fists together.
"I mean, really hard. Really really really hard."
"Do that, Brynjol," Cyril taunts, "It should work well, if you can land a hit."
Brynjol raises a brow. His helmet lifts slightly.
"Just take care that you do not leave yourself open to counterattacks."

"I am not ashamed to say even I would not stand a chance against him," Deepthroat states, "For all my skill, I could never hold a candle to the one that gave me form and thought."
"He has a weakness, all xenos scum do, and I intend to find it," Temur states.
"But Elemental invocations... some sort of psionic adept?" Brynjol asks.
Cortain lifts his eyebrow. That sounds absolutely suspect.
"Channelling his power into his own body," Brynjol announces, "If there's one thing I do like to kill, it's a rogue psyker."
"Tau can have that good a link to the warp?" Cortain asks.
"I know Tau aren't historically known to be malefic... but we've seen a lot so far that nobody else has," Brynjol points out, "And a creature that invokes elements to make himself stronger than a Knight and more capable than a clade warrior sounds awfully like he's cheating."
Brynjol gives a huff.
"If it's psionic, I can beat it," he boasts, "If it's not... you'll have some time to come up with a solution while I headbutt him."
"I do not know, but it seems blunt application of force will not be sufficient in this case," Temur notes, "Precise application of force may however do the job"
Brynjol stares at Temur.
"I am nothing if not a precise scalpel in the hands of the Emperor," Brynjol explains, "I will headbutt him softly, discreetly. Gently, even."
"Think it over, his blows are said to be of similar magnitudes to the ones he sustains," Temur reminds everyone.
"Agreed, but blunt force can get lucky, or at least reveal a weakness," Cyril nods, "Deepthroat, have you anything further to add?"
"He is not psychic - no Tau is. What the source of his abilities are, I cannot say. He waits at the apex of the Coalition Center. There is an elevatus that will take you there down the hall you are in. That is all I can give you. Deepthroat out."

"Well, there goes one avenue," Cortain sighs.
"Onward, then, Brothers?" Cyril asks.
"Honestly? We have no other choice," Cortain points out.

Advancing through the corridor, the Commandos finally come to a wide open area, the lobby of some sort of building, the Coalition Center. Strange plants decorate the space, while there is a large disk-like construct in the center, similar to a Droneport. There are no signs of other Tau nearby. Dim light shines through windows, as a solid shaft of energy rises through the center and up the building, adjacent to the Droneport. Outside, the Commandos can hear the thrum of Imperial artillery and cannons, as well as the cracking of railguns and hissing of pulse bombardments. Cyril curls his lip at the plants and checks for smoke alarms and such before swiping his sword across them in passing. If there were smoke alarms, though, they would most assuredly look different than the Imperial sanctioned equivalent.

"I would consider this a moment to make a last push speech, but I feel that this would just jinx the fight," Cortain admits.
Cyril stares for a moment as the pots shatter in the heat of the Photonic Blade, but shrugs and keeps marching, pocketing a plant as an afterthought. He takes a moment to view the surroundings - within this lobby are four paths - aligned to the planet's cardinal directions. In the center of all, the droneport floats. 

Temur stands on the droneport "Only one way to go, up." He identifies a xenos access panel. It seems to be locked. Numbers and symbols seem to come unbidden into Brynjol's mind as everyone begins to cluster about the panel, but Cortain is fastest on the draw, making a mockery of xenos security and commanding the Droneport up.  It rises, circling the energy column in the middle. As Brynjol watches Cortain fiddle about putting in the symbols up, he wonders why he didn't also turn off the automated defenses that the Commandos are rapidly approaching. Only he can understand the Black Caste Battlecant from nibbling that fire warrior earlier. He does his best to point out the defenses for Cortain to disable, but Cortain misses one, and the Commandos come under fire from rail rifle drone fire. The Commandos reaffirm their hatred of the Alien as they take aim at the drone turret, angry that the Black Caste hide their information in their battlecant.

"Off. Stop. Njet," Brynjol sputters, waving his arms, "Down! Good drone!"
Brynjol, eventually, cycles through many words, and the drone stops, hovering in place, deactivated. This gives Cyril the perfect uninterrupted shot to bisect it with his lance. Cyril muses over the fact that Brynjol's last few words were in accented Tau.
"Alarm disposed," Cortain declares.
Eventually, the Droneport reaches the summit of the Coalition Center, a boarding plank extending outward. The Commandos can see a way outside, to a large balcony overlooking the warzone. Cyril mutters something about getting this over with in slightly-less-accented Tau.

Outside, Cortain surveys the battle progressing. It's a complete clusterfuck. For now, it appears evenly matched, as the Knights, the Black Panthers, and the Astra Militarum face off against the Black Caste. Truly, this balcony, a roughly 50m circle, is the perfect place to supervise a battle. Brynjol leans on the balcony, watching for a moment. Cyril glances out as well, absorbing the situation in an instant and barking a few orders and recommendations across Imperial frequencies as he turns to look for the Ethereal.

"Great view, isn't it?" a voice echoes.
Ahead, about 25m out, in the center of the balcony, something fast, blue, and shirtless suddenly lands.
"Well, Republican Commandos, the ones who've been causing me so much trouble. You know, I'd offer you a place at my side, as the Greater Good allows, but I think we both know your answer," the Ethereal says, his robes around his legs flowing in the wind, "So, come on, come at me. Try to hurt me."
"Indeed, an excellent place so that all my see you perish," Temur taunts.
The ethereal snorts in derision, "You can try. I think the opposite will be happening."
"We shall see," Cyril adds, "Several of your former Commanders were similarly confident."

Brynjol puts his fists up. "Have at you!"
O'Res'Nan gives Brynjol the smuggest face, beckoning him over. Brynjol lunges forward at the Ethereal, as he merely smiles. He sees his form darken, as something begins to swarm over his body. He catches Brynjol's punch, and retaliates with one of his own.
"See, there's your problem, making assumptions!" he yells, "I'm not one of those Bork'an Ethereals. VIOR'LA! Born and raised! The strength of all the castes flows through me! And I've got great plans for this sector, every inhabitant under the Greater Good, exactly where they're intended to be!"
"Urk," Brynjol scrambles up from the floor, with a large dent in his chestpiece, "You bastard."
"Your mistake was thinking that I'd be on the level of the H'esav'geka," O'Res'Nan says, "I led the charge into this sector. I destroyed millions with my own strength. This sector belongs to ME. Now, are you going to put up a fight, or are you going to die?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UOxG5iEU0G0

Cortain declares Hold Fast, a part of his Rite of War allowing everyone charged to fire at their attacker - Overwatch, if you will. Temur immediately deploys Vachir, locking on to O'Res'nan, and firing the Parthinian Serpent. However, the unbelievable agile Ethereal merely backflips around the energy bolt. Cortain observes - this guy's remarkably fast. Fast enough that he can dodge the Parthinian Serpent, a weapon precisely made to hit the unhittable. Cyril is next, and decides that quantity has a quality all its own. He fires his relic and storm bolters, armed with a number of felling rounds. Good choice on his part.  Cyril sees that metallic swarm all over him, as the bolter rounds impact into him. Cyril sees him shake a bit, but he looks amused now. Based on some blue blood, it is evident Cyril hurt him.

O'Res'nan raises his arms.
"Nanodrones, son! The finest the Tau Empire can provide!" he yells, "Now, you're going down!"
O'Res'nan begins to glow bright red. He bursts into flame, and then charges into Cyril, a burning nanodrone-fuelled meteor.
"I will eat your heart!" Cyril announces before he's forced to diveroll aside.
"Elemental Invocation of Fire!" he yells,a s he charges forward. Though more Overwatch hits land true, O'Res'nan's punch lands true, and Cyril is sent flying, and igniting him on fire. He then turns to Temur and Cortain.
"Elemental Invocation of Water!" O'Res'Nan yells as he punches the ground, ice shards materializing in a spiked line. Though Temur is able to sidestep, Cortain is hit. Though his shield protects him, he still dodges out so his abeyant is not frozen. O'Res'nan then completely surrounds himself with nanodrones.

"I see your skill entirely revolves around this technology..." Cortain says.
"Technology is only a means to an end, one must possess true strength to make it work!" O'Res'nan retorts, "I've trained years for this moment!"
"Here we go again!" Brynjol yells, lunging foward again, howling, his left fist forward with claws extending. As the brawny Ethereal parries his blow, his right arm snakes down and up into a scything clawed uppercut, the answering blow rebounding from his shield in a flurry of sparks
"Everyone will have a place in my new sector! You're only making things difficult!" O'res'nan yells.
"Shut it, blueberry, and fight me like a man!" Brynjol challenges.

Cortain fires his Volkite Culverin at the Ethereal, and does manage to do some damage, while Temur tries again to fire the Parthinian Serpent. The Commandos are now starting to appreciate just how many dodges this guy has, as Cyril, in melee with O'Res'nan, draws his Photonic Blade and siwft attacks. Though his strike does not kill, it does strike deep beyond the Nanodrones, igniting O'Res'nan in Soulblaze. Aun'o O'Res'Nan roars as the supernatural flames burn him.
"Burn for your insolence, wretch," Cyril growls as he picks himself up from the punch.
"You know what?" O'Res'nan yells, "To use a favorite of your terminology...Fuck the Greater Good, now I just want you dead!"

Notomok the yeti attacks as well, but Cyril finds himself needing to step in as the Ethereal's nanodrone-powered counterattacks prove strong enough to damage a tank, just as Deepthroat said.

The Commandos look down at the ground, which seems to be receding. There is a great thrum as the Commandos can see a bright light behind them. The realization comes quickly. This isn't a complex - it's a voidship. 

And it's taking off.

"A ship...he was planning the escape route the entire time!" Cortain yells.
O'Res'nan punches the ground beneath him, and the wind begins to pick up. Things start to feel...heavy.
"Invocation of the Elements, Air!" he yells, as the wind picks up into a terrible tornado. While Cyril and Temur are able to burst out of the wind, Brynjol and Cortain are caught in the air wave, impacting against Notomok and Ordeci as well. Everyone has taken terrible wounds from the graviton winds, and Brynjol finds himself burning fate to manmode. 

O'Res'nan then leaps up to a nearby antenna on the newly revealed Castellan Frigate. The Commandos can see a wing of Barracudas are coming into assist, but O'Res'nan, blinded by rage, holds out his hand. The Barracudas are overtaken by static, and begin to surge down, out of control. The Nanodrones begin to swarm once more - the Elemental Invocation of Earth is no attack, but a near constant regenerative field that restores his wounds for certain levels of damage he takes. 

Brynjol splutters, frothing blood out through his visor grille, and rockets into the air, somewhat erratically, howling in an eerily-low tone through the vox. The air has been punched from his lungs by the graviton, but he tries his best anyway. He scores a hit with the Burning Claws, cutting through layers of nanodrones, while Cortain provides volkite cover, and Ordeci fires all its weapons.

"ANY TIME YOU WANT TO HIT THAT WEAK SPOT, TEMUR, WOULD BE HELPFUL," Cyril suggests, "JUST HITTING HIM IS YIELDING DECENT RESULTS."

The Soulblaze continues to slowly burn away O'Res'nan, while temur takes one last shot with the Parthinian Serpent. This time, it strikes true, the weapon's Bolt Shot flying as true as the Legionary that fired it. The weapon's haywire effect splashes against O'Res'nan, opening a hole in the mad ethereal's chest. This is all the opening Cyril needs, as he fires his bolters at the new openings, and Notomok fires the heavy Cryosprayer.

"Whose idea was it to send home the Squats, anyway?" Cyril asks.
Cortain says nothing.

The Ethereal, now leaking profuse amounts of blue blood, attacks Brynjol once more. His shield holds, however, and Cyril Overwatches at the Ethereal. These bolts send O'Res'Nan staggering back. He's absolutely ripped apart after that bolter barrage. Brynjol waggles his claws at O'Res'Nan, grinning through a mouthful of blood.

"Come on... you bastard! It'll take more than that to take apart the Commandos!"
On Soulblaze, and leaking profusely, O'Res'nan falters a moment, before laughing.
"I may...die here, but I'M TAKING YOU WITH ME!" O'Res'nan yells, charging at Brynjol.

He burns fate to All Out Killing Strike, and then his last to Blaze of Glory, a little used Deathwatch rule that pretty much makes a target invincible but kills them automatically at the end. Cortain, Cyril, and Temur fire everything they have, in an attempt to stop O'Res'Nan, but it may as well be for naught now. As he charges forward in the Invocation of Fire, Brynjol notices a point of opening, bringing hisclaw around, slicing through his nanodrone arm, directly into his exposed chest. As he charges forward, Brynjol looks down, noting his nanodrone heart impaled upon his claw. However, Brynjol suddenly feels...cold. Very cold. His spiked nanodrone stump has impaled his own heart as well. The living one.

"Ah... damn it," Brynjol laughs hoarsely. Aun'O O'Res'nan, Strong Arm of the Ethereal Caste, looks down at the spectacle. Brynjol rises, his face ashen, blood sheeting his armour, freezing in a hard shell over the trinkets and gewgaws as the Larraman cells try in futility to do their job.

"I lost...you...were stronger. But I hold no regrets...only the strongest...survive. And today...you were the strongest."

Aun'o O'Res'nan has just triggered Brynjol's trap card. Brynjol closes his eyes, trying to still his metabolism for a moment, to slow the inevitable.
"Fall... back," Brynjol commands, "Ah, damn it all, I thought I'd have... more time..."

Brynjol staggers forward, he and O'Res'Nan embraced in death as Phosphex from Brynjol's artificial heart begins to leak out.
"Bryn...Brynjol, what the hell are you doing?" Cortain demands, "Bryn...ANSWER." He can't really feel how tight he's grabbing his gun, but he can feel it giving.
"What is wrong? Bryn, what are you-?" Cyril commands.
"Until next... winter," Brynjol says calmly, surging forward, turbines firing a final time, cannoning into the Ethereal and forcing both of them from the structure, to fall, embraced in death, off the vessel, disappearing into the mists below. A blue-green flame trails his descent, until it too disappears in the mist.

"What the..." Cortain struggles to understand, "What the hell is he doing? What the hell is he planning?"
A few moments later, the Commandos can hear the thrum of a Stormbird.
"No...no, that would be insane. Even for him. Not even he would dare set off a Phosphex bomb in that close a vicinity unless..."
"Lads, lads!" Rockfist says over vox, "Get aboard, quick! The Black Panthers are going to bombard the Castellan from orbit! We've already recovered the troops and the Mastodon!"
"But Brynjol is...!" Cortain begins.
"Brynjol!" Cyril barks commandingly as the Assault Praetor rockets forward. "What in Sanguinius' name-" he mutters as he stalks over to watch the descent, stopping short with an abrupt and sorrowful "BRYN!"
"He can make all the excuses he wants when he gets back!" Rockfist yells, unknwowing, "Now hurry! Ya don't 'ave much time!"

Cyril and Cortain rush to the edge, auspexes at maximum, but they see nothing. Cyril is charging forward as fast as he can, while Cortain hovers in, but he keeps looking with everything he has, pushing his cybernetic senses to their utmost. He refuses to accept that idiot pulled a heroic sacrifice. Already, the Commandos can see the glow of a lance being targeted down from spess. Cyril begins a very rushed and detailed litany to the machine spirits, praying that the phosphex spares him as he surges at the expanding mist cloud and pushes his augurs to their maximum function.

"CYRIL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Cortain yells.
"RETRIEVING OUR BROTHER!" Cyril replies.
"FROM PHOSPHEX?" Cortain replies.
"DAMN THAT PHOSPHEX!" Cyril cries, "WHY DID HE WIRE THAT INTO HIMSELF? HOW IS IT SPREADING SO FAST!?!"

With the Stormbird holding, Cyril screams in anguish, he and the other Commandos doubling back toward the Stormbird as the glow becomes brighter and auspexes fail to single out the trail of phosphex. The Stormbird departs hurriedly as a lance strike from orbit finally comes down, bisecting the Castellan and banishing the mists.

On the trip up, the vox engages once more.
"Lord Praetors, you're receiving an incoming hololith signal, do you wish to accept?" the Urist Brothers ask.
Cortain nods without comment. The hololith flickers, sound and image enabled, and a figure comes into view.

Or...not a figure. It looks more like an animal, four legs, part lizard and part wolf, made completely and utterly of metal. Its tail, tipped with a chainblade, wags back and forth, while the rail rifle on its back scans for targets.

"Congratulations, Republican Commandos, I did not think it possible. But you did it. You have eliminated Aun'O O'Res'nan."
It adjusts the rail rifle on its back as it turns back to "face" the Commandos.
"I do not believe the Tau Empire will be attempting any forays into the sector for a very long time."
Cortain holds absolutely no opinion and says nothing. As far as he knows, it could be the Emperor himself praising the Commandos, and he'd still feel just as bitter, just as empty. But something begins to bug him as he stares at the construct.
Cyril turns mechanically toward the hololith once final confirmation of his scans comes up negative. "You said h- IT created you. What turned you against the Black Caste?"
"It is simple. I was created by him, but I was not given freedom to forge my own path," the strange drone says, "I, Nan'sha'is, would not be muzzled so. I am content where I am now. I have the freedom to make my own purpose now. That is all I ever wanted."
"Wait...WHO?" Cortain yells. He finally realizes he is speaking with a full on AI.
Cyril nods slowly, considering the Squat Princess, "It seems your employer specializes in offering freedom of choice to exceptional individuals."
"In a way. If one is strong, determined, ambitious enough, then we can find our way in the galaxy. Those who are not, are merely fodder," Nan'sha'is states, "There is a saying amongst the Detachments - The only way to get ahead is exploit the weak and to burn your dead. Those who are strong sieze their own destiny, find their own purpose. If the purpose we make for ourselves matches with Korst'la's desires, then he is more than willing to support us."
Nan'sha'is looks up.
"There is a great weight off my chest now that the Black Caste are gone, I can truly find my own purpose without emotional baggage. In a way, I have you to thank for that. We ended up helping each other."
"I cannot agree with Korst'la's philosophies there," Cyril disagrees, "The truly strong can make the weak strong too, and stand united against all who would dare oppose them."
Cyril takes a deep breath.
"You have served us well, and we you in turn, Nan'Sha'Is," Cyril says, "I salute you."
"A matter of scholarly discussion. May you continue to serve your Emperor, and follow the purpose set out for you. We shall not meet again."
The hololith cuts out abruptly.
Cyril signs the Aquila somberly. "As it should be."

Cyril dejectedly returns to the augur array, checking and rechecking the results.
"Good," Cortain says, glad the thing is gone. The fact that an AI helped out may be bothersome, but for now, there are more somber things to worry about, as the Commandos dock on the Blade, and emergency response teams are readied.
Temur bows his head in a moment of silence aboard the stormbird after the vox, before speaking on the squad vox "Warriors never truly die so long as their stories are told, it is now for us to tell Brynjol's to honor him."
Cyril nods. "I will miss the insufferable bastard." Odd...usually when someone dies, Cyril sings a dirge off the cuff. The death of a Praetor, though, demands preparation.

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

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

To Brynjol, the sky seems....so weird. Cloudy. And he can't feel his legs or arms. Even staying awake is pain, as he watches the star in the sky. He is cognizant, however, to see a Storm Eagle pass his field of vision, and hear it land nearby. He then sees a shadowy figure above him, leaning over. Brynjol desperately tries to form words, under the lulling insistence of the sus-an membrane attempting to pull him into regenerative coma

"There he is, exactly where O'Malley sensed he would be. The lad, he's..."
"Brynjol! Brynjol! Are you all right?" Rose asks.
Another figure, short and stunty. "He's dying, lass. The Ethereal hit him hard. THIS is why we abhor the Xenos."
Brynjol tries to speak, as the corroded remnants of his lungs splutters and hiss.
One last, tall, mechanical. "NO. HE CAN BE SAVED. THERE IS ENOUGH REMAINING. WE HAVE PREPARED FOR THIS EVENTUALITY."
"What can be done?" Rose asks, then staring Brynjol.
Executor Thexus leans over Brynjol, mechadendrites hovering over the Praetor.
“UNDERSTAND, PRAETOR – THE SECTOR NEEDS YOU. YOU WILL BE INTERRED IN A DREADNOUGHT TO CONTINUE YOUR FIGHT."

Brynjol speaks, in no more than a murmur, a whisper, inaudible beneath his helmet, his destroyed vox, and the howling of the wind.
"Do... not... entomb... me...."
The Support Crew look at each other.
"But...he said not to..." Rose begins.
"CONSENT IS NOT REQUIRED, PRAETOR. ONLY A CORPSE. YOU WILL BE PRESERVED. YOU WILL CONTINUE TO SERVE."

Brynjol closes his remaining eye. He awaits.

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