Editing Republican Commando (section)

===(28) Jamais Vu===
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On the Commandos' requests, the Squats order the Blade to the world of Taedium, where their best friend in the Inquisition, Chronos Inquisitor Marshall Shady, allegedly awaits. With prayers to the ancestors and the Emperor, the living crew brace themselves for warp translation, and the Commandos are on their way. Luckily, the worlds are very close by, so it's only ~3 days of warp travel.

Brynjol closes his eyes as the gut-wrenching tug of transition washes over him, then continues with his medicae duties Of the 12 squat survivors from the previous deployment, many are heavily wounded. 8 rotund corpses are also sequestered for processing. He briefly considers the soylens viridiens manufactorum on board the ship, then delivers a series of last rites to the squat bodies. Cortain, in contrast, oversees the dedication and re forging of the lost Vorax battle automata. The damaged Vorax shells are brought to the Blade's manufactorums, where Thexus and some engineers are sorting through pieces of automata hastily recovered. Recovery of the bioplastic cortexes is underway under Cortain's direct supervision, with extra time for enacting the rites and sigils that would guard against Malifica. The recordings from the Vorax will most likely be recovered and sent to the Blade's Cortex Core to improve the automata controls. Temur moves himself to the Armoriums to ensure that repairs to the Jetbikes, interrupted previously, are on time once more.

Cyril anxiously attends Notomok, seizing a very confused Fenrisian Serfguy to help, but spends what little time he has watching and listening in on the crew. Rockfist and O'Malley are maintaining the few thousand squats aboard, while Rose has shut herself within her room for now. On occasion, he can hear the squat crewmen muttering about things, ranging from personal thanks that the Necrons did not interfere, to pride over taking on the Tau, to other minor concerns about the speed of reinforcements. Squats are a stoic bunch though, and all normal duties are still accounted for.

Regarding the Tau, the Squats relish taking on the Tau, and striking grudges from the great book in the Bar and Grill. Every strike against the small blue xenos gives them hope and tactics that they can find a way to break themselves free from Korst'la one day, however fleeting that may be. Cyril digs deeper, listening in on more hushed conversations to fully ensure there is no risk of sedition. Regarding the Necrons, the squats are privately glad that the tomb complex below Syran did not stir, and that the local Squat Hold still maintains control over it and the MCP. Between the four active Necron factions in the sector, any sighting of the metal xenos would bode concerning, especially during an active mission.

Regarding the Reinforcements matter, there is great concern circulating amongst the squats - Reinforcements that could have been deployed to the cities of Syran to repulse the Tau were delayed or, in some cases, seemingly purposefully held back. This made human casualties higher than necessary, and gave the Tau an opening to retreat to the mining complexes, and contact higher ups for further orders. The lower ranked squats cannot conceive why allowing communications through is a good idea. Cyril doesn't break concealment to explain it, but privately seethes that Imperial citizens were left to die. He too is of the opinion that a rapid response would have driven the Tau back to the mining complexes, just as surely.

The remarkably short trip through the warp finally comes to a close. A few hymns announce the Blade's translation back into the Materium. A half a day of standard plasma drive later, and the Blade holds above the frontier world of Taedium. From spess, the Commandos can see the world's rolling hills and savannahs.

Cyril trudges onto the bridge. "Contact from Shady?"
"None, lad," Rockfist announces, "Nothin' from 'is voidship, nothin' from the surface, not even savior beacons. Somethin' feels off."
Brynjol wanders in, dressed in his duty robes and holding an astartes-sized mug of tea, "Chronos showed up yet?"
"Unfortunately not. No contact, either. What is in that?" Cyril gestures at the mug.
"It's tea," Brynjol says guardedly.
"I had assumed so from the steam. What kind, though? Do you have more?"
Brynjol's eyes narrow.
"Only a little."
Cyril sighs and returns his attention to the cogitators.

"We've narrowed down the location 'e sent earlier," Rockfist says as he kicks up the holomap zoom, "It appears to be one of the frontier cities. No contact from them either."
"Anything on auspex?" Cyril asks, "Is the area totally dark, or are typical domestic transmissions still active?"
"Completely dark, lad," Rockfist says, "No response on any vox frequency used by the Adeptuses."
"Damn," Cyril mutters, quite concerned now.
"Hmph," O'Malley coughs, "With the Ordo Chronos, it's never easy. He's a tough'n to work with, beardlings, but something must be really wrong for him to call ye here."
"Well, ya just tell us what ya need, an' we'll ready it for ya," Rockfist offers, "I advise loadin' up on personal gear, since not only is there nothin' ya got ta go on, but Shady's requests tend to be a bit more...in depth."
Rockfist shudders a moment, "The things we 'ad ta see when we worked with'im..."

The Commandos take careful stock of their gear - for this mission, they're pressed for requisition, even after Consul Delegatus extra points. Brynjol continues to take his Valkyris jump pack, while Temur loads up on an Auxiliary Grenade Launcher. Cortain and Cyril go full Zoo, Cortain selecting a Castellax Maniple, and Cyril bringing a Vorax Maniple. 

The missive from Chronos Inquisitor Shady is loaded into a Stormbird's Cogitator banks, and the zoo is loaded in the troop bay. The launch bay is cleared, and the Commandos are cleared to deploy. Cortain intones his psalms to the cogitator banks as Bryn slams the pedals. Brynjol gleefully drops the Stormbind into an immediate dive as they exit the Blade.  The Stormbird enters the dive, briefly overloading the stormbird's limited gravitic compensators. For a few seconds, the Commandos are weightless as they dive into the atmosphere. As magboots kick in, and the grav plates recover, the Stormbird flies over the verdant plains, light winds bloing across the few trees. Approaching the location of Shady's missive, however, the Commandos are greeted with a scene of utter catastrophe. There was once a sprawling, fortified frontier city here, but all that is left is long-cooled ruins. Most curiously, a few kilometers away, the canyons are shattered and damaged.

"Sounds like Shady," Cortain states.
"Why did auspexes not pick up this wreckage?!" Cyril exclaims, "...Cortain, are there any anomalous energy fields? Is time warped again? This could be the planet's future that we must prevent."
Cortain checks his auspex, but beyond the remnants of electro-ports and motive force conduits, he isn't picking up much of anything. As the Stormbird circles the area, he realizes something about the way the canyon seems collapsed. The canyon collapsed inward, not outward, at its epicenter.

"What the bloody hell could do that? Some sort of grav weapon?" Brynjol asks.
"How many weapons can cause this sort of implosion..." Cortain wonders aloud.

Shady's missive details a location within the ruined town. A large defense tower in the city's centrum. This building, though heavily damaged, seems still roughly in one piece.

"Land us there," Cortain points out.
"I'm a bit leery of landing on the thing. It looks unsteady," Brynjol turns, lauging, "Why don't you drop Notomok, see if the roof collapses!"
"He is still in medbay," Cyril says with a thousand yard stare.
"Oh, I thought he'd be with the rest of the menagerie..." Brynjol blurts.

As the stormbird lands and everyone disembarks, the first thing all the Commandos' augurs pick up is a high concentration of plasma residue about. Not enough to harm them, but enough for auspexes to give a notary. Based on that, Cyril notes a lot of the damage seems energy based, plasma and laser scoring the most common.

"Energy weapons ravaged this place...," Cyril observes, "Plasma and laser, mostly. This may have been done by humans."
"There is a likelihood of Eldar weaponry," Cortain suggests.
"Ah. They do use plasma," Cyril agrees, "I have little experience against their foul kind."
"They call them star-cannons," Brynjol explains, "Pound for pound they lack the power of Imperial equivalents... but I've never seen one blow up and turn its wielder into a pile of radioactive slag - unlike some poor bloody Guardsmen I can recall."

The Commandos can see plasma-burned ded corpses all about, and only the heavier buildings survived in rough fashion. The great engraved doors to the ruined city's Command Tower are off their hinges. Deep within, they can see paths leading down, deeper into the ground. There are also paths up, though those paths are mostly blocked off by collapsed wreckage.

"There is some network underground, it seems," Cyril notes, "I give it three in four odds that Shady sends us down there if he is at the meeting site."
"This building IS the meeting site," Brynjol warns, "Want me to scout ahead?"
"I would advise sticking together," Cyril suggests, "But if you can jump up to vantage points, we'll have a better idea of our surroundings. You are the only one with a jump pack today."
"You mugs fly like daddy long-legs anyway," Brynjol jests, flapping his arms about, before flying up to the ruined top of the tower.

Brynjol can see that this tower was once probably a ground-based defense macrocannon. It looks like something large hit it, causing pieces to collapse onto the ground below. The impact looks as if it came from the building's side. All around, he can see ruins of the fortified city and its walls. Brynjol doesn't pick out anything out of the ordinary otherwise. No obvious enemies of the Emperor's light or anything. He can pick out, though, that certain parts of the city were dedicated to different Imperial adeptuses.

Reuniting with the rest of the Commandos and heading for the meeting point, everyone enters the ruined tower. The light flickers as the pathway leads down. Battle automata clang behind them as they follow. The Commandos finally come to a sealed blast door, remarkably clear of wreckage. There's a sigil hastily drawn onto it in Sharpieatus- the spiral sigil of the Ordo Chronos. Cyril sighs and knocks politely. No response. There is, however, a terminal nearby. Door status: SECURITY LOCKDOWN. Brute forcing the security codes, the Commandos finally get the doors to open. Much to their annoyance, Inquisitor Shady is there, just reading a penthrift, leaning on a set-up cot. He's set up a small banner of the Ordo Chronos around the active bunker. Some servitors stand guard. However, he looks up at the Commandos, and rapidly drops what he's doing.

"Took you long enough!" he yells, "Now get in here! Quick!"

As the Commandos enter, part confused and part terribly annoyed, the Robutts take flanking maneuver and the doors seal. The Inquisitor looks like he's concentrating, and counting something on his fingers. 

5...4...3...

"Do you want the pointless chatter now or...?" Cortain offers.
"Two...one..." he announces, and then the Commandos all hear a loud and echoing BONG outside.
Inquisitor Shady opens his eyes. "Okay, it's safe. We can go now."
"Why the mysterious pause?" Brynjol presses.
"And what happened here?" Cyril adds.
"You know, I COULD explain it to you," Shady sighs, as he opens the door and heads up, "But I know you probably won't believe me, or won't care. So it's easier just to show you."
"That is probably faster anyway," Cyril mutters, ready to rip his hair out.

As the door opens, the Commandos hear...a commotion echo down the hallways. Leading the way up, the doors that were ruined before now stand strong and in one piece. Shady gestures at the door, and Brynjol bustles out, forcing the doors open.

"Oh bollocks, more time-travel shenanigans" Brynjol moans.

(DAY 1)

The city is perfectly fine, in one piece. Standing in the City Centrum, the defense tower stands strong and proud, the emblazoned Aquila shining bright. The bustle of city life on this frontier world fills sensoria.

"I reckon something bloody awful is about to happen," Brynjol states, "It's much too nice and bright here."

Cyril, however, notes something odd as they leave the Macrocannon Tower. The Vorax are not following him. They have entered Standby: No Cortex Controller Detected. Cyril glances around for Cortain, and notes the Techmarine's Castellax are following him just fine. Cortain goes to inspect the Vorax, and as soon as he steps in range of them, they respond once more.

"Interference confirmed," Cortain states.

The Commandos take in their surroundings. They can see a pair of young lovers chatting up on a bench. They can see shop stalls open for business, a produce stall opening first, followed by a garments stall, and a technomat repair station after a 15 minute delay. They hear a crack and a crash as a land crawler fails to brake and hits a jaywalking mail carrier. There are passages to the Mechanicum Enclaves, Mercenary Barracks, Entertainment Districts, Ecclesiarchal Basilicas and Mining Canyons from the City Centrum.

"So, you want the short tour or the long one?" Shady asks, "We don't have much time. We need to be back in that bunker by sun-up tomorrow."
"Whatever you like. Just explain what you need us for on the way," Brynjol insists.

Temur stops, and looks around, noting the non-response of the vorax, among other factors.
"I think it is more likely that we are now before whatever calamity caused the devastation we saw, and it is our job to prevent it," Temur surmises, "Am I correct inquisitor?"
The Commandos come to a grinding halt.
"And how we can make sure this world stays this way, instead of a scourged ruin," Cyril adds.
"I would hazard a guess that the Vorax only respond in range of Cortain because the Blade is no longer present overhead to control them," Temur continues.
"Oh, you're clever," Shady laughs, "Two for two so far! Wish your friends were as fast on the draw. Yes, we need to prevent this somehow. But things are...complicated."
"I have learned so far, over the course of my service in this sector, that the impossible explanation is usually the more likely one, especially when the Ordo Chronos is involved," Temur whispers.

Inquisitor Shady takes the Commandos on the short tour. In the Entertainment Districts, they see everyone preparing for some sort of sporting event. In the Mechanicum Enclaves, they can see the Tech Adepts proceed through their duties, though they're noting a few are having problems with cogitator freezeups. The Mercenary barracks are filled with soldiers and PMC troopers training. Prayer echoes through the Ecclesiarchal basilica, and empty Land Crawlers begin making their way to the Mining Canyons.

"Ground Zero?" Cortain asks, as the Land Crawlers head on over.

This takes most of the day, and as night settles, Inquisitor Shady begins to get restless, insisting that everyone return back to the bunker.

"Trust me, this isn't gonna make sense right now, but you need to remember a few simple things right now - the produce stall opened first, followed by the garments stall. The Technomat Repair Stall was 15 minutes late," he says, as he rushes in and seals the door behind everyone. Back at the bunker, with sunup approaching soon, Inquisitor Shady looks up, and begins to count the seconds once more. Five...four...three...

"Acknowledged. I do not suppose there is time to explain in greater detail?" Cyril asks.
"Sites where the perpetrator was seen?" Cortain considers.
The familiar BONG kicks in once more, and Shady breathes a sigh of relief.
"Ready to finally understand what's going on?" Inquisitor Shady asks, opening the bunker door.
"Inquisitor, we will be more able to respond effectively if you explain - yes. Yes, we have BEEN ready," Cyril yells, even a Space Marine's patience beginning to thin.

The Inquisitor brings the Commandos along the paths, to the solid door, and gestures to open it.
"What is the nature of the forces we will be combating?" Brynjol asks, "Eldar?"
"I...don't know, and that's part of the problem," he sighs.

Cyril throws the door open, and the Commandos are in the City Centrum once more. The defense tower stands strong and proud, the emblazoned Aquila shining bright. They can see a pair of young lovers chatting up on a bench. They can see shop stalls open for business. 

"Produce first," Cortain thinks to himself.
The Produce stall opens first.
"Garments next," Cortain continues.
The Garments stall opens immediately after.
"Fifteen minutes precisely," Cyril notes.
A haggard Technomat rushes up. Helmet autochronos note that he was exactly 15 minutes late in opening his stall.

"Let's see if you can go three for three," Shady shrugs.
Off in the distance, Brynjol can see a mail carrier begin to cross the street. He looks somewhat familiar. He narrows his eyes, following the chap as he crosses He's crossing in the midde of the street. Jaywalking.

"Something..." Brynjol starts.
"Splat imminent," Cyril says, beginning to catch on.

The Commandos watch as the mail carrier gets splattered by a Land Crawler, with a crack and a crash as a land crawler fails to brake.
Cyril nods appraisingly, comparing the splatter patterns to those recorded by his Memorance Implant of the last time he was splattered. Exactly the same.
"So you understand, then," Inquisitor Shady says, "This place...we're stuck in a loop until we can figure out what went wrong here."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaflMqvxIqA
(DAY 1)

"Dead postman's probably a good place to start," Brynjol says, "Let's reset and I'll scoop him up. Dead postman and then the sketchy tech problems we've got going on, I reckon."
Brynjol continues his musings, as the Commandos move to check the splatter, ignoring the stares of the locals that are beginning to accrue.
"The technomat was late for a reason, and there were cogitator hangups in the Mechanicus district I noticed..." he says, 
"Can we analyze his contents?" Cortain asks.
"Maybe some sort of virus is spreading through the network," Brynjol offers.
"Not so fast," Cyril advises, "We should look around for more information. We should wait to save him until we have a reasonable chance of his staying saved."

"Listen, I noticed something over the past few dozen iterations I've experienced here," Inquisitor Shady says, "You can CHANGE things. The people won't remember things being changed, but they'll act subtly different."
"Bugger that, we have the power to do-over every situation!" Brynjol says, vindicated, "We might as well brute-force it and analyse the results. Big changes produce bigger ripples; more chance of noticing the differences. Given the nature of this loop, I'm not averse to slaughtering the entire population and seeing if that prevents whatever disaster is about to unfold."
"I am, Brynjol," Cyril retorts, "For all we know that would end the loop and they would stay slaughtered when we could have saved them."
"Let the Inquisitor explain," Temur says, raising his hand, "I would like to know, what changes the Inquisitor has already been able to cause."
Brynjol jumps in surprise as Temur speaks.

"See that couple over there?" Inquisitor Shady points to the two lovers chatting on a bench, "Every day that guy would stare at that girl, and continue on. I told him to quit being a pussy and talk to her. Ever since then, every day he's walked over and started chatting her up."
"Oh. Maybe wholesale slaughter isn't the best option then..." Brynjol sighs dejectedly.
"The couple seems...inconsequential," Cortain observes, "Any further alterations?"
"Could be, could not be," Brynjol shrugs, "Maybe she's the Governor's daughter and he's a psychopath looking to effect political change. We don't know what could be significant."
"This is why we must act with caution," Temur states, "We have no way of knowing which changes will have permanent effects. For now, let us track any unusual events to their source, or analyze the results, gather information and then act."

Brynjol scrutinizes the couple intensely. The man looks like a low level lexmechanic, while the object of his affections looks like a corner hawker of small goods.

The inquisitor thinks a moment. "One other thing. Some of the soldier thugs were giving me shit. I shot one, and told'em to sod-off, and ever since they've been heading to the barracks by way of the Basilica and habs..."
"Why am I not surprised...?" Cortain sighs as he looks at the barracks.
"Any way, I think by setting shit right, we can break this loop and stop what happened here," Shady says, "Just remember, come back to the bunker when you're ready for time to reset. DO NOT BE OUT BY SUNUP."
"Did your shot kill them, and were they still among the rest at the barracks?" Cyril asks.
"Oh it killed him, all right," Shady says, "Guess he wasn't supposed to remain dead, cause he came back the next day. Twitchy, though."

"There's no need for all of us to gang up on the same things," Brynjol suggests, "Cortain, why don't you take Temur and investigate the barracks while Cyril and I check this guy out?"
"Is it wise to send the least personable of us to meet people while we poke a corpse until we learn something, Brynjol?" Cyril asks.
"Just pretend you're a mute, like Temur," Brynjol grins, "Problem solved!"

Brynjol and Cyril check the letters he was carrying. They appear to be run over and damaged in the crash. Carefully scrutinizing the remains of the letter, Brynjol can make out some writing, mixed in with the blood and oil. Unfortunately, it's written in some sort of cipher that he can't identify due to damage. He can, however, note that it's in mercenary cant.

Cortain and Temur decide to pop by the barracks. The soldiers on station bow in respect, wondering why an Astartes would be here. Most seem to be prepared for a deployment, but are lazing about for now.

"What is your assignment here?" Cortain asks.
"Don't have one yet," the soldier bows his head, "We're supposed to get deployment orders soon though. Wonder when they will come."
"Anything on your end, Cortain?" Brynjol voxes.
"An assignment that is overdue," Cortain states "Do the letters seem relevant?"
"It's written in some sort of cipher," Brynjol explains, "Looks like it's to do with the PMCs. Could be tasking orders."
The Commandos begin to realize that perhaps this Administratum courier is important.
"I reckon saving the courier could be key," Brynjol suggests.
"Save him tomorrow," Cortain states, "At all costs."
"I'll manage," Brynjol shrugs, "It's bloody difficult saving mortals though, they tend to crunch when you pick them up."

"Brothers, if there is nothing to be learned here after some investigation, let us scan the epicenter of the event," Temur offers, "Anything that size has to be created by a device with a large energy signature, if it is of human origin."
Temur and Cortain begin the march to the epicenter, when they note the empty Land Crawlers heading out are travelling slower than they could be. The two Commandos can actually outpace them. Each Land Crawler driver intones the Aquila as they see them march by towards the Canyons.

"We have time for a swift once over, but nothing thorough," Cortain admits.
"We could send Bryn. He will get there in half the time," Cyril says.
"I wish you lot would bloody remember when I'm the squad leader," Brynjol moans, "I'm not being sent anywhere."

Arriving at the Canyon Mines, the miners are running low on tools, but otherwise, they're working nominally. The Land Crawler Drivers are grumbling about getting bad signals from the Augur Array Primaris back in town. It's on the fritz and interfering with the land crawler's navigations. They wonder what the cogboys are doing about it. Even Temur and Cortain could observe their pathing was erratic.

Deciding that they have everything possible for the current day, the Commandos resolve to change things the following day.
"Hunters to the mine, Techmarine to the Technomat, and Brynjol will save the Courier alone?" Cyril affirms, "Try not to crush him when jump-packing around."
"He'll be relatively undamaged," Brynjol laughs.

Popping back into Shady's Bunker, the Commandos spend the night checking gear and weapons, and taking a short breather to prepare. As morning rolls around, the familiar BONG echoes through.

"Alright lads, it's bong o'clock," Brynjol announces, "Let's head out."

(DAY 1)

Brynjol opens the door and immediately belts it towards the courier's brush with death at a dead run, using his jump pack to circumnavigate packed streets. The citizens stand shocked as he barrel towards the hapless Administratum postman. He looks up as he steps into the street, stopping dead still as Brynjol lands directly in front of him. His eye twitches a little.

"BEHOLD!" Brynjol yells, waving his arms.
"Oh Emperor preserve me!" he stammers, terrified, "A...a...astartes! Forgive my sins!"
Brynjol leans in close. "You, laddo, were about to get squashed by that landcrawler," he points, "I've just saved your life. Everybody gets one."
Beads of sweat form on the Administratum courier's face, as the Land Crawler whizzes by. "I..." he whispers, before falling to his knees, "I do not understand, my liege, but I shall be vigilant forever more!"
He steps back, and heads towards the crosswalk.
"Aye! And do your duty, in the name of the Allfather!" Brynjol commands, "He is watching over us all." Nonetheless, Brynjol follows at a circumspect distance. The Courier uses the crosswalk this time, as he makes his way to the Mercenary quarter.

Cortain marches to the Technomats, trembling all before the armies of the Omnissiah. He and the Zoo make their way to the Mechanicum Enclave. The prayers sink to a whisper as they see Cortain enter.

"At ease.  I am reporting to investigate a possible signal corruption," Cortain declares, "All assistance is necessary and welcome."
"Signal Corruption, lord Techmarine? We detected nothing of note," the ranking priest stares, "However, for such a delegation to meet us, we shall provide you with whatever services you deem necessary.

Cortain heads to the center and finds the Augur tower. "We shall grant thee full access," the Techpriest states.
Cortain intones the cogitators, and after a few seconds can pinpoint the exact problem - the servitors that normally process and control the augur signals that guide the land crawlers have been damaged and corrupted. With 9 DoS, he can tell that the damage was not natural. Popping along to the servitors, the Techpriests are in shock that some of the servitors have been damaged. They did not even realize. Some have been splattered and destroyed. More plasma and las weaponry is evident.

"Sabotage...How recent is this?" Cortain asks.
Some of the tech-adepts wander over, "It looks recent, my lord, not even a day old."
"Do you have overnight security feeds?" Cortain continues.
"We had servitors to process that as well," the adept sighs, "It seems they were caught in the damage as well."

Cortain muses. This is a thorough act of sabotage. Reviewing the level of damage, it's possible to get a basic fix up, but it will be unable to be automated. It will need to be manually operated. Commanding it done, some of the adepts rush to make repairs.
"My Lord, we shall begin repairs immediately," the lead priest says, "Now, if only that damnable lexmechanic were here, we would stick him right on operations..."

Cyril and Temur pop on over once more to the Epicenter, the Mining Canyons.  The miners are running low on tools, but otherwise, they're working nominally. The Land Crawler Drivers are grumbling about getting bad signals from the Augur Array Primaris back in town. It's on the fritz and interfering with the land crawler's navigations. They wonder what the cogboys are doing about it. Cyril idly scans what they're mining, finding just base metals and ores. Stuff for low level processing. No rare metals or anything. Just copper, iron, that sort of thing. The mines appear shallow in the canyons.

"Brothers, given what we know now," Temur considers over private vox, "The landcrawler traffic must be diverted for a reason."
"The signal is being interfered with," Cortain replies, "The tower has no servitors functioning. Even now, the operation requires manual operation by the adepts until repairs can begin."

Nothing really strikes the Commando's interest here. As time rolls on, the miners begin to switch shifts. As evening sets in, nothing of note really happens. The shifts continue, and beyond shaped mining charges there are no explosions of any kind detected.

Returning to the bunker, once more the Commandos check gear and take a breather before waiting for the BONG. Upon hearing it, the Commandos ready up and march out. As they open the doors, something seems...different.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eS_42yIISl8
(DAY 2)

It's lightly raining. The courier steps into the street, before he stops, hesitating. He then moves to a crosswalk and continues on his way through the city. The Produce stall opens first, followed by the garment stall, immediately by the Technomat Repair stall. Scattered about, there are Mercenaries patrolling the streets. The Lexmechanic from earlier begins to walk to the bench where the girl he's trying to woo is sitting, almost waiting for him. The Commandos can hear a great commotion at the Entertainment district. It seems whatever event they are having is in full swing. There is also a waiting convoy of supply trucks, smaller than before. It seems the augur connection is completely down.

"Courier's changed his ways. He's using the traffic lights properly," Brynjol notes.
"And, the Technomat stall is open on time," Cyril adds, "Not to mention the girl seemed to be waiting for the Lexmechanic. Between that and the rain, might this be the day after the one we just repeated?"
"We are making steps in the right direction," Cortain declares.

Cortain heads on over to the Entertainment District, where he can see everyone crowded around a racetrack set up in part of the district. Locals riding large bipedal avians are preparing to race each other. There seems to be five racers in the big event - a blue one, a brown one, a white one, a yellow one, and a black one. One local heads over to Cortain.

"Astartes! This day is blessed!" he says, "The Terror Birds will be racing today! Tell me, which one should I bet on? The word of an Astartes is the word of the Emperor, after all!" The race will begin soon. The local looks at the Forge Lord expectantly.
"I vote...the blue one," Cortain offers, "For sentimentality's sake.
The local considers it, and immediately rushes to the stands.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vb25h_s_kg

Soon, the race is off! The Terror Birds streak from the starting line, and avoid obstacles as they make a lap around the track. The first part of the race, the brown one has the obvious lead, but by the second part has been overtaken by the black and white one. The blue terror bird lags behind in the second part, but it is neck and neck between blue and black. Sadly, it is the black one that wins the race, and the blue gets a consolation prize of second.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)

"Ah..." the local sighs, "It's okay, it was the Will of the God Emperor that my bird got second, perhaps next year..."

Cortain notes this and heads to the augur tower. He notes the techpriests are restoring the Augur towers from damage.
"Where is that Lexmechanic?" the head priest states annoyedly to no one in particular, "He's supposed to operate the augurs! Mining shipments are getting delayed!"
"Tomorrow, let's try guiding that couple to the tower," Cortain voxes, "Perhaps I can be the tour guide?"

Cyril stays back at the Awards Ceremony, meanwhile, where there is joyous celebration as the winner of the Races is announced. Cyril watches with folded arms from somewhere incomspicuous. These celebrations, however, soon turn to horror as the air hisses and some of the guards are suddenly taken down by concealed sniper shots. The citizens panic as all hell breaks loose. Brynjol and Cyril can see the las contrails from the roofs. However, it was a couple of shots, each headshotting a guard, from one of the higher entertainment theater buttresses. There are no more after that. Brynjol follows the contrails to their location via the jump pack.

Flying up there, it's clear someone was briefly up here, if only for a few moments. There is no trace of whoever fired at the mercenaries, but while he's up here, he does get a bit of a headache. It stands to reason that they took one shot and buggered out. Cyril gets concerned as he can see the faintest bit of shimmer in the air. Camo gear.

Brynjol crouches to all fours, taking a big breath, trying to sense any particles that are not normal. He does smell something off. Besides the laser discharge of burned air, he senses that someone was breathing up here, probably lining up their shot.  It doesn't smell like a normal human, at least. The trail goes straight off the edge of the building, then the wind scatters it by the time it reaches the ground. Brynjol tries to track it, but the scent is rapidly lost. At 11 DoS of the awareness test, he realizes it smells familiar - Eldar of some sort.

"I think it was an eldar reaver," Brynjol offers, "The smell is familiar..."
"I was right?" Cortain fist bumps a Castellax.
"Are they not fond of this... subltety and sabotage?" Cyril asks.
"They're tricky bastards, that's for sure. Regular eldar are slippery enough to deal with. Something is different, though," Brynjol mutters, "The pirate-breed normally smell... dirtier. More like blood. This is cleaner. But craftworld eldar have almost no scent, especially when freshly deployed. This is definitely more."
Brynjol takes a moment to think.
"It was either a dark eldar that's been abstaining from their usual foul practises and bathing a bit more than usual..." Brynjol declares,  "Or a craftworlder who's been getting muckier than usual."
"Rangers, eldar rangers..." Temur considers, "The brotherhoods have dealt with them before. They favor very accurate las rifles, it is consistent with the shots you saw."

It takes a fair bit to calm everyone down, but the presence of Astartes does wonders for morale. As the night grows longer, the citizens lament the ruined event. Returning to the bunker, the Commandos check gear and take a breather before waiting for the BONG.

"The courier is safe, we know that. Whatever is happening at the barracks should be fixed," Brynjol announces, "I think you guys should check up on your leads and make sure that things are progressing as they ought to be."

(DAY 2)

The Commandos deploy once more at first BONG. Outside, they can see the stalls begin to open in their usual order, and the Administratum postman on his way at the crosswalk.  They can see the Lexmechanic heading towards the bench with the girl he's trying to impress, and commotion echoes as the Entertainment District prepares to hold the Terror Bird Races.

"I will go to the square and attempt to ambush the Eldar," Brynjol states, "Take the xenos alive."
"Agreed.  The mercenaries are on patrol," Cortain confirms, "I can find that mechanic and...shepherd him."
"Taking things alive has not been our specialty thus far," Cyril says, "I will support you by covering their escape route."
"A lone eldar should not pose any threat to me," Brynjol notes, "Alive ought not to be too much trouble."
"There were multiple simultaneous shots.," Cyril reminds him, "Expect a group."

Cortain begins approaching the couple with a scroll in hand. He's not about to question the will of an astartes, and stares in great concern before he reaches the corner sales-girl.
"My lord Astartes," he coughs, "How may this simple Lexmechanic assist you?"
"Congratulations, citizen," Cortain announces loudly, "You have won the Republican Commandos Ledger monthly contest. Your prize is the company with the head editor of the ledger and his entourage of battle automata."
Tears begin to fill the Lexmechanic's eyes as his knees quiver.
"Rejoice, you can brag about this to your coworkers," Cortain concludes. He adjusts his Cortex Controller to make a Vorax wave.
He steps back. "The Repub...the Republican Commandos! You...I..." he coughs, "I can't believe it! Thank you, God Emperor, for being with me!"
"Be advised that we will accompany you to your workplace," Cortain says.
"My work...ah, of course, yes," the Lexmechanic sputters, "I commune with the Omnissiah at the Augur Templum..."
"Proceed," Cortain commands, before thinking a moment, "The prize is also for one guest of the winner's choosing.  Perhaps your companion there...?"
"Ahh, of course!" he yells. He rushes over to her, and gives her a briefing. Soon she is just as shocked as he is, and the two return to Cortain. The woman desires an autograph, incidentally. Cortain offers that scroll with the BS rules.  It is signed in the back. The Lexmechanic and his girlfriend head over to his workplace, where he promptly gets chewed out by the techpriest in charge, much to his embarrassment, and is sent to do his job. The market girl offers to wait for him.

"Ahh, you have found our errant Lexmechanic," the head techpriest intones, "The Trinity has blessed us with your presence, honored Forge Lord."
"I was...giving something to your adept," Cortain replies.
"I hope it was motivation, my liege," the priest states, "He'll be reprocessed if he continues to be missing..."

Brynjol and Cyril head on up to the Entertainment district. Brynjol reaches the roof, and tries to conceal himself, though with 2 DoF he doesn't do it very well. Cyril moves in, searching for a place to overwatch. He can see everyone crowded around he racetrack set up in part of the district. Locals riding large bipedal avians are preparing to race each other. There seems to be five racers in the big event - a blue one, a brown one, a white one, a yellow one, and a black one. One local heads over to Cyril, as he begins to sulk into concealment.

"Astartes! This day is blessed!" he says, "The Terror Birds will be racing today! Tell me, which one should I bet on? The word of an Astartes is the word of the Emperor, after all!"
Cyril glances at the five birds, sizing them up and remembering what happened last time, "The black one."

The local considers it, and immediately rushes to the stands, leaving Cyril to conceal.

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vb25h_s_kg

Soon, the race is off! The Terror Birds streak from the starting line, and avoid obstacles as they make a lap around the track. The first part of the race, the brown one has the obvious lead, but by the second part has been overtaken by the black and white one. The black terror bird surges ahead in the second part, but it is neck and neck between blue and black. To the joy of the crowd, it is the black one that wins the race, and the blue gets a consolation prize of second.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)

The citizen Cyril advised is beside himself, having won the betting and a good number of thrones. However, he cannot seem to find Cyril to rejoice. It makes him kind of sad. Cyril smiles beneath his helm, but remains overwatching the building. 

"Any moment now, Bryn," Cyril states, "I suggest you attack now."
At the awards ceremony, there is joyous celebration as the winner of the Races is announced.
"GO, NOW!" Cyril advises.
Brynjol stares at the spot, and find it really, REALLY odd. There's nothing up there today.
"What the hel?" Brynjl wonders, "Cyril, there's nothing there!"
Nothing escaped Brynjol's eye. He's sure of it.
"Either we changed something yesterday, or..." Brynjol voxes Shady,  "Inquisitor, do you read me?"
"Yo," Inquisitor Shady replies.
"Is there any chance anyone else could be manipulating the timeline in the same way we are?" he asks,  "I can't think of anything we did that could have affected the assassination attempt."
The vox is silent for a few seconds, "If they know what to look for and change, then yeah. I mean, I manipulated things before you got here, ya know? So it's possible."
"I smelled Eldar," Brynjol states, "Do they have such capabilities?"
"Eldar?" Shady asks, "Huh. That may be the key. If those dirty bastard xenos are manipulating things as you thought, then things just got harder. Keep watch. They'll probably escalate. Although if ya do find any, feel free to pulp'em. Can't stand the things."
The celebrations continue into the evening, ultimately dying down as the participants begin to disperse. The Terror Bird Races, a sector favorite event, has ended without issue. Cyril breaks concealment midway through the vox call and walks out into the open, into the field of vision of the gambler. The gambler is initally spooked at Cyril just appearing.

As a side note, an awareness test was rolled for the assassins. 2 DoF is rather easy to spot.

"It's wonderful!" the local exclaims, "It was the Will of the God Emperor that my bird got first! I wish I could repay you for your wisdom, my lords!"
"If I need anything, I will let you know, citizen," Cyril states, signing the aquila at the tiny man. Tears of joy rain from Gamblerguy as he bows deeply, before heading home.

The Commandos return to Shady's Bunker, to plan further.
"What do we know... what do we know..." Brynjol muses, "What have we changed every time?"

1) Mail Carrier saved from his own stupidity: Mercenaries mobilized.
2) Augur Sabotage repaired: Needed manual operation.
3) Found The Lexmechanic, forced him to do his job: Augur Towers now at full operation for convoys.
4) Disrupted the attack on the Races: Unknown results.
5) Helped a dude with the Races: He is now a friend. He will try to help the Commandos any way he can. Maybe.

"I think we need to assume that the eldar are here for essentially the same purpose as us; to alter the timeline to their benefit," Brynjol states, "But we have no reason to think that they know we're also meddling with the time."
"When have Eldar ever thought about human benefit?" Cortain asks.
"Raising the question of what they want," Cyril notes, "If we know that, we can more effectively deny them their goal."
"Well, I can see one possibility..." Brynjol states, "The 'default' outcome was the devastation we saw when we arrived."
"If they are present, they have probably seen us acting outside of the loop," Cyril states, "We must assume they know we are changing things."

The Commandos pause.

"Shady was trying to fix things, and they're actively working to prevent that. Which means they know -someone- is meddling," Brynjol glances at Shady,  "Is that right? Were you trying to fix things?"
"Believe it or not, I AM tryin' to save people here," Shady kicks back, "Some things, some events in time, they can't be changed. But some can. And Emperor take me if I just sit around eatin' mom's spaghetti and do nothing."
"If they only want the area leveled and destroyed, they have near unlimited avenues of approach," Cyril states, "And we will have to catch and eliminate them."
"Perhaps the mines dug up something?" Cortain hypothesizes,  "Eldar tend to act if their interests happen to be threatened. "

"The other possibility I see is that they arrived after the fact, directing their wrath against whoever is meddling," Brynjol concludes, "If they find out we're Astartes they'll be terrified, although on the surface they'll be calm and ready."
"Anyway, I never was attacked in all my attempts," Shady says, "It means you're making progress."
"Progress is good. We must ensure that it sticks," Cyril says, "Something happens at the mining site. We do not know when."
"If these ARE Eldar, then get ready," Shady says, "Because they'll pull some real bullshit if they get caught out."
The Commandos briefly wonder what a "bull" is, before attributing it to a local saying.
"I can 'pull some bullshit' too," Brynjol replies.
"So what is our plan?" Cortain asks, "The mining site?"
"It seems like the logical course of action," Cyril says, "We cannot be everywhere at once, so a known site of destruction is a good place to watch."

The night goes on without issue, and eventually as morning rolls around the Commandos hear the familiar BONG. Brynjol feels the best place to scout is the Ambush Site in the Entertainment District, while Cyril is insistent on the Canyons.

Cyril throws the doors open again, wishing he'd brought cluster mines and a camocloak. Once more, things seem...different.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=la40d6pm17w
(DAY 3)

The two lovers aren't at their bench, and while the postman is using the crosswalks, the stalls are all opened late today. The ground also rumbles, enough to shake buildings and even wobble the Commandos.
"That's unsettling," Cortain calmly points out.
"The stalls are all late to open," Cyril says, beginning the march, "Proceeding to the mining site."
The Commandos stop, however, when they hear screaming, as Gamblerguy rushes through the city center. Something has him terrified.

"What's going on? Report!" Brynjol yells, landing in front of Gamblerguy.
"My Lord Astartes!" he coughs, "As...as a loyal follower of the God Emperor, I...it is my duty to alert you...that..."
Cyril closes in on Gamblerguy. "What is it?" He flanks the panicked man in case of incoming fire from behind.
"There's a white blinking thing near the Basilica!" he finally cries, "I saw these impossibly tall people drop it off! It looked suspicious, so I sought out an Arbiter, but I found you! The Emperor Protects!"

"White blinking.... A BOMB!" Cortain yells. He legs it at the speed of FUCK to the Basilica District.
"We'll have someone on it. Well done, citizen," Cyril congratulates him, "Head to the Arbites office or the Guard barracks; we have this one handled, but they should know."
"Thank you, my lord," he coughs, "I...would never have seen it if I hadn't gone to cash my winnings...that's twice you've saved me..."

Cyril catches up to Cortain and outpaces him en route to the Basilica. As the Commandos rush to where Gamblerguy said, there's a crowd of shocked people all near a white blinking case. Brynjol, you'd know a Distortion Mine when you see one.
Brynjol amplifies his voice. "BACK AWAY FROM THE DEVICE!"
The citizens human wave over each other, trying to get away.
"Cortain, it's a distortion mine. How do I go about defusing this thing?" Brynjol asks.

The Distortion Mine is the size of a Scimitar, so moving it would be counter-productive. It's the sort of mines they use to attack voidships, so a detonation on a world's surface would be...less than ideal. It needs to be disarmed. The Commandos pool their xenos lores together, but surprisingly it is Brynjol who manages to remember some key bits about Eldar Bombs. He isn't an expert in these things, but he can read the eldar markings... and he can see the wraithbone circuit patterns. He then moves to carefully disable the bomb, and after a few stressful moments, manages to cut the right wraithbone conduits and disarm the bomb, despite the rampant shaking all about.

The Commandos look up, and off in the distance, can see Eldar Jetbikes zipzooming away. They are headed to the canyons. They can also feel the rumblings a bit stronger. Based on the fact they vaguely experience them in one foot before the other, they come to realize the canyons are the source of the rumbling.

"The canyons!" Brynjol yells. Brynjol takes off at a dead run, knowing how unlikely he is to reach it in time. Rushing back through the frontier city, they see Gamblerguy.

"My Lords! Is the heretical...thing disposed of?" he asks.
"It is neutralized for now, but the foul creatures that planted it are still up to no good," Cyril replies, "Are the Guard and Arbites mobilized?"
"Yes, my lord! The soldiers mobilized immediately!" Gamblerguy says, "They all spoke of activity near the canyons. There's a convoy of land crawlers ready for departure to the canyons, no doubt they can give you and your...servitors? They can assist you!"
"Good," Cortain states, "We will be there post haste."
"I hope I could be of assistance..." Gamblerguy coughs.

A couple of Land Crawlers prepare their cargo space for the Battle Automata, and they are ready to depart immediately at top speed. Cyril helps get the automata loaded, then jumps on top of a Land Cawler. "TO THE CANYON, NOW!"
"Yes, my lord!" the lead driver says, "For the Emperor!"

Every moment, the rumbling gets louder and stronger. Faced with an order from the Emperor's Holy Astartes, a Commando no less, the Convoy gets its shit in motion. As the ground begins to crack and shudder, and finally collapse down, the Commandos can see numerous autocarriages and lower-scale transport vehicles hauling ass from the canyons. Vox traffic is a mess. The canyons are rapidly shaking and collapsing as the Commandos finally reach them. There's only a few miners left, and they are packing up the last of the supplies. The Commandos note with interest that as the Land Crawlers halt, the parts of the mines that they saw earlier look far deeper than they did two days ago. Battle Automata disembark the land crawlers, as locals rapidly begin to board.

"Deeper! Into the abyss!" Cortain yells.
"Cortain, can you make sense of the vox traffic?"  Brynjol, where are you?! We need your eyes!"
Cortain trains his vox traffic on his brain cogitators, and parses through for important information. The Vox Traffic is mostly rushed evacuation signals, but there's a lot of chatter about the white walls found in the mines.

"White walls?" Cortain wonders, "Wraithbone, perhaps...?"

The mine they speak of is one of the deeper mines, one of the first that they began carving out. It lies within the cavern network, toward the center of the canyons. Towards Ground Zero.

"It reminds me of Tempestus Solaris," Cyril says, "Either way, it seems likely that it is what attracted the xenos."
"True, those...constructs were remarkably similar to Eldar," Cortain notes, "But they certainly felt nothing alike."
"My lord Commandos!" the leader of the Land Crawler convoy states, "It is far too dangerous for our crawlers here, we dare not stay! Forgive us!'
"Granted," Cyril says dismissively, "Cortain, bring the robots."
"So, be it." Cortain begins unloading the Robot Hit-parade into the tunnels.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WvPjJdqbSc8
(THE FINAL HOURS)

Entering the tunnel, the Commandos note the rumbling is near constant now. Dust falls from the tunnel walls as they enter. Lucky for them, the miners did leave lumen-globes to light their way, offering a simple but effective marked path into the mines. The Commandos follow the lumen-globe road, but the echo of many footsteps catches their autosenses. Something, or rather, a lot of something, begins to march down through the primary lumen'd shaft. The Vorax are ordered to the front, and the Commandos take up cover, bolters pointed down the mine system. All Cyril, Temur, and Cortain can manage is those voices sound relatively orderly and angry in a language they can't make out. Brynjol can hear the cries of the Eldar coming down the halls, "Protect the Farseer!" "Defend the Farseer with our lives!" "None must find the Farseer!"

"Eldar!" he yells. Brynjol makes an exasperated noise, "On my mark, and not a second before."

After about 5 seconds, the Commandos can see a big Horde of Eldar, Guardians in damaged armor by the looks of it, advance around the corner. Their weapons are raised, and they are readying to fire.
"Bryn?" Cyril asks, finger on the trigger.
Brynjol takes a deep breath, and announces his order.

"I'm gonna try hailing them."

The rest of the Commandos have a singular reaction within the same four seconds.
"What."

Brynjol, in clipped eldar, raises his vox speakers, and calls out, "Halt, and explain your presence here!"
Cortain cringes, realizing that he might have accidentally switched one of Byn's med-dataslates with one holding House information on Eldar Correspondence. Cyril is foaming at the mouth. Temur's hellrage is palpable, but he says nothing.

The Eldar halt momentarily, before turning their weapons on Brynjol. "Space Marines! Hated Space Marines of the Deathwatch! You hunt us down, destroy our craftworld, and now you think to talk! Lesser beings must know their place!" The Horde of Guardians fires in all directions, taking out some Vorax, and forcing Brynjol, Temur, and Cortain to dodge incoming shurikens.

"I have told you a dozen times. We do not TALK to scum. We SHOOT them!" Cyril yells, "MARK?"
"They've made their choice," Brynjol mutters, "Mark!"

Cyril and the Castellax Maniple are the only ones who are able to return fire. Cyril's storm bolter cuts down 30 eldar, while the Castellax mow down another 18. The Horde of Eldar, now reduced to 2, breaks as they run down the halls. The Vorax were ordered ahead, however, and Cortain moving behind cover leaves them out of Cortex range. Now falling back to programmed behavior, the Vorax begin advancing on their own initiative.

"Targets locked. Victims spotted. Advancing. Programmed behavior engaged."

The Vorax begin chasing the fleeing eldar now around the corner, but the rumbling is getting dangerous now. It's hard to keep footing. The eldar-vorax hype train disappears deeper into the cavern, and it is decided that advancing to support the frenzied automata is the best idea. Following the lights, the Commandos come to a point where the mine widened, until they see what the miners spoke of - a solid white wall. Wraithbone. There is a small hole in the wraithbone wall, no doubt from mining charges, which is promptly made much bigger by Brynjol's charge forward, claws extended. As he catches his footing, he can see and feel wraithbone. The halls are illuminated, despite there being no light sources. He also gets a slight headache.  There is one thing Brynjol notes above all else though - inside the wraithbone structure, the rumbling has stopped. The hallway extends to left and right. There is rotor gunfire to the right, and grinding sounds to the left.

"Eyes front," Brynjol says, "There's a seer with them."

Cortain tries to study the material around him. He knows this is Wraithbone. That much is clear. This is Eldar in origin. The specifics, however, are lost on him. Cyril, however, does a little better - wraithbone of this concentration usually means a large facility of some sort. It's a psychically charged material, and all around, every so often, there are odd purple jewels embedded within the walls. He also realizes that if Guardians are about, then Aspect Warriors may be close by. Brynjol runs his finger across one of the jewels.

"I think these are spirit stones," Brynjol says, "If we start smashing them, they'll come to us."
"Do we want that, or should we try to find and kill their seer first?" Cyril suggests, drawing his Photonic Blade, ready to ignite it and swipe it through a line of stones at the Wolf Priest's word.
"I think their witch should be our priority," Brynjol agrees, "While it's alive, we're at a tactical disadvantage."
"I concur," Cyril says, reattaching the blade hilt to his side, "As before, the Vorax divert attention while we proceed to the important things. Like that grinding noise."

Popping to the left, the Commandos get the feeling they're being stared at, in the back of their mind, every time they pass a spirit stone. This hall is a mess - it's a wonder how Eldar let their facility decay so badly. Finally coming up to an entrance, the Commandos can see some sort of bay, where the grinding is coming from. There is definitely activity inside. A LOT of activity.

"I think a hard breach is in order," Brynjol declares, "Once we're in, fan out and select your targets. Keep any groups suppressed and disorganised; I'll try and combat the witch."

Cyril ninjas up to the entrance and peeks in. Cortain moves to support, clanging with the Castellax. Almost as soon as he enters the wide area, the grinding is apparent. Soil pushes against great energy fields to each side. Numerous Eldar march around , heading to the source of the noise that is Cyril and Cortain. Cyril breathes into his teamvox - "Incoming."

"Launch now!" A warlock yells to another, as numerous Shadow Specters, a horde of Storm Guardians, and even some Wasps begin to advance.

Cortain and Cyril are caught out forward, as the Shadow Spectres rake their fire against the Castellax, knocking one out. The two Warlocks begin manifesting Destructor energy, and wipe out more Castellax, but narrowly missing Cyril and Cortain. Brynjol is now ready to counter-attack, and charges forward, catching one Shadow Spectre in his claws. Temur takes out his bolter, and fires at the Storm Guardians, but to his surprise the nimble fucks dodge. 

Everyone in the big armorium, meaning Cyril, Temur, and Brynjol, notice a few things - beyond some wreckage of vehicles and supplies around in this area, the dirt begins to sink down along the force fields to each side. Then they hear a great ripping, and a pop.

Light. Natural light.

The Wraithship unfurls its sails as it begins to turn towards the frontier city the Commandos were at. They reckon they don't have much time before the 3km Wraithship reaches the frontier expanse.

"Oh, Allfather..." Brynjol yells in sudden realization, "This is how they levelled the city. We need to finish this and scuttle the damned ship!"
"We will have to bring it down ourselves," Cyril states, "Did anyone bring explosives beyond grenades?"
"Who bloody needs explosives?" Brynjol asks dismissively.
"Men who do not want to be aboard this thing when it comes down?" Cyril retorts, "Though I suppose riding it down may prove fun."

Cortain turns his attention to the Shadow Spectres, by far the most dangerous threat. Cortain fires a flame blast from his Servo-Harness at the Eldar, incinerating one and scattering the rest. Cyril offers to focus the Horde of Storm Guardians, and fires his storm bolter and phobos bolter into the crowd. He is able to down 20 of the Eldar, though 30 are still incoming. Cortain commands the last Castellax to fire further into the crowd, downing another few Eldar. By now, the Wasp Walkers advance as well, using their jump jets to Flank the Commandos and line up shots.

Brynjol suddenly feel really, really weird, as thunder and electricity begins to coalesce around him. He attempts to Deny the Witch, but fails, as an Eldritch Storm flows all around him. He is able to tank the damage, but is concerned about the haywire effect, until he remembers the Spark Hunter badge he acquired way back in Episode 18, grounding the haywire charge to fukken nothing. 

The Wraithship is about 20% of the way to the city, and the Eldar redouble their efforts. The Shadow Spectres focus their prism superlaser on Brynjol, but the Allfather is with him and the hit washes over his rosarius. The Warlocks cast Destructor on Brynjol and Cyril now, and while Brynjol fails to DtW once more, they are both able to nimbly dodge out of the way. The sheer damage triggers Cyril's conversion field, and causes a bright flash which manages to blind the Guardians. 

Brynjol switches his focus to the Warlocks that are spamming powers. Oh how he hates them. Extending claw and crozius, he charges forward, and slices right through the both of them. Temur, in the meantime, remains where he is and Regrettably, the Wasps begin their scatter laser strafing run by now, downing the last Castellax but bouncing harmlessly off Cortain's cover as he calls Tactical Spacing just in case. Cyril collects himself, and draws his Photonic Blade as the Storm Guardians recompose themselves. Cyril calls Furious Charge, and fires his bolters at a Shadow Specter, pulping it before charging down the Storm Guardians. The sight of a crazed Astartes with an energy blade is too much for the Guardians, and they scatter, terrified. Brynjol uses the Furious Charge to barrel into a Wasp, smashing it with his Crozius.

The Wraithship looks to be ~40% of the way to the city as the Commandos begin to mop up. Brynjol charges the second of the Wasps, cleaving his crozius straight into the pilot's canopy, tearing the screaming scrap of xenos flesh out. Temur decides to advance, and fires at a Shadow Spectre which unfortunately dodges his attacks. Though Temur's shots may not have hit, it opens things up for Cortain to fire up, downing it. Cyril's twin bolters then down the final Shadow Spectre.

"We...have failed..." he gurgles, "The last farseer...of Kionash...shall fall to mon'keigh brutes..."
"Spread out, find the farseer or the bridge," Brynjol commands, "We need to stop this vessel."
"This just keeps getting better," Cortain notes.
"From what I have read of wraithbone architecture, the bridge should be near - probably in the upper spires," Cyril offers, "This way."

Popping through the halls, it is a wonder how much this vessel relies on spirit stones to keep its shit going. Cyril punches a few stones on the way up. Cortain begins crushing some with his servo-arms as well. They can almost swear they hear tiny screams every time a stone shatters. They theorize it must be Inquisitor Shady bitching back in town. He's loud, after all. Finally, the Commandos get to a door, ornate once, now damaged and hanging open. In the center of the room, the Commandos can see, reclining, an Eldar in Farseer garb. It is connected to the ship itself. The Farseer...isn't moving. But the vessel is getting ever closer to the city. Cyril raises his gun, but Brynjol orders him to stand down. All around, Brynjol realizes the air smells rank with the psy. He can also smell something else.

Fear.

"The last time I waited for your mark, you got half the Vorax killed trying to NEGOTIATE," Cyril hisses, "You had best have a good reason for me to not shoot."
"It's in a coma," Brynjol says, "I'm sure of it."
"...and?" Cyril asks, not seeing an issue.
"It's like it's linked to the ship somehow. Killing it might just drop the vessel into a death dive," Brynjol correctly observes, "And we have no idea what that would do."
"So much the better, if we can steer it away from the population center," Cyril argues.
"Yes, and that's a big IF," Brynjol spits, "I can smell the stink of maleficarum on the air... it might be psionically controlled."

Cortain and Cyril take a moment to think. If the ship were to go down, they'd get roughed up a fair bit, but at this altitude they'd easily survive. With the Wraithship 60% of the way to the city centrum, guns turning, the Commandos can get a good look at the armament. Pulsars and Plasma batteries.

"What about the city?" Cortain asks.
"We can easily survive a collapse from here, and it is about to fire on the city. We bring it down now," Cyril insists, "Tear the Farseer out, and THEN I'll shoot it."
"No. We'll tear it out and take it with us," Brynjol finally states, "I cannot think, off-hand, of a single successful instance of a captive eldar Farseer. The potential to learn from it..."
Brynjol's mind dances with visions of vivisection.
"Fine, on your head be it," Cyril sighs defeatedly, "I will shoot it the instant it gets free, but for now we need to protect the civilians. TEAR IT OUT OF THE SYSTEM NOW."

Cyril takes up overwatch, ready to fire if the Farseer tries to psy anyone. Brynjol heads over and begins to disconnect the psyker from its cradle. The Farseer undergoes massive system shock. The entire Wraithship begins to shudder and destabilize. Entering freefall, the voidship tilts, and crashes into the ground. The Commandos bounce about like pinballs, a bit bruised, but are otherwise fine. The Farseer...did not survive disconnection.

"Excellent," Cyril announces, "It will not resist, but remains largely intact for study."
Cortain rubs his head, a weird feeling in the back of his neck. He feels like it would make a good present for Khodexus for some incomprehensible reason...

The damage opens up the bridge to the air. The Commandos first hear the screams of terror, followed by exalted jubilation as the xenos vessel is destroyed. The townspeople are rushing forward, celebrating the triumph against the Xenos. As the sun comes up, the dawn of a new day breaks.

(DAY 4)

"Lad, lads do ya read?" Rockfist asks, as the vox kicks in wildly.
"Good morning, Rockfist. We have a downed Eldar voidship to contain," Cyril calmly announces, "Some of its crew may have survived. We should cordon it off to keep civilians away from the xenotech and then sweep it deck-by-deck with Hunter-Killer maniples."
"Eldar, pah..." Rockfist spits, "We'll send some engineers down. We lost contact for a few hours, is yer mission complete then?"
"Assgignment...successful," Cortain says, catching Rockfist's perception of time, "Though the nature of the state of this mission is a bit confusing. Oh, and Bryn has a braindead Farseer for study."
"Good ta hear, lad, we'll send the support down," Rockfist says.

Hopping out of the bridge of the 3km wraithship, the citizens are eager to honor you and see the Commandos. Even Shady's there.

"So, it WAS Eldar," Shady says, "Nice catch."
Cortain slides down the way. "When you see massive plasma explosions, the first hint should be Eldar."
Cyril clambers down the Wraithship toward the civilians, picking up some wraithbone bitz for study and carving later.
"Indeed. There may be more afoot, but their leader is dead and their morale broken," Cyril says, "They kept whining about a destroyed Craftworld, and their gear seemed a touch shabby."
"Leader? Ah, Farseer," Shady says, "Don't suppose you'll be needing that?"
"I was going to conduct a necropsy. You're welcome to attend," Brynjol states.
"Nah, nah, if that's what ya want it for, ain't my business," Shady shrugs, "Anyway, a destroyed Craftworld? They probably meant Kionash, over Volcania. Don't suppose you've been?"
"Hm...it sounds familiar..." Cortain says as he remembers the wreckage of the Craftworld way back in Episode 18.
"We visited briefly, at the pleasure of Doggfather's irritating blue pet," Cyril states.
Temur slides down last, beginning to shoo away civilians to establish a landing zone.

"What would you use the body for, Inquisitor?" Brynjol asks.
"Truth be told?" Shady laughs, "Woulda given it to Korst'la. He collects them. His Archon buddy turns them into smoothies. Had one once. No taste like it."
Cyril glances at Shady, trying to tell if he's joking. Cortain snaps to sudden realization, though, knowing full well it's no joke.
"Just awful," Brynjol sighs.
"But how do you drink such sparkly blood?" Cortain asks.
Shady begins to walk away, "Hey, don't knock it until you've had it. Concentrated xenos anguish, the perfect taste to go with a successful mission. But I'm done for now. Ya did surprisingly good. I may even make you the militant arm of the Ordo Chronos..."
Cyril chuckles. "The Ordo Xenos has 'dibs,' I believe, but this was a good mission. We look forward to hearing from you again."
"I will conduct my necropsy, then," Brynjol states, "I am eager to see into this one's brain"
"I left a gift for you aboard the Blade three days ago," Shady says, disappearing into the crowd, "Enjoy..."
"Ooh. Prezzies," Brynjol slips in native Fenrisian, "I call dibs on opening the wrapping paper."

"CITIZENS! THE IMPERIUM OVERCOMES!" Cyril yells to the exhuberant populace.
"Yay!" the citizens yell, "The Emperor protects!"
Cyril raises his fists to the sky, then gestures majestically at the fallen voidship being ringed by Squat craft. The Urist Brothers are coming in to pick up the Commandos as Squat Engineers and Warriors are deployed out.

As the team leaves, Cortain stops a moment, "But I thought the Farseer's brain was utterly wiped?"
"It was in a coma, and it didn't survive the disconnection. Why would you assume its brain was 'wiped'? And what does that even mean?" Brynjol asks,  "Biology is, in many ways, much more resilient than technology, Cort."
Cortain is miffed at this, while Cyril breaks off to hunt for survivors, and Temur boards a Stormbird, ready to leave this world.

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