Editing Republican Commando (section)

===(20) Once Blessed===

<div class="mw-collapsible-content">The Sicaran is moved for repairs, while the hangar is abuzz with activity. There are two new missions, it seems. One details another member of the H'esav'geka, Por'o Doran'ro, or Water Caste Paragon Commander Wiseman, who has been sighted on the world of Nebraskus, and caused multiple agri-settlements on the world to go silent in a single day. The other was a transmission from a mining site in the Scar outside the Tiji Sector from a force of the Squat Holds, requesting support when they found strange artifacts and complex ruins of human origin.

"LEGIONARY, THE HELOTS HAVE PROVIDED PICT-CASTS OF THEIR FINDINGS," Thexus says, "RECALIBRATING HOLOMAP..."
The Holomap changes, and the Commandos wait with bated breath. The pict-capture depicts a bolter of ancient provenance, similar to the patterns Executor Thexus provides aboard the Blade.
"Where was this reclaimed?" Cortain asks.
"A mining site in the Scar," Cyril reminds him.
"THE HELOTS HAVE DISCOVERED A LEGIONARY ARMORIUM AND STORAGE DEPOT. I HAVE CROSS-REFERENCED THIS WITH THE FINDINGS OF THE FIRE RAPTOR COGITATOR," Thexus continues, "IT IS MY GREAT RECOMMENDATION THAT THIS BE INVESTIGATED IMMEDIATELY, BEFORE THE HELOTS DAMAGE ANY LEGIONARY EQUIPMENT."
"Certainly interesting..." Brynjol muses.
"We Squats have minin' in our veins!" Rockfist replies angrily, "We're not about to damage any-"
"Did they state what manner of support they request?" Cyril presses, trying to calm tensions down, "Loremasters? Warriors? ...Fences?"
"SILENCE, HELOT," Thexus harshly demands, "LEGIONARY, THEY REQUESTED SUPPORT BECAUSE THEY BELIEVED IT TO BE OF LEGIONARY ORIGIN. THEY ARE CORRECT. I ADVISE RECLAIMING ANYTHING OF WORTH IMMEDIATELY."
"I agree with you, Thexus," Brynjol admits, "But would it kill you to refer to Rockfist by his name or title? The ma- squat has been invaluable to us so far."

"Do you think we can trust Doggfather's adepts to not smoke those Tyranids for a litle longer?" Cortain asks.
"No," is the near unanimous answer.

Thexus remains silent for a bit, before continuing, "I HAVE OFFERED MY RECOMMENDATION. I SHALL DEFER TO YOUR JUDGMENT, LEGIONARIES."

While Cyril considers all the available missions in order of priority, Brynjol, Temur, and Cortain are all in agreement to seek out any potential relics. The order is given to make way for the Scar, the dead apocalyptic swathe outside the Tiji Sector. The Blade begins the trip out of Nova Prosperous space, before entering the Warp.

"It pains me to leave other tasks unattended, but the wargear of our revered ancestors will make every challenge that faces us fall all the quicker," Cyril rationalizes, "And it may do the crew good to see some of their people not confined to the ship."

The Commandos receive a number of updates as the warp window closes. It seems inquisitorial vessels are on their way to Nova Prosperous, and Doggfather seems to have caught a cold. Brynjol is less than sympathetic. However, the trip will take a number of weeks, and the Commandos plan careful use of their time.  While Cyril spends some time reviewing projector slides of Imperium-friendly forces with Notomok and carving the Corer plate, Cortain wraps up the action figures in little boxes, hoping for them to be collector's items one day, and Temur continues to train his mind and body to prove himself better than the plebs.

Cortain decides to chat with Executor Thexus and see what has him so riled up, and he finds himself joined by Brynjol. Brynjol, however, is not interested in Thexus as much as he is in what Cortain is holding in one of his servo-claws.

"You come to see what exactly is going on with Thexus?" Cortain asks.
"Partly," Brynjol says, "I was also wondering what that was."
He points at the scrap of white flesh clutched in one of Cortain's servo-arms.
"It still lives?" Cortain mutters.
"I have no idea," Brynjol shrugs, "I just want to know what it is, and why you have it."
"Curious. I found it before we left for Nova Prosperous," COrtain explains, "No clue what it exactly is though."
Brynjol takes the small slug from Cortain, before returning to his Medicae deck.

Cortain now finds himself joined by Temur, who is concerned over Thexus's erratic behavior as well. The Hololithic Combat Chamber doors open, and Thexus stands there silently. Whatever he was staring at drifts away.
"LEGIONARIES," he states, "HOW MAY I ASSIST YOU?"
"Is everything...well?" Cortain asks, "You have been silent since the hunt."
"ALL SYSTEMS ARE NOMINAL, LEGIONARIES. I SIMPLY DO NOT WANT THE HELOTS MEDDLING WHERE THEY DO NOT BELONG," Thexus turns around, "AS FOR MY ABSENCE, I APOLOGIZE. I WAS COMPARING THEIR REQUEST TO THE DATA IN THE RECOVERED COGITATOR. NO MISTAKE CAN BE MADE."
"I do not see them being any more of them a threat than any other adepts..." Cortain explains, before amending his comments, "...bar those of the Inquisition."
"HELOTS SHOULD NOT TREAD THE SAME GROUND AS GODS, LEGIONARY," Thexus states flatly.

The Commandos are silent for a moment.
"Indeed we are gods among men, but recent events have made me wonder," Cortain admits, "What sort of gods are we?"
"LEGIONARY, YOU WERE THE GREATEST SOLDIERS MANKIND COULD PRODUCE. YOU STILL ARE. YOU ARE GODS TO THE HELOTS AND THE EXCERTUS," Thexus notes.
"It is that 'were' that concerns me. Perhaps when we finally end this absurd assignment, this might be better served to the Legions..." Cortain stops, catching himself.
"I SEE YOU BECOME MORE LIKE THEM EVERY DAY. NEVER FORGET THE POWER AND RESPECT YOU COMMAND AMONGST THOSE YOU LEAD THE CHARGE FOR," Thexus explains, "YOU WERE GREAT ONCE. YOU ARE ON THE PATH TO BECOMING GREAT AGAIN. FALTER NOT, AND THE STRENGTH OF THE LEGIONS WILL BE BEHIND YOU WITHOUT QUESTION."

Cyril joins Temur and Cortain, who had hoped to use the Hololithic Combat Chambers for his own needs, but now regrets missing Thexus's wisdom. However, their reverie is interrupted by a vox.

"Ah, lads," Rockfist voxes, "The trip is almost over, when ya have some time, stop by the Armory."

The Commandos form up, to see what Rockfist has to say.

In the Medicae Deck, however, Brynjol is hard at work examining the slug recovered from Cortain. He performs extensive medicae tests on it, quite concerned. For all intents and purposes, it is a pale white slug, partially translucent. It possesses the same type of body functions, symmetry, organs, and abilities of a normal slug. But something about it feels...off, something he can't quite put his finger on. He readies a stasis chamber to place the slug in, but is briefly waylaid by his attendant serfs.

"My lord, is something the matter?" Serfguy the Serf asks.
"I... do not know," Brynjol admits, moving his samples into the stasis casket.
"It's just that..." the Serfguy stammers, "You've been cutting and prodding at an empty desk for hours now..."

Brynjol stops.
"I..." he stutters, before carefully grasping the slug and placing it in a stasis chamber, "Don't touch that chamber."
The serfs stare at the empty chamber, "As you wish, my lord..."
Brynjol presses some ivory keys on an old, stained keypad. A medicae diagnostor scanner revolves out of the wall, and Bryn divests himself of his armour before crawling inside, concerned about eyes on the inside.

Heading over to the Armory, Rockfist is working on the Sicaran from before.
"Our apologies on that massive gaping hole there," Cortain sheepishly points.
"Ah, lads, the toaster still waffling?" Rockfist asks, "No matter. Lad I've got some things to warn ya about."
"Speak, then," Cyril requests.
"This is a Squat mine, we're quite good at what we do," Rockfist says, "But conditions may not be the best. There may be sections of thin rock, mined out areas, areas of vacuum, an' other hazards."
"Understood," Cyril states, "Our armour should be able to weather most of those, but we will be cautious."
"Not quite, lad. Things may be more'n yer power armor can 'andle," Rockfist concludes, "Conditions may be so bad that ya may need additional protection. I can ready yer Terminator Armor if ya want."

The Commandos are in agreement - Terminator Armor for enclosed spaces of the Mining Center would be good. The Commandos begin planning out their loadouts, as transport is readied and the Blade leaves the Warp.

"...I am curious to see how this cyber-familiar interacts with Terminator armour..." Cortain admits. 
"If that's what ya want, lad, it'll be readied. Shouldn't be that bad," Rockfist nods, "We'll be leavin' the warp momentarily."
Rockfist does a doubletake.
"That skull...looks familiar..." he mutters, before shaking his head, "Must be me imagination..."
Cortain says nothing.

The warp trip ends with the Blade amongst a massive asteroid field. A number of them are clearly being mined out, and one is larger than the others. It is clear that is the target. As the Commandos suit up, appropriate transport for Terminators is readied, as the Blade takes its place amongst the unnerving wreckage of the Scar. Brynjol selects a Tartaros suit, as well as a Frostblade. Cortain also selects Tartaros armor, a Combi-Volkite weapon with Kraken Bolts, and an Auxiliary Grenade Launcher. Temur selects Tartaros as well, with an Assault Cannon and a Cyclone Missile Launcher. Cyril is last, completing the Tartaros set and bringing a Reaper Autocannon. The Commandos have taken all advice into account. While Thexus notes that the alleged storage depot was initially prepared for an assualt on the Ghaslakh orkhold, O'Malley suggests keeping one's mind sharp for traps and puzzles that litter Squat fortresses, and Rockfist advises heavy weapons in case of...forgotten beasts, or worse.

Making a mighty oath to the Wolf King, the Commandos land on the planetoid where the Squats have estabilished their main mining complex. Cortain opts to take a big swig of some unidentified oil he took in transit as he stares out the Caestus's limited viewports. Outside, he can see the tortured skies and the multi-colored debris fields drifting along the winds of spess. In this dead zone, the howls of asteroid impacts thunder along as the two Urists dodge and weave. As far as the eye can see, there is naught but ruin.

While Cyril makes sure his stormbolter isn't bolted to his hand, so he can open doors this time, Brynjol flexes his joints in the unfamiliar warplate, a cloth-wrapped bundle across his knees. The Wolf-skull helm lies next to him on the bench.

"How...populated is this facility?" Cortain asks.
"Ah, there's got ta be about a thousand in the main facility, lad," Rockfist explains, "An' thousands more spread out along the field."

Pinging with augurs, it is clear the asteroid belt is rich in minerals. Cortain's auspex, slightly more sensitive than the others' due to his Techmarine training, picks up the same mineral readings, as well as the electric and chemical signals that move the debris along the winds of spess. He can also barely pick up screams of fear and terror, vox-echoes long-since passed, probably tied to whatever event befell this cursed formed sector.

Eventually, the Urists round an asteroid, and the large planetoid ruin where the Squats have set up comes into view. Unwrapping the bundle and raising aloft the Frostblade within, Brynjol takes point as the Caestus lands in a waiting docking bay. The doors open as a number of Squats stand at attention. The line of Squats kneel in the Commandos' presence as they march out, relics held high.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SJL-NosgXs

Cyril holsters his beloved stormbolter and walks out. "On your feet, lads!" He clicks his tongue for his Yeti to follow, inducing slight terror in the Squats.
"Indeed! Fill us in, my good me...squats!" Brynjol adds exuberantly.

A squat walks over. "I'm Overseer Ibruk, my lords," he states, "It was my men who found the ancient relic. We...we figured you should be alerted."
"Let's have a look, then," Brynjol suggests.
Starting at the Squat Staging Area, Overseer Ibruk leads the Commandos through the Ancestor Halls, to where the path splits three ways.  Entering the Chapel of the Ancestors, he beckons to the old bolter placed on the altar.

"The Foreman's advised all squats evacuate the mining site until you've had your looks," the Overseer explains, "We can take you to the Mining Center, but we dare not go farther. It's..."
He trails off.
"Aye, you look to your own, Overseer," Brynjol suggests, "We'll take care of this little issue."
"It is what? Have you encountered danger there?" Cyril asks.
Overseer Ibruk shakes his head, "My lieges, there's somethin' about those caves. Things go wrong at random. Accidents and problems. It's got the throngs spooked. As the Foreman commands, down from the local Lord, we shall not enter those halls until you have taken anything you deem necessary."
"Very well. We shall endeavour to resolve some of those 'accidents and problems' along the trip," Cyril offers.
The Overseer nods deeply, "We will be unable to mantain contact with you in the depths, my Lords. May the Emperor and the Ancestors guide you."

Taking a moment to examine the recovered bolter, the Commandos cannot make heads or tails of it through the dust and dirt. They resolve to clean it up and identify it later. 

"Weapons check before we head out," Brynjol commands.
Cyril draws, twirls, and holsters the Stormbolter with one hand, then waggles the Reaper. "Already done. Surely you would not expect a son of Sanguinius to neglect to blood his boltshells?"
Brynjol ignores the jibe, looking at Cortain and Temur.
"Prepared," Cortain intones quietly.
"We are carrying enough munitions to annihilate half a company," Temur notes, "Overkill perhaps, but prudent when dealing with things from the dark ages, as we have found."
"I'd carry more, would the quartermaster allow it," Brynjol shakes his head, "I'll have no truck with the things we've met in the darkness so far... I've already lost one limb."
"We have a quartermaster?" an incredulous Cyril asks. 
"We take what is needed for the mission and no further, as our training and interpretations of the codex teach us, though this sector is testing some of those lessons to the limit," Temur admits, "While the Brotherhoods teach that mixed style of warfare are occasionally required, they usually do not mix them quite so readily as I am finding myself pushed to for our mission effectiveness."
"Regardless, Brynjol, would you sully that blade with the blood of every gormless cultist?" Cyril asks, "Your chainsword usually suffices, does it not?"
"You say drenching a blade in the blood of the Imperium's foes is sullying it?" Brynjol muses, "Curious..."

Proceeding to the door labelled Mining Center Alpha, the Squats at attention leave as the heavy ceramite doors scrape open. Stepping into Mining Center Alpha, the doors slowly creak behind the Commandos, locking tightly.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymv7GQR6jqc

Brynjol draws his blades, dropping into a hunting crouch, looking, somehow, simultaneously faintly ridiculous and intensely menacing in the bulky Terminator warplate, while Cyril watches the flanks, pointing the Reaper around and watching for movement or shiny objects. 

This area was once the main staging area for the entire mining operation. Half-assembled drills and conveyor systems lay strewn about.  In Mining Center Alpha, there appear to be three doors, besides the one the Commandos came in through. One is incredibly large, and looks thick with armored ceramite. Another looks slightly smaller, off to the right side, near some boxes. The last is to the left, and appears to have cables running through it. That door is already open.

"I'm sorely tempted to check out that innocuous-looking door to the right," Brynjol notes, "In my experience, they're the ones that always have a cadre of rubric automatons lying in wait behind, the sneaky bastards."
"As am I," Cortain agrees, though for entirely different reasons.

Heading on over to the door, the Commandos note that the door is low on power. It currently will not open. However, augurs pick out an exposed conduit - it may be able to be charged. Cortain takes a moment to incant the proper prayers, placing his hand on the conduit, and charging it from his potentia coil. The door glows with sudden power, before opening. Within the door is a number of boxes. It's clear this was a storage area for spare industrial gear. But attention is not on the boxes, but rather the blue torch off to the side.

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

The Commandos decide to push their sanctioning to the limits. As a team, they manage to acquire Eldar Flip Belts. The effects of being shown in such xenotech remains to be seen. Brynjol tries for a Blurshield, but fails. Cortain too tries his luck at an Abeyant, but fails. Cyril gives up and goes for a shield, managint to get a good Conversion Field, while Temur too decides on Hexagrammatic Wards for his power armor.

"Heh heh heh, thank you..." the Merchant says as he steps behind a set of boxes.

The room is quiet now, other than the creaking of the rock caverns and the groaning of stressed metal holding up the supply boxes. The Commandos return to Mining Center Alpha, where the large armored ceramite door lies, and the side door remains open, which a cogitator panel calls Auxiliary Corridor A. A separate cogitator panel refers to the armored ceramite door as "Corridor A" These cogitators are running on emergency power, so to prevent Squats from getting lost.

Cortain scans the door with his Auspex. However, the scan cannot pierce the thickness of the door. It's clear, that the door is out of power, though. It's too large to be charged via Luminen charge, but he detects electric remnants leading through the pipes behind Auxiliary Corridor A. The same pipes that are hanging over the open door. Cyril decides to take point, heading on through Auxiliary Corridor A, where the Commandos come to a strewn out Security Control. Cogitators here are thrumming with defense status and controls, while a rack of lasguns stands behind the guard's post.

"Lasguns and cogitators," Cyril muses, "Cortain, your expertise might be useful here."

There are two doors - one open, straight ahead to a place labeled Auxiliary Corridor B, and then there's another door across from the Security Control, this one seems low on power but Cortain can see another exposed conduit. He first begins by accessing the security cogitators, looking through with his Mechanicum training. The cogitator bank displays that a number of plasma turrets are standing by, ready to defend the Central Power Dynamo against enemies. To switch their configuration requires a password. Unable to guess or crack the password, he turns his attention to the depowered door. Though the first attempt at charging tires him out and slightly damages the conduit, the second attempt is successful.

Cyril takes some time to peer down Auxiliary Corridor B from Security Control, and notes it's a straight corridor down. In the distance he can see something large and mechanical. Cortain's attention, meanwhile, is on the newly accessible Security Annex. There's a cogitator here, the screen glowing yellow. Everyone sets their Augur Arrays to Scan Visor mode, and begin scanning the yellow cogitator.

Downloading...downloading...Log Book Updated.
05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)
"Engineer's Guildsman Romek here. I've set up the defense turrets. But somethin's not right. The cogitators keep wipin' themselves, and the turrets' targetin' priorities keep resetting - poor Irol nearly lost'is arm from the turrets goin' haywire. Only real defense is to turn'em off. Password is 3241. We won't be defended very well, but it's still safer than ta leave the throngs ta get shot by our own guns."
05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)

"How convenient of them," Cortain sighs, "I advise everyone keep clear in case we get something mad."
"Terminator armor cannot stand up to plasma," Cyril notes, raising his reaper autocannon, "We may need to shut the turrets down."
"If the Machine Spirits are still too unruly, we will need them shut down."

Cortain carefully enters the password, and the cogitator displays "Defenses disabled." Auxiliary Corridor B is now clear, it seems. Heading on down Auxiliary Corridor B, the Commandos finally come across a large area, the Central Power Dynamo. It is currently not active.  Below, in the floor, the Commandos can see electric current active across pylons, but the Dynamo that distributes power is offline. Cortain and Cyril both try to interface with the Dynamo, but its archeotech systems elude them. Cortain takes a moment to think, and notes that all around  are Prometheium fuel conduits, as well as exposed pylons that generate the power in this room. He reasons that, if the Dynamo is being unresponsive, it may need its fuel cycled. There are five prometheum tanks he can see. Manually cycling at least three at the same time may reset the dynamo to Power Distribution mode.

Cyril takes the first tank, successfuly cycling it with a Strength test, as does his yeti with a second. Cortain takes a third tank, and after some trial, manages to cycle it. Brynjol joins in, cycling a fourth. Temur covers the corridor, ensuring the turrets do not awaken. With 4 of 5 cycled, which exceeds minimum requirements, the Dynamo pops a bit, before revving up and the lights brightening up.

Power restored.

The Commandos debate switching the turret systems into identifying them as "Friend," but Cortain wisely remembers that the attempts the Squats tried did not take. Deciding it's safest to leave the turrets off, the Commandos move on. Heading on back to Mining Center Alpha, the unmoving turrets at the Commandos' backs, the armored ceramite door is receiving full power. It may be opened at leisure via terminal. When Cortain opens the door, everyone come to Corridor A. Further turrets wait here, pointed down and disabled. FUrther down the hall, something large extends upwards. Following Corridor A down, the Commandos see a large Power Shaft, now receiving power from the Central Power Dynamo. There is a nearby cogitator terminal, which states "CURRENT ALIGNMENT: 1-2-3." It seems each part of the Shaft can move independently.  Within this room, there are two doors - one powered by link to the Central Power Shaft, and one not receiving any power at all.

"Wonderful," Cyril notes, "More puzzles."

Cortain can see power flowing through the Central Power Shaft with his auspex, a combo of cords that distribute power through the complex. He can sense the power currently going to the door Temur is making his way towards to check. Opening the powered door, Temur passes along Auxiliary Corridor C, until he reaches a small Log Center. Once more, there is a cogitator glowing yellow. Cortain casually strolls up to scan the cogitator

Downloading...downloading...Logbook Updated.
05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)
"This is Zotthol Zagithemal, Foreman of the expedition on Asteroid T-34-3. I don't like this place. There's something off with it. I feel something staring at me every time I engage the drill. The air feels so heavy the deeper we get into this rock. In my 400 years of life, I never felt a job so...wrong, as this one. The last straw was that bolter that Olak found. It was much older than the bolters we use now. I formally request Lord Erar to call in assistance.

Until then, I'm locking down the dig site. The Combination there isn't 1-2-3, that's to this door. I don't remember the exact combination, but I remember that no number was repeated. I'll leave it to the Overseers to remember."
05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)

"Anything that peturbs the Squats at what they do best should certainly make us wary," Temur advises.
"So, this door should open to... I-II-III?" Cyril asks, "Uncanny, that is the same code Chaplain Mikhael used for the Scout armorium..."

The Central Power Shaft is currently set to 1-2-3, which grants power to the entrance door and the Log Center door. The Commandos try numerous configurations at random first. Reversing the order merely powers nothing, while Cortain's try of 2-3-1 turns the power shaft to only the entrance. Temur puts in 2-3-1, which sends power to an emergency charging station. Brynjol decides to try the remaining combinations in order. Luckily, his first guess of 1-3-2 aligns the Central Power Shaft and gets good results - while the path to Aux Corridor C is now unpowered, the Entrance and Unpowered Door are now powered.

"My lupine genius has, once more, saved the day," Brynjol boasts.
Cyril snorts derisively, while Cortain stares in mocking disbelief.
"Don't think I can't hear you back there..." Brynjol mutters.
"Only six combinations were possible," Cyril points out, "And one was eliminated before we began. I am not saying you are not a genius, but an Ork could have solved that one."
"You're a dreadful bore," Brynjol sighs, "If we find a sinkhole, remember me to push you in it. That's an order."
"Perhaps if you had brought your jump pack," Cyril quips, so Notomok could push you in after to retrieve me."

Cortain just takes points while the manchildren bicker. Speaking of sinkholes, travelling down Corridor B, the Commandos come across a series of cavern-openings and sinkholes. The Squats no doubt intended these to be mineshafts. Mounted in the ceiling is a large mining drill. Brynjol looks at Cyril. The Wolf Skull seems to take on a leering grin, to which Cyril steps warily back. Cortain accesses the Mining Drill at a nearby Cogitator, and notes he can fire the drill. It will probably make a good punch in any sinkhole or cavern-foundation he selects.  There are two sinkholes and three Caverns. Cortain fires the drill, but it fires at a nearby wall as Brynjol pushes it about. Cyril starts checking sinkholes and foundations, scanning to see what lies beneath while Notomok holds his shoulder to keep him steady. Surprisingly, he notes that there is a HEAVY concentration of metals down the central cavern, far more than should be natural.

"There is... a great amount of metal down this one," Cyril points, "Too concentrated to be natural, perhaps an ancient Astartes fortress?"
"Considering how they found an ancient bolter, then the possibility is there," Cortain agrees.

Brynjol pushes the mining drill towards to the cavern Cyril points out, and the melta blast fires for a good many seconds. As the mining drill completes its work, and the dust settles, Cyril notes his auspex did not lead him astray.

The Commandos have drilled into the side of some sort of long-buried building.

"Sweet Emperor's shriveled scalp, we got a paydirt," Cortain exclaims in the sector's local variant of Gothic.

The blast is wide enough that the Commandos have zero trouble hopping in. It's a few meters' drop, but nothing to be concerned about. Leaping down with a mighty thud and varying degrees of excitement and caution, the dust of ages is kicked up as the Commandos enter the Legionary Storage Center.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqXNu0XI5zQ


"Secure the perimeter," Brynjol commands as the Astartes tactically space themselves. It's clear this was meant to hold vast armaments and ammunition for future raids and  However, there are only a few unopened boxes right now. Cyril pops one open, to find normal bolt shells, their propellant and charges long since degraded away. No poisons or aberrant chemicals in the air are detected, but everyone cannot help but feel that they are being...watched.

The Commandos' attention is focused on two great engraved doors, one smaller than the other. They appear to be covered in gold, engraved with expertly-crafted shining winged figures.

"Wings.  Either I, III, or IX," Cortain notes.
"We shall see," Cyril affirms.

Popping by the smaller door, the Commandos note within there are bolters on the wall, the Umbra-ferrox pattern.. Most notably, however, these bolters appear to bear legionary iconography - Dark Angels (I), the Iron Warriors (IV), the Blood Angels (IX), the Ultramarines (XIII). Had the Commandos not had Executor Thexus and Rockfist on hand who could crank such patterns out as needed, this in itself would be an incredible find. Considering that they have plenty of bolters, however, the Commandos move on.


"I recall Thexus mentioning something like this," Cortain muses, "Along with the 'Beacon of Sotha.'"
"A mighty force indeed..." Cyril wonders.

The Commandos move on to the larger door, which after a good, hearty push by Brynjol, opens with a screech that echoes across the hallway into a wide room.  Within this room, there are signs of battle. All around, there is shattered glass and wreckage that once served as cover. Most telling, however, are the ded corpses. Clad in bright red power armor, a drop of blood on their shoulders, and proud emblazons of the IXth, the ded Blood Angels look like whatever it was they put up a fight.

"...Traitors..." Cortain posits, "Or a victims of something more sinister...?"
Brynjol draws his knife, making as if to jab the teardrop rubies out of the dead bangle shoulders.
"Possibly traitors AND their victims. A fortress like this would be hellish to take if Iron Warriors fortified key choke points, and their Warsmiths might have been able to pervert the malfunctioning turrets..." Cyril pauses, snarling at Brynjol, "Show some respect for the dead!"
He then removes his helmet.
"Now budge up, I need to eat their flesh."

The irony.

Popping off one mummified corpse's armguard and taking a quick nibble, Cyril closes his eyes as the memories take him...

05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)
The Ultramarine and Iron Warrior stand in front of the Blood Angel.

"It is a shame we had to use the supplies here, they were meant for use on the Orks," the Ultramarine says.
"Regardless, the Imperium Secundus needs every advantage it can get. You are lucky it was established," the Iron Warrior notes, "Besides, with Horus's treachery, who is to say the ork hold even existed?"
"Regardless, you should return," the Blood Angel says, "Use the Auxiliary Landing Bay. Our father Sanguinius and Lord Guilliman must know what we have stored here."
"Keep watchful," the Ultramarine says, "That thing is wrong."
"We know better than most, my friend," the BA replies, "Signus was...a shock upon us."

The Ultramarine and Iron Warrior leave, and the Blood Angel resumes his patrols. However, strange clouds begin to manifest, and with a roar, the BA contingent find themselves falling, attacked clearly by Daemons. As the Blood Angel falls, the vision blurs...
05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)

"These men were felled by Daemons of Khorne and Slaanesh. Iron Warriors and Ultramarines were also on-site; they mentioned the 'Imperium Secundus,' and Daemons being stored here."
"The name sounds familiar," Cortain explains, recalling one of Thexus's storytimes, "When Ultramar was cordoned off by a warp storm, Lord Guilliman established his own Imperium, assuming the rest of the Imperium lost to the Warp."
The Commandos listen intently.
"I remember Noble Sanguinius also being involved, though an Iron Warrior..." Cortain wonders, "Defectors?"
"Perhaps," Cyril nods, "Out of millions of Legionaries, some must not have sided with their Primarchs..."

What is more familiar, however, is the fog itself that is beginning to surround the Stasis Centrum.

"INCOMING!" Cyril yells, "We shall not be such easy prey!"

The Commandos note movement out of the corner of your sensoria. The Stasis Chamber in the center of the room. Something within is MOVING. The stasis chamber finally bursts open, the beast within roaring and rage and anger. A fusion of half Contemptor, and half daemon, the creature raises its hand out, charging its weapon. After 10,000 years, the Mhara Gal interred in stasis has re-awoken, and in its shroud of dark fire burns with unlight.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDlpaK4ScJw

The Commandos immediately open fire with everything they have. However, the shroud of dark fire provides an incredible amount of protection, as does the Mhara Gal's powerful front armor, able to bounce autocannon rounds, assault cannon rounds, and missiles reliably. The Commandos' minds recoil in the face of the forgotten beast's Fear 3, but their bodies continue to fight reliably. The only casualty of the normal fear is Cyril's yeti, which promptly falls asleep as a result of a high roll on the fear table. Brynjol and Cortain both charge forward, their attacks doing some minor damage. A cyclone missile storm by Temur catches Brynjol in the blast, though, and using the blast to reposition himself, is now in the Mhara Gal's side arc. 

The Mhara Gal's counter-attack is harsh. It slams its tainted power claw at Brynjol, who manages to deflect and parry the attack, slashing the frost blade along the Mhara Gal's exposed side armor. Cyril sidesteps an errant stream of curs'd boltspitter rounds, while Temur manages to shield the monster's warpfire plasma cannon, its echoing screams of the damned do a fair bit to burn away some cohesion.

The Commandos decide that it's time to enter Squad Mode. That's the easy part. Everyone takes the time to enter Squad Mode, but nobody actually wants to be the one to call a Squad Mode pattern. The Commandos continue their attack, leading to the humorous and peculiar situation of each either forgetting or refusing to call a Squad Mode Attack Pattern. The Commandos are far more spread out now, and are able to strike at side and rear armor of the Mhara Gal. Cyril's Autocannon fires relentlessly, piercing the side armor of the Mhara Gal, and opening a window for Brynjol to stab with the Frost Blade, cutting into the daemon-creature's motive systems and disabling them, allowing for Temur to fire more Krak missiles and blast-shift Brynjol even further. Cortain continues to assist Brynjol where appropriate, raising the Gladius Invictus at weak spots he picks out.

The Mhara Gal begins to flail about, slamming into the ground, releasing a wave of electricity that Brynjol and Cortain dive through. Brynjol and Cortain further parry the mad daemon's attacks, keeping safe distance between themselves and the tainted power claws. Further Curs'd boltspitter fire is narrowly avoided, as is a further blast of warpfire plasma. With the Commandos now equally spaced, Cyril fires his autocannon at the creature's rear armor, doing inordinate damage and causing the Mhara Gal to...disappear. It leaves behind a haze of warp energy, which Brynjol resists but Cortain suffers through.

The Commandos can still feel the daemon's presence. Brynjol, quite enraged, slashes at the air ahead of him, hitting nothing. Temur thinks a moment, suddenly flips on his terminator suit's auspex. Switching to the Tartaros's X-ray Visor, he picks out the Daemon hovering over the former stasis casket, absorbing aberrant warp power about. It is only the creature's daemonic essence, lacking its armor, recovering. So Temur does the sensible thing - he fires a set of krak missiles at it! While the daemon's shield bounces one, the second super missile hits straight away, dealing inordinate damage. The Mhara Gal phases back into reality, quite enraged at Temur. It slams its tainted power claws down, cutting effortlessly through his shield, but Temur manages to parry both attacks that land, saving himself from the tank-smashing power of the claws. He is not so lucky, however, in avoiding the Curs'd Boltspitters, sending him flying back into the criticals, his Tartaros front plate shattered. Cyril only barely manages to dodge out of the warpfire blast from the heavily damaged Mhara Gal.

Cortain is the last one up, and he sees the perfect opportunity - the Mhara Gal has left its rear armor exposed. Raising the Gladius Invictus, he charges forward, the gladius ignoring the monster's daemonic aura of dark fire, and striking the forgotten beast's core. The Mhara Gal goes warp-critical, exploding outward before being sucked into the warp.

"BEGONE WITH THEE, FOUL ABOMINATION OF THE WARP!" Cortain blasts out in binary.

The warp-cursed explosion catches Cortain, lighting him up in a mighty soulblaze of blue fire. He looks down, and sighs. It keeps happening. He takes some time to put himself out as Temur collapses into unconsiousness.

Brynjol tends to the wounded Temur, unclasping sections of his terminator plate, quickly assessing and treating his more serious wounds with thick, knotty stitching and a dollop of 'ointment'. Cortain and Cyril review the area, the yeti is sent to patrol. Two further doors are found. Once more, one is larger than the other. Cortain and Cyril take the smaller door first, descending a corridor, before entering a decently sized room. The planetoid rumbles, and the two Commandos see bits of the planetoid crack off into spess. Looking out, this appears to be a landing bay of some kind. However, Cyril gets word - his yeti is going fucking nuts at the door. Heading back, with Brynjol dragging Temur down while Cortain secures the area, Notomok the Yeti calms down as Cyril approaches.

Cyril first tries auspexing through it, but flubs the tech use test. He then puts his ear to the door, also hearing nothing. Opening it carefully, Cyril descends a corridor. He notes now that there are emblems of the IXth Legion upon the banners hanging at the door at the very bottom. He feels...it is right to continue. Cyril removes his helm and breathes deep, striding down into the dark.

Opening the final door and stepping forward, Cyril sees, as if reclining, an ornately-armored Blood Angel. Embedded in the metal is a large, imposing looking sword. The sword, a two-handed wide blade, bears the clear insignias of the Blood Angels. He approaches reverently, and it begins to pulse. Cyril looks over the fallen Legionary for insignias of rank, extending one hand to grip the mighty weapon's hilt. If he had rank, it is far different than the ranks he is accustomed to in the 41st-ish Millenium.

Cyril grips the hilt carefully, and the weapon begins to glow. Muttering a prayer for the fallen, and resting his palm on the fallen Legionary's brow, he grips the handle, and pulls with a mighty force of effort. With a screech, Cyril manages to raise...the hilt. He notes the blade itself remains embedded within the metal with great consternation, and is rapidly beginning to disintegrate.

As he holds the sword's handle, his vision begins to swirl...

05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)[[Special:Contributions/24.205.112.238|24.205.112.238]] 05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)
Cyril finds himself amongst a ruined hab complex, a completely flattened building.
"Brother, this was a trap!" the Blood Angels Legionary says, "The Word Bearers...Horus...they have betrayed us!"
"Signus is no relief mission," another says, "We were meant to be slain here!"
"Brother, what should we do?" the legionary turns to Cyril.
Cyril sheds a few manly tears. "We will not be slain. WE FIGHT! FOR SANGUINIUS, AND FOR THE EMPEROR! THE IXth LEGION STANDS!"

The Legionaries around cheer, raising their weapons as a great host of daemons begin to leap the buildings, rushing forward. At their head is a tall Bloodthirster, his axe raised high.

"THIN THEIR RANKS WITH BOLTERFIRE, AND READY FOR A COUNTERCHARGE! HOLD FAST!" he commands.

As the daemons begin to charge forward, Cyril hears a cry, an anguished cry, an almost inhuman wail, followed by a black wave in the sky. The legionaries around him begin to clutch their heads, screaming, indeed the same is beginning to overtake him. Cyril screams freely, hate and fury overtaking the pain and confusion. His vision is beginning to blur as a...hunger begins to occupy his every thought.

"Brother...brother, I finally understand," a Legionary says, drawing his power sword and charging forward, "IT'S OKAY TO LET GO!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mbyqG9Etn8

Cyril has only the hilt of that sword, and can see a Bloodthirster ahead of him.
"INTO THE FRAY!" he bellows, an inarticulate roar tearing from his throat as he charges the hellspawned monstrosity. Tacticals, Assault, all Legionaries have gone absolutely fuckwild, with Cyril at the head of the charge. Raising the sword handle high, he charges the Bloodthirster. The handle pulses, a small surge of energy flaring. Then a larger one. The Photonic Blade finally kicks in to full gear, a blade of red energy manifesting with a thunderous blast. The Bloodthirster raises his axe to parry, bringing it down, but but the Photonic Blade cuts right through, an unstoppable burning brand that strikes the daemon.  It staggers back, as the rest of the legionaries continue the charge. 

As the legionaries continue the charge, ripping things apart with chainsword, combat knife, even bare teeth, nothing is sacred. Not only are the Daemons being massacred, but off in the distance Cyril can see an allied contingent of Space Wolves also set upon by his Legionary brothers. As the battle begins to fade away, lucidity finally returning, he finally feels someone staring behind him. Cyril turns to stare with bared fangs, the black orbs of an Ice Wraith's mutated eyes shining wide & teary in the dark as the too-bright blood of an Astartes trickles down his bitten lip.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WcKh-dGYGVQ

The Blood Angel standing ahead of Cyril bows, the sign of the Aquila upon his chest. Cyril's eyes widen further, and his face slowly relaxes. After the moment of realization, he returns the bow and the salute. Straightening once more, the ancient Legionary fades away, as his vision returns to normal...
05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)05:42, 13 June 2016 (UTC)~

Cyril is alone in the room now, the ded legionary at his feet. Cyril stands and stares for a long moment, then stows the weapon at his belt and hoists the Legionary up on one shoulder. After a last look around the chamber, he ascends to rejoin his team.

"Lad, lad do ya read?" Rockfist finally asks over vox, "Did ya find anything?"
"Blood Angels, slain by Daemons. They were present with Iron Warriors, possibly loyalists, and Ultramarines," Cyril replies, his voice slower than his usual crisp, professional tones, "A daemonically possessed Contemptor Dreadnought remained, as did...a relic of the Ninth Legion."
"It was apparently capable of shattering Tartaros plate," Cortain adds.

Indeed, after a bit the Urist Brothers manage to find the Launch Bay. Opening the Caestus's doors for cargo and body transfer, they stand ready to move anything the Commandos deem necessary into the Assault Ram. 

"We'll be embarking close to the medicae deck, pilots," Brynjol commands, "Debriefing can wait until all three of them have been admitted for treatment."
"I need little treatment," Cortain shakes his head, "Just some quiet."
"Luckily for you it's very quiet on the medicae deck," Brynjol laughs.
"I did not take a single hit in that battle," Cyril adds, "Look to yourself."
"Neither did I," Brynjol points out, "But I also didn't have what sounded like a rather vivid hallucination."
"I encountered the same thing when I got this blade," Cortain raises the Gladius Invictus, "It seems...that there is some memory imprinted in these relics."
"Then treat me in the chapel," Cyril shakes his head, "I will not suffer your medbay again unless I am actually injured."
Brynjol stares at Cyril.
"...by the enemy," he clarifies.
"It says something that you refuse this, against my advice, a Rout warrior," Brynjol sighs, but drops the subject.

The Urist Brothers are reverent as they help move the dead corpses. Loading up into the Caestus, the fallen legionaries safely stored, the Urists pull out, and begin to circle the asteroid. The Commandos request circling around to review the bolter from earlier, and to give the Squats a status update. But then, floating across the winds of spess, their hearing picks up something else.

That keening.

The Urists make the final turn, only to come eye to eye with the impossibly large Hellstar.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aiBRGwzc4lc

Cyril's eyes widen, black as the void, and his lips pull back in a silent snarl as his gaze snaps away from Brynjol and stare into nowhere.

"Evade!" Brynjol commands, but the Urists sit petrified. He lunges forward, grabbing the controls and barely evading a most horrific tentacle extending from the entity.
"GET ME BACK ON THAT ASTEROID! I WILL HAVE THAT WEAPON!" Cyril yells. 
"Cortain, restrain Cyril!" Brynjol states.
"BLADE, DEPLOY BATTLE SERVITOR CONTROLLED FIGHTER CRAFT!" Cyril implores as Cortain grabs him, clamping him down, "SCREEN US, AND UNLEASH ALL FIREPOWER ON THE MONSTROSITY!!!"
Brynjol, however, turns the Caestus to the Blade.
"Belay that order!" he states. The Blade is already making ready to evacuate. Cyril screams the fury of an 8-foot tall genetically enhanced toddler.
"LAD! WE'RE HOLDING POSITION FOR YA!" Rockfist yells, "WE'LL WAIT FOR YA THEN ENGAGE THE WARP DRIVE!"
"Rockfist! Use whatever weapons you can on the Blade to screen us, no fighters!" Brynjol commands, "Get her in gear."

As Brynjol lands in the Blade, a few of the Squats who could evacuate join the Commandos in the launch bay.
"VOX THE ASTEROID!" Cyril insists, "HAVE THEM TAKE EVERYTHING THEY CAN CARRY, STARTING WITH THAT BOLTER!"
Cortain pauses before adding, "That sounds reasonable.  Relay it, on the double."
"Lad, we have confirmation you're aboard," Rockfist says, "If we stay, that...thing will take us."
"CORTAIN, WILL YOU SILENCE HIM FOR THE LOVE OF THE ALLFATHER!" Brynjol finally yells.
"CORTAIN!" Cyril whirls to face the Techmarine, and his clamps. "ARC CHARGE THE REACTOR! WE SHALL SEE HOW THAT ABOMINATION LIKES THE ACCELERATOR CANNON!"

Outside, numerous tentacles extend outward, grabbing asteroids and forcing them into its gargantuan maw. The Hellstar's beak itself is extended, and retracting with the planetoid. Vox traffic is overloaded with the desperate cries of squats across the field.

"Rockfist, as squad leader, I am ordering you to get us the feth out of here!" Brynjol demands, "I will not risk us all for the sake of an Emperor-damned BOLTGUN!"
"Aye, lad..." Rockfist nods.

Cyril gives up on returning and runs for the bridge to take control of the cannon, slavering with hate for the stellar abomination. Cortain, keeping careful watch, arc charges the Accelerator Cannon, and Brynjol takes a moment to lock on before resuming evacuation procedures.

"You can make whatever shots you want, as long as they're made while we are leaving this place, Cyril!" Brynjol finally relents. The Blade begins to make distance from the Hellstar, which the Commandos notice is carefully examining every asteroid before consuming it within its eye-lined maw.

"YES, BRYNJOL. NOW GET ME A FIRING VECTOR," Cyril gurgles in barely coherent rage, "I AM GOING TO PUT THAT EYE OUT."

The Atomantic Arc Reactor's power is funneled into the Accelerator Cannon, the lance of energy striking through the dust field and asteroids to scrape across the Hellstar's eye. For many seconds, the beam rakes across, and white steam is seen across. But...nothing else really happens.

"....is that meant to happen?" Cortain asks in shock.
"I bloody told you! Now get us out of here, Rockfist!" Brynjol says, the fear of the extradimensional entity forcing out any smugness he may have had about being right,  "This thing is beyond the reach of conventional weaponry!"

The gas-giant sized Hellstar's singular eye turns slowly at Cyril. He screeches hate at the eye, but the noise dies in his throat and he stares at the thing, eerily still. For the briefest of moments, there is silence, only two beings in the universe - Cyril, and the Hellstar.

"One day soon, monster. You WILL die, I swear it."

The Blade escapes the Scar with its Warp Drive. Though thousands of squats were left to a most terrible fate, the Commandos survived, to fight another day, with a powerful new relic. And that's all that can be said for such a situation.

-------------------------
Rose walks into the Armorium, a quad-sealed chamber accessible only through codes granted to her by Executor Thexus.

"Executor, you asked to see me?"
"YOU ARE CORRECT, AUXILIA PSYKANA. I HAVE NEED OF YOUR ASSISTANCE."

"I don't know if I am able to help bu...what...those are..."
"YOUR MEMORY IS ASTUTE, AUXILIA. THEY STILL REQUIRE WORK."
"But you said you sent them off to their home chapters."
"THE BODIES OF THE HONORED DEAD WERE RETURNED. SOME PARTS SHALL CONTINUE TO SERVE."
"I see..."

The Paragon of Metal walks up to her.

"YOU SEEM HESITANT."
"No, I just, I'm not sure I have the knowledge to assist."
"YOU HAVE STUDIED THE RITES OF TECHNOLOGY WITH THE HELOTS, HAVE YOU NOT? 
"I have..."
"YOU HAVE APPLIED YOUR OWN KNOWLEDGE OF MATERIALS AND PHYSICAL PROPERTIES TO THEIR OWN METHODS, HAVE YOU NOT?"
"Yes."
"THEN YOU SHALL BE OF HELP. THERE ARE STILL SOME FACTORS EVEN I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. YOU WILL ASSIST ME IN THESE THINGS."

Rose glares at him.

"You're far more than you let on."
"I AM A MARKED OF THE FABRICATOR LOCUM. THERE IS LITTLE TIME TO WASTE. LET US CONTINUE OUR WORK. THE LEGIONARIES CANNOT BE KEPT."
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