As you open your eyes an unpleasant glare blinds you for a second. You strain your eyes to make out your surroundings and it seems like you're in the ship's Apothecarion. As you try to move you feel restraints hold you back at your wrists, ankles, and forehead, making it impossible to turn or sit up.

"Ah, you're awake." you hear a voice. A moment later the apothecary comes into view. "I didn't expect you to wake up for a while now, brother." His white armor is dented and speckled with bloodstains. The right shoulder plate black, with brass trim, and proudly displaying the grilled skull insignia of the Iron Warriors.
As he releases the straps for a second you hear screech of static, like that of a malfunctioning vox grille, but then it's gone.
You look around and you see several battle brothers spread on similar surgical slabs, medicae servitors attending to them. Some of them are severly wounded but seem to be healing. A few of them are missing limbs, or have bionic replacements already grafted to them.
With that in mind you check your body. Your right is a cybernetic arm that served you well the last two decades, presented to you by the master of the 300th Grand Company, Lord Skraal, after your elevation to brother-siege engineer after the battle of Thrax V. Your chest is dotted with several neuro-interface ports for your armor. They appear new, with the pale spiderweb of already healed surgical scars around it. You run the fingers of your left over them, they are warm to the touch.

(cont.)

"I had to implant new ones. You caught a bolter round square in the chest that exploded behind your breastplate. Pretty much ruined all hardware inside... and one of your heart, and two lungs." you look up, seeing a stoic expression on his scarred face as he recants your injuriues. "Almost everyone gave up on you, but Lord Skraal said every one of us will have a trip trough the airlock if you die on us."
Before you could say anything he continues. "That means now you're outfitted with brand new interfaces, a mechanical lung, and a cardio-centrifuge as your heart. I couldn't regrow your black carapace for some reason, so i had to improvise. Your ribcage had to be replaced either way, so brother-techmarine Conraad made you some plaststeel plating, with the jacks integrated. The rest is synth-muscle... the skin's real."
You hear the static again, than it ceases. The apothecary plugs a cable of a bio-monitor in one of your plug sockets and checks the display.
"All seems right. Now tell me, brother, are you well?"

<what do, /tg/?>

>Iron Warriors
Fuck you are awesome. Is that you, Bomb?

>>11810247
...no?

>>11810197

"Can you guys get be back to Terra? I want to be a loyalist again. Being a filthy traitor sucks."

>>11810222
Ask about where we are going and why it was so important for us to live.

>>11810275
KILL YOURSELF
>>11810222
You have done well, apothecary. I feel fit for war. Speaking of which, how goes the battle?

>>11810291
This.

Mind you, I agree that loyalists are generally better in every way, but I make an exception for Iron Warriors.

IRON WITHIN, IRON WITHOUT!

And, >>11810247, sorry, just wondering. Carry on.

>You have done well, apothecary. I feel fit for war. Speaking of which, how goes the battle?

"We... lost. The loyalists assaulted the Vengeful Spirit. Horus died. The False Emperor still rules. Russ and the Lion interveened and we had to retreat."

>where are we heading?

"Now we're heading to the Eye of Terror. Don't ask me what's in that shithole, but it's better be good."

>why is it so important that i live?

"Haven't got the faintest idea." you stare at him for a second and then he says "I'd say, you're an asset. Lord Skraal wants his company combat ready. Now that we lost almost half the legion some places emptied. He wants to up his status among the legion. They say you're a good siege engineer. That's all i know."

seriously... is noone interested?

>>11810437
I wish I could continue it, I fucking love Iron Warriors but it's already late here and I have to get up early in the morning. Shit sucks man.

>>11810437
Bad timing I guess.

ah well... i guess i'll stay around for a couple hours and if it don't start off, than i'll give it a try another time.

>>11810437
man that conversion is awesome. Par Chaos Warrior and Chaos Marine.

>>11810537
yeah, tell me

*waiting for players*

>>11810513
Please do give it another try, I'd like to participate, but it's almost one in the mourning here in britfagland.

>>11810363

"A good siege engineer, brother, is useless lest we possess a patch of earth to defend or an earthwork to assault. Nay, brother, Skraal wants for my voice, not my hands, in this matter. I am sure that the potential error of our ways has been glimpsed by many.....perhaps not least of all myself."

>>11810623
"If you say so. I'm just a bonesaw, I know as much about siegework as a World Eater. But I stiched you up good, haven't I?"

he disconnects the bio monitor from your black carapace and gives you a pat on your back.

"Now, if it's all well, I'll look to the rest. Report at brother-techmarine Conraad for your battle armor. He probably fixed the battle damage already. Also..."

He tosses you a granite grey robe.

"Put this on."

>>11810222
ask around if he could help somewhere

this ship is after a lost battle... i guess they can use a techmarine somewhere

>>11810698

I lift my large mass from the gurney slowly, gingerly as weight is placed upon my central musculature. After stretching my neck, slowly, from side to side and grunting as the tension relaxes in a series of deep snaps, I accept the robe and stand, wincing, before donning the vestments.

Looking over my injuries, I remark,
" I am alive, somehow, whether for good or ill, I suppose shall be seen.....you have done fine work, brother, and I would like to know to whom I should speak well of to the Lord Skrall."

I salute in the old fashion, fist against chest, before offering the saluting hand, " I am Acherus, formerly of Olympia."

find out whats left of the squad you were attached to, go talk to them? inspect your armour

You put the robe on and leave the Apothecarion. You take the mag-train to traverse around the battlebarge, and eventually get to the Armory.
You knock down a few serfs as you stride down the dim corridors, still feeling a bit off in your body. Probably because of the new implants.
The workshop is as you remembered it. Noisy, and smells of smoke and engine oil. Tech-servitors are performing mainenance work, and a dozen or so techmarines are supervising artificers, or performing more difficult tasks.

You see brother Titus, Brask, and Darius fixing the ruined machinery of an ancient dreadnought armor. As far as you can tell it's the Ancient Balder. It's sarcophagus plating stripped, and powerful sedatives fed into the entombed marine, through chem-injectors to keep it unconcious till the repairs are being carried out.

You look around and see a row of Mark IV powerarmor being assembled by serfs. An astartes with full servo-harness carrying out repairs on one of the models.

>>11810870
sorry, skipped ahead a bit since noone was responding. the Apothecary is called Castor

>>11810987

I glance around the workshop, before stepping towards the Marine in full Harness.

"Brother Conraad, I presume?"

The tech-marine turns around.

"Yes, brother. Who am I adressing?"

He puts down the helmet he was servicing. His servo-arms whirr and hiss as their gyros adjust to the change of the marine's stance.

>>11811072

"I am Siege Engineer Acherus. I was told by Brother-Apothecary Castor that you were responsible for making repairs to my armor. By the Throne, You have had your hands full."

>>11811102

>By the throne

Not on this ship my friend.

>>11811125

>that's the joke.jpg

>>11811102
He fliches to the mention of the Throne of Terra, but chooses to not make a comment on it.

"Yes, we were quite busy the last couple months, while you lot were out cold and sleeping."

He takes off his helmet, one of the servo-claws taking from him as a good servant would. His face is pitted with old shrapnel wounds, and most of the left side of his skull is replaced with a cybernetic skull, his eye is a glowing red globe.

"Let me check the records. Would you follow me, brother?" he gestures with a hand, and walks towards the cogitators at the end of the workshop.
You obediently follow and watch as he steps in front of a large pict screen and connects a mechandrite to the terminal interface.
Lines of green text roll down as he accesses the data-crypt of the ship armory, then turns towards you.

"If you excuse me." and with that he lashes out with a mechandrite that stabs you in the arm with a needle. Some kinda bionic reader, no doubt. You find it a bit troubling, but choose to ignore the unpleasant manner of the adept.
"Yes, your armor has been serviced a month ago. It's in storage. Follow me."

He disconnects from the cogitator and sets off towards the storage halls.
For a second you feel numbness in your right hand, but as you flex your fingers a bit, it passes.

>>11811140
it was a good one. i grinned like mad

You enter the Armoury Storage following brother Conraad. The tech-marine produces a data-wafer and feeds into one of the hauler servitors which speeds away on clattering tracks to fetch your armor.
You wait patiently. The tech-marine stands unmoving, like a statue, only his servo-harness move every now and then, as if they possessed an own conciousness.
The servitor returns after a while, carrying the sealed crate, akin to a large metal coffin.

"Your armor, brother Acherus." he turns to you, holding up a mechandrite menacingly, slowly sliding out a data-spike.
He turns towards the container and inserts the spike to an interface in the middle of a cog motif. With a hiss the crate opens, and brother Conraad steps back and gestures to take your belongings.
Inside the container there's the familiar Mark V armor you wore in the Battle of Terra.

>>11811498
PUT THAT SHIT ON AND GET ON WITH IT!

You put your armor on. It's embrace feels like that of an old lover. As the systems of the suit come online you feel strength in your limbs like never before. Your remaining organic heart seems to beat faster with excitement, and a feeling of cold breeze tickles your skin.
You turn to the tech-marine and catch him staring at you for a second before he turns his head away with a frown. Did you just see a vein pumping under the adamantium plate of his bionic skull?
A snapping sound of his servo-claw brings you back from your reverie.

"Now you got what you needed, you're fit to return your duties, and more importantly, leave me to return mine."

You nod, but can't miss the faint metallic sound of the tech-marine's words.

"If you don't mind." he says and passes beside you, leaving the storeage hall.

<what now?>

>>11811632
Our duties being? What is there to do?

>>11811649
it may do well if you reported at the company captain / warsmith
or you can wander around a bit, go see the training grounds / shooting range since not everyone knows you're awake yet
also, you may ask around if you want info on something.

c'mon /tg/! i'm bored

>it may do well if you reported at the company captain / warsmith

This

>>11811692
Get us gone to the gunsmith, we need armaments.

>>11811692

Testing the servos of the newly-refurnished suit of armor, I decide to stroll to where the training areas had been located before my injury, making sure to keep tabs on the dialogue and state of any battlebrothers or crew that I happen to pass.

>>11811821
You look around the arming chamber, the gunsmith greets you and brings forth your weapons from his workshop.
A Phobos pattern bolter, a bolt pistol, a chainsword, and a combat knife. They are all yours. Seems like some of your brothers carried them back with you when the retreat has been ordered.
A bit reluctantly he also gives you ammunition, but you can't help but notice the suspicious look he gives you.

Leaving the arming chamber you head to the training ground. As you enter you see five battlebrothers. Two of them sparring with training weapons. One of them wielding a large battleaxe, the other a two handed sword. Two other is at the firing range shooting at holographing projections. The fifth figure is sitting at a bench over a dismantled bolter, cleaning the parts with weapon oil.

>>11811995

I walk to the nearest open table, openly inspecting my arms while furtively glancing at the other Marines in the room, to glimpse a familiar face or any noticeable changes from the last time I was conscious.

>>11812024
You inspect the marines in the chamber, and you recognize the two figure at the firing range. Brother Daren and Furion. They were part of Solonis' squad, the Warsmith's 2nd in command. Their faces bear new scars now, and Furion's right leg seems to be replaced with a bionic one, though it seems to mimic the organic in design...

>>11812097

I sheath my chainsword and knife, and walk towards the Marines at the range with my bolt pistol in hand, leaving the bolter at the table. I take a spot on the firing line relatively close to them, firing several rounds before remarking,

"It is good to see you well, my brothers. How fares Brother Solonis?"

"Ah, you live yet." Furion says while snapping off a few shots at the targets. The hololith images of power armored figures flare up and disappear as the bolt rounds pass through them.
"I told you he would" brother Daren says.
"No, you told me to leave him, as far as i remember." replies Furion. "But Solonis said to pull him out." he turns back to you, and you notice an unearthy glow in his eyes. "Brother Solonis is well, and sends his best wishes."

He punches in a code into the control panel next to him and the shooting drill starts again.
"Care to join the training? I guess you'd need some practice. It's been three months already."

New figures appear on the range, charging at you waving swords and firing bolters. Their armor are in the livery of the Imperial Fists.

So...when do these bucket-head traitors receive mutations from their loving patrons?

and cut out the get-along bullshit. they're chaos marines now.......

>>11812390

I pause for a moment, thinking over the actions taken at Isstvan V, the madness of the assault on Terra. I fire a few absentminded shots at the holographic images, aware of the feelings that the colors of Dorn's Legion instigated, but refusing to allow their resurgence.

"Indeed, it has been a long time. Any idea on where we are heading, are we returning to Olympia, or one of the other garrisons?

>>11812501
GTFO
Traitor Marines are nor braindead cumdumpsters for the dark gods like Abbadon.

btw, vote for olbiterator virus

>>11810197

Enjoying reading this, but don't know how to join in!

>>11812574

Just say:

"Hey brothers can I paint my heraldry yellow with red trimming?"

>>11810222
Can I ask to be made into a dreadnought? Prefferably loaded down with more dakka than an ork Waaagh?

You blink in and out of consciousness, barely registering shouting and explosions..
".....up.."
you're aware of some pain in your leg..
"I said, GET THE FETH UP, GUARDSMAN!"
You then snap awake, aware of the lasbolt wound in your leg, and Sgt Ignas yelling at you, laying down lasgun fire at the approaching Cultists, trying to buy you time... all around you the men and women of the 72nd Hokran Rifles engage the enemy in a desperate defense..

>>11812643
you finally get to your feet, ejected your used power cell and ejecting a fresh one with practiced ease. A maddened cultist runs at you brandishing a power-axe. You drill her, laying 3 bolts center mass. Her power-axe flies free, and buries itself in the chest of another cultist. You look back to see the 72nd Hokrans falling back into an entrenched position.

You slide a magazine in your bolt pistol and for a second the static noise is there again. You shake your head then don your helmet.
The gun's machine spirit connects with that of your armor, and you instantly the bolt pistol's status is listed on your visor's vision field. Twenty bolt rounds waiting to fly into the hearts of the enemy. The armor's auto-senses pick up the targets, and you rise your arm to fire a shot at the first figure.
Instincts kick in, and the first holo-image blinks out of existence.

"We're not returning to Olympia." Furion says. "All forces are ordered to head to the Eye of Terror. We're setting up hidden bases to operate from." as he explains he fires wildly at the images of Dorn's warriors.
You fire a few shots too. The ammo counter in your vision field counting back. Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thriteen.
You watch as the pre-programmed behaviour routines make the target images seek cover and duck as Daren's shot go wide. You snap off a shot at the one dropping at his knees to take aim. The bolt flies through its helmet before the image dissipates.
"Nice shot." Daren comments. "I cou-" SKREEEEE. That Noise again. It's like daemonic claws scratching at the inside of your skull.
Pain flashes through your nerves, and you grip the railing. Projected images of bolts fly past you as the holo-troopers return fire. You blink and fire again, furiously sending shot after shot. The counter blinks for a moment. Fourteen, thirteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven...
A chime sounds, indicating the end of the firing routine. The hololith displays statistics, listing you as the best shooter with fourteen fired shots and no misses.

"Seems like it's us who need more training." Furion says.
"Impressive." Daren mumbles. "As if you weren't out for months."

You ignore them... the scratching, the damn scratching again...

>>11812643
>>11812703

Get the fuck out. Your unit sounds like a bodily function. Go make your own thread, Guardfags.

>>11812703 ejected your used power cell and ejecting a fresh one with practiced ease

double eject?

>>11812735 Go make your own thread, Guardfags.

>Enjoying reading this, but don't know how to join in!

just post a suggestion for an action.

>guardfags
don't hijack the thread. if you want guardsmen, go make your own quest thread.

>>11812735
>implying we need more than one 40k thread on the frontpage.

>>11812732
I collect my bolter, carelessly giving my battlebrothers a wink and go back the apothecary to report this scratching inside my head.

>>11812732

I holster my pistol, trying with some difficulty not to show any discomfort. Turning to the other participants, I mumble,

"Perhaps the two of you should spend some time at rest. Firing at false images can do for us nothing."

I turn back the way I came, towards the Apothecarion, shouldering my bolter as the table passes by. Perhaps Castor can explain this...disturbance....

You walk back to the table you left your bolter at. As you would holster your bolt pistol you notice the strange sticky feeling its grip has. As you inspect the weapon it appears as if small metallic strings have grown out of it, connecting the grip to your palm, clutching to the gauntlet like roots of a tree to the earth.
You tear them away, and hear the static scratching again. For a second you see the ghost image of ammo counter in your visor's display. 20...
You pick up your bolter and head off in a hurry. You hear as Furion shouts after you "Look for Solonis!"

>>11812960
OBLITARATOR!!!

I snap back at the ammo display and attach the bolter to my right thigh while rushing to the apothecary. Solonis can wait.

>>11812960

Muttering under my breath, I continue to head towards the Apothecarion. Remembering the sting of the shot administered by the Tech-Marine....Conraad, his name. Blast that bastard, why was it not administered by the Apothecary?

Slamming a fist into a passing bulkhead, I begin to disengage the clasps on my armor's helm and disengage the ventlocks whilst pulling it off.

>>11812960
Aww yeah, bitch. We're gonna be an Obliterator.

>>11813072
>trying to take your helmet off
Heh, good luck.

You take the mag-train to the Apothecarion. The car you're in is mostly empty except for a sherf clutching a data slate. As you step in he mumbles a formal greeting, then tries to shrink as small as it is possible.
For a few moments the lights inside the car blink and you hear the noise again. The helmet's vision switches to greyscale and back again, then somehow the image becomes sharper, as if you'd be looking through your own eyes.

The train stops and you leave the car. As you step out the lights go out in the car and the doors close shut. You don't look back, just run to the medicae facility.
Castor is there, doing surgery on one of the maimed astartes, attaching a bionic leg to the stump.
He looks up as you charge in.

<what do?>

Tell him what's happening, ask him what the fuck is going on.

>>11813116

I rush up to Apothecary Castor and place an armored gauntlet on his pauldron.

"Brother Castor......whilst I was in traction....was anything changed in me? Did you allow my geneseed to be altered, or any other bionic...additions?

"Conraad injected something into me. Strange filaments connecting from myself to my Boltpistol. Ammonition restored when I didn't even reload. Screeching noises inside my head. "

I blurt everything out and wait for an answer.

Apart from being apparently irrated by your dramatic entrance he listens to your story, while handing over his work to a fellow apothecary. You explain the scratching and the strange phenomena, and he asks you to follow him into one of the smaller chambers.
As you enter he closes the door behind you, sealing the pair of you in the small room.

"Your helmet please." he says. You reach up. You hear the noise for a second, then you take off the helmet without difficulty. "I'm going to need a full inspection. In case you feel anything unusual, any of the effects you previously mentioned, please tell." he says. As you look around you see a surgical slab in the middle of the room. Above the table there's a chirurgeon device hanging from the ceiling, similar to the tech-marine's servo harness with a dozen of different arms, all wielding strange tools... You see scapels, saws, injectors, servo-claws, bionic scanners, samplers, even something similar to a flamer... Apart from that, there's a plain steel table at one of the walls.
"Please put your weapons on the table, then start taking off your armor."

>>11813333
Take off my armor. Honestly, you can make these decisions yourself.

<what do?>

>>11813333
I do as he says and put my weapons on the table.

´I, uh, could take a bit of help with my armour. ´

>Can marines single handeled take off their own armour?

>>11813333

I comply, placing my sheathed blade, chainsword, holstered pistol and bolter on the aforementioned table, as the Apothecary begins to disconnect outer components.

"Listen, Castor.....the rebellion....do you believe in it still? Were we truly right to murder our own brethren in cold blood? The Crimson Fists, yes, they were always lorded over us, considered our betters but they were yet our brothers! How could we as Astartes allow envy to beget fratricide? Where did the reasoning end, brother? Where did we become monsters?

>>11813446
Don't say this.
Did you not notice "the lackeys of the False Emperor"?
Also, we are in a base of Chaos Marines.
Don't be an idiot.

As you start to take off your armor you notice the apothecary watching your every move. Your bolter in his hands, aiming at you.
You hesitate for a second.

"Proceed." he says. You glance at the table, where you left your weapons seeing your chainsword and combat knife, Castor standing between you and them. You hear the scratching again...
"I said, take it all off."

Piece after piece you put your battleplate on the floor next to the surgical table. With a sense of discomfort you look at the apothecary.
You feel strangely naked. In fact, you are naked, but that never troubled you. But now, separated from your armor, you feel as you've been stripped to your soul.

"On the slab. Put your hands into the restraints.

<what do?>

>>11813479

We are running away with our tails between our legs, a Legion that was not culled or drastically effected by the Isstvan massacres and therefore filled with ostensibly 'on-the-fence' Marines, barreling towards real estate prospects in the motherfucking Eye of Terror.

I think there were some situation-appraisals going on.

>>11813533

Battle-brothers don't pull weapons on one another. Nurseboy's going the fuck down.

Victory or death, coercion doesn't work on an Astartes. Motherfucking LUNGE

>>11813548
We also know we can't ever go back. We made our bed, now we must lie in it.

>"Listen, Castor.....the rebellion....do you believe in it still? Were we truly right to murder our own brethren in cold blood? The Fists, yes, they were always lorded over us, considered our betters but they were yet our brothers! How could we as Astartes allow envy to beget fratricide? Where did the reasoning end, brother? Where did we become monsters?"

"Since how long have these thoughts been troubling you?" he asks, not sure if he really cares about an answer, or just trying to calm you down. Anyhow, he doesn't lower the bolter for even a split second. Looking you straight in the eye, he gestures with a jerk of his head. "On the table. Now!"

>>11813612
I'm not sure we'll survive, but I agree. After all, he's armed and armored, and we are not.

>>11813616
I think someone doesn't know there place.
Can we yank the gun from his hands, disassemble it, tell him not to point a gun at us. Then get on the table.

You glance at the table behind Castor again...
It too far. If you could reach your chainsword, or your...
You look at Castor. Your bolter in his hands. You look at his waist, expecting your holstered pistol hanging from his side. It's not there.
It's not there, but you don't remember putting it on the table either.
Look at your feet. Only armor plates.
Where has it gone?

"I'll ask you one more time. Lie on the table."

<what do?>
A. Lunge on him
B. Run for your weapons
C. Lie on the slab

I cast a longing look at my armour and shiver as I remember the sensation that has gripped me as we finally met each other.

>He wants to take you away from me.

The thought flashed through my mind and I cast the apothecary a sharp look. That bastard wants my armour.

"Whats the matter? On the table, now! "

"That's my bolter. " I growl and assault the apothecary. I reach out, nudge the Bolter aside and meet the face of the other brother with my elbow.

>>11813711
Don't go for our weapons.
Call our weapons.

>>11813711
Raise right index finger as a mock gun, point it at his head, and then lower the thumb.

Blow smoke off index finger following headsplosion.

>>11813711

Lunge. That. Arrogant. Motherfucker.

>>11813729
A
Disarm his gun, then rub his face in it.

>>11813616
I'm going to pretend we didn't actually say that.

We're heretic marines, and we're likely infected with the Obliterator virus. Let's fill ourselves with hate and enjoy our last years of sapience.

>>11813787
fuck I forgot what the roll function was
posting Iron Warrior for relevance
(captcha large submen)

You lunge on him with a ferocious howl. You feel as if time has stuck in ember, and you see the barrel flaring up as the apothecary fires the bolter. A white crucifix escapes the barrel spitting fore a speeding bolt.
You feel the impact resonating through your body, then hear a distant crack, and a muffled detonation. A shower of plaster envelopes you, as the bolt riochetting off your plaststeel chest implant explodes in the chamber's stone wall.
You bat asside the weapon and shoulder the apothecary with your right. Your cybernetic arm cracking the breastplate of his battlearmour. The scratching returns, and the next thing you know is you holding brother Castor in a chokehold, your bolt pistol in your left, it's barrel pushed at the apothecary's temple.

<what do?>

>>11813869
Damnit I wanted to Gran Torino him. Oh well. Ask him what the Warp is going on.

>>11813869
Ask him if this is what he wanted.

>>11813869

In during stereotypical "WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! WHY WERE YOU RESTRAINING ME?!" etc etc

I smack him across his face.

"You answer my questions! What has Castor done with me? "

>>11813869
"Pathetic, you aren't worth killing."
rip his gun from his hands and for dramatic effect crush it.
"You are an insignificant whelp, from now on you tell me to do nothing. You may suggest an action, but know that if you give me lip again I will rip out your heart and show it too you.

"Listen! I'm doing it for your own good! I just need to protect myself and the Legion!" he yells as he feels the touch of death caressing his soul.
"What's happening to me?!!"
"I'm not sure. I need to examine-" he mumbles.
"ANSWER ME!" you yell, your voice a distorted howl of static.
"I... uh... Mutation! You're mutating! Release me and I'll explain!"

<what do?>

Obliterator virus is the best virus. For a while.

Then it quickly becomes worst virus.

>>11813938
Err... no? He has his own Boltpistol pointed at the brother. No crushing what so ever.

>>11813957
"Very well. but never order me again."
>>11813962
Yes and Iron Warriors have it.

>>11813957
Release him, but keep the pistol pointed at his head.

>>11813976
Actually, the Iron Warrior Obliterators can control the mutations.

>>11813957

"You...." The words have difficulty escaping, as I begin to realize the extent of what has come of my choices.

Pull the fucking trigger. Then proceed to warp drive/other essential part of ship and destroy it. The only pennance for this level of betrayal and dishonor is death.

I remember in 2002/3 when the Iron Warriors were cheese, are they still cheese?

>>11814002
I believe this is Stage 3. Soon enough, we won't be able to take our armor off.

>>11814017
Outvoted. Stop being a queer.

>>11814020
I don't see why they would have stopped being cheese. Obliterators are hax.

>>11814029

Just woke up after being badly wounded in an assault on the throne world of our Creator, apparently caused over butthurt and jealousy.

We now come to find that we have been betrayed ourselves, by those who are supposed to be closest to us.

I think some amendments to past deisions are in order.

Hey, OP, I'm falling asleep here.

>"Very well. but never order me again."

You slowly release him, while you pick up your bolter with your right.
Your visor's vision field displays 20 rounds in your bolt pistol and 30 in your bolter.
You look down on your armor, in pieces, at your feet. Your helmet's feral visage looking up at you, its lenses staring in accusation.
You can't piece it together... The Scratching again...

Castor looks troubled.
"So?" you ask, pointing both weapons at him.
"The Warmaster and the Primarch started it. They alligned themselves with the supernatural powers of the Warp." he starts.
"I know this full well." you hiss at him. "What is this mutation?"
"It's all part of that. Chaos... It changes us. The other legions are affected too. You saw the daemons at Terra."
"What has this got to do with daemons?"
"Everything! The essence of the Warp changes us. Some of us are becoming like them. The Word Bearers say it's the favour of the Gods. Some are even possessed by daemons."
"Am I being possessed?" you ask.
"No... I don't know... I never seen this before. I have to examine you to know more..."

<what do?>

>>11814049
And nobody else wants to destroy ourselves and everyone else.
Fuck off. You do not control this quest.

>>11814037
Me neither, though it's said that they are less cheese then before...

I was just wondering if someone could elaborate.

>>11814056
Let him examine us. We don't know what's going on and want to find out.

>>11814068
Dunno. I don't play Iron Warriors.

>>11814056

My vote's still with redemption through warp drive malfunction in this motherfucker.

>Let him examine us. We don't know what's going on and want to find out.

"Alright." you give in.
"Put down your weapons. Please." he asks. he gestures at the table with his head, and slowly starts to walk towards the othes side of the room, putting the surgical table between you and the table with the rest of your equipment.

<what do?>

>>11814056
Let him examine us, but with caution.

>>11814121
Put down the weapons within hands reach.

>>11814121

He already pulled a gun on us, he cannot be trusted. No restraints this time, and we hold onto a weapon. Seems safe, no?

>>11814068
>>11814090
Iron Warriors have a mild version of the virus.The Virus in fact originated with in the chapter. At best they can summon up a small weapon like bolters or a melta gun.

>>11814181
I think they support the full blown virus. Cmon, their have a fetish for big, devastating guns!

>>11814181
No, they have full-blown Obliterators. I don't know where you get your information from.

>>11814181
In the best chaos book, which was before this nerf edition, Obliterators are their own faction that sells themselves for better equipment for the virus to invade themselves, and assimilate the weapon or armor. The Iron Warriors could field as many Obliterators as they wanted, because they were on good terms with the Obliterators. There was no such talk about the Iron Warriors having the Obliterator Virus, except that their "Possessed Marines" were highly repurposed machines of death.

>>11814270
He's durfing hurfs and has no clue what he's talking about.

>>11814333
Well, the first sentence was right, I believe.

>>11814270
>The first Obliterators witnessed amongst Chaos forces were amongst the Iron Warriors and, on rare occasions, Iron Warriors have manifested the ability to 'morph' weapons, although with nothing like the versatility of true Obliterators.
Source
http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Iron_Warriors

Instead of putting your weapons on the table you put them on the surgical table as you sit up. The bolter at least... The bolt pistol miraclously vanished once again. "Am I going mad?" you think. The only thing answering you is the scratching.
You glance at Castor. The apothecary is as pale as his armor. You lie down, not even bothering with the restraints.
He steps to the controls and connects a cable to one of his armor interfaces. The chirurgeon comes to life and lowers. Before you could react four servo-claws catch your arms and legs forcing you in a spread-eagled pose.
Panicing you start to fight back, the servos whining at your effort.

"Easy!" brother Castor cautions. "I'm not trying to hurt you."
You stop fighting and lay still for a second. The arms stop pulling your limbs. Scapels and samplers lower and they proceed to cut off a small section of skin and flesh from your left shoulder, sampling blood, and so on. Biometric readers scan your body while Castor is watching the pict display of the machine.
Hours pass in silence, only the whirring of the machine and the disquieting coughs of the apothecary are heard.

"At first glance, nothing seems to be out of place..."
"But?" you butt in.
"...but your bone density has increased, and some of your bionic replacements appear organic on the scans..."
You wait for him to explain, but you remains in silence.
"What does that mean?" you ask, irrated.
"I remember installing a cardio-centrifuge in place of your missing heart. On the scans it appears as if you had two functioning hearts."
"What about the... scratching?"
"Don't know... I see no brain damage. Maybe it's just you..."
"ME WHAT?" you yell impatiently.
"Maybe you're just losing it." he casts you a concerning look.

<what do?>

>>11814356
"Maybe you are just terrible at your job."

>>11814356

Call bullshit.

>>11814356
"Maybe Solonis knows something. "

>>11814348
Again, that is their innate ability, because the virus sprang from their chapter. That doesn't mean they all can do that, or that they have no true Obliterators.

>>11814241
I was talking about a generic Iron Warrior marine. not the Oblitorators who really don't serve anyone.
see >>11814348

Granted, Obliterators don't go incapacitatingly insane, they just go the regular, Chaos kind of crazy.

>>11814419
They don't ALL have it, though.
Derp.

>"Maybe you are just terrible at your job."

(I lol'd)

"I patched you together, you ungrateful son of a whore!" he shouts. Scapels and saws lower towards your face menacingly. "If it wasn't for me, you'd have choked on your own blood on one of the slabs! Learn some respect, you warp-damned f-" he abrubtly stops as you point your bolt pistol at his face, the servo-arm no longer holding your hand.
"Alright, my temper got the better of me. I'm sorry." he says, staring down the barrel of your gun. "What else do you want from me? This... Thing appears to be more technological in nature than biological. Or daemonic."
"What can you tell me then?" you ask, you voice dripping with poison.
"I can tell you to see a sorcerer. Or a tech-marine. Or Conraad himself."

<what do?>

>>11814418
>>11814451
Did I say they all could do it? I don't recall saying that, but then again maybe I should have been a bit clearer, but I don't recall being required to have an encyclopedic knowledge of fluff a requirement.
>>11814436
But if everyone is insane, doesn't insanity then become sane.

>>11814481
Go to Conraad

>>11814481
>you ask, you voice dripping with poison.
That is a very colorful description I must remember it for DH.
"The same goes for you, point a gun at the wrong person and you'll end up dead. I know many that would take no such lip."

>>11814484
Yeah. The Obliterators deal with everyone else quite normally, because they're all crazy.
Also, ha ha you don't have an encyclopaedic knowledge of 40k.

Can we cut the arguing about fluff and concentrate on the game itself?

Also, is anyone interested in the continuation of the story? Not like I'm going away anytime soon, but eventually i will. In case there's interest the story so far could be submitted on suptg for archival, so ppl could catch up later on.

Also, please be more specific on actions and concentrate more on the present. Comment like "go to Conraad" are nice and dandy, while you're being held by servo-claws it makes no difference.

>>11814540
Continue. Obliterator Quest sounds good to me.

>>11814540
Sorry about that, wasn't much of an argument really more of a herp deh derp fluff conversation.
Also I do enjoy this its nice playing a quest as my favorite chapter.
and I completely missed the bit where we were held down by a claw.
Ask the apothecary if we can go.

>>11814481

"Fine then. I shall have a word with Conraad."

punch the apothecary in the anus.

"The same goes for you, point a gun at the wrong person and you'll end up dead. I know many that would take no such lip." you say.
(i like this one. you are the embodiment of badass, my kind sir)
When he doesn't answer glance at the scapels, and they retract from you face.
"Fine then. I shall have a word with Conraad."
"Right. Do that." Castor says and you feel the servo-arms releasing your other hand and legs. As the chirurgeon machine rises from over your body you sit up, keeping your eyes on the apothecary. You grab your bolter and start to put your armor back on. You do it with relative ease, taking you less than five minutes, while before without help it took you about ten. When you're done you gesture towards the chamber door.
The apothecary punches in the access code and the door slides open, and the man steps out. Watching his every move you follow him, trying to conceal the fact that you're pointing the bolter at his back. The rest of the apothecaries are busy with their duties, so none of them notices anything.

"I'd think this stays between us." you suggests, with a gesture of his gun adding the implied 'or else' to the sentence.
"Yeah, I'd suppose so too." Castor replies, with burning hatred in his eyes. "I won't keep you any longer, brother."
"Good." you say, and with that you leave the Apothecarion once more.

Another ride on the mag-train follows, a small unpleasantry that some machinery is constantly malfunctioning around you. The car door won't close behind you, the lights flicker or go out for minutes before switching back on, and you hear the scratching noise more and more often.

<vote if you want your helmet on or not>

Eventually you arrive at the Armoury once again.
You see Conraad at the battlearmors as before.

>>11814718
Helmet on. Let us embrace the caress of the virus.

>>11814718
Helmet stays on, always. No risk of headshots.

punch conraad in the anus.

"You state, in the same sentence, that the mechanical heart you gave me now appears to be organic, and that you think it could be that I am going insane. Don't you think that would give me reason to doubt you? Nevertheless, you are right, and you are manifestly competent at your job. Apologies. I shall go speak to Conrad."

Also, http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Obliterator_Virus
says that, yes, the IW seem to be able to control it somewhat. We're obviously stage 3. Possibly late stage III, let's try and arrest this development.

>>11814718
Do want.

punch yourself in the anus.

>>11814740
Not until we can control it.

>>11814718

Get the drop on him, put a pistol to his head.

"So you think this a game, do you? I willfully underwent the.....treatments...to become an Astartes. What you are doing was not coerced. I've half a mind to end you, and this despicable game of yours."

>>11814773
Just demand to know what he injected us with, when we spoke to him.
No need to get all confrontational. Could end up with major foot-in-mouth-itis.

>>11814791

So you would not be extremely pissed off that someone injected you with something?

This is a reactionary tale, Christ, show some spine.

>>11814809
He may have been getting a blood sample to see if we were infected, Thro- Chaos, man, think ahead a little. There are a dozen reasons he could have done that that were not 'inject with obliterator virus'. Plan for it, bro.

>predominantly defcon

>Get the drop on him, put a pistol to his head.

"So you think this a game, do you? I willfully underwent the.....treatments...to become an Astartes. What you are doing was not coerced. I've half a mind to end you, and this despicable game of yours."

Conraad slowly turns around. The expressionless visor staring at the barel of the gun. You see the lenses change focus, looking beyond the pistol, at you.
You notice as the noise in the workshop dies down, and glancing around you see serfs and other tech-marines looking at you. Gun servitors turning towards you, multi-meltas and heavy bolters trained on you.

"Excuse me?" the tech-marine says through his vox grille, in a calm, metallic voice. "Brother Acherus, right?"

You hear the scratching again. The ammo counter displays twentytwo rounds. You feel the itch in your mechanical arm again.

<what do?>

>>11814874

Keeping the weapon trained on an eyeport,

"The injection when I arrived here for my armor. What was it?"

>>11814874
punch conraad
in the anus.

hey anus puncher! punch yourself! in the anus.

>"The injection when I arrived here for my armor. What was it?"

"Injection?" he asks with genuine innocence in his machine voice. "I injected you nothing. Lower your weapon, please, and explain this madness." he says in a non-threatening voice. "Before I have you shot."

You hear bolters primed behind your back as the workshop's tech-marines come to join the discussion.

<what do?>

>>11814899
Agree

>>11814949
Get off him and tell him everything.

>>11814874
Silence you infernal scratching, be you blasted machinery or a warp entity. If you continue with this nuisance I will end you.
(in your own mind of coarse)

>>11814949

Keeping the weapon trained on the bastard, explain ourself.

>>11814949
Lower weapon.
I came here for answers since you seem more willing to comply than the apothecary. I see no need for violence, but know this I want the truth.

>>11814949
Disappear bolter without moving, keep hand aimed at him. (For speedy materializing of gun and shooting, should it become necessary.)

That should show him what we're talking about, and placate him.

>>11815031

wow, fucking seconded.

Brofist.

>Keeping the weapon trained on the bastard, explain ourself.
(hell i like this guy. he lives dangerously.)

You talk about the "injection" first. He listens to you carefully, and then look at him expectantly.

"The injection I gave you, wasn't an injection at all." he says. He holds up a mechandrite which produces a device similar to the chirurgeon machine's sampler. "This is a biometric reader. I took a sample to identify you." he explains.
"While you were out we took a gene-sample of you, and assigned an identification sequence to it, and to your armor. So when you came for your wargear you would get your own." he explains. "When you got back to the ship, you were a mess. The apothecaries stripped you of your armor, and didn't bother to give me a name. I just get the armor and the sample. I fixed your armor but didn't know who you were."

A long pause follows.
"Now..." he says, and with blinding speed one of the servo-arms snatches the pistol from your hand. "that it's out of the way, explain me what the Warp is going on that you point a gun at my head in my own Throne-damned workshop!"

<what do? - and now actually quote what you're saying>

>Disappear bolter without moving, keep hand aimed at him. (For speedy materializing of gun and shooting, should it become necessary.)

sorry, i didn't read this before posting.
anyway, you still have your bolter, and the helmet display still shows the rounds of the bolt pistol... something's up

>>11815124
Magically disappear bolt pistol a few times. Show him the creepy thing it does when we try to let it go. Show nifty thing helmet is doing. If he looks/sounds receptive, explain scratching.

you can vote to the thread on suptg. *hint-hint*

>>11815097
*grimace at him*
"The Apothecary suggested I see you the damn bastard was very irritating. I requested He tell me what was wrong with me he pulls a gun on me and tells me to get on the slab. No one orders me around, had to inform him of that the tough way. He couldn't find what was wrong told me to see some people you where one of them. I thought this time I would make my point a head of time before you attempted to fuck me over."

>>11815097
thats okay brother conraad. I dont need a bolt pistol when i still have my ANUS PUNCHING FIST.

I then punch conraad in the anus.

Oh, hey, maybe I should go and vote to archive this on sup/tg/! That way I can read it when I wake up!

I'm so glad I thought of this! Aren't you, subconscious?

>Yes, yes! Hurry, go vote.

Right, right away, subconscious.

>>11815220
Add "I'm glad you didn't. I apologize for pulling a gun on you".

You re-grow the bolt pistol from scratch in front of brother Conraad and he takes a step back in disbelief.

"Gods in the Warp... that's... unbelievable." he says.

You start to explain the thing with the filaments, but then when you look at your gauntlet you see as it constantly changes, morphs and reforms, as if its surface was liquid mercury. Then it solidifies once again, regaining its original form.

"That's something I've never seen before." Conraad says, and you see as the tech-marines nod in agreement.

"We should keep the armor for further investigation." suggests one of them.
"We should..." Conraad repeats his words as he stares at your hand in awe.
"What should we do with him?" asks another, the plasmagun in his hand trained on you.

Things are getting out of control...
What do you do?

>>11815307
Change to "...for threatening you." We're Astartes, not hive gangers.

>>11815311
Demand to report to our boss. Whoever it was that demanded the apothecary keep us alive.

Also, did we ever find Solonis?

Wait, so we're already Stage 5? Then our armor is now part of our flesh.

>>11815330
Late SIII, I think/hope.

>>11815311

Every orifice is now a bolter port :O

>>11815311
"I don't like your tone."
Shoot the one with the plasma gun
"You can look all you want, but no one is taking my armor or weapons without my consent."

>>11815354
add on
if that enginseer is dead pick up his plasma gun and assimilate it

>>11815354
Point an empty hand at him. Don't shoot yet.

And just to confirm, these are serfs, not (C)SMs?

>"I don't like your tone."
>Shoot the one with the plasma gun
>"You can look all you want, but no one is taking
>my armor or weapons without my consent."

"I don't like your tone." you say turning an open palm towards the tech-marine. All it takes is a thought and a gunbarrel emerges from your hand, firing a bolt at the annoying bastard.
The bolt hits him in the chest. Were it not for the heavily armored front of and artificer armor, he'd be dead before he knew it. The bolt penetrates the plate half way before blowing up, knocking the marine off his feet. The plasmagun is sent sliding away on the floor of the Armory.
"You can look all you want, but noone is taking my armor withou-" you'd finish, but suddenly a servo-arm catches you by the throat. You try to turn your hands towards Conraad, but another servo-arm catches your right, and your left is held down by another tech marine.

"I could kill you for this, but now you became too precious." he hisses at you. "Maybe I'll find a way to keep the interesting parts, and dispose of the troublesome... garbage."
He activates a plasma cutter arm and starts to cut up your chestplate.

<what do?>

>>11815468
Shoot him with our fucking mouth

>>11815341
We wouldn't be able to extrude small weapons without being Stage 5.
Our armor is now part of us.

>>11815468
Why the fuck do you keep choosing that one guy's suggestions?
>>11815323
was first, and not fucking retarded. Stop being a moron.
Also, he would be cutting into US now.

>>11815468
*smile at him*
"Bad move"
*Then have a bolt pistol summon from your arm and shoot off his servo arm and assimilate it onto yourself, then have the servo arm appear out of your back. Then shoot him*
"I've never tried to assimilate an entire being, but I am sure it would be a painful experience."
*turn to the other enginseers*
"I'd let go if I where you. I have no idea what my limits are, but I can't wait to find out. NOW BACK OFF!!!!"

DO YOU FUCKHEADS NOT UNDERSTAND THAT WE CANNOT ASSIMILATE JUST ABOUT ANYTHING YET?
THAT IS BEYOND OUR FUCKING POWER. THE BEST WE CAN DO NOW IS EXTRUDE PISTOLS AND OUR ARMOR IS IRREMOVABLE AND HEALS ITSELF.

>>11815521
If this enginseer is all technology couldn't we in theory rip the tech off of him.

>>11815538
We don't know what is beyond our power. In this story we could be the first obliterator. We don't know if we have limits and its also all in good fun calm down.

>>11815561
We DO have limits, for fuck's sake. Of we could consume all his tech, we would ALREADY BE A NIGHTMARISH MASS OF FLESH AND MACHINE.
Fucking gods of Chaos.

>>11815468
Slide a Boltpistol out of your boots and shoot him in the nuts. That don't work? Shoot him in the skull.

>>11815578
>Herp Derp no fun
Seriously chill out. Why don't you offer a suggestion or something? If we can't to that the guy running the quest will say so.

>>11815507
it sounded awesome. goes well with the story.
i'm not looking at who posted it.

>Shoot him with our fucking mouth

the comic image with the magician shooting eye bullets come to my mind... he wore a tophat. anyone got it?

****

You strugle in his grasp when you hear heavy footsteps coming from behind you. Some of the tech-marines are turning towards the Armory entrance.

"Let him go, Conraad, or I'll make sure the Warsmith will hear of this." you hear a familiar voice. Conraad retracts the cutter and looks past you.
"Solonis... What business you got here, in my Armory?" he asks still holding you.
"I'm looking for Acherus. Can I ask why are you treating a brother of yours in such bad manner?"
"He came here looking for trouble. Threatened me, and almost killed brother Titus."
"I don't think he was being serious. He's probably sorry, aren't you Acherus?"
"gnn... yessh" you rasp.
"See? Now, release him before I lose my patience." he orders.
Conraad hesitates for a second, then releases you. You drop on the floor, and he steps back from you.
"Take him. I don't want him near my Armory." he says with scorn.
"You mean, the Warsmith's Armory." Solonis corrects him.
"Yes." the tech-marine replies, then leaves for the labirintine corridors of the Armory Storage.

Solonis' men help you up, and carry you out the Armory.
"You're not awake for a whole day and you made yourself two enemies already." Solonis says in a patronising tone. "I see you've recovered already." he laughs.

<what do?>

>>11815632
"More than two if you count that whelp I blew a hole in."

"I'm just trying to get answers, and they are exceedingly hard to come by here."

"So, what were you looking for me for?"

>>11815632

>>11815671

That's one of my favorite panels of anything, ever.

>>11815632
"Well, recovery as in ammo-producing, weapon absorbing, schizophrenic halfmachine. Well the halfmachine is rather pleasing. "

You look around. "We're we going?"

>"More than two if you count that whelp I blew a hole in."

"I don't think the rest of the tech-marines fancy your company either." he replies, then inspects your armor "Are you okay?"
You shrug off the helping hands and straighten yourself.
"I'm fine." you say, then you think again. "I just wish I knew what's going on."
You look at the cut in your breastplate. It is cooling rapidly, and as it seems it started to reknit itself. You shiver at the thought.
"I wish that myself sometimes, brother." the champion says.

You measure the man once again. He's wearing an ornate Mark V battleplate, its breastplate featuring an eight pointed star. He's face is half covered by a black respirator mask, giving a harsh contrast to glacier blue eyes that shine with cruel intellect. The left side of his scalp is covered with burn marks. He wears his hair in a tall topknot, like many members of the warrior lodges present in the Legion.
On his side hangs, holstered, an ornate plasma pistol, while his left hand is encased in a monstrous powerfist.
His men, some of them you met earlier today, Daren, Furion, Loki, and Aesir, all of them killers without conscience, but not without honour. You see an icon of Tzeentch, one of the Four Chaos Gods hang on a chain in the neck of Loki.

"So tell us, how did you get in so much feces, and what makes you threaten apothecaries, and shot tech-marines."

>>11815772

"One of them did THIS to me" said as you hold out your empty palm, then display your ability to generate your sidearm

>>11815787
*mind if I add on
"Though I'm starting to like it."

>"One of them did THIS to me" said as you hold out your empty palm, then display your ability to generate your sidearm

"Nice. I'd love to have one myself." Furion says. Solonis gives him a sharp look and he shuts up.
"I see." he says in a serious voice. "We'll find a way to fix you, once we're done with our task."
"What task?" you ask.
"I guess you heard what happened on Terra."
"Furion told me most of it."
"Well, now we fought through a damn civil war it is time to fight again. To fight the worst kind of all fights." he starts in a concerned tone.
"You make it sound like politicking." you say in a half serious manner.
"Don't joke on that. It's what it is. The Warsmiths are fighting among one another, and there's no honour in this kind of fight. We war with shadows."
"So what happened?" you ask.
"Someone made an attempt on Lord Skraal's life. Now we go and get who's responsible for it." Daren explains.
"The Warsmith is dead?" you gasp.
"No, he isn't. Well for some, he is. We expected the attempt, and used a double. They got him, and now they think Lord Skraal is dead. We let the assassin get away, so he'd lead us to his master."
"So what do you need me for?" you ask.
"Loyalties shift easily these times. I need men I know I can trust. You're one of them, are you not Acherus?"

>>11815884
"Yes, I am. (We could perform a enema with coke and menthos on the traitors)"

>>11815884
"I am, as always, your loyal weapon."

Disappear the bolt pistol, as well. We'd hate for someone else to be so burdened, especially as he might help find out what is happening to us...

>>11815884
"Nothing would give me more pleasure than strangling the one who hired an assassin to do his dirty work. I shall follow."

>>11815927
Find a vending machine that has mentos
Find a soda bottle
Absorb them
Instant torture device

>>11815979

This....

This is a horrifyingly good idea. We would also become a fantastic party trick. We should gank a janitor's closet as well, just to be considerate. Mopliterator, anyone?

>"Yes, I am."
"Good. I knew I could count on you." Solonis says. "One thing though. Not many know about the incident so far, as we try to prevent the news to spread. So don't talk about the Warsmith being dead, or being not dead, for that matter."

>(We could perform a enema with coke and menthos on the traitors)
(I'll consider that.)

"So where are we going now?"
"We'll be having a few rides on the mag-trains around the barge. We have a few men keeping an eye on the assassin, so if he makes a move, we'll be after him. But we have to throw off whoever might be following us first."

You get on the mag-train. Again. No malfunctions this time, but you hear the scratch of static sometimes.
The car is filled with Legion serfs, you also see a tech-marine acompanied by a pair of gun servitors, though not one from Conraad's Armory, and a squad of battle brothers wearing the heraldy of the 245th Grand Company.

<what do?>

Sit down and enjoy the ride.

"Is it me, or is something scratching at the mag? " You ask as the screeching gets more nerfing.

>enjoy the ride.

For the fist couple minutes you travel in dead silence, then Solonis nudges you with an elbow.
"I'll relay the encrypt-code for the squad vox-channel."
You nod, and shortly after you see the rune of incoming signal flash up on your visor display.
You add it to your armour databank, and join the squad channel, then listen.

"I'm maybe chasing ghosts, but is that serf watching us?" you hear the voice of Loki.
"You ARE chasing ghosts. All the time, Loki." Daren says.
"He's been after us the last three times we took a different train." he insists.
"I didn't notice." Daren argues. "I'd have noticed if he was."
"You would NEVER notice." Loki replies.
"Keep an eye on him. Next station we get off. See if he follows." Solonis interrupts. "Now, cut the argument and act like you didn't notice anything."

A few minutes pass without a word, then you hear Daren again.
"You too hear this damned scratching?"
"Shut up!" Aesir grunts.
The mag train stops, and the doors slide open. You and the squad of Solonis leaves, along with a dozen of serfs, the tech-marine and his servitors. You lose sight of the little man in the group of grey robed servants.

<what do?>

>>11816214
Focus on the task at hand, if that man is really of interest you'll see him again.

"Loki, you're still seeing that serf? " You ask over the vox and scan the way you just came as you turned at a fork.

You wait for the next train. As you get on you find only you, the squad and two serfs choosing this car.
As the train accelerates you see as Loki nods to Solonis, then coughs aloud. The metallic noise the vox grill emmits make the frail mortals start.

"Which one?" Solonis asks aloud so the serfs can hear too. One of them turn dead pale. Loki takes a step towards him and grabs the small man by the throat, lifting him off the ground without effort.
"This one. He's been following us since we left the Armoury." the serf's face quickly turns to a sick purple, his legs flail around as he tries to take purchase on anything, but find nothing to stand on.
"Who sent him?" the champion asks, gesturing with his hand to the marine to put the serf down. Loki nods, and tosses him to the floor.
"Speak."
The man gasps for air, clutching his bruised throat.
"Do as I said." he says again, crushing the mortal's foot under his boot. The serf gasps again, then starts to wail in agony as soon as his throat lets him.
"M-master Dorian ordered me to follow me." tears of pain start to flow down on his face.

"Brother Dorian, the tech-marine we saw earlier." explains Daren on the vox.

"To what end?" Solonis asks the man.
"I don't know. He wanted me to follow you. He didn't say anything else." Loki, displeased with the answer grins the broken limb under his foot a little more. The serf wails some more and starts sobbing. "I SWEAR!" he cries.

<what do?>

>follow me
follow you*

sorry, start to get tired. i'll get a cup of coffee.

>>11816419
Ask him again nicely to tell you what he knows
and by that I mean break the fuckers wrist.

You grab the serf by the hands and lift him up to your face.
"You will tell us what we want to know."
You flex the fingers of your right and hear his wrist snap. He cries out in pain, begging you to stop. Then you shatter his left too. He cries on the top of his lungs, the weins on his neck bulging. Then as his cries die down his eyes roll back in their sockets and he goes slack in your grip.

"You killed him. Good job." says Loki, patting you on the shoulder. "Now what?"

You turn back and see the other serf crouching in one of the corners, his hands on his ears, his eyes shut, muttering to himself.

<what do?>

>>11816537
"I'm not an unreasonable man, do you know anything?"
listen to what he says and regardless let him go
"I say we follow him, he'll lead us straight to cocksucker who organized this."

bump.
might finish for now if you're spent.
hope you ejoyed it. i know i did, and i look forward to continuing.

vote for the thread on suptg so other ppl can hear about this.

>>11816612
Did enjoy hope for more

>"I'm not an unreasonable man, do you know anything?"
The serf opens his eyes as your shadow falls on him. His features speak of terror.
"Please, don't hurt me, my lord. I don't know what that man wanted from you. I never saw him before."
You listen to him, then look at Loki.
"I saw him fist when he got on the train." he says on the squad channel.
"Shall we let him go?" you address Solonis.
"Maybe." the champion replies.
"I say we kill him too. No withnesses." Aesir comments.
The serf suspecting you're discussing his fate on private channels pleads you.
"Lords, please let me go. I served the Legion faithfull for all my life. I've done no harm. I shall not speak of what I saw here to anyone."

"What of the corpse? We leave it here?" asks Daren.

<what do?>

>>11816670
punch the serf in the anus.

>>11816696
ah, anus puncher. glad you're back.
now suggest an action other than anus punching.

>>11816719
kick the serf in the anus.

>>11816727
erm... unless anyone can suggest an action that has nothing to do with anuses, i'll call it for today.

>>11816735

summon a daemon...

in the serf's anus.

>>11816735

Throw the corpse into the mag-rails.

Someone might have a better and more Chaos-y idea, though.

make him suffer!

>>11816735
Take the serf as your personal servant.

>>11816750

To add:

"Should give him purpose beyond death. His blood will make good lubricant."

While I like this idea, I think someone else might disagree.

As you get off the train again, you dispose of the serf's corpse and drag along the living one.

As you wait for your next ride Furion muses.
"I think it just dawned on me. Aren't all serfs implanted with some identifier, so that their whereabouts can be tracked while on the ship?"
You all stare at him for a few seconds.
"They are." Daron replies. He turns his head toward the serf you brought with you.
In the distance you hear the next mag-train approaching.

<what do?>

>>11816840
punch the mag-train in the anus.

>>11816866
gb2 >>> Emperor's Children

>>11816902
oh man, emperor's children ARE my favorite traitor legion!
For that awesome call i will stop shitting up your thread good sir.

>>11816909
\o/ yay, lol well at least someone is still around and reading.

i guess that's it for today.
part 2 will be coming soon. expect some gritty fighting and a bit of intrigue.
good thing i'll have some time to prepare and not just make things up on the go.

>>11816927

thanks for an entertaining read