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Post by AegisFate on May 19, 2014 1:34:33 GMT
The hall was large and cool, the flickering lights of gas torches mounted in the walls casting an eerie lighting across the room. A small gathering of individuals stood in the center, a table of obsidian drinking the torch light and the shadows cast by these individuals. Footsteps came from the far end of the hall, the gathered kneeling down at the approaching figure clothed in a stark Imperial Navy uniform, adorned with the markings of a fleet admiral. He stepped up to the table, tapping his fingers on the material for but a moment before waving them to stand up. With that, he began to speak, a booming voice demanding attention.
“Captains, as you have heard, the Garrden Crusade into the Twisted Stars has begun.” He waved a hand over the table, a holographic representation of the sector appearing, zooming into a cluster before talking out again. “The worlds are a veritable fortress and we must stem the tide of traitor war material. To this end, you are to form Battlegroup Haphaestus and will be tasked to strike at convoys as they pass through the Twisted Stars. To this end, one of you will be tasked with leading and coordinating the attacks. Captain Mandioz.” At that statement, a man shifts to attention, the soft glint of a bionic arm catching the glow of the hologram, “You are tasked as the leader of Battlegroup Haphaestus. May the Emperor be swift in your stead.”
He stepped away from the table before speaking out again, “Orders will be forthcoming.”
-Three Weeks Later-
The sky was an inky black, engines quiet as asteroids drifted by, maneuvering thrusters firing off here and there to prevent major collisions. 11 vessels of varying design and armament watched around them, sensors passively scanning for the telltale signature of ships tearing into reality or moving through the system.
A blip appeared on sensors, the telltale sign of vessels appearing from a rent into the warp, their signatures and number scattered from the baleful energies being released.
A man grinned and announced over the ship's vox, "Targets spotted. Ave Imperator."
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Post by Darko on May 19, 2014 19:04:56 GMT
Captain Hyperion smiled meekly, his mind playing over this morning's sparring session with his personal sword fighting instructor. They had darted around like deadly vipers, back and forth, blades clashing fiercely. It was awfully more cinematic in his mind than it actually had been, but that wasn't the point. He enjoyed it, always had done since he was a young boy. Although he didn't quite have the wily physique for it any more, he still gave his expert sparring partner a run for his money. Or at least, that's how he told it. Whether the duels were as close as he told, no one could be sure.
An orderly disturbed him from his reverie and handed him a dataslate. He briefly scanned it before handing it back, the enginseers wanted his permission to recalibrate the port guns, Ryklaus insisting the Scourge had an itch - apparently the targeting systems of the weapons battery was off by 0.0000023%. He denied it, of course, because they were about to go into battle. She could take out her discomfort on the Emperor-forsaken heretics they were going to face.
"Any word from the scouting escorts yet?" He asked, scanning the bridge from his command throne. There was a very low hum emanating all around, discomfortingly quiet. The ship was silent running, with most essential systems offline to hide their presence from the enemy. The lack of noise was unsettling for an old captain such as himself. Heh, old, he chuckled quietly, noting the ancient captain Mandioz, who was what, twice his age? He wasn't sure exactly. Damn old, in any case.
"No sir," a curt response from the augur station to his right responded. Tarsus sighed. The ambush would be glorious once it was sprung, but he hated the waiting. The roar of the engines was stifled, the great guns lay silent - he was impatient to enter the fray once more. This was the first time this battle group had been sent into battle together, and he intended to impress.
Reaching down to a set of controls on an arm piece, he tapped a few commands in, resetting the ship's kill count to zero. It was a matter of pride amongst the crew to earn as many kills as possible. There were even illegal betting pools on the lower decks of how many they'd score in each engagement and Tarsus was content to let it be, provided it didn't get out of hand. With Commander Munro ever trigger-happy, it was rare for the ratings to cause trouble.
A slight rumble rattled the bulkheads, as if the Scourge was groaning, longing for battle even more than himself. If the heretics weren't foul, blaspheming scum that exist only to be destroyed by the Emperor's servants, he'd feel sorry for them. They were going to deliver a world of hurt to them. They'd most likely get one or two shots off with the titanic nova cannon before closing to unleash fearsome broadsides from the plasma batteries.
Tarsus wondered how many kills they'd get with the first shot. It could be none, or it could be half the enemy fleet, depending on how many of them there were. The nova cannon was an unwieldy weapon, but there was nothing more dangerous in terms of sheer destructive power in the Imperial Navy. That's what he loved about it so much: it wasn't just a big fething gun, it was the biggest fething gun of them all.
They'd hit them so hard that they got blasted back into the Age of Apostasy. The idea of thousands of screaming heretics shot through the warp only to land on Goge Vandire's head amused him. His brow furrowed and he pondered for a moment whether that was actually possible. He shrugged. Maybe some nasty heathen would find out on this day.
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Post by silence on May 19, 2014 19:46:03 GMT
People were racing all over the command deck, relaying orders and readiness reports, and the general cacophony of the bridge brought Nev a headache. It wasnt like he was scared more along the lines of nervous, he was captain of his own ship for the first time and a whole Squadron of ships were under his command to boot. Pressure built behind his eyes and he put a finger to his temple to relieve pressure. He opened his eyes and look down at the layout of asteroid and ships on the auspex map. 4 blips of blue differing sigils flashed in a loose formation while 7 Cobra's moved to their positions to bait and ambush.
Nev sighed and keyed his vox, "Forge actual to Forge 2 and 4, do you have sights on enemy ships?"
A pause followed by a slew of static then a gruff voice, "Confirm on sighting of traitor ships, we see 14 with all but one being escorts, but our auspex are still sending back mixed reports on their actual types. Permission to fire torpedo's and bait the hook, Captain?"
Nev's hand started to shake as he depressed the rune again, "Go ahead Forge 2 and 4, launch torpedo's at targets when you get a solid lock. Then pull back to bring them into our guns. The big ships are getting impatient." He released the vox and watched as two small little shiny flecks let out even smaller shiny flecks towards an unseeable threat. "May the Emperor protect our souls," he mouthed to himself as he waited to spring the ambush.
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Post by AegisFate on May 19, 2014 20:27:01 GMT
As the torpedoes flew through the void, the ships appeared to group into squadrons on sensors, three of them guarding the larger whilst the remainder groups into squadrons of five. They begin to close upon the two destroyers, a trio of flashes as the torpedoes detonated prematurely, the rest flying aimlessly away from their target. The cruiser appears to turn, a massive battery of flashes coming from its starboard banks, macrocannon shells screaming through the void. In unison, the three escorting vessels fire as well, plasma batteries emitting glowing lights into the void.
As a brief amount of time passes, Forge 2's shields flicker, taking a barrage of weapons, the void shields collapsing as it continues its retreat, the remainder of shots flying wide or impacting ineffectually, the hull shuddering as it sustains superficial damage.
(Combat/Ship Results - Forge 2 and 4 baiting, traitor ships in three squadrons with the cruiser separate, two of five and one of three. Forge 2 and 4 fire torpedoes at squadron of five and three of the torpedoes are shot down, remainder missing. Cruiser and squadron of three fired at range and took down shields of Forge 2. Squadrons of five moving to jump point deeper in system, squadron of three and cruiser advancing towards Forge 2 and 4)
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Post by silence on May 19, 2014 23:00:22 GMT
Sweat starts to form on the palms of Nev, as he watches the sigils of Forge 2 and 4 turn and run, red runes flashed next to Forge 2`s symbol.
A servitor, manning the report relay station, started reading out the damage reports in a harsh metallic voice, "Forge 2 shields down, minor hull damage, engines running, guns operational. Forge 4 shields up, no hull damage, engines running, guns operational."
Nev let out a sigh of relief and waited for Forge 2 to vox in the situation report. A minute more of running adepts and shouting officers passed, with Nev saying very little, while the ship ran at a level one wouldn't expect. The ship ran without much input made by Nev as most of his commands were sent by thought through the machine spirit then to the crew. The ships engines powered to life, and the gun crews started to load the torpedo`s and gun batteries. Everything kicked into action from nothing but a thought.
The vox link sparked to life as the same gruff voice came through the speakers, "Forge 2 to Forge Actual, we have lost shields and have a few minor breaches, but no true damage. We are pulling back, bringing the cruiser and three escorts with us, but the rest of the group is moving to some other point, probably a jump point. Please advice on actions, we can pull them, but we have no way to attack them without exposing ourselves." The vox cut out in static.
Nev thought for a few moments, thinking of what to do. "I could take the cruiser and escorts and we let the smaller ships go. Our ships are strong enough to deal with them, but they probably only think its two escorts harassing them and only sent a small enough force to deal with them. We could make our squadron known and pull them all to us as well." All these thoughts passed through Nev`s head in seconds. His mind set, he opened the link back to the vox,, "Forge Actual to Forge squadron, get bearings on the cruiser and escorts and let loose. All ships prepare for combat, Forge 7 deploy fighter screen and prepare to fend off enemy fighters. Forge 2 and 4, get me readings on the enemies specific classes, I want to know what we are dealing with. Forge Squadron, may the emperor guide you and keep you safe, Forge Actual out." With that, Nev let off the vox key and sent another command through the ship. The engines pushed the craft towards the enemy and the torpedo tubes released their deadly cargo towards the unsuspecting squadron. Every other ship did the same, except Forge 7 which let out its deadly swarm of fury interceptors. "Everything was going right so far, lets see if we can push our luck and pull in the big fish," Nev thought to himself.
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Post by Darko on May 20, 2014 0:05:20 GMT
(late night phone post so expect typos and mistakes)
Tarsus studied the tactical holo-sphere in front of him. The escorts had lured a few of them closer but that was not his concern - the others would easily deal with that. The flagship's plan would have been effective had the enemy all been lured as expected, perhaps if they had been presented with a larger bait, alas it was not so. The changing winds of war required adaptation on the spot and Captain Tarsus Hyperion was not about to let the other heretics get away from them so easily.
Standing, his features one of grim joy as he entered into his element, his presence demanding results, he began snapping off orders left and right. It was done in an orderly fashion. The power was returned to full and the weapons brought fully online. He couldn't risk firing the nova cannon so close to those two Cobra destroyers and it was also probably the only weapon in range of the rest of the chaos ships. Leaving silent running mode, the mighty Scourge thundered forward, revealing herself to the enemy. No sooner had she done so, the firing solutions had already been calculated and input, the gargantuan shell loaded into the monstrosity of a weapon at the ship's prow. A squadron of five chaos escorts was in sight, the ship was poised to strike like a fell predator stalking a flock of oblivious prey.
"Fire the main gun!" Tarsus bellowed, clenching a fist dramatically, a great wolfish grin spread across his face. They would have glory on this day, and their foes would suffer ruination at his hands! Nothing can stop the almighty power of the nova cannon! He thought, for possibly the thousandth time. It was maniacal. Those tiny chaos escorts, mere blips on the augur display, thinking themselves safe with so much space around them that not even the most accurate lance shot could reach them. But the unstoppable nova cannon knows no such limitations.
The entire ship shuddered as the main gun launched a metric-feth tonne of destructive power into space. Far below the thousands of long-since deafened gun gangs were lashed by their uncompromising task masters as already they labored to haul a new shell, so huge that it would dwarf even large buildings, into position to be loaded. Oh how Tarsus delighted in ruining the day of someone, somewhere with the benevolent Emperor's most glorious weapon.
"And now we wait for the fireworks..." Tarsus chuckled, one hand behind his back and another on the hilt of his sheathed sword as he stood eagerly at the front of his bridge. They'd be able to see the explosion even from this far away. It was oh so very delightful.
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Post by AegisFate on May 20, 2014 17:08:21 GMT
As the destroyers closed to the escorts around the cruiser, their classes become more clear, an ancient cogitator spitting out the name Iconoclast Class Destroyer and Murder Class Cruiser. Torpedoes hit home, tearing into two Destroyers, the flames of their engines overloading and the oxygen bleeding from multiple decks almost a peaceful sight as another impacts into the cruiser, fire bleeding from a few decks, slowing its onslaught only slightly, slowly beginning to turn to engage the newly awoken cruiser, weapons batteries firing into the escort squadron as a pair of lance batteries fizzle onto the shields of the Scourge of the Faithless. The weapons fire from the cruiser tears into the Emperor's Forge squadron, tearing apart shields and crippling The Emperor's Billow, fires bleeding from decks.
A single sun explodes in the void, three vessels completely consumed by the plasma fires from the Nova Cannon's shell, the remaining two to the squadron attempting to move faster, hoping to avoid another volley, their engines straining.
A single message is yelled across the Vox on repeat, a harsh voice spitting out the words “Death to the False Emperor and glory to the Bloodied God.”
(Combat/Ship Results – Forge 2, 3 and 4 shields down, Forge 5 crippled and requiring repair. Hostile classes identified as four transports per group of five escorted by an Iconoclast Destroyer, the group of three consisting of Iconoclast Destroyers. The Cruiser is a Murder Class and is moving to engage the Scourge of the Faithless. Two Iconoclasts from the squadron of three disabled, Murder suffering light damage. Two transports and Iconoclast killed by Nova Cannon shell.)
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Post by Darko on May 20, 2014 17:38:19 GMT
The chief vox attendant calling out about vox chatter amongst the rest of the battle group, no doubt complaining, was drowned out by the dull whumphs as the void shields absorbed several arcing lance strikes from the enemy cruiser. "The time to strike is now.." Tarsus muttered under his breath. Turning and pacing back towards his command throne, he gave new orders. "Helm, bring us about, close-in on that Murder-class. Ready the weapons, alert damage control teams and have Commander Munro's Marines ready to initiate teleport attacks on their vital systems once their shields are down." A few curt 'yes sir's' answered him as he lounged back into his throne, one hand absent-mindedly tapping the cold metal arm rest. He stared out into the great void, regarding the distant cruiser that seemed so small from afar. They had already scored three confirmed kills in this engagement, time to make it a fourth. The transmission from the enemy vessel came in and after thinking for a moment, Tarsus had an idea. The Confessor would no doubt be delivering her battle sermons. "Open a vox channel to the enemy ship," he ordered with a casual wave of his hand in its general direction. "And patch it through to Confessor Ygritte's vox caster on my signal." "Channel open, captain." "This is Captain Tarsus Hyperion to all foul heretics. Before I annihilate you in short order, I have a few words for you," he stated nonchalantly, before waving his hand to the chief vox operator, who nodded and input instructions into her cogitator station. The sound of fiery oratory filled the bridge and Tarsus chuckled. He hoped the irony of the faithless dying while hymnals to the Emperor were chanted would not be lost on the heretics. Love the Emperor for He is the salvation of mankind Obey His words for He will lead you into the light of the future Heed his wisdom for He will protect you from evil Whisper his prayers with devotion, for they will save your soul Honour His servants, for they speak in His voice Tremble before His majesty, for we all walk in His immortal shadow
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Post by silence on May 20, 2014 17:40:32 GMT
The ships vox screamed with static as sounds of pain from Forge 5 came over the speakers, almost deafening Nev and the command crew. Nev clenched his fist and prayed a small prayer to the Emperor that he preserve the ancient ship. Then with not even a second thought he got opened the vox back up, "Forge Actual to Forge Squadron, move on the traitors and destroy them, Forge 3 and 4 hold back and open up on the cruiser. Forge 7 move to cover Forge 5 and get in communications with their command crew, we`re going to make sure they live to fight another day. Forge 2 and 6 destroy the remaining destroyer. Fire upon these heretics and send them to the gods they so cling too. Let them rot in hell." With that Nev let off the vox and watched as his squadron`s sigils moved to fire upon the last destroyer and approaching cruiser. He noticed though that the cruiser was turned to engage Captain Hyperion`s ship.
He tapped his vox again but this time to Hyperion, "Captain, you are being approached by the enemy cruiser, be advised, Forge out."
Nev let go of the rune and started giving subliminal orders to his crew to move and engage the cruiser. Sweat was now starting to roll down his back, as he got more into the battle. He smiled though as the ship shuddered and another set of deadly torpedo`s slew across the void towards the cruiser. Everything was going according to plan, all that was left was to kill the cruiser and destroyer. Forge 7, was almost upon forge 5, its fighter swarm making it look like a moving beehive and was sending out bigger craft to start battle repairs to the crippled vessel. Another muttered prayer and the ship sent more deadly payload of silent death across the distance between the small destroyer and the huge cruiser.
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Post by Nepty on May 20, 2014 18:07:09 GMT
"All hands, battle stations!"
Brian Vance glanced at the readyness counters near his command throne, which all flashed on, one after the other, like the lights of a city coming to life at night. Around him, the Bellicose surged forwards. He could feel the machine-spirit through his links and electroos. She was eager to get to grips with the foe. Brian looked up, through the glazed transparent armor at the fighting going on 'above them' "Helm," he declared. "Spin us ninety degrees north," the helmsman, bedecked in all of his worldly possessions, complied, and the ship groaned. the man wore such fanciful clothing as crewers aboard the Bellicose were wont to wear, so much that Brian felt rather a begger compared to his splendidly be-coated and hatted officers. He had done as best he could to comply, with full length deep blue naval coat with it's golden trim, and an ornate sabre, with all of his medals worn over his breast. The mate alone wore nearly three dozen medals, and a massive frocked blue greatcoat.
Brian turned his mind from his odd crew and back to the battle. They appeared to be facing the belly of combat now, the vulnerable undersides of the foe-ships outlined against the stars. Brian preferred to think of the enemy as being below him now. "Bring us to full power," he declare, and the ship surged forwards. "Send the word to the flight decks. All pilots are to scramble their fighters and bombers. Launch 2,000 of the available craft. Target those transports and those disabled destroyers." Brian settled back into his throne, aware of the hungry wolfmind of the Bellicose. She carried 15,000 pilots and their craft, more than enough to lay waste to any system, and she wished to lend more to the fray. "patience," muttered Vance. "We'll give them a jab, and see if they punch back."
-flight deck
Charles Kanner had graduated with full honors from the Aeronautica Imperialis, and now he piloted his own craft. Torrent, he had named her, and she was his pride and joy. He sprinted across the flight deck, where two thousand pilots were sprinting to those airships that were being lowered from their housing frames. He spied Torrent, the whirlwind design clearly blazed across her nose. Servicemen were trundling the heavy plasma bombs she usually carried into her gut, and affixing the regular explosive bombs to her secondary bays and the cannons to her wing pylons. Morris leaned against her, smoking a lho stick. When he saw Charles, he waved him over. "Finally going to do a run for real, eh?" asked the young gunner. "Kregg is already in his engine-chambers with his acolyte, testing hydraulics. Did mine a bit ago."
Charles found his mouth was dry. "Yeah, our first run." He looked out to where space yawned, black and sinister. "Well, lets get on then." He nodded at their Starhawk.
When they were all seated in their positions, with Charles in his cockpit, Morris in his copilot's chair behind him, Wayne, Styr and Kanlin in their turrets and Kregg the engineseer in the service room,he saw an affirmation ping go across his dashboard's screen.
"Pilots," came the voice of flight command. "You are clear for launch." Charles tightened his sweating hand around the throttle as he keyed in liftoff, and the wing of Starhawks, Furies and a few Thunderbolts eased themselves out of the hanger in a continuous fleet. There was a tingle as they passed through the space-shield. Charles reached up to wipe his brow, but then realized his head was covered by his flight helmet and mask. "All right there Charlie?" asked Morris. Charles glanced behind him and saw that Morris was slouching. "Yeah, I'm fine," said Charles, "But straighten up."
Morris made a rude gesture at him. "I doubt we'll be having to deal with any flitnats. And if we do, those furies'll sort them out."
Charles made no reply, but eased back on the throttle and sent them hurtling towards the transports, that seemed to be fleeing from the battle in all haste. "Ready up," he called back to his gunners.
"This is Redemption one, call in and prepare for your runs," came the gravely voice of Sharn, their wing commander. Charles waited until it was his turn, with mounting nervousness. "Redemption seventeen, standing by." he managed to squeak out when it was his turn to check in.
When Redemption Nineteen had called in, and all was squared away, commander Sharn voxed again. "Prepare for your attack runs. Redemption wing will deal with the middle transport, is that clear?"
Various affirmatives crackled over the vox.
"Then may the emperor guide your bombs, and damn those taken by them to an eternal torment. Awe Imperiator."
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