coolyo294
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Slayer of Demons
Posts: 1,169
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Post by coolyo294 on May 21, 2014 5:11:47 GMT
A cold smile played across the face of Fleet Captain Saul Mandioz as he surveyed his bridge from the elevated command deck. Streamers of musky incense wafted around the cavernous chamber while soft hymnals emanated from cenobite-servitors set into recesses on the outskirts of the bridge. Like all ships of the Imperial Navy before a battle, it was a bustling hive of activity as aides and officers delivered last minute orders and requests. But despite its outward-seeming chaos, there was an underlying order to the activity on the bridge. Every man on it, down to the lowest ranking officer, had been handpicked from the graduating classes of the Naval Academies by Mandioz himself. They were the best of the best. Each man knew precisely what he was doing and was eager to excel under the watchful, half-bionic gaze of their ancient captain, just the way Mandioz liked it.
A rustling behind his command throne drew his attention from the observation. He turned to see a robed servitor kneeling behind him, a tray clutched its pallid hands. Three crystal tumblers filled to the brim with a dark reddish-amber liquid sat atop it. The slight smile did not leave Saul's face as he stood from his throne and picked up one of the tumblers. Ship Commissar Muhammed Zeruel and First Lieutenant Silus Hex, the only two crewmen allowed to stand so close to the command throne, picked up the remaining two.
Saul cleared his throat and activated and activated the ship's intercom system. He strode confidently to the edge of the command deck and raised the glass. All across the bridge, activity had fallen silent as the officers raised their own glasses in honor of the ship's traditional pre-battle toast. Mandioz knew that every single crewmen throughout the ship, save the Mechanicus fellows who no longer had the ability to drink regular liquids, was mimicking the same toast.
"Men and Women of the Purity," Saul said. "As we go into battle at the dawn of this most glorious crusade, know that the Emperor smiles upon us. Have faith in him, his officers, and your own mettle and surely we shall emerge victorious. Ave Imperator."
At the conclusion of his short speech, every man tossed back the bitter, coppery groxblood and amasac toast. Saul savored the taste as it burned down his throat. When he'd first transferred to the ship, he'd found the ritual disgusting yet persisted out of fear of alienating the crew if he didn't. But over the years he came to enjoy the taste, as it often signified glorious victory against a treacherous foe.
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Battlegroup Haphaestus' ambush had not gone as planned. Forge Squadron had evidently failed to provide a tantalizing enough target to the heathen fleet and only a few ships were drawn into the ambush. Regardless, one of the ships was an impressive Murder-class cruiser. Destroying it would certainly still be a worthy prize. The other ships in Saul's fleet maneuvered independently of one another. The aged captain tried not order them as much as possible, knowing that in a chaotic situation like this every captain's individual initiative would be what earned them victory.
"Bring about to the Murder-class." Saul called out, his voice ringing clear even above the din of the bridge. "Prepare a macrocannon volley and follow it up barrage from our lances. Vox-master, raise the Impera. Advise they move in support."
A chorus of ayes met the captain's command as it was carried out with mechanical precision.
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Combat actions: Purity of Intent launches a macrocannon bombardment followed by a lance strike on the murder cruiser to lock it in place
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Post by Warork on May 21, 2014 7:39:47 GMT
There was a shriek that snapped Bullard's attention from the holo-table that sat like the playing field of a regicide board in front o his command throne. It was an eagle's shriek to be exact. Bullard looked up to see that the ship's eagle, dubbed "Pax," by his handler, a young faced rating who was standing off to one side of the throne, was stretching its wings and its neck. Its call was heard by the entire bridge's crew, each of which stopped for only a fraction of a second to look up before going back to their stations.
Bullard grumbled something incoherent as he stood from his throne to approach the railing that separated his command platform from the rest of the bridge. He looked out of the view ports as he had a thousand times in this past day alone, and just like the other nine hundred and ninety nine times all that stared back at him was the empty void of the abyss.
"Sorry, my lord." The rating said as he moved to signal the bird to come down off its perch. "He gets jittery when combat is near."
Bullard's one eyed gaze was unbroken from his bridge where even now officers and crewmen alike were walking about nervously with reports in hand, relaying them to one another and filling the chamber with a dull roar that drowned out the chattering of the techpriests and their servitors who spoke in the secret language of Mars.
"He isn't the only one I assure you." Bullard responded. "Helmsman!" He shouted down from the railing, "How's my girl sailing? How are the engines holding up at full burn?"
"She's steady as the Golden Throne, sir!" The Helmsman reported back from his station. "Cogboys say that the 'readings are nominal' whatever in the warp that means."
"Good." Bullard responded. "Someone confirm my display for the report on those destroyers. We haven't lost any have we?"
"Negative milord!" A crewman at a cogitator display station from further back in the bridge shouted up. "One of them seems to have been badly mauled but they're all still afloat."
"No thanks to that damned fool's stunt." Bullard grumbled from the pit of his chest. Captain Tarsus of the Scourge had blatantly destroyed the plan that their ranking officer had devised for them to follow. Such insubordination rankled with Bullard. This was the Imperial Navy for Emperor's sake, not some backwater conglomerate of pirates or raiders. There was no room in the fleet for such self aggrandizing and Tarsus would find that out the hard way sooner or later.
"Sir!" The communications officer called from his station, snapping Bullard from his thoughts again. "The Purity is hailing us! Captain Mandioz has suggested we follow him into the attack on the enemy flagship."
Bullard nodded once, his gaze nowhere in particular, lost in his tactical thinking such as he was. "Return his message, Vox master." He began. "The Impera will follow him in. We must protect those destroyers if we can."
"Aye sir!" The Vox master replied.
"You lads heard him!" Bullard's second in command bellowed from a table below his own command platform. "Plot us a course alongside the Purity and prepare for battle!"
The crewman answered the order with a furious round of 'ayes.'
It took some time to maneuver into attack formation and close with the target. In that time, Bullard found more to be grumpy about.
"That bastard Tarsus will be the death of us all." He said, looking at his holo-table and seeing the marker that indicated the Scourge seating itself between the fleeing archenemy transports and the flagship in an insane bid to hit both at the same time.
"You must admit though." His second who was standing next to him replied. "He's pulling it off remarkably well."
"That's hardly the point." Bullard countered, idly itching the area around his eyepatch. "Say the enemy numbered the same as us or had the same strength in ships. What then of that lunatic's death or glory tactics?"
"Milord!" crewman called out again, interrupting the two. "The Purity has fired her first salvo as has the Scourge."
Bullard pulled out a golden pocket watch, a bejeweled thing embossed with a winged skull with diamond eyes and masterfully engraved, an artifact that was a holdover from the former captain of the ship, and looked at the holo read out of the time. Right on schedule.
"Are we in position yet?" He asked.
"Three minutes, twenty seven seconds at current speed sir!"
"Good, Gunmaster, get me a firing solution for a broadside, if we have to we'll turn her about and give them the lances! Signal the Purity that we are moving into the attack."
the "Aye" that the Gunmaster was going to give was drowned out again by the double shrieking of Pax who was roosting once more on the ship's ancient victory banner hung above the command throne.
"The bird has the gist of it!" Bullard announced. "Do me proud men, and let them feel the Aquila's talons!"
A cheer went up from the bridge and the eagle shrieked again.
Combat action: The Aquila will engage the Murder class from a flanking position with its broadside armaments and move in for a lance strike if necessary.
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Post by silence on May 23, 2014 20:16:26 GMT
A small sun bloomed in the far distance of the black void, Nev smiled as the final Ironclast met its end, followed quickly by the bigger explosion from the Murder`s death. Splitting in two, the Murder`s husk was visible from Nev`s bridge and the sheer size made him feel puny in comparison. He sent a few more subliminal commands throughout the ship to get engines up to max power and load another set of torpedo`s, and then looked down at the sigils on the map in front of him. His squad was in good shape, minus Forge 5, and so he made the decision to chase the remaining Chaos escorts and transports. Nev stumbled as the ship lurched forward, from the slow crawl they had been moving, and several runners and officers looked at him funny, he stood straight again and everything continued on without a second thought.
Nev keyed his vox to the fleet, "This is Captain Nev, I am chasing after the traitorous scum, I ask for support incase something else shows up." With that he watched his ship sail through the void towards the little glints that were the traitors. He activiated the vox again but to his squadron this time, "Forge actual to forge 2,3,4,6 move up on the escaping escorts and transports, we let no one leave. Fire as soon as you have locks and are within range, and may the emperor guide us to victory." Nev sat down for the first time since the battle began and watched his squadron`s sigils all move on the fleeing enemies sigils.
(Action: Move towards the fleeing escorts and transports and launch torpedo`s at max range.)
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Post by Darko on May 25, 2014 18:40:15 GMT
The enemy had been decimated, and in only a mere few hours. These chaos were easy pickings - reckless, outnumbered and engaged piece meal. No real challenge. The Murder cruiser was wracked with explosions in its death throes and the remaining transport convoy was making a futile attempt to escape.
"Helm, move us away from the Murder, it's volatile enough to still be a threat even in its final moments," Tarsus ordered, just to be on the safe side. In battle, he was happy to take risks, but he'd be damned to the warp before he endangered his ship outside of combat. It simply wouldn't do for his glorious career to come to an end outside an engagement, least of all as a result of an explosion that his orders hadn't directly caused.
"Fire the Nova cannon at those fleeing ships when ready," he commanded, hoping to score a few more confirmed kills before the day was done. Still, this was no real challenge.
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Post by AegisFate on May 28, 2014 21:08:04 GMT
The stars themselves seemed to become little more than pinpricks of light, the thunder of a nova cannon and its shell turning the dark abyss into a miniature sun, the detonation of plasma reactors from the surviving transports punctuating the growing rent in the warp, the Iconoclast destroyer disappearing in an instant as its charges lay burnt and scattered. The Murder class cruiser floated lifelessly, fires burning from its decks until the air to feed the flames was consumed. Unified the fleet cheered itself on for a mission well done, although scars across Forge Squadron and the Scourge of the Faithless was a testament to the cost at such a victory, reminders of the tremendous power both sides wielded without a care in the world.
Captain Saul Mandioz grinned for a moment before giving the order to regroup and return to the Viros Shipyards at the edge of the sector, to lick wounds and receive new orders.
-One week later-
Once again they were in a hall, this one closer in and more compact, seats facing towards a image screen, a man droning on about various crusade tasks to other officers of the Navy present, all of which bearing the rank of captain or higher. He continued going down the line of battlegroups, those who addressed leaving shortly after receiving their orders until the five remained that composed of Battlegroup Haphaestus. He turned to a large window set into the wall, the behemoths of ships in port and the glow of repair and refit crews doing their work. With a quieter tone than before he spoke up to the group.
“The damage to your vessels will take a month to repair, most of it focusing on Forge Squadron. In the interim, you will report to Admiral Haret in the defense of the Shipyards in the instance that the front is broken through. In addition, I believe there is a small party being organized for your first successful mission by the rather...... eccentric Lady Amelia Corwin at her estate tomorrow evening. It would be good form for you to attend. Dismissed.” He curtly nodded afterwards, waving the five to exit the room.
(One day until the event. Do as you wish amongst yourselves for in game time of 18 hours.)
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coolyo294
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Slayer of Demons
Posts: 1,169
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Post by coolyo294 on May 29, 2014 19:55:46 GMT
As the officers filed out of the briefing room, Captain Mandioz sought out one of his fellow captains. He was not difficult to find. Captain Bullard's flashy, distinctive uniform and imposing stature stood out like an underhive ganger in a ballroom of hivespire nobles. Unlike Mandioz, he had chosen not to replace the spoils of his naval service with bionics nor had he elected to undergo juvenant treatments. It was odd to think that the youthful looking Mandioz had five decades of service over the venerable Bullard. But he had extensively reviewed the man's record and knew he was a solid, dependable captain. His support would be invaluable in the coming fights
"I would like to congratulate you again for your actions during our first engagement, Captain Bullard. A murder-class cruiser is a worthy prize for the Aquila." Mandioz said as extended his bionic hand to his fellow captain.
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Post by Warork on Jun 1, 2014 7:09:28 GMT
The briefing was thankfully brief. As he left the hall where the Naval officers had gathered, Bullard reflected on how tired he felt. At his age, any minor disturbance kept him from sleeping soundly. Distantly, he wondered how many years he had left to give the Emperor. He was by no means a young man and had plenty of scars to prove it. His hand idly came up to scratch at the edge of his eyepatch. The damn thing always itched at inopportune times as if there was still an eye there to be agitated.
Bullard heard someone clear their throat behind him as the officers of his group filed out. He turned to find the de facto leader of their battlegroup; Captain Mendioz, approach him as if to say something. Bullard studied the man. It was certainly not the first time the two had seen each other in person, but each time Bullard had to remind himself that this man was his elder. It was a very strange fact but that was also the nature of juvenant treatments. Not for the first time Bullard wondered why he had never gotten any for himself. He was a lord captain in the Imperial Navy, he certainly had enough clout for some. But looking at Mendioz he remembered why. There was something deceitful about that process. It was not that he thought himself a better man than Mendioz for not having them, there was just something about making oneself seem less older than they actually were that Bullard found...distasteful.
"It was no great matter, I assure you, Captain Mendioz. Not after the Purity's salvo did most of the work." He said in return with something resembling a warm smile as he shook Mendioz' bionic hand with his own flesh hand.
"Not all amasec and roses though, I'm afraid. Forge squadron at dry dock for a month?" He asked as he half turned to shoot Captain Tarsus a look from across the hall. The man was chatting with some other naval officer, out of earshot. Bullard grimaced as he looked at him.
"How many good men's corpses do you think that scoundrel has stepped over to get to where he is?" Bullard asked grimly. "Breaking the battle lines for his concept of glory, Pffah." He snorted in contempt.
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Post by silence on Jun 1, 2014 16:04:00 GMT
Nev clenched his fist at the sight of his battered squadron but suppressed the urge to find Tarsus and use them. He got up from his seat in the briefing room and walked out of the room, his adjacent walked up to him and started to hand him papers and read off reports.
"Sir, The Sword`s captain wishes to speak to you, but not urgently. The repairs to that ship will take a few weeks at the least, but all the other ships will be up and running within two days. You`ve also been invited to a party hosted by a Lady Amelia Corwin, a local noble of the system, do you wish to attend?" The Adjacent stopped filing through his reports and was holding a invitation to the party up for Nev to see.
Nev took the invitation and read it over, "Thank you dear Marko for the update, and yes I will be attending the party, prepare my dress blues and sabre. I`ll see personally to the Sword`s captain now, well I have time."
Marko bowed and zoomed off towards his assigned task, disappearing amongst the winding hallways of the station, while Nev read over the invitation a second time, and he mumbled to himself, "More a waste of time than anything." He folded it and put it in his pocket before heading towards the docking area for escorts. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting with the captain or the party.
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Post by Darko on Jun 1, 2014 17:26:45 GMT
Tarsus had sat lounged back, arms folded, in his seat while command droned on about battlegroup xyz and 123 going to various Emperor-forsaken sectors of space. He was listening for anything important regarding his own battlegroup of course, but disinterestedly so. Unsurprisingly, they were the last to be addressed and last in the room, with the other more senior groups having already exited.
They don't tell you about the endless meetings you have to attend when you sign up for the Navy he thought, suppressing a sigh. Only when the Admiral mentioned they had been invited to a celebration of their first triumphant victory by a noblewoman by the name of Lady Amelia Corwin. That was certainly a lot more interesting than anything else he'd heard, especially when the only thing that particularly concerned him was some minor superficial damage that his ship sustained. A fresh coat of paint and a bit of love, and she'll be as good as the gold on the Emperor's throne, he mused.
Shortly after the Admiral had finished speaking, they had filed into a larger room where many high-ranking officers were in discussion about new orders, being berated by adjutants or boasting to their colleagues. Tarsus had called for a few of his own underlings, sending one off to inform this Lady Corwin he'd be attending her little celebration, as he was both looking forward to relaxing for awhile away from the endless dreary corridors of Navy stations (somewhat ironic for someone who lives on a Navy cruiser) and also curious. Who was this woman, and what manner of warp-spawn possessed her to take interest in this newly-formed rag-tag battle group. Emperor only knew.
His second in command, a short man named Aloisius, approached him and began drilling him for what the Admiralty had imparted in the briefing. Aloisius was a single-minded and very driven man, but for some reason he didn't like the idea of being responsible for an entire ship. Oddly enough he was in a sense, dealing with much of what Tarsus himself wasn't interested in, but he seemed content to do so. Together they were a good pair and Aloisius gave good advice, which Tarsus regularly ignored in favour of taking risks, or seizing the initiative as he liked to phrase it. Fortunately those risks usually paid off and Aloisius was not a man to argue with results.
As they discussed what little there was to say, Aloisius always finding a way to scrutinise such matters in more depth than they originally possessed, Tarsus took the opportunity to glance around. He caught captain Bullard's eye, and the heavily-built older man wore an expression of utter contempt. Tarsus made sure to smile noticeably in return, although he was staring back daggers. The old captain undoubtedly had experience but like most senior officers in the navy, he lacked adaptability - a trait Tarsus intended to die before losing to senility.
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coolyo294
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Slayer of Demons
Posts: 1,169
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Post by coolyo294 on Jun 2, 2014 8:06:39 GMT
"How many good men's corpses do you think that scoundrel has stepped over to get to where he is?" Bullard asked grimly. "Breaking the battle lines for his concept of glory, Pffah." He snorted in contempt. "Too many I'm sure. He is reckless and insubordinate, but I cannot deny that he and his ship bring results," Mandioz said. "It is a necessary evil that we must count him in our ranks. And hopefully he will only kill himself when he finally burns out in some foolish blaze of glory."
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