What Hides In Darkness (40K)

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“I, Captain Salvor Crassiros of the Deathwatch Chapter, of the Raven Guard Chapter of the Astartes of the Emperor swear upon my honour and loyalty to undertake the duty presented to me without hesitation or reticence.

“I swear to investigate the desecration of the Emperor’s Property and the disappearance of His subjects in the mines of His world of Tantalus II, and to locate the source of this disturbance of His holy peace.

“I swear to administer the just retribution of the Imperium upon those who would dare to do it wrong and challenge the primacy of humanity. I swear not to falter nor to fail in this task.

“So sworn on my honour and the honour of my chapter. In the name of Corax and the Emperor…â€

[Pcm979]

"Identity confirmed: Brother Rause Siaides, Sergeant, Deathwatch." The suit's cogitator intoned emotionlessly. Thick hypodermic syringes withdrew from the Marine's arm, back into their sheaths lining the inside of Rause's Narcathium. He was so used to the ritual that he no longer felt the penetration.

"What is your mission?" The machine inquired.
"To purge the Xeno, the Heretic and the Daemon." Siaides replied, the words drilled into his mind through years of repetition.

"Who is your master?"
"Him on Terra!" He growled, eyes narrowing as the incantations began to lock his mind into familiar, well-worn patterns.

"What is your goal?" Pressed the voice, the synthesised words rising in volume.
"Purity above all!" Bellowed Siaides, the words reverberating inside his helmet.

"May the God-Emperor be with you, Brother-Sergeant." The voice concluded, fading away as the Power Armour's Heads-Up-Display flickered to life.
He looked down over the characteristic armoured collar of the Mark 8 "Errant" Power Armour and flexed specific muscles in his hands; Lightning Claws shot out of his left gauntlet and fearsome medical instruments sprouted from the right. Satisfied, he retracted them, attached his Bolter, grenades and clips to his belt, and left.

[Charon]

Vibius finished the cleaning and maintaining his bolter, looking down the sights he fired a test shot, the gun barely quaking under his rock steady arm. Finding the accuracy to be acceptable Vibius set the bolter to one side and turned to his now black armor and pursed his lips. It hadn't been his decision to join the Deathwatch, but rather his Legatus's. To keep good relations with the rest of the galaxy. So we will know that as we help them they will help us. Raising a hand he almost reverently ran it down the deep purple shoulder that remained, his fingers tracing along the segmented and overlapping plates that covered the large shoulder. A reminder of home.

The Omega Legionary went about the process of putting on his holy armor of the Mark VII Aquila variant. He smiled, he would venerate this armor as he would the Aquila his legion carried into battle. Attaching the last piece, his legionary shoulderpad, Vibius left the armor powered down for a few minutes, getting himself used to the feeling of dead armor again, then, with closed eyes Vibius spoke. "Certo hostis adsidue assidue donec voluntas respiro! Debello meus hostis causa Imperator! Terra Victor!"

A small surge of electricity passed through Vibius's body as the suit activated and attached itself once more to the Space Marine.

"Identified: Brother Vibius Julius Pennus, Sergeant, Deathwatch." came the small monotone voice from his armor.

Vibius grabbed his grenade belt and attached it to his waist, securing them a hand reached out and grabbed the ammunition clips for his bolter, attaching a few of these to his side, after checking over them one last time, mostly inferno bolts for his specialized clips. One clip contained kraken bolts, and a few still housed his normal ammunition. Nodding quietly Vibius then reached out and grabbed his bolter, placing his second hand on the side of the weapon Vibius took a deep breath and took strength from holding the imperial weapon once again. With a quick movement he slung it over his shoulder and reached out for his combat knife, it was a short weapon, and while sharp would not provide much assistance against an armored target, but experience had taught him that it was better to have a spare and reliable weapon for close combat than to not. He slipped it into the sheath on his back and clicked it in place. He looked over at his last piece of equipment, a two-handed powersword. Picking it up in both and and pressing down on the activation rune he was greeted with the familiar blue glow of the energy fields which powered the blessed weapon. He smiled and turned off the weapon, leaning it on his shoulder, the hilt held by one hand Vibius reached out and grabbed his helmet, slipping it on and making the appropriate connections, the world became more clear. The Space Marine knelt down in meditation for a moment before getting to his feet and leaving his chambers, it was time to kill xenos.

"Ave Imperator."

[SirNitram]

With the great care he had replaced most of his ritual with, Malavius began removing his equipment from the sealed containers it remained in. First the armour. Composed of living Wraithbone, it was lighter and more flexible than the power armour of the other Astartes, though it provided less protection. It did, however, allow him to slip virtually undetected through enemy territory when he was wishing to. He also knew it's pschoactive state would provide defense against psykkers, but had no desire to test this.

Once secured, like primitive plate armour from some agri-world, he plucked up the belt and attached it around his waist, followed by a bandoleer of grenades over his shoulder. Both substantially increased his chances, and he had learned that well. Unfortunately, he was running low on plasma grenades, and would need to find some Eldar who were in the mood to trade soon.

Finally, the twin pistols were removed from their container. The fusion pistol was recharged, and he slipped a new clip into the shruiken launcher. He sighted down one, then the other, and then holstered them, taking a few spare clips and energy packs.

"Right." He said simply. "Time to get to the surface." He set off through the ship, seeking the most expedient method to the site.

[Dark Silver]

His Bolter stripped, cleansed and reconstructed, Demian stood proudly before his power armor. Not a man of many vices, or vain in any sense, his powerarmor was his main one. He kept it immaculate, ritually cleansing the blood, guts, and dirt from it after each battle, assuring that the black paintjob which it had undergone after his assignment to the Deathwatch was not mared. And of course, communning with it's Machine Spirit.

His armor did not fail him, it never had, and he beleived with the rituals, it never would. With the look of a man who had already seen to much bloodshed, he suited up.

"Recognized, Battle-Brother Demian Aurilius Moore, Sergent, Deathwatch."

The dulcet tones of the power armor's internal computers and it's systems coming online exuded a sense of peace in the man. A quick runthrough of the systems, and he made his way to meet with his team-mates.

"The Emporer's Work must be done."

[Cynical Cat]

They awaited, silent and still, heads bowed. Foot steps echoed off the floor. "Report," it said.

They kept their heads bowed. "The area is secured. Intruders have been neutralized."

"Identity?"

"Unknown aliens. We have taken samples."

"Any sign of the Enemy?"

"None."

"Proceed as planned."

[B4UTRUST]

Gravin's robes billowed gently out from around his legs as he marched with purpose through the halls of the ship. In his wake were his men, and behind them the Arcos. No weapons were visable on the Inquisitor, all hidden beneath the cloth. His group, however, was a different story.

Damien's lascannon was strapped to his back. He wore his bolt pistols in holsters slung low across his hips for quick draw. Several extra mags were attached to the belts for reload. The guardsmen were no better. Lasguns, shotguns with bandolas of shells, knives, laspistols. They looked like they were planning an invasion of an agri-world by themselves.

Gravin lead them into the shuttle bay where a shuttle was waiting to take them down to the surface. The boarded, their booted feet clanging against the metal ramp as the entered the shuttle.

The interior was nicer then what the guardsmen would normally warrent, the seats were comfortable, the harnesses secure and reinforced to ensure they didn't come lose. Gravin took a seat near the cockpit, conferring with the pilot through the open door. Damien grabbed a random seat while the guardsmen clumped together in four seats, talking in hushed tones between themselves. The two Arcos entered and stood there. They were seated and strapped in, the whole time silent and looking straight ahead. The pacifier helms continued to display the images of the Imperium and sound the litanies of worship.

Once everything was prepared the shuttle ramp lifted up as the hydraulics moved the massive piece of metal, bringing it into place. The doors were sealed and the shuttle switched over to its internal systems, disengaging from the ship. A strobe light flashed near the hanger doors, and a buzzer sounded, echoing loudly throughout the bay. Technicians and servitors quickly exited the shuttlebay before the giant doors of it opened allowing in the cold vaccum of space. The shuttle lifted out, gently moving forward out of the hanger. The doors closed once more behind them as the pilot set a course for a landing site on the planet.

Sometime later they began their final approach of the landing pad. The pilot informed Gravin that they would be down shortly. The guardsmen perked up a bit at the news, mentally steeling themselves for the task to come. Damien however was as blissfully unaware as always, sleeping like a baby most of the way down. It was hard to catch the man off guard but it never ceased to amaze Gravin how much he slept.

[White Haven]

On any other ship, the soot-armored Marine wouldn't have been able to fit through to the shuttlebay. But not so on a Black Ship of the Inquisition, designed and built with the oversized armor of oversized Astartes in mind. Nemesis halberd held in one hand, helmet under the other arm, plasma pistol holstered at his side, and melta-bombs secreted around his waist, Damon Grayson approach's heavy treads approached the waiting shuttle, dump-pack barely clearing the doorway. A nameless menial in a plain robe carries a heavy case filled with spare munitions behind him, loading it into the landing craft as the marine stands outside, surveying it for a few seconds before stooping aboard.

[Cynical Cat]

Gravin's shuttle preceeded Grayson's by several minutes. They dropped from the void and hit the atmosphere with with rumbles and shutters. The hulls heated as they slowed. Clouds parted before them, revealing a broad plane a the foot of the Thera Range.

Klaxons went off in the cockpits as the pilots recieved communications from the blockade. IDs and verifications were beamed back and the shuttles passed through the perimeter. The target loomed in the cockpit windows and repeater monitors.

A vast industrial complex sprouted from the side of a mountain. Half of the mountain had been devoured to feed Imperium's appetite for raw resources. The land for kilometers around bore the scars of strip mining and dumped wast products. Pools of tilings and waste chemicals dotted the landscape. A dozen rail lines lead to and from the complex.

Several landing pads dotted the top of the complex. One of them held a large aircar and another held the smoking ruins of what might have once been a Valkyrie Assault Transport.

[B4UTRUST]

There was some comm chatter between the pilot and co-pilot as they circled the pad, slowing their descent to touch down.

As they circled around they noticed a large aircar setting on one of the pads. And on a pad nearby was the smoking ruins of another transport. As the shuttle neared they could begin to make out some distinguishing features of it. It looked like an assault transport, Valkyrie model.

The fact that the ruin of the transport was smoking indicated that whatever had decided that it didn't like said transport had happened in the not too distant past. This in turn lead to the thought that the person or thing that had not liked the other transport may not like this one, and may in fact still be around to express its dislike for transports. This was a cause of some concern to the pilot.

Gravin was jostled in his seat as the shuttle descended. He picked up on the momentary spike of emotions from the pilot. He pressed the com button and passed his question to the pilot.
"We were about to ask your orders, sir. There appears to be something on one of the landing pads."
"Something? More specific please."
"It looks like the frame and whats left of the outter skin of an assault transport. It's smoking."
"I see. And you think whatever did it might still be around."
"Yes sir, that was my thought, sir."
"Indeed. If we're reasonably safe, set us down. We'll investigate it. Be prepared to lift off at a moments notice and get to safety."
"Yes sir, of course sir. We're setting down now."

A moment later the shuttle was rattled again as the landing skids impacted onto the pad, jostling everyone around.
"Everyone get ready. As soon as we're out take up covering positions."

The ramp opened and the guardsmen went out first, weapons drawn. They hit the ramp at a run and broke off into pairs, circling around the sides of the shuttle checking for movement. They moved while crouched down, in that strange half-run that the military is so good at. The hunter skull flew out and up, trying to get a visual from a better position. Gravin, Damien and the Arcos descended and took cover.

The guardsmen took up positions behind available cover, scanning the rooftop. Gavin began to recieve the signal from his skull that was flitting about rapidly searching for anything. He whispered across his comm to his men.
"Any sign of movement, activity?"
"None yet."
"Alright."

He switched over the the shuttle's comm.
"This is Gravin. Anything on sensors?"
"Nothing yet."
"Alright, we're moving. We're going to investigate the wreck."
"Roger."

He switched back.
"Alright, Calad, take your men and advance. We're coming in behind you. Proceed to the wreck but maintain cover."

[Cynical Cat]

The Guardsmen moved out to secure the area. Several dead bodies were scattered over the roof. Closer examination revealed them to be Adeptus Arbites Enforcers in full combat gear. Their armour had been ruined by several hits from heat based weapons such as high powered lasguns or Tau pulse weapons. The wounds revealed under the broken armour were consistent with those inflicted by such weapons.

The Vulture bore similar wounds. Small craters studded its blackened armour like pox marks. They were trivial. The real damage had apparently been done by high powered beam weapons similar in performance to a las cannon or brightlance.

The charred bodies of the flight crew and several more Arbites lay in the wreck. Energy packs and spent shells on the roof indicated the Arbites had gone down fighting. In several places there were pools of a congealed red liquid. A bioscanner scan revealed that it was synthetic blood, occassionally used in medicine or in servitors.

While the Guardsmen and the auspexes were able to discover all that information, the psykers were able to divine something else. A shroud of psychic energy enveloped the facility, disrupting communication and pyschic contact with the outside world. Vox feeds from the Guardsmen came through almost cleanly, but the copilot cursed as he switched channels, trying to find a frequency with which to contact Flight Control on the Burden of Judgement.

[GeneralTacticus]

She had, Halima reflected as she and Mia hurried into the loading bay, been cutting it awfully fine. Sebastian had reported that the landing force would be ready to depart in less than two minutes, and she’d hate for it be delayed just because she was late. Still, she was here, and in time, and that was what counted. A few dozen metres to her left, she saw the Valkyrie assault transport that Sebastian had commandeered for their personal use – identified chiefly by the fact that Theda was standing outside waving at her. She hurried over.

- - -

There she is. Finally. Theda breathed a sigh of relief as Halima came into view, followed by Mia. Catching sight of Theda’s waving, she hurried over to join them; Mia, meanwhile, peeled off to join the reserve team of Janissaries aboard their own transport.

“Do we know anything more about this place?â€

[Cynical Cat]

Halima felt through the warp and discovered a web of woven tendrils. blanketing the area. It was subtle and hard to detect and in of itself, harmless. But its strands quivered when disturbed either by psychic energy or the souls of intelligent creatures. A divination net that covered the area and whose weaver surely felt the disturbances.

There was also something notable by their abscence. There was less than half the number of Arbites than had been dispatched here. The rest were missing.

[B4UTRUST]

The comm signal came back with a touch of interference though the message was perfectly understandable.
"Sir, we've found bodies. Arbites, sir. And the flight crew. Looks like...lasguns, sir. Or something similar. Maybe Tau? The ship's done in as well. But it looks like they went down fightining in the Emperor's name sir."
"Acknowledged. The servo-skull is running bioanalysis on a chemical. Synthetic blood it looks like. Maybe a emergency kit used, so there might be survivors. Or possibly a servitor. Keep a look out. I'm going to have the shuttle relay the data to the Burden of Judgement."

Gravin closed his eyes, concentrating on the world around him with his mind. He let his thoughts move outside his body, searching for any signs of life. He could "feel" the minds of the two Arcos behind him, their thoughts "dim" and Damien next to them, his thoughts bright and focused. He could even sense the crew and the guardsmen. Beyond that he sensed nothing, or at least no minds that he could touch. There might be some, hidden or beyond his range.

He switched his comm channel over to the shuttle's, hearing the static on that channel as well. It was still a clear channel though.
"Gravin again, we've got bodies near the downed transport. Flight crew and Arbites, all dead. Transport is toast as well. Looks like lasguns or possible Tau pulse weapons. Synth-blood found on scene as well. No apparent survivors. Definate signs of a struggle. Relay up to the ship so the others can be prepared."

The co-pilot recieved the transmission and attempted to relay it up to the Burden of Judgement. He switched over his radio to the ship frequency and hit his transmit switch. Static filled his audio receptors. He attempted to adjust his squelch levels to no avail. Looking at his instrument panels didn't provide much of an answer either. He tried to transmit again and recieved the static. Boosting power to his transmitters and antennas didn't break through the static either. They were effectively cut off from here. He looked over at the pilot and explained the situation. The situation in itself wasn't horrendeously bad under normal circumstances. But one thing they had learned as crew aboard an Inquisitorial black shit, was that nothing was ever under normal circumstances.
"Inquisitor, we're unable to reach the ship. We're getting too much interferance. We can't pinpoint the cause either, other then its not our equipment. It could be atmospherics or some sort of jamming device sir but regardless we're cut off."
"Keep trying then. Keep me informed of the situation."

He stood, motioning for Damien and the Arcos to follow. He moved, crouching and running where he could over to where the guardsmen were. He surveyed the scene as he could see it, looking at the body count, the scattered shells, the blackened armor and the cauterized wounds beneath. It wasn't pretty. It had been a massacre. A little over a dozen bodies all together, all of them loyal and devout followers of the Emperor.

He knelt down next to one of the bodies of an arbites, examining it. The nametag read Kierson. Similar to the others there were blackened and cauterized holes in the armor and body. He glanced at another, Bryson. That poor soldier had half of his face burnt off it looked like. Whatever had done this wasn't neat, or nice. A look over the remains of the transport revealed little. Half covered by scorching was the last set of a group of numbers. The tail number of the transport probably. He remembered the briefing mentioned that a ship carrying a platoon of Arbites had gone in and hadn't returned. Looks like they had found the ship. The body count, however, didn't even begin to account for an entire platoon.

He called Damien over.
"Do a quick body count."
"Counting flight crew, thirteen bodies."
"The planetary arbites sent in a platoon on a ship. The platoon never returned. I think we've found the ship, but wheres the rest of the platoon..."
"Went on ahead? Maybe these were reserve forces?"
"Possible. May be that the responsible party for this was the Arbites themselves, maybe some of them turned or were corrupted? Or perhaps killed elsewhere and their weapons taken? The burn marks are consistant with lasweapons so it's possible."
"True. Any of them could be the truth, we don't have enough evidence to make any assumptions in any case."
"Indeed. We'll have to be on our toes. We're not trusting anyone who didn't come from our ship, clear?"
"Crystal."

Gravin tapped his vox.
"Alright, everyone secure the rooftop, find entrances and exits. Keep the com lines open."

The faint hum of engines was barely audible as the second transport came down. The co-pilot fired off a quick comm burst to Gravin informing him of the arrival. He watched as the shuttle came down for a landing and proceeded over to it.

[GeneralTacticus]

Halima felt the psychic web for a brief instant before snapping her awareness back into her own body. Hopefully, she’d avoided detection. If not… well, they’d know soon enough. Even without deliberately looking, her psychic senses should be attuned enough to pick up anyone who approached, and she had Federov’s scanners to back her up; if anyone came near them, friendly or not, she’d know.

As Inquisitor El-Vectis approached from across the pad, she turned to meet him and nodded in greeting.

“Found anything of interest?â€

[Pcm979]

Rause Siaides announced his presence over the Deathwatch vox channel before boarding his shuttle. Protocol must be observed. When the craft hit atmosphere, beginning to shudder with the incredible friction, he whispered a quick prayer under his breath, one common to the Apothecaries of his Chapter; A short entreaty to the Emperor that none of his bretheren would require his services, but if they did, give him the power to render them.

[B4UTRUST]

"Oh, the usual. Found what appears to be the missing Arbites transport and platoon, minus well... the platoon. Thirteen bodies counting crew which leaves approximately three squads of Arbites unaccounted for. The transport is more or less totaled, destroyed by heavy weapons fire, possible lascannon or similar. The crew and arbites were done in by lasgun or something similar, Tau pulse weapons perhaps. Traces of synth-blood. Some sort of comm jam thats disrupting any attempt to contact the ship. Pretty much the usual.

"Based on the situation it appears that the arbites went down fighting. What confuses me is that if they went down fighting why isn't there more bodies and why aren't there the bodies of the enemy? My thought on that one is that it's possible the arbites were the ones responsible. Possessed or turned traitor somehow, corrupted. Explains the lack of a discernable enemy.

"I've got my guardsmen scouring the area for entrances and exits. Hopefully we can find a way to get past the interference and get a good communication line back to the Burden of Judgement. Boosting the signal apparently does nothing.

"That's what appears to be the long and the short of it. My suggestion is we secure the area and await for the Deathwatch to land and then work on securing a means of communication. After that we can start looking at taking the rest of the complex."

[Charon]

OOC: Moved this because Thunderhawk is a much better idea.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

The Thunderhawk class gunship – as much an assault shuttle as a true gunship – was fairly ubiquitous among space marines – it even had ladders designed to hold the prodigious weight of power-armoured marines – and Crassiros had been in any number of the vehicles in his time. This was however, one of his first times on the top deck command area. Marines were the elite of the emperor, and even the most basic model featured two spare seats behind the cockpit and terminals loaded with command and control gear.

Standing at one of these, clamped by his boots to the metal floor, lightning clawed hand resting on the wall uselessly as he operated the terminal. Fortunately, the enhanced reflexes of a marine made it a practical proposition to operate most equipment one-handed. The weightless drop of the ship as it deorbited was beginning to be replaced by the firm grip of gravity as the repulsors kicked in.

Several small screens showed scans of the facility, and vox traffic. Salvor knew that several of the inquisitors had already landed, and this was more than passing strange. “Pilot,â€

[Pcm979]

Siaides followed Crassiros off the gunship, moving surprisingly quietly in his black battle armour. While his red, silver and gold shoulderguard attested that his Chapter wasn't exactly enamoured with the idea of stealth and other 'dishonourable trickeries', he had never believed in making undue fuss. He scanned the bodies professionally, making a quick assessment of the manner and time of their deaths. Even without his medical training, it wasn't exactly hard to mistake a Lasblast to the chest.

[SirNitram]

"This'll do." Mal said simply as he disembarked the shuttle. "Moving to perform standard recon." He declared simply, ranging ahead of the Deathwatch. In such light and flexible armour as he had, heretically, gained, he was decidedly quiet and stealthy, using his training from back when he was a mere brother-scout to survey the interior before the rest came along.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

Crassiros watched the icons on his helmet’s heads up display, and nodded imperceptibly to himself inside his slightly beak-shaped helmet. “Good. Vibius, trail Brother Mal in case he finds anything in urgent need of killing. Brother Siaides, see if you can’t find any evidence of shotgun damage, or eldar smallarms. And if you’ve got time, take some samples of wounds and blood. The Biologis adepts might be able to make something of them later.â€

[Charon]

Vibius had sat quietly as the Thunderhawk went through it's landing routines. He watched the other Marines step out, and followed them down. As he reached the air of the world the smell of battle was the first thing that hit his nostrils. Grinning he dropped down the rest of the way and swept his bolter around. No enemies were visible, so be it. Vibius looked up at the sky. Nothing out of the ordinary there. That was a good sign. Vibius returned to scanning his surroundings as he came up behind Siaides.

"How long ago was this battle?"

Then came the orders from the other Battle-Brother.

"Yes captain."

Vibius followed after Mal quickly, keeping pace with him but staying far enough behind so as to let Mal keep his stealth.

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“Probably around one month ago, that’s when the Arbities went in. I doubt we will be able to get an exact time beyond that,â€

[The Necrontyr Messenger]

“Mal,â€