Deathwatch Reborn - Dagare Crusade

[Kallidor]

"I suggest you check your Betcher's Gland brother D'nim, it must be malfunctioning to give you such an acid tongue!" Laran gave a hearty chuckle, finally a fellow Astartes that acted like a Prophet, he was starting to tire of the obsequious back-slapping and this D'nim was like a breath of fresh air. Laran moved around the armoury, selecting a few melta bombs and frag grenades. Standing nearer to D'nim now he put his arm around the marine's shoulders, making him visibly cringe. "Ahh D'nim, I can see you and I becoming close, close friends." To emphasise the point Laran, left gauntlet gripping D'nim's left pauldron tight, pulled him in close with a comradely shake and then patted his right arm. "Close friends.'

He went off again laughing, looking for weapons that would complement his own. His chain-hammer would be at a disadvantage in the close confines of the ship but a powerfist seemed too ponderous; fighting an ork in hand-to-hand was always a mistake, if it had to be done then it was best to be quick and decisive but then the nature of his role as a Deathwatch meant he needed to be versatile. A lightning claw then? Fast, lethal, only useful for killing though in Laran's opinion. Ahh yes, a chainfist, faster than a power glove but not quite as fast as the lightning claw to be true but perfect for cleaving through armour and anything else that might get in their way. Attaching the weapon he turned to D'nim activating the chain blade and sticking it up, like an oversized index finger, the animal features carved on his helmet mirroring his feral grin beneath.

[Necris]

Demos sat in silence his eyes moving slowly around the room the tension of the place had risen dramatically.

"That is enough, all of you."

His voice wasn't stern or booming it had been spoke as though he were simply speaking at any one of them in passing conversation, yet each of them turned their heads towards him for the voice oozed threat and broached no challenge towards it.

"We still have two brothers yet to take the black, The rest of you will Brother Jopha to the Chaplaincy while Brother D'nim and I have words."

Again the tension passed through the chamber the marines finished preparing Jopha included before they all moved off the black marines of the death watch leading the green armoured Jopha, when the two of them were alone Demos spoke again as Matthias moved around him finalising his armour, D'nim stood his ground looking at his new captain face hidden behind his helm.

"Take a seat, and remove your helm I would speak to your face."

"I would prefer not to."

Demos' eyes turned towards him a fleck of red shone in them.

"You mistook my words as a request brother."

D'nim slowly sat and as if prolonging the task slowly removed his helm placing it to one side, Matthias paid them little attention as he finished with Demos' armour moving off to one side of his cubicle he returned with a small chest.

"You do not want to be here, this much I know."

"Then do not try and bond with me now, captain."

Demos smiled showing his fangs as Matthias drew a sanguinary vial from the chest and slotted one end into a node on the right wrist of Demos' armour it filled with blood slowly.

"You are here on penance for for tongue the Inquisitor wishes for you to learn a lesson when dealing with them, they seek to teach you humility yet I can see that this is a lesson you will not learn easy, you are full of pride, pride of your so called purity but I tell you this now Pontus would not even consider you fit to clean his armour, the fact you are here on penance lumps you in with the rest of us degenerate scum."

D'nim visibly smarted at this statement but formed his retort quickly.

"So you're telling me your stuck with me then?"

Demos laughed the sound booming and so sudden that Matthias almost dropped the second vial as he moved to fill it.

"Not at all, I have never had a marine forced upon me and no Inquisitor would be fool enough to try it I choose my task forces and I broach no interference in my selection, when given the lists of new candidates I chose you first."

"Why?"

"Because you are a talented officer according to your record and a skilled apothecary, I lost a brother in our last mission if it is avoidable I would not wish to loose another."

"You doubt that I will perform my duties?"

"Not for an instant if I had you'd be dead already, no D'nim I trust you will do the best you are able  in your duties it is that tongue of yours which will cause you more trouble, humility is a task you must learn and the Deathwatch is the place to learn it, mixed in with brothers not of your own and thrown into dangers you would normally expect a company worth to tackle is not a place for pride and discrimination, I trust you know of the loathing the Sons of Russ have for the Dark Angles?"

D'nim nodded silently.

"If I told you that Dregos has no less that four Dark Angles successors under his command and his second is a Dark Angle you can clearly understand the depth of my next words, the Deathwatch is a brotherhood of war not of blood we are bound by danger and by danger we live and die."

He stood as Matthias filled a third vial fixing it to his armour.

"Now we have an induction to perform follow me."

He noted the rapid movement to replace his helm and inwardly sighed striding from the room he led D'nim through the ship the a darkened chamber the rest stood waiting, Jopha  was stood separate looking a little nervous, the chamber bore a statue of the Emperor looming under an Imperial Aquilla his stern features looked down onto a tiled emblem of the deathwatch.

"Both of you will kneel  before the Emperor."

Jopha dropped to his knees as D'nim moved beside him kneeling more slowly the rest of the Deathwatch move round them each one taking up an object hidden in the darkness of the room, Demos stood forward to stand between them and the emperor.

"You have come to take the black of the watch, before the Emperor our father you will make your pledges so that you will be bound by your oaths of moment by his witness."

He nodded and the marines moved hidden from the pairs peripheral vision.

"You have given up your Chapters to complete your tours of service to the watch as such you will be stripped of your chapters colours save for your chapter pauldron to show from where you have come, and from where you will return upon completion of your tour."

He took up a long blade that rested before the Emperor's feet.

"Do you Jopha of the Wings of Malice swear to serve the watch, to take upon the bonds of brotherhood therein, will you give your life to the watch if they require it as you would give your life to your chapter?"

Jopha nodded his head once.

"I do."

"Do you Vifer D'Nim of the Astral Jackals swear to serve the watch, to take upon the bonds of brotherhood therein, will you give your life to the watch if they require it as you would give your life to your chapter?"

There was a long pause before D'nim lowered his head.

"I do."

"Then stand and receive the black."

Both of them stood as the other marines moved in they were armed with paint took and carefully they coated the pair of them in black paint Demos spoke as the rest worked.

"The Deathwatch is a brotherhood of warriors, not bound by the blood of chapter but by their loyalty to the Emperor and the hatred for the Xenos filth that threatens his Domain, though we may not be of the same blood we are of the same mind and soul and in that we are brothers united."

He lifted the weapon above his head.

"We are the heralds of death and where we tred the xenos shudder for they know we come for them and the last thoughts that fill their minds as we lay waste to their false dominions is fear of the Imperium and fear of the Deathwatch."

He lowered the weapon.

"Welcome your new brothers."

The task force gathered exchanging welcoming those who had not given their names introduced themselves to the two newcomers. Demos returned the sword and swung quickly as he became aware of an alert to action siren.

"To the embankment bays, Artos, Laran and the new bloods ride with me."

He slid his own helm into place his voice amplified through the vox caster within.

"To war my brothers let us show these orks who rules this universe."

He paused offering a quick salute to the Emperor.

"Watch over use my lord."

Then strode towards the embankment bays, they were busy as the task forces assembled Demos led them across the bay and with quick sharp gestures indicated their assault torpedoes before breaking from the group the captains stood gathered round the Commander each one on their knees before Tisias clad in his terminator armour a pair of lightning claws retracted into the safe position Demos knelt in a gap coming beside G'huk and Pontus.

"Late again Demos."

"Be silent Pontus, I'll not have you besmirching Demos' name again."

G'huk's voice was a wildd hiss his blood was up Demos could tell despite the Salamanders face been hidden behind his helm, Pontus inclined his head towards Demos and spoke.

"Try not to make a mess of this mission like you did your last."

"I'll see you on the bridge Pontus."

"We'll see."

The Commander passed over them fixing their oaths of moment and then dismissed them to their torpedoes Demos climbed in looking at Artos who's taken the flight seat.

"Not this time lad, move over I'll guide us in I want you on the breaching charges."

With a quick rearrangement they were set the hull of the torpedo closing behind them like a flower, checking his vox uplink he spoke with the rest of his force.

"We're assaulting from the Port side aim for the supplementary flight decks and try to keep tight."

He checked the systems then spoke again.

"Launch in t-minus three minutes."

[Swarbie]

"So, Jopha," said Artos. "What brings you to the watch?"

[Heroka Vendile]

"Duty, honour and tradition does, Brother Artos." answered Jopha amicably, "The laws of my chapter decree that no marine my be given his wings until having proved themselves outside the chapter over a period of at least five years. If I am to receive my wings and be recognised as a veteran brother by my peers, then I must follow those laws."

"But why did you choose the Deathwatch? From what you say there is no obligation in your laws that makes you come to our ranks." enquired Artos conversationally.

"That is correct." smiled Jopha, acknowledging Artos' close attention to his wording, "However it has become an unwritten tradition that most are expected to spend those five years serving with the Deathwatch, although there are a handful of other acceptable opportunities to fulfil the requirement while remaining within our home sector – such serving as a hunter in the unending war against the Vartov infestation on the planet Barkosa."

"Well that's honour and tradition covered, but what about duty?" noted Laran.

Jopha turned to look at Laran, answering quite seriously, "Duty is the most important. It is my duty to be the best prepared I can to assist my chapter in its future struggles; it is my duty to learn by experiencing conflict against all manner of alien creatures; it is my duty to know how best to kill them; and it is my duty to serve the Emperor in whatever way my chapter sees fit."

[Necris]

The torpedoes launched snapping them back into their harnesses Demos' fingers guided the torpedo as the launch retro's roared accelerating them to optimum speed. The guidance overlay was a pre determined assault line which even the most skilled assault pilots found difficult to maintain. He allowed the torpedo to drift sending the new details to the other torpedoes of his assault he wanted to keep them close as he relaxed into the flight he spoke.

"Fine words Brother Jopha, a noble cause to benefit your chapter is a commendable one, it's what drew me to the watch for my first tour, The freedom I am allowed within my chapter has allowed me to continue to learn and adapt my skills of war."

He turned his attention back to the guidance overlay and engaged the assault thrusters pushing the torpedo forward as the secondary burners ignited driving the torpedo onwards. He counted down the distance noting as the overlay flickered, they were coming under heavy fire the barrage of defensive fire was cutting into the first wave of torpedo's. designed to clear their path, the detonations interfered with the guidance systems but Demos steadied the torpedo as it continued on it's way.

"Impact in twenty seconds Artos prime the breaching charges and ready the cone."

Artos moved his fingers playing over the terminal before him, a shudder of power signalled the nose cone igniting the energised tip designed to punch into the hull of the enemy ship making entry easier. The countdown peeled away and he fought to keep the torpedo on course, the proximity alerts sounded he shouted over the noise as the final stage burners kicked in giving the torpedo enough force to punch into the hull.

"Brace for Impact."

The impact tore them all forward the restraints straining as the torpedo tore into the hull of the ship with the sound of tearing metal grinding against the hull the noise was deafening as the torpedo drove deeper as it same to a halt they rocked back into the harnesses.

"Artos fire the charges."

A series of explosions sounded the directional charges were designed to clear the immediate area of survivors once the charges ha fired Demos released his harness first standing he drew his bolt pistol and looked back over the rest.

"Laran up front, the rest fan our secure the entry point, Artos blow the clamps."

Artos nodded and slapped a final rune and four more explosions sounded and the nose cone vanished before them Laran strode forward Kah'Brosh held firmly he stepped into the enemy ship followed by Demos and the rest.

"Demos to task force, activate location beacons and rendezvous with team Alpha." 

He stepped forward to stand beside Laran his eyes falling on a flailing ork it's legs torn from it's body yet still it lived and still it wanted to fight, it reached for it's slugga that had fallen from it's hip.

"Silence it."

With a quick nod Laran stepped forward strumming Kah'Brosh with a low drone the Ork convulsed it's head bursting.

"Secure the area we..."

He paused tilting his head to hear better, he picked up drilled bolter fire his enhanced senses telling him that there was a fire fight on the decks above and some distance away, well drilled and advancing into the ship.

"Pontus, he's already doing our work for us, Ingaevon find out where we are on the ship."

He said as he gestured to an imperial terminal as he turned to Artos and Jopha.

"Scout ahead, keep to the shadows and if your have to eliminate the Orks as quietly as you can."

[Swarbie]

"Stay behind me, brother," Artos whispered. "This is what I was born for."

He flitted up the dark corridor, his massive armoured form somehow managing to conceal itself in the shadows. With the sound of the ship's engine in the background, Artos' movements made no noise.

He moved forward like a ghost, Jopha staying a few meters behind him. Seeing an ork up at an intersection ahead, Artos clipped Heart Reaper onto his belt and drew two of his combat knives.

He edged forward, perfectly prepared to make his silent kill.

[Koval]

"Acknowledged, Commander," Ingaevon answered. He raced over to the terminal and pressed the rune of activation, cursing as nothing happened after five, ten, fifteen seconds.

"What's keeping you, brother?" Laran asked, turning his head at Ingaevon's frustrated oath. Peering round the back of the terminal, Ingaevon saw the cause of the problem immediately and reached down.

"Orks are thick, Brother Laran," Ingaevon sighed. "They're absolutely bone dead stupid. Take a look at the side of this terminal."

Laran stepped over the dead Ork, his sonic blaster still held steady, and followed the Blood Raven's pointing finger until his gaze finally came to rest on a large dent in the side of the terminal.

"It looks like one of them kicked it," Laran remarked, with all the demeanour of a nobleman learning that his chronometer had stopped ticking. "But surely that's just superficial."

"Not possible. Have you ever been kicked by an Ork?"

Not waiting for a reply, Ingaevon grabbed the side of the terminal and pulled, subvocalising a prayer for the machine-spirit's forgiveness as he ripped the dented panel from the side of the machine. Setting the panel down, Ingaevon took a closer look.

"I thought as much," Ingaevon muttered, activating the luminator beam on his helmet. "The side panel must have taken the worst of it, but the main image processor's come loose."

"Can you repair it?" asked Laran.

"I'm not a Techmarine," admitted Ingaevon, "so I don't know if there's been any other damage to the terminal, but I imagine this will make it work again."

Reaching into the innards of the terminal and pushing gently on the side of what he hoped was the image processor, Ingaevon heard the terminal come back to life with a series of low clicks and pulses. He stood up and moved around to take a better look at the screen on the lectern.

"The battleship Providence," Ingaevon read out, each letter displayed in an intricate, flowing script. "Retribution class. One of Battlefleet Ultima's vessels. Throne on Earth, the Ork warlord's a crafty one to capture a vessel like this..."

"But where are we?" Demos prompted.

"Ah," Ingaevon grinned. "We're right here."

A large image of the Providence expanded on the screen at Ingaevon's command, rendering the entire battleship in three-dimensional wireframe that revolved slowly about a vertical axis. Large blobs of red covered the ship, one of which was overlaid with a tiny golden dot. Ingaevon focused the display on that dot, replacing the whole ship with an image of a specific section.

"We're on the port side, near the keel," Ingaevon reported. "That dot represents the terminal and our present position. The red patches must represent hull damage, or compromised sectors."

Not much further up from the kill-team's present location was another red blob, smaller this time, and located two decks above them.

"Kill-Team Pontus must be up there."

"So which is the closest target?"

"We've made our entry close to one of the port guns. We should be relatively close to weapons control, which is here," Ingaevon observed, zooming the display back out and pointing at the Providence's midsection, but further back towards the ship's bridge than where the terminal was. "I suspect we'll run into Kill-Team Pontus on the way up if your suspicions are correct, Commander."

"Assuming the Orks don't run into them first," noted Demos.

[Necris]

"Ok, upload the schematics into your suit and transit them to the rest of the force."

He flexed his powerfist and looked around the gun fire was becoming more intense.

"Sounds like Pontus is making some headway."

The ship suddenly rocked each of the marines keeping their footing but looking to the hull as return fire echoed through the ship. He didn't pause as he turned heading after Artos and Jopha.

"We need to silence those guns, Artos report."

No reply.

"Artos?"

"He's a little occupied Captain."

He quickened his pace he came up behind Jopha causing the marine to turn to look at him the rest of team Alpha had formed up behind him, He peered past Jopha looking at Artos an Ork corpse at his feet, the head had almost been removed and dark blood coated the walls Artos stood over it panting over the kill his blood a slick with the blood as the walls, he stepped forward putting himself between the force and Artos.

"Artos?"

"Dammed thing turned at the last moment, I had to improvise."

He nodded half turning.

"Ingaevon, which way?"

He pulled off his helm as Ingaevon checked the schematic hooking on his belt he tilted his head from side to side cracking the neck, sniffing the air he spat.

"Gah Ork stench, the sooner we are done with this better."

"Left."

They headed left Demos leading his bolt pistol in his hand, he'd opted to load it with stalker rounds the silenced rounds would prove more useful in this environment, he was proven right as three Orks exited  an intersection he fired dropping two before he was too close to make use of the gun, he punched forward with his powerfist closing it round the Ork's head, applying pressure the head exploded with a wet pop as the power field activated. He looked down at the bodies they had been fully armed ready for a fight, he looked in the direction they were travelling.

"This way."

"But captain the schematic says we should carry on the way were heading."

"The gun fire is coming from that direction."

D'min and Laran brought their weapons up aiming down the companionway before lowering them again as Pelesus and Corvin leading the rest of their task force joined them.

"This way."

Demos headed towards the gun fire.

[MarcoSkoll]

D'Nim looked around, his armour's autosenses taking the corridor in.

   "Things are amiss. These corridors have few of the contemptible signs of the Ork."

It was Artos who answered him:
   "Elaborate, Jackal."
   "Did you not see the exterior of the ship? Compared to that, these corridors are in an implausible state of repair. The terminal the Raven was using - largely intact. The walls - dented and rusted, but free of the attentions of their Meks. Little here has been cannibalised."

The revelation seemed to take Laran slightly aback, an unpleasant anomaly in his long years of fighting with the Orks. He nodded.
   "The acid Apothecary speaks some sense. This interior does not have the appearance of a craft that has been in Ork hands for this length of time."
   "The scant numbers of them we have seen make it self-evident they avoid this sector of the ship.", growled D'Nim.

Jopha looked about, corroborating D'Nim's statement with the enviroment before turning back to the Apothecary:
   " What reason would they have..."
   "How in the name of Dorn should I know?" D'Nim interrupted, not waiting for the other Marine to finish his question, " But if Orks fear it, then we do not desire occasion to find out."

[Kallidor]

Laran tilted his head like a dog, listening to the muffled gunfire, he put one hand on the metal of the ship as if trying to feel for something.

   "Brother?" D'Nim was looking back down the corridor towards him.

   "Now that you've mentioned the lack of ork defacement I've noticed something else that is, peculiar."

Demos' voice crackled over the squad vox.

   "You've stopped moving Brothers; report."

   "Tell me Captain, what can you hear?" Demos made a frustrated sigh.

   "We don't have time for riddles Laran; explain yourself."

   "Please Captain, just tell me what you hear." There was a pause and then Demos answered.

   "I hear gunfire; what of it?"

   "Exactly Captain, only gunfire. I am of the Mahtaron, we use music in battle, an inherited tradition from the Janissaries and a learned combat form, shown to us by Legio Destructor, whose Princeps like to compete with the orks for the amount of noise they can make. Orks are impressed and cowed by sheer volume and yet all there is to hear, is gunfire. Where are the orks battle cries, the clash of their weapons? Why is this ship so silent and why is it so untouched?"

There was no reply and Laran moved off, D'Nim ahead of him as they made their way back into formation with the squad. He didn't know what strange presence was aboard this vessel, Brother Ingaevon had mentioned how crafty the ork Kaptin must have been to capture the Providence and even the name made him suspicious. He fingered a charm hanging from a cord about his neck and cast wary glances about himself as he rejoined the squad.

[Necris]

"I could stand to find out, but that is not our mission, time if of the essence here the crusade's first steps are in our hands."

He led them moving down the companionway, it was as D'Nim said the deeper into the ship they went the more signs of Ork presence occurred first a glyth depicting some form of ownership then a crudely refashioned bulkhead and a murder point, the deeper they penetrated the more Orks they could hear and encountered, the first Demos called a halt waving the team down onto their knees they waited and watched as a long stream of Ork's led by one of the bigger Nobz clad in crude powered armour stomped by they were excited at the prospect of combat Demos wondered if Pontus was drawing too much attention to himself.

He answer had come as they'd stood moving off again they entered a large open deck dipping down a dozen levels into the bowels of the ship spanning the space left were walkways and service lines, it took Demos a moment to realise that this would have been a workshop once for the ship to effect repairs of it's massive gun batteries, had the lights been working properly he had no doubt that he'd be able to see the workings below, looking up he guessed that the arched roof could be opened to the void to allow the weapons to be lifted in and out without the need to dismantle them fully. The gun fire echoed in this space and his eyes were drawn down to a walk way where the gun battle was happening.

Surrounded on all sides Pontus' team were blazing away as the Ork's tried to overwhelm them, he scanned the scene and guessed there to be close to a hundred on each side of the walkway with Pontus and his men at it's centre. He noted a pair of marines armed with heavy bolters blazing away while the rest of the team formed up round them Pontus in it's centre shouting orders.

"The dammed fool seeks to get himself killed."

Artos hissed gripping his weapons tighter. Demos frowned at the disrespect but he could not reprimand the young marine for his out burst, he thought the same.

"He is providing the perfect distraction Captain we could complete our mission with little interference from the Orks." 

Laran said watching the battle below, one of Pontus marines his pauldron bright yellow twisted from his feet as a heavy slugga strafed the line.

"We should leave him to his fate."

"What are you suggesting Destroyers?"

Hissed D'Nim at Arros' suggestion.

"His purity got him in to that I suggest we leave him to it."

"You really are."

"Enough!"

Demos growled the words his voice low hungry his eyes flecked with red.

"Despite his arrogance Pontus is still our brother, and I simply watch our brother be cut down. Artos, Peleus, Martell and Jopha see if you can make your way across to that walkway, get a firing position and give aid to our brothers on the far side. The rest of you with me we lay fire on this side."

He moved keeping low like a animal stalking prey he moved across the walkway they stood on, coming to the edge he drove his powerfist into the chamber wall ripping a great tear in it before lifting himself from the floor and scaling across to the next walkway, each time leaving a hand hole for the rest to follow from there he crouched again looking at the target his frown deepening the firing solution here was not good the angle bad the the risk of hitting Pontus and his men too great from the opposite side he could see the others moving into position his vantage point told him that they would have good angles, D'Nim moved beside him as did Ingaevon he spoke as he saw what Demos had seen.

"The aim is bad, what do you suggest."

Demos stood as the rest finished their climb.

"Obvious tactics."

He broke into a run along the walkway, looking down he judged the distance and launched himself into the air over the rail, a hundred meters to fall was nothing to a marine a twenty meter jump little challenge the skill was the aiming of the jump and the execution of the landing, as he fell through the air he let out a roar of challenge selecting the Ork he would land upon, a big brute with a massive chain axe who was hooting and calling for skulls to be smashed and bones crushed.

He crashed onto the Ork crushing it with his weight the axe swung out cutting through another two before his fist smashed a third from the walkway his bolter spoke and such a close range killed with every shot as he cleared a space for the rest of the team to land.

[Koval]

"Hah, now these are orders, Commander," Ingaevon grinned, unslinging his flamer and activating his power fist. As he prepared to jump, he inclined his head in D'Nim's direction.

"You may not like what you're about to hear," he warned the Astral Jackal. "External address, full amplification."

Not bothering to wait for D'Nim to respond, Ingaevon vaulted the rail and pushed himself clear before it could give way completely, his power fist drawn back to pulverise whatever he landed on as, below him, Demos carved a bloody crater in the Orkish mob.

As Ingaevon leapt, he drew in a deep breath and held it; as soon as the Providence's artificial gravity took over, Ingaevon released it in a single, massive noise, a noise every Ork on the gantry recognised instantly. Some of the slower-witted ones looked up in confusion, and were swiftly cut down by Demos and Pontus as Ingaevon fell, screaming with one voice to drown out the hundreds of voices below him.

"WAAAAGH!"

Ingaevon landed heavily on the other side of Demos, his power-armoured boots stomping flat the unfortunate Ork that broke his fall as he slammed his power fist into the stomach of another, catapulting it backwards into its fellows and clearing a space in front of Ingaevon that was rapidly filling with yet more malodorous green bodies.

The flames got there first, and a controlled burst of fire from the flamer in Ingaevon's right hand put one Ork down instantly and set several others alight, the Orks' superior numbers working against them in the tight confines of the walkway. Some of the blazing Orks ignored the pain through sheer resolve, but most tried to flee and found themselves almost rampaging through their fellows, ensuring that nothing short of utter havoc ensued as the fire began to spread through the ungainly press of Orkish bodies. Some were pitched over the railings, pushed too far by their panicking fellows or knocked off by flying green limbs.

"Behind you, Ingaevon!" Demos warned, and the Blood Raven turned just in time to dodge a screaming chain-axe blade, the huge Ork wielding it glaring at Ingaevon with his fiercest livid stare. With a tremendous Waaaagh!, the Ork bull-rushed Ingaevon, a half-dozen of its fellows rallying behind it as they rushed to engage the challenger in their midst.

"Neutralising," Ingaevon answered immediately, reverting to internal comms. Dodging the larger Ork's clumsy assault, Ingaevon countered with a solid punch to its shoulder, pulverising the joint and crushing a good portion of its upper arm. It staggered and fell on its uninjured side, roaring more in anger than pain, and attempted to get back up.

It didn't even have time to notice the flamer muzzle in its open maw before Ingaevon pulled the trigger and cremated the alien's head on the spot.

Something heavy collided with Ingaevon and he dropped his flamer as he went down, face-down with two Orks piling in on top of him. He managed to force himself onto one knee, reaching for the chainsword on his left hip, but two Orks became five and Ingaevon faltered, weighed down by sheer numbers, and collapsed once more, his ears filled with the jeers and hoots of the Orks on top of him, apparently squabbling over their kill even as they reached for their weapons.

"I suppose assistance is out of the question?" Ingaevon voxed, pinned to the floor by the sheer weight of the Orks on top of him.

[Kallidor]

   "Deactivate your auto-senses Brother, now!" Ingaevon did not hesitate and did as he was instructed. All around was silence and darkness, locked inside his suit with no way to know what was happening Ingaevon felt the pressure of the ork dog-pile lessen and then vanish. Laran aimed Kah'Brosh low and attacked the orks with a sonic barrage inaudible to even an Astartes' augmented hearing but which sent the orks tumbling away like leaves in a gale. The sonic assault was like a thousand fists beating the orks back there faces and bodies bruised and swollen, changing the frequency to an eye-watering shriek the air curled like a water funnel, forming into a knotted dagger of pure sound which cut the orks apart like a knife.

   "All clear Brother." Laran continued his steady advance, the wall of sound constant until shoota rounds smacked into his shoulder. As the sonic wave stopped the ork mob piled back in again and Laran let his killing instrument drop on its shoulder strap. He raised his chainfist, activating the blade which cut the first ork into ribbons and then began to swing the oversized hand around, clearing a space enough to reach back and unsling his chain-hammer. He hadn't thought he would have need of the cumbersome weapon but here in this scrum it was invaluable and well worth the effort of carrying it all this way.

The chain weapons imbedded in each hammer face ripped through ork flak and shredded chests with ease, the bludgeoning weight cracking ribs, spines and legs and braking thick ork skulls. Fumbling for a frag grenade Laran tossed it into the crowd and whooping with his augmitter followed the Blood Ravens example, crying Waaagh! and throwing himself into the thick press of green bodies.

[Necris]

Demos turned and strafed the area with his bolt pistol killing half a dozen of the orks before being forced back into his own battle a choppa clipped his shoulder turning him which he made into an attack ramming the bolt pistol into the Orks face before pulling the trigger the rounds pulverised it's skull and the skulls of the three behind as he kept firing his fist lashing out atomising another lower jaw it tumbled away as he threw the headless corpse at the next line, of Orks moving in.

He killed the first with the powerfist the second tearing the pistol from his grip only to have it's chest crushed by a blow from the fist, he span tearing the head clean from the next and took another clip from a cleaver and shattered the weapon before burying his fingers into the Orks eyes blinding it, a few seconds respite gave him chance to turn and drag Ingaevon to his feet pulling the dead orks from him as he came up.

"No Mercy, No Respite. Kill them All!"

The pair twisted away from one another powerfists cleaving Orks down, He drew his bone dagger the blade slashing through the face plate of an Ork as if the metal were paper it roared in pain as he opened another's throat with the blade before smashing it aside with his fist.

He revelled in the slaughter he Laran and Ingaevon were reaping, the Orks were to compacted to bring their might to bear properly and the marines would make them pay dearly for that, he launched himself into the combat with what could only be described as brutal glee letting out a bellowing roar as he smashed another Ork to death, his voice drowning out the Orks around him.  

[MarcoSkoll]

Up above, D'Nim was methodically firing into the mass of Orks from his firing kneel, taking the shots that didn't endanger his battle brothers. But even with single shots, the straight magazine had quickly expended its smaller capacity.

There was some degree of return fire on his position, but he calmly broke into a run as he reloaded.  Releasing the weapon's bolt casually, he vaulted the handrail, leaping down to the lower walkway.

His sword was in his hand before he had even landed, and he used it to strike out at the Ork immediately in front of him. The momentum behind the sword's monomolecular edge clove the beast in two from skull to groin.

Quickly recovering, he drove an elbow into the temple of another greenskin, and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch, although whether it was the Ork's skull or its neck was of little concern to him.

He had the attention of the Orks by now, who turned their attention to this new opportunity for glory. Raising his bolter in one hand, D'Nim quickly emptied the new magazine in a sequence of well drilled shots to the heads and chests of the aliens.

As the weapon locked back on an empty magazine, the Apothecary latched the bolter to the magnetic holster on his thigh.

  "If you can spare the time from your busy schedule Captain, Brother Pontus' injured marine would benefit from getting my attentions sooner rather than later."

Demos responded by roaring and leaping forwards to smash his power fist into the face of yet another Ork within the seemingly innumerable horde. It was followed by a crushing backhand that knocked another off the walkway they were on. Whatever sounds it made as the ship's artificial gravity drew it towards its final destination ten decks down went unheard, drowned out by the roar of battle.

His bolter empty, D'Nim swapped his sword between hands, the chain-blade on his narthecium unfolding and extending from its storage position as he did so. Its teeth whirred into life as the apothecary chopped downwards with his hand, cutting through the neck of an Ork with a mechanical screaming and the spray of blood and assorted body tissues.

Surging forwards again, the Apothecary let loose a battle cry:
  "For Dorn!"