Editing Republican Commando (section)

===(30) Heavensward===
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The Inquisitorial Headquarters on Catalyst Station has called a general state of emergency - one of the Storage Domes on the surface of Cataclysm has gone dark. The contents of said Storage Dome is not listed, but partial archives list it was filled over 52 years back, during the chain of events labelled the Squat Crusade. Squads of Inquisitorial Scions, as well as Team of Adepta Sororitas, were dispatched to control the situation, but contact has been lost with them. The Commandos are immediately requested to lock down and recapture the Storage Dome, and purge anything that may have taken it over. Given the emergency, the Blade is immediately ordered to Cataclysm. Based on distances, it will take ~2 and a half weeks for the cross-sector longways journey.

Cortain, while concerned about the news on Cataclysm, decides to continue his research on Tau guns, specifically Redsun's. Spending some time with it in the Armorium, he examines Redsun's fusion blades and the scattered remnants of the shield projector. While Redsun's Fusion Blades seem to be relatively standard (though usually only found in the area known as Farsight Enclaves), it is the projective shield fragments recovered that is of the greatest note. Resembling an upscaled Tidewall shieldline positionable in the same way as an Ion shield, he has seen a similar reflective ability on Kastelan robots, used by most of the Imperium, which fears cybernetica.

"It is unusual for any field to reflect Grav-Blasts..." Cortain muses, but finding nothing else odd of note, he returns the pieces to the Trophy room.

Rockfist is off banging some dents out of the VF/SS fighters after the last sortie. Pieces of the VF/SS lay about as Rockfist and other Engineers recalibrate and retool the delicate parts.

"Rockfist, do you have a moment?" Cyrila asks.
Rockfist leans up, supporting himself on his bionic arm as he stands. "What's the problem, lad?"
Cyril gets real quiet, "Are you familiar with any forms of xenoscript?"
"Depends on the type, lad," Rockfist shrugs, "I had ta assist the Command Brotherhoods at times, ended up pickin' up a few things here and there. Was quite useful when we first arrived in the sector."
Cyril hands over the hyperscroll. "Ramsestron gave us this as some kind of certificate of amity. Can you translate it?"
Rockfist lays the scroll out on a workbench, putting on his reading glasses. He reviews the Necron script carefully, before looking up.
"Well, it basically declares you an ally of Ramsestron, his Royal Court, and his Dynasty," Rockfist says, "Accordin' to his Ancient Codes or summat, ya've proved yerself worthy and are treated as an equal in 'is eyes. He'd intercede for ya if the Triarchs come knockin', but I wouldn't push yer luck, lad."
Rockfist takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, lost in memory.
"Of the four factions of rustbuckets we've seen 'ere," Rockfist concludes, "I would say Ramsestron was by far the safest. He's far more trustworthy than them Greenskins and... *pah* Eldar."
"Understood," Cyril nods, "Do we need to carry it on our persons?"
"Nah, Necrons 'ave a thing, they just KNOW," Rockfist shrugs, "I wouldn't worry 'bout it."
"I rather liked Ramsestron," Cyril admits, "It may be a xeno, but it was aligned with Humanity's interests. And it had a dragon."
Brynjol unexpectedly is behind Cyril, and cuffs him over the head.
"You and your heresies..." he laughs.
Cyril glances at the Wolf Priest. "It had. A dragon."
"Aye, the Inquisition ranks'im as the lowest Necrontyr threat," Rockfist says, "But 'e didn't 'ave a bloody DRAGON last the Brotherhoods met with'im. I'd still advise some caution."
Rockfist sighs as Brynjol and Cyril try to step around each other.
"Overall, lads, if it's 'im, usually a few macrocannon shells are enough ta make'im go away," Rockfist finishes, "But the others, can't quite say the same for'em. Anythin' else ya needed?"
"What are the other Dynasties, then? The bearded Cryptek was most unpleasant, and the one that attacked Xaviol seemed like part of another faction altogether."
"The other dynasties..." Rockfist muses, "Take a seat, this may take a bit."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkXBv0vCIDw

Rockfist takes out a small dataslate, "Right then, so there're four Dynasties the Holds have encountered in this sector. Each are distinguishable by their Phaeron, and the title they take."
The hololith switches to a creepily-smiling Phaeron, surrounded by the floating parts of what seems like a synthesizer.
"Ye've met Ramsestron, Tonal Architect," Rockfist says, "He's known for a sound-based method of attack called Sigma Harmonics. The Holds 'ave a long history with him, and he holds the dubious an' sad distinction of bein' the first 'friendly' face we've seen in the Sector."
The hololith switches, a terrifying silver skull visage surrounded by dozens of chittering scarabs.
"An' I think ye've met Khepri, The Transforming Strength," Rockfist says, "Thing 'bout 'im is his body, it's made COMPLETELY of Scarabs, an' his forces are Canoptek in nature. His attacks 'ere predate our comin', but they've always been devastatin'."
"Which leaves whoever that Cryptek worked for," Cortain collates, "And...one final dynasty."
The Hololith temporarily flickers.
"Next, there's a pair of Phaerons we know only as Ad and Paqt, with the rather mysterious title, the Keepers of Abbasid," Rockfist shrugs, "The Brotherhoods never met'em ourselves, but we were told they keep to themselves, not maintainin' a Decurion of their own, an' have a mastery of canoptek voidship construction."
"Voidship specialists? I wonder if they forged some alliance with Khepri to launch the attack on Xaviol..." Cyril wonders, "If such an alliance exists, it can be broken, turning them upon one another."
The final hololithic image is showing an overlord in lavish garments, posing a strange pose.
"Finally, and here's the weirdest one - Armanihotep, Grand Couturier," Rockfist concludes, "He learned how to bind C'tan shards to 'imself, summonin' an' attackin' with'is C'tands. His title is self-explanatory, though - he's a close ally to Ramsestron, an' many of the sector's high an' mighty wear the clothes he makes, most of'em ignorant of the source."
Rockfist switches off the Hololith.
"Regrettably, lad, yer rogue Cryptek must be workin' with one of'em, an' I'd bet thrones it'd be Khepri or Ad an' Paqt," Rockfist says, "I'd be wary of'em all regardless."
"So it can be summed up as 'bloody Necrons again'," Brynjol announces.
"Right, lad," Rockfist nods, "I hope the information helps."
"As do I, Rockfist, Cyril concludes, "Thank you for the briefing."

The Blade finally begins materium translation procedures, and pops out over the Cataclysm system. A half day of plasma engine travel, and the Commandos arrive above the Cataclysm system. Cyril, however, has a doubt which he heads to Cortain for.

"Cortain, I have been reviewing our archived after-action reports, and was curious about something," Cyril begins, "The children on Xaviol had action figures of us. Did you notice any of Temur or myself?"
Cyril takes a moment to remember.
"Brynjol's swung a chainsword... Yours had rockets and a rather striking dress... How does one translate the magnificence of a Storm Bolter or Grav Cannon to children's toys?"
"I have all of them, though this was before our promotions," Cortain recalls, "Your figure notably has a Storm Bolter, but it was a single piece, hardly fitting of the glory it imitates. Temur's had a Grav-Cannon, which had lights and sounds."
"Ah. That is logical," Cyril nods, "Thank you for indulging my curiousity."
"And for your information, that dress was unsanctioned," Cortain looks at the figure in its packaging, "It does have stickers though. No doubt there will be a second wave of figures. Maybe they will add your yeti as well. Maybe have him disassemble into becoming some ridiculous heretek super armor."

Cyril takes a moment to review the boxes. Fightin' Felleye Brynjol. Cortex Captain Cortain. Consul Commander Cyril (with Super Sparkle Action). Silent Stalker Temur.
Brynjol mutters something about mould lines, before turning to the important matter at hand.

The Blade is holding above Cataclysm. The Support Crew has gathered at the bridge. Brynjol turns up, for once wearing his armour to the bridge. It has been adorned with what looks like a wolfpelt loincloth, and a flamer of unusual design. It is gurgling in a disquieting fashion, and drooling a miniscule but steady stream of dihydropromethium.

Cortain tries to contact the surface, but flubs the test. As Cortain begins talking to the Recaf machine, Rockfist brings up a hololithic display.
"Aite, lads," Rockfist says, "We received word that one of the domes down on Cataclysm has...gone silent. The Inquisitors aren't sure the source, but numerous forces sent down to recover the situation have disappeared."
"Sounds ominous," Brynjol says.
"These domes, how large are they?" Temur asks, "For some perspective of the scale we are potentially dealing with."
"They range in size, lad, from small hab centers to larger," Rockfist explains, "The one you're bein' dispatched to holds all the forbidden gear and artifacts from the Squat Crusade almost 52 years back now. So it's about the size of a large Voidship."
"How have the Inquisitors in charge reacted to this?" Cortain adds. "How much did they panic?"
"We haven't heard anything from the Inquisitors," Rose says, "They are probably gradually increasing the scale of response, given that numerous scions and a Sororitas squad has lost contact now."
"Squad of four Sororitas... Do you think...?" Cortain wonders.
"THERE IS NO INDICATION OF IDENTIFYING FACTORS IN THE BRIEFING - THE POWER ARMORED AUXILIA COULD BE ANYONE, CONSULS," Thexus blasts.
"Prancing about in power armour like they know what they're doing," Brynjol mutters.
"Seems like we should get down there as soon as possible," Brynjol suggests.
"Anyway, lads," Rockfist says, "Bringin' assets down there probably isn't a good idea. But we'll ready anythin' else ya need, as well as transport."
"Agreed," Cortain nods, immediately rushing to the Armourium to rent out a Rapier Laser Destroyer, a Volkite Culverin, and a siege auspex. Cyril picks up a Photon Thruster and his winged pack. Temur heads to the Stasis crypts of the armorium and picks up a Totally-Not-Redemption Of St. Sulech, with metalstorm rounds, and a multikey, as well as Balancing his Paragon Blade. Brynjol settles on a triflame vambrace, has Cortain razor his Burning Claws, and collects a small ziploc-atus of pocket sand, JUST in case.

A Storm Eagle is readied, and the Urists stand ready to transport the Commandos to the dome that has gone dark.
"We're ready to leave on your order, Consuls!" Urist McMorpho says.
"Just give the order!" Urist McPequod adds.
"Take us down," Cyril commands.
Perhaps the rest of the Commandos wonder why Brynjol is mashing the confused pilots against his thighs as he attempts to pocket them, perhaps not, but all gear has been loaded as requested, to satisfaction. Enacting an Oath to the Wolf King,  Brynjol returns to the main compartment, fiddling with his flame gauntlet. It continues to drool a steady stream of flames in a worrying fashion. The pilots try to take the Storm Eagle out - it's rough, and there's one or two scrapes as the pilots cannot see where they are going, but the exotic garden world of Cataclysm grows ever larger in the cockpit viewports.

"Should this be doing this, Cort?" Brynjol asks.
"...where did you even find this?" Cortain asks.
"I was rummaging in an old box of junk," Brynjol shrugs.
"Thexus must have dismissed it as deviant and set it aside," Cyril offers. He twirls his Photon Thruster experimentally. The weight and balance feel -right-, but the prospect of having something in common with Khodexus is troubling.

Floating over the green grasses and forests, one dome grows larger and larger over the horizon. Armored with ceramite and lined with translucent materials, the dome is doing as much to store something as it is keeping prying eyes out. Coming low over the trees, the Urist brothers find an unoccupied landing pad extending out of one of the dome's hemispheres, and land there. The Commandos check their gear and relics, Temur taking special care as he double checks the mechanism of the ancient drum-fed heavy bolter from the back of the armory, a fine specimen dating from the days of the Legiones, making sure it is ready for action. The Commandos note with concern that they passed over other mass transports, all abandoned. Nonetheless, the Urist Brothers begin disgorging gear and equipment, and the Commandos pile out. On this platform, they can get a wide view of the surrounding grasslands, and the heavy armor of the blast door that bars passage.

The Commandos review the entrypath. There are a pair of terminals on each side, consisting of a hole in the wall, a keypad, and a cogitator pict-screen. Within each hole glows a bio-augur. Temur searches for a multikey access port, and unfortunately finds none. Cyril tries his luck inputting his hand into the bio-augur, and typing out some Inquisitorial ciphers. He fails, though, prompting an identical reaction in the opposite terminal. The Commandos quickly figure out from there that the terminals are linked. Temur heads over and puts in a commonly used passcode, and notes with discouragement that it works. Cyril puts in the cipher on the other side at the same time, and the two terminals beep.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2A4b9mlFD6Y

The door begins to slowly slide open. Cyril draws his guns and points them inside, waiting to see what's there, but there seems to be little around - just an empty Station Access hall for now. It is engraved with symbols of the Inquisition and local saints. The engravings are quite shitty compared to the ones he can make.  The Commandos note the lights are out, shards of armored glass on the hall's floors. While this doesn't impede them in any way, it's still somewhat worth noting. The shards of armored glass can be easily traced to the shattered lights in the ceiling. Signs of explosions and energy burns are evident, all clustered near the remnants of the lights.

"Some sort of explosion? Overpressure?" Brynjol asks.
"What do we know that likes to fight in the dark?" Cyril asks, "Aside from myself, of course."

Cyril creeps forward, engaging his stummer to mask the sound of crunching glass, the Commandos a distance away. Popping on down the Station Access hallway, they come up to a decently expansive Security Station. Here, now, is where things start to look bad. There are about three long-ded corpses of Inquisitorial scions. Two are in the center of the room, splayed out, while one is at a cogitator behind a pair of sentry gun turrets. The servitor-controlled Sentry guns turn their red dots on the Commandos, but identify them as Inquisition-affiliate, and resume target searching. They are of no threat.

"Brynjol, can you see if you can figure out what killed them?" Temur asks.
Brynjol pads over to the corpses, kneeling by them and examining the bodies. The first thing he can immediately see about the bodies is the two in the center of the room were shot from behind. The one behind the cogitator, however, suffered las burns from the front. Temur notes that heavy lasfire can be seen all around, as well as remnants of probable grenades. Based on this information, he reasons that based on the fact that many of the bodies were shot from behind, this was a surprise gankspank. It is likely that there would have been at least two to three to down each target in surprise, so a fair amount. Maybe a squad or two, from this room.

"Looks to be standard guard weapons, lasrifles and grenades, a squad or two in strength, these soldiers were taken by surprise," Temur announces, "These were previously sanctioned inquisitorial troops, or the security systems have been tampered with."

Cyril checks the Cogitator, which is displaying a general status - no non imperial targets were logged as entering, and the sentry guns remain unfired. Anything further would probably require tech use to coax the cogitator.
"Cortain, come have a look at this. No non-Imperial targets were logged as entering..." Cyril requests, "Either this was a betrayal, or something bypassed security. Possibly both."
"Betrayal," Brynjol spits, raising his Crozius, "Much more likely, and easy, to coerce an Imperial than to break through Inquisitorial security."

Temur does an exit check, and finds three - one left, one right, and one armored behind the cogitator bunker. There's a lot of blood trails to the left, and occasional blood trails to the right. Cortain checks the cogitators, and notes everything is on emergency power.

"Hellstar creatures seem able to manifest wherever they please, and prone to inspiring the insanity that could cause loyal warriors of the Imperium to turn on one another..." Cyril posits, "Though this seems too well coordinated for it, despite the timing. Either it is something else, or Crusader Invictus frightened it. Perhaps the fallen can tell us more..."

Brynjol takes a nibble of one dude, and Cyril the other, letting the memories flow...

20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)

The two Scions on duty are walking down the hall, facing the cogitator. They wave and cipher to the scion on guard that all is well. They walk on further, before hearing footsteps behind them. It's more Scions, outnumbering them 4 to 1, guns held slack and walking forward slowly. The two Scions mutter amongst themselves about falling discipline, and resume their patrol. Then one (Brynjol's) falls, numerous hot shot las rounds hitting his back. Before he can turn, Cyril's is gunned down as well. As their life ebbs away, the scions continue to jerk and lurch away with half-aimed guns, marching through the halls, the lights shattering as they go. The last thing the scions see is the lights going out, as an insectile screech echoes through the air. At no point did the turrets fire, detecting only Inquisitorial Tempestus Scions.
20:50, 1 October 2016 (UTC)

"Odd," Cyril mutters, rising from the cogitator guard's corpse. "The traitors were shambling forward with their guns held slack, and shot these men after walking right past them. They did not even stop walking..."

The screech, however, is concerning - the Commandos have never heard such a thing before. One thing is obvious - the blood draggings make more sense as the Teamkiller Scions went down the Left, from the Right. Bringing up a small map of this area on the cogitator, the right appears to be labeled Biostorage Access. Down the left appears to be Weapons Storage. Down the center, the cogitator states Ventilation Corridor and Generatorum.

"If systems are on emergency power. I will attempt to ascertain the location of the genetorum..." Cyril notes, "The shamblers went to Biostorage Access and Weapons Storage, but these killings happened long ago. Any damage may already have been done, so yes; to the generatorum. Bryn? Do you agree?"

Brynjol frowns,  "It's a reasonable enough assumption, I suppose." He sniffs the air, trying to solve problems via the nostrils. 
"There are two possibilities - restarting the generator may allow them to bring heavier weapons to bear against us," Temur offers, "But might also bring the facilities automated defenses online."
"I agree, Temur. I am also concerned about deactivated stasis fields in Biostorage..." Cyril adds, "They may have Tyranid samples there."

Brynjol raises his hand - he needs to concentrate. The first thing he smells is a LOT of blood coming from Weapons Storage. He can also smell something off, coming from Biostorage. He can smell humans, and just BARELY pick up the pheremones of fear.
"Wait..." he says, "There are people, alive in Biostorage."
Cortain intones his siege auspex to wakefulness and can confirm - biosigns down left, erratic energy signatures right, and a strange interference near the genetorum.
"Either they broke a blood bank, or a lot of things died in Weapons Storage," Brynjol says.
"Shall we rescue any survivors first then, or bring local systems fully online?" Cyril asks.
"I advise rescue," Cortain states.
"They might be able to tell us of our foe," Brynjol decides, "We rescue."

"Shall I sneak ahead, or do we go in all guns blazing?" Cyril asks.
"I'd rather get at least a look before we accidentally kill them all," Brynjol says, "Take a peek, report back."
"On my way. I will vox you if they are engaged," Cyril turns the stummer back on again and ghosts forward.

Taking the path to the right, the Commandos can see out the viewports of the curved hall that this dome is built around a large crater of some sort. Within the center of the crater is something utterly titanic - a voidship-sized wreck resembling a large lizard or frog. The winged construct is splayed out in different parts, each showing HEAVY signs of battle damage. Looping around to the damaged Biostorage door, the Commandos find it blown off its hinges.

"Is that...Slann?" Cortain asks, cross-referencing it. It bears similar hallmarks - silver metal with blue inlays, and some parts glowing orange with hardlight.

As the Commandos reform, the first thing Cortain can detect is the Stasis Caskets, all on barely emergency power, casting a dull red glow on the room. Within are Saurus and Skinks, similar to those on Cu'ba. Ded tech-adepts and xenobiologists lay about, as well as a skink they were most likely in the midst of dissecting. There is, however, an armored container that shakes and shuffles on occasion. Brynjol scores 11 Degrees of success, and can see the molecules themselves move, as well as hear faint, muffled voices from within. They sound terrified.

"There! That container," Brynjol says, "There's something inside. Sounds scared. Cortain, can you check it for traps? Use your auspex?"
Upon the word 'Container', the voices sound somewhat agitated now. 
Cyril turns off the stummer since apparently everyone's following closely and approaches the container humming a distinctly Imperial hymn.
"This seems, to coin a phrase, piscine as all hell," brynjol mutters.
[2016-04-06 22:07:27] <Cyril> ,dhroll 77 I sing fur da Emprar

Singing an imperial hymn with 5 DoS, Cyril approaches the Container, similar to those that would be transported by Land Crawler, and watches as it shakes and bounces.  The doors finally fly open, as four Sororitas pour out.

"Oh, thank the Emperor!" Black cries.
"Support!" White exclaims.
"And...the Commandos! We're gonna be okay!" Red concludes.
"Oh bollocks," Brynjol mutters under his breath, switching to teamvox, "Is it too late to shoot the container just in case?"
"You have a problem with the Sororitas?" Cyril asks, surprised.
"Only these ones," Brynjol sighs, "They're sodding annoying."
"Granted, they may be tainted by whatever compromised the Scions," Cyril admits, "But it is to be hoped that they were safe in the container."

"I thought we might find you down here," Cyril announces, "What happened? We found evidence of Stormtroopers turning on one another."
"We're so glad you came!" Charlotte yells, "It's been absolutely terrifying!"
She waves a torch around, trying to get some light around.
"Put that torch down, this place isn't secure," Brynjol commands.
Charlotte is hesitant, unwilling to extinguish the torch, "It's the only way to keep the Fog away. The Emperor's light kept us whole!"
Cyril nods, "What was so terrifying? What threats have you encountered, Sisters?"
"You haven't seen any, have you?" Red asks.
"The Scions, they're...possessed by something," White adds.
"No, we have not. Not yet," Cyril admits, "There were some anomalous readings, though..."
"The darkness surrounding them, it's so thick, and those creatures..." Black cries.
"Did the Scions have air filters, and suffer this fog's effect anyway?" Cyril presses, "What creatures? Were they anything like the ones on Ferrum Sanctimonia?"
"It was a purple fog, it just flowed out of the walls, and struck the Scions," Charlotte explains, "They wore their full armor, and they just would not DIE, no matter how many righteous bolts we fired."
"Did it seem.. daemonic in nature?" Brynjol asks.
"No, these were different," Charlotte continues, "They were jet black, with a red compound insect's eye. They had five legs, and fired lances of white energy at us. And the screeches..."

"Concerning. How are your supplies of food and ammunition after your time in the container?"
"Our food is low," Black says.
"We're running quite low on ammo too," White agrees.
"This place seems scoured," Red sighs.
"A single eye? That sounds indicative of the Hellstar," Cyril states, "Good; I was concerned that it was lying low. Now we can strike back."
"I...don't think these belonged to THAT monster," Charlotte says, "Usually it would have appeared in the sky by now, and the Inquisitors would have seen it. "
"No doubt it might be nearby," Cortain suggests, "The Crusader Invictus is in the vicinity."
"No, this is different," Charlotte sighs, "These were repulsed by our light and our prayers. I believe in my heart it was the latter, the Emperor protects."

"Hm. Well, there is no telling what peculiarities the Inquisition may have had semi-contained. For now, we need to secure the facility," Cyril finally states, "Do you wish to accompany us, or shall we have our pilots return you to Catalyst Station to inform the Lord Inquisitor of what transpired?"
"We shall follow whatever orders you give," Charlotte says, "If...if you need us somewhere, do not hesitate to deploy us."
"Speaking of, where are they?" Cortain asks, wondering about the Inquisitors.
"They said they were bringing every force possible to the surface, to safeguard the Crusader Invictus," Charlotte explains, "They did not want to risk any damage to it."
"Wise. It is our only weapon that has so much as scratched the Hellstar," Cyril says, "And its waking did a damn sight more than scratch the abomination."
"How is the God-Machine? Are repairs making good progress?" Brynjol asks.
"Repairs are going well," Charlotte states, "We heard they even brought in a specialist in these sorts of things. But, we don't know much else."

"We should double back and to through the next path," Cortain suggests, concerned about the unknown xenoforms now.
"The genetorum, or the armorium?" Cyril asks, "I do not need to remind you that those xenos could wreak further havoc here if they are released."
"I think the armourium deserves a cursory look," Brynjol suggests, "Why don't you three head to the genetorum and I will have a quick look and see? I smelt nothing but the dead, there."
"Do take caution," Cortain suggests, "These Slann are not entirely as they seem."
"I will try to ignore my best instincts, and retreat if necessary," Brynjol sighs.
"Let us check the armorium, see what transpired there," Temur says, "THEN the generatoria."
"Where would you like us in the meantime?" Charlotte asks.
"Follow us," Cortain orders, "I would rather keep Bryn from being inconvenienced."
The Sororitas shudder, and follow orders dutifully.

Travelling around, it takes a good 15 minutes to return to the Security room at top speed.  Beginning another 15 minute trek all the way around, you can see the titanic Slann construct outside from a different angle here. Entering the Armorium, the Commandos can see all sorts of weapon racks, more of those hardlight weapons. They can even see wreckage of some of the Old One Armiger Constructs. Cyril, arriving first, can barely make out a large pile of ded Scions - it seems quite, QUITE dark in this room.

"More of those curious things. With so much dead, one has to wonder if perhaps..." Cyril wonders aloud, before fiddling with his helmet autosenses. It's dark. REAL dark. Autosenses should have covered, but the area is pitch fucking black.

"There is a pile of dead stormtroopers here, and something is obscuring my vision," Cyril replies, "I suspect it is that fog, and recommend we do not engage until the genetorum is online."

Requesting a stummer recharge from Cortain, Cyril prepares to leave the armorium, when he suddenly sees a body twitch.
Cyril begins to scurry quietly away, "The corpses move. I am retreating to your position as quietly as I can."
"Could just be someone wounded," Brynjol considers, "Advancing to you now."

Cyril turns around, and hear a screech, like an insect, the same in the vision. The bodies all begin to rise, raising haphazard guns. Behind Cyril, two hulking black creatures stand, five legged and insectoid, materializing from the darkness, screeching. Red compound eyes focus on the lone Ice Wraith as they raise their claws. He considers everything he has ever seen, and at first has no idea what is going on. Then, it hits him like a truck full of trucks. Creatures made of darkness, that avoid the light, and most recently seen during the events of the Squat Crusade. It seems so obvious in hindsight now.

"CONTACT!" Cyril yells, "UMBRA!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeVKnaLCkBE

The Commandos are spread out amongst the hall - Cyril at the Weapons storage, Cortain at the security control with his Rapier, the Sisters, and Cyril's yeti, and Brynjol and Temur halfway through rushing to Cyril. Darkling Scions begin to march slowly and exorably, and the Warrior Umbra skitter forward, red compound eyes focused on the attack at hand. Luckily for the Commandos, Warrior Umbra lack the possession ability that Hunter and Lesser Umbra have, meaning the threats in front of them are straightforward, though tough to deal with against those who cannot call upon light-based weapons. With the commandos so spread out, the assault quickly turns into an absolute mess. Cyril requests a retreat and regroup, Brynjol commands an assault, Temur trying to set up an overwatch, and Cortain wonders what the fuck is going on. Cyril rushes further down the hall, jumping past Brynjol and Temur, face grinding against the ceiling from a failed pilot test, causing Brynjol and Temur to follow him and try to establish a strongpoint. Cortain tries advancing, but decides against it when he sees the Astartes clusterfuck rolling towards him. The Commandos regroup in the security control.

This took an hour and a half, and not a single shot was fired. Cyril, battered from his amorous advances towards the ceiling, finally lands near Brynjol. He watches Cyril fuck himself along the ceiling with a glum expression.

"Cyril, for the love of the Allfather, I am going to give you a crash course in how to bloody do it when we get back!"
"Oh...oh my..." Charlotte blushes. The Sororitas begin to wobble.
Cyril growls through gritted teeth as he struggles to land, "The machine spirit is being uncooperative!"
Cortain cringes. "Oh no..."
"The machine spirit is not used to being treated like this!" Brynjol laments, "It is a masterpiece of aerial manoeuvrability equipment Cyril, and you are riding it like a shitty-arsed barnyard fowl!"

Outside, the Commandos can see things get dark, then light, in pulses. Dozens of black puddles of fog clouds slither along the ground, all heading to the genetorum room. With 7 DoS, Cyril can see a Warrior Umbra reform from one puddle of fog, then deform back as it makes its way over.  Brynjol can see the puddles coming from all over the crater. Square Kilometers of Umbra, all converging.

"Oh, by the Emperor... I never thought I'd say this, but there's no way we can hold this place," Brynjol mutters, turning to the Sororitas, " What is the operational status of Crusader Invictus?"
"We...aren't sure," Charlotte says.
"It sounds a bit overkill to send a God Machine on a base just to purge it of taint," Cortain suggests.
"Then we head to the genetorum," Cyril suggests, "If we can get it online, we might be able to restore lighting to some areas and weaken the beasts!"
"Aye, good idea Cyril," Brynjol nods, "Cortain, can you raise the Blade? Orbital bombardment might not be out of order. I can see literally millions of those things."
Cortain struggles to contact the Blade through a rapidly spreading distortion, "-------La-------ye co------------terfere---------ng's gone dark an-----------"
"Genetorum. I suggest a rolling retreat to delay the pursuers, while Cyril and I make haste to the genetorum," Brynjol announces, "I for one, don't plan on dying today."
"Dying? When did that enter the equation?" Cyril boasts, "Temur is to cover the retreat with Cortain, then? Notomok's cryothium and the sisters' weapons may not do much."
"Easily," Temur nods, "It is the Warrior Umbra that concern me."
"As much of a rolling retreat as I can make," Cortain says, "Try to keep them coming. I am still curious how Volkite acts."

"Commandos," Charlotte offers, "Those possessed corpses were slow, maybe you can outrun them?"
"The corpses are hardly a concern, Sister," Cyril states, "The xenoforms are more concerning."
"And I can see millions of them converging on our position," Brynjol repeats."
"Get to the genetorium and get it working, I will be along with Cortain as fast as this platform can go," Temur states, "Move!"

As Brynjol and Cyril advance FAR faster than Temur and Cortain, the area looks like it has suffered severe, SEVERE damage. The genetorum still stands strong.

"It... looks operational," Cyril voxes, "The lighting units were deliberately smashed, but why were other systems on emergency power?"
"If they only hate light, then everything else is ignored," Cortain points out.

As Cortain and Temur finally begin to catch up, the black fog enters through numerous damaged wall segments.

"Contact!" Cyril yells. Brynjol unsheathes his claws. Fat sparks of red light coalesce and drip down the murderous blades, as Temur and Cortain finally roll in. The Umbra surround the genetorum, sinking into it. The Umbran shadows begin to form around it...absorbing it. The resulting creature, a massive five legged, tentacled conglomeration of Umbra and Genetorum, solidifies ahead. Overwatch bolt shots seem to be absorbed as the creature repositions itself. Opening its mouth, the genetorum core glows deep and bright within as it screeches an earsplitting sound.

"That's the biggest one we've seen yet!" Charlotte yells.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qXbDCF7IHoU

The largest Umbra bioform the Commandos have ever seen, the Imperial Umbra, focuses the core within its mouth.
"How is it surviving? The core is glowing so brightly!" Brynjol observes.
"Is it perhaps..." Cortain muses, "An Alpha?" 

The core of the Genetorum is visible in the creature's mouth. It is burning brightly. Dodging lances of light from the generator within the creature, Brynjol tries out the Triflame Vambrace. He rolls poorly on it, calling a Fire for Effect for additional support. Cortain fires his Culverin at the Imperial Umbra, damaging it with a lucky fury, while Temur absorbes its dodges with his relic Heavy Bolter. The Sororitas try their best, but they are just too spooked at first by the Imperial Umbra. Cyril gives them a stern glare, and his Iron Discipline allows them to unfuck themselves as they provide some covering fire.

Cyril then turns himself to the massive Imperial Umbra ahead of him, firing the dark lance at the creature, which pierces through one of its five legs and into the bright core. There is an incredibly damaging chain reaction from the Darklight hitting the Light. It closes its mouth, focusing a moment, and the Genetorum's light is briefly snuffed out by Umbran energy.

"I think Darklight counts," Cyril observes, "Try the Laser Destroyer!"

Cortain takes a moment to aim carefully with the Laser Destroyer. He then fires the emplacement forward, aiming straight for the core. To his surprise, the Twin-Linked Laser Destroyers both hit, and with two furies and Felling he does inordinate damage to the creature. The creature takes incredible damage from the Rapier, the Genetorum within SEVERELY damaged. Temur unloads, scoring some hits, but most are absorbed into the creature's inky blackness. It looks like it's quite unstable at this point, as it charges up dark umbran energy. Focusing the power of the darkling genetorum, it fires a jet black spray at the Commandos. Luckily, everyone shields and dodges, but this merely opens everyone up to the creature's charge attack, as it raises its three front legs and rushes forward, bathing everyone in darkburst energy. This time, Cyril and his yeti are unlucky enough to be caught by the dark energy. While taking some damage, Cyril notes the energy beginning to solifidy around his feet, in an icy encasement. With a burst of strength, he barely manages to break out.

Brynjol, now in melee, begins wildly slashing at the Imperial Umbra, opening with a Tricked Crozius into a trio of claw swipes. While most are absorbed into the creature's foggy legs, the Crozius strikes true, bashing the creature upside the head as he jets around, adjusting his positioning. Cyril takes a moment to think. He's in melee, facing down a creature composed of pure darkness, the dark genetorum within sparking and stuttering...

...and he has a sword made of light.

Cyril puts away his weapons, and draws the Photonic Blade. Sizing up his enemy, Cyril draws his Photonic Blade with a hymn to the Machine God and ignites it before swinging with a terrible ululating roar. The Photonic Blade is a weapon of purest light. Raising it around, its Sunburst-empowered blade cuts effortlessly through shadowy shield, and digs into the creature. It shrieks an insectoid screech as it forces itself back.

"00101110 00101110 00101110 01000001 01001110 01000100 00100000 01001000 01000101 00100000 01010011 01000001 01010111 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01001100 01001001 01000111 01001000 01010100 00100000 01000001 01001110 01000100 00100000 01000100 01000101 01000101 01001101 01000101 01000100 00100000 01001001 01010100 00100000 01000110 01010101 01001110 01000011 01010100 01001001 01001111 01001110 01000001 01001100 00100001 00001010!" Cortain yells in Binharic.
>And he saw the Light, and deemed it Functional!

The genetorum within it explodes out violently, forcing heavy damage into the walls, causing a partial collapse. The Imperial Umbra screeches loudly, as the Umbra all around begin converging.

"COME ON, THEN!" Cyril yells, "WHO WANTS MORE?"
"I fear now we have no means to stop the others," Brynjol sighs.
"Strength of arms is good," Cyril pants through clenched teeth, controlling the bloodthirst. "Let's try that this time."

But this time, the screech is responded to. As the Umbra screeches and deforms back into fog, the Commandos hear it. All around.

A warhorn mixed with a beast's roar.

The numerous Umbra are retreating, flowing like a river back, towards the titanic Old Slann construct.

"Oh bollocks," Brynjol sighs, "We really need Crusader Invictus."
The beastly Warhorn echoes over once more.
"No we do not," Cyril insists, "This is not a planetary-scale threat It is, however, deeply concerning."
As the Umbra reach the Old Slann construct, they begin to flow over it, possessing it. The voidship-sized construct begins to shudder and shake, as the Umbra begin their possession. Brynjol frowns at Cyril.
"Oh," is all Cyril can muster.
"TOLD YOU!" Brynjol cuffs him over the head.
"I stand corrected," Cyril admits, "Quickly, to the Storm Eagle!"
[2016-04-07 00:52:36] <Praetor_Skullkrusher> I did say the pieces were strewn about the crater.
"This is bad..." Charlotte yells as she and the other Sororitas rush to follow the Commandos.

Finally reaching the storm eagle, the Urists standing ever ready, the Old Slann construct begins to rise, spreading its wings, focusing its tail, and raising its claws. Pieces of it swarm around, clicking into position as it recovers.

"Rockfist, do you read? Can you get a lock on that thing and bombard it from orbit?" Cyril requests, "It should at least slow it down!"
"We're not in orbit, lad, come to us," Rockfist voxes, "We've deployed and got everythin' ready fer ya."
"Is Invictus ready?" Brynjol asks, "I want to punch it."
The storm eagle shudders, as it rides the blastwave of the warhorn.
"We aim ta please, lad," Rockfist says, as Crusader Invictus walks, sword drawn, bridge blazing red.

"You know, I'm surprised you enjoy piloting Crusader Invictus so much," Cyril quips, "Given your hatred of void combat. The only difference is you get to punch things."
"That's why I like it," Brynjol clarifies, "One is me Locking On to enemies for you all. The other is a massive God Machine I get to punch and stab in."
The Storm Eagle docks with Crusader Invictus, the path is cleared to the bridge. There is no one but Rose there, in her usual spot. Rockfist and Thexus are probably in the enginarium again. Cyril, Temur, and Cortain take up weapons spots, as Brynjol clambers to the old wooden ship's wheel, grinning.

"Lad..." Rockfist voxes, quite serious and morose, "I...never expected ta see that thing again."
"Something from the Crusades?" Cyril asks.
"It was...our final, and greatest enemy," Rockfist sighs, "The war engine of the creature who almost destroyed us all...Xahecatl's Seeker Omega."
"These Old Ones are remarkable," Cortain admits.
"Even for how much I hated'im," Rockfist sighs, "The dead should rest. It shouldn't end that way for Xahecatl, whatever parts of him remain in durance on Seeker Omega..."
The Darkling Seeker Omega raises a claw jerkily.
"SQUAAAAAAAAAAAAATS..." it echoes.
"We will break it," Brynjol declares.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxsZx5bDdiE

"Sisters, would you mind heading to the kitchens and summoning some refreshment? We are about to be occupied, and Notomok and I could use a snack," Cyril commands, forgetting there are nobody else but them aboard Crusader Invictus, "Help yourselves to anything you wish to eat there; if the Squats question you let them know that I sent you down."
"HMPH!" Charlotte pouts, "Here we are all excited, and you make a kitchen joke!"
"Joke? I am hungry," Cyril announces, "If you want to watch, I will just fox a squat to do it."
The quite annoyed Sororitas take a seat quietly off to the side, to observe the battle.

Brynjol communes with the God-Machine, taking a titanic step forwards before breaking into a run. Cortain Arc Charges the fists, and Brynjol fires the Rocket Punch directly at Darkling Seeker Omega. The vaguely amphibian Seeker Omega spreads its wings, and tries to fly out of the way, but the possessed war construct is slow and choppy, and is unable to dodge as the fist bashes it hard. Cyril fires the Magna Cannons, but misses the shifting construct, to his annoyance. Cortain fires a barrage of missiles at the Darkling Seeker Omega, but it narrowly dodges a few, flying above them. Temur takes a moment to aim with the Worldbreaker Lances, bouncing off one flickering void shield and burning away parts of the Darkling Seeker Omega. 

"Commandos, that...that Seeker Omega," Rose whispers, "It feels so wrong. It's in pain. All I can sense, all around, is regret."
"If what Rockfist says is right, then this entity, it does not want to be possessed like this," Cortain explains, "Nothing would want this sort of desecration."

Seeker Omega flies up, focusing its numerous weapons, and aligning some shards into a pair of blades. Moving forward, it begins to fire shards of hardlight and a great sentinel lance. Hardlight bursts off void shields, as Sentinel Lances take great chunks off of Crusader Invictus.
"SQUAAAAAAAAAATS...MY PEOPLE MUST SURVIIIIIIIIIVE..." the Darkling Seeker Omega echoes. as pieces fall off it.

Crusader Invictus moves forward, now in melee range. Cortain Arc Charges the Crusader Sword, charging it to a level only high-frequency blades would normally get. Brynjol begins swinging incredibly fast, every swing a sonic boom. Landing 9 hits with the now High-Frequency Crusader Sword, the Darkling Seeker Omega barely parries two, before taking seven sword hits in one go. Brynjol's muscles twitch as his body tries to replicate the motions Crusader Invictus is making, from the signals his brain is sending to his body. Cyril continues with the Magnacannon Batteries, bringing down Darkling Seeker Omega's void shields in time for Temur to point blank burst a pair of lance hits into the Darkling's side. A further torpedo barrage from Cortain hits the possessed war construct, but he rolls low and they explode with minimal damage.

Seeker Omega collapses to the ground, struggling to hold itself together. It's not quite dead, but something is off.
"Commandos, can you feel it?" Rose says, "It's...calling."
"More shadow-puppeteering..." Cyril mutters.
"We need to end this, now," Brynjol declares.
"I...I think I can..." Rose says, "I need your help, help me focus."

The Commandos take a moment to focus as one, the air beginning to smell of the Warp. Brynjol, Cortain, and Cyril all achieve 4 DoS on the Willpower Focus test, while Temur achieves only one. It is still enough. Rose focuses, as hard as she possibly can, as the Commandos guide her. Crusader Invictus sticks out its hand, as if beckoning. Seeker Omega begins to shudder and shake, as the metallic shards that compose its wings suddenly surge at Crusader Invictus.  The shards coalesce in a whirlwind around Crusader Invictus, as it brings its arms in, Rose echoing.

"Borne on the wings of angels, unto deliverance..." she whispers as she glows red.

The Shards impact themselves into the God Machine's back, a base formed as other shards float in formation. Crusader Invictus steps forward, stretching the Heavensward Wings.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v89qYANJGMQ

Seeker Omega fires its Hardlight Cannons forward, but Crusader Invictus effortlessly dodges to the side, gliding on its new wings. Surging with energy, Crusader Invictus's cape flows in the wind. Brynjol's shoulderblades twitch and flex as he bunches his new wings, using them to leap over the spray of Hardlight. Darkling Seeker Omega then reorganizes its shards, filling them with energy, and strikes forward. Crusader Invictus brings the sword around, supersonic contrails tracing the blade's path. The blades are knocked aside, and the great God-Machine strikes back in a counterattack.

"The greatest strength of Crusader Invictus..." Rose whispers, "The ability to take its enemies' strengths as its own."
"....fabulous..." Cortain mutters, in awe.

Cortain attempts to soften it up with a storm of missiles, but defense shard turrets take down the entire wave. Temur then fires the lances, unwilling to wait any longer. While one is absorbed by void shields, the second lance brings the Darkling Seeker Omega to its knees...right into the Crusader Sword.

"Commandos...Commandos!" Rose yells, "Arc Charge the wings! Quick!"
"Cortain, do it!" Brynjol commands. Cortain rapidly Arc-Charges the wings, sending red power surging to them. Crusader Invictus grabs Seeker Omega, crouching down and extending the Heavensward Wings. The wings glow a burning red, as Crusader Invictus blasts off, high in the sky. Ascending ever higher, the God Machine repositions once more to the ground. Falling, falling, ever faster, a red contrail behind it. Crusader Invictus forces Seeker Omega into the ground with devastating force, the ground itself deforming, shattering it finally and permanently. The God Machine floats off the wreckage, as it blasts a roar of triumph, wings carrying it down softly.

"SQUAAAAAAAAATS...IT IS...OVERRRRRRR..."
"Taste the pure light of day, monster. Rest in peace, warrior."

The lights fade from Seeker Omega.

"Ya did good, lads," Rockfist sighs, "Ya did good. The Brotherhoods would approve."

Rose has fallen unconscious, but it is easy enough to recover her, and prepare to return to the Blade, for the next missions. The Hellstar has been remarkably silent, and the Commandos are eager to seek it out.

-------------

Mechanicum War Barques swirl around Crusader Invictus. The God Machine must be moved to Augurus for repairs and refits, and only the mighty Barques can lift it out of atmosphere. Canticles of honor resound through the world as the Barques attach, lifting Crusader Invictus up, into spess and to repairs.

None note the oily, black puddle flow over the leg, and into the superstructure proper.

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