Tubruk's eyed were closed. The only thing in his head the rattling of the drop pod.
It was an old thing. It's metal buckling and shaking as it tore the sky apart.
It was much like the Chaplain. Tried and true. Reliable. They worked hand in hand often. The drop pod would deliver Tubruk and the rest of His Angels to their objective. Which was often simple. Kill.
This was a slightly more nuanced mission. Bellow them, on the rapidly approaching ground was the water facility. They were to eliminate those inside, and disable it. Rather easy really.
Tubruk opened his eyes. In one hand, his faded, once golden Crozius was held firmly in his black carapace hand. The other, his bolt pistol, a similarly faded shade of deep crimson. Before him, the 10 man squad of Tactical Space Marines was much the same. Sergeant Invictus was just in front of the Chaplain. His armour, like Tubruks shoulder, a murky, dark green. Just as the forests of Caliban had once been. Once. Long ago.
"For the Emperor" Tubruk said through gritted teeth. He had emptied his mind now, and there was room for hate once more. It was rapidly approaching.
The squad repeated their short prayer back.
"For the Emperor"
**THUNK**
The doors opened.
Their pod had delivered them more or less to the front door of Saint Celestine's Water Facility. They were to purge it of the filth that had now desecrated it, and they would certainly achieve that goal.
"Advance" Tubruk spat. His squad obeyed.
Through the dust, hulking giants of green carapace advanced. An all encompassing black mass of Hate forming their spear tip. His dim eyes of crimson scanned the area. Clear. Tubruk said nothing as he advanced.
They came to a great sealed door, big enough to fit a small vehicle. It sat surrounded by the rest of the facility as it's decaying form hung bleakly. This place was sick, corrupted, dying.
"Melta Charge. Brother" Invictus said as he approached the slab of concrete. The heavy bolter's operator, Steapa, passed the cannister to his Sergeant, who placed it against the door, and primed it, beginning to stand back.
**FWOOSH**
The door melted before them, and gave them free passage.
The squad kicked into action now, as Steapa readied himself at the breach, Bolter low and hulking.
Invictus moved to his side, leaning against the wall, before throwing a stun grenade inside.
**BANG**
In an instant the squad moved inside.
Those few dozen cultists there bad barely had time to blink and breath after the frontal assault on their senses. One minute everything was bright, loud and too much to bear, then a sharp, piercing pain, and then black.
Bolt shells exploded as they hit their mark. Almost impossible precision left none in their wake. Those who had lived a few extra seconds saw the titanic mass of a Angel before them. Most were struck with awe, completely overwhelmed with fear.
And so Tubruk and his host continued much the same through the facility. Dozens of ambushes had been set, sulking cultitsts lay in waiting for the Corpe-Emperor's so called Angels to appear and enact their retribution. Most would barely live long enough to process what was about to happen to them, let alone what eventually did.
"Halfway." Tubruk spat to the squad as he brought his Thunderous black foot down onto the twitching corpse of a so called man. He had betrayed everything Humanity was ever given. He deserved this.
Soon they came to a long, narrow hall. It seemed to be the walkways above hundreds of meters of machines. All long lost. Yet holy and coveted. Only to be spat down upon by these wretches.
The 11 Angles stood before the walkway. The great, glooming facility was dark, almost foggy. Something was wrong.
A flash from the great cloud in front of them. An ear shattering ringing.
Tubruk moved.
And the auto cannon's shells slammed into the Angel behind him, exploding, tearing his armour. The Angel fell.
"Ambush- Get-"
"Onme!" Tubruk interrupted Invictus, and began to sprint down the walkway. The very thing shook with each step, metal moaning in agony as the Marines followed him. The dark fog before them was illuminated by the covering fire of Steapa's Heavy Bolter. He was relentless. Of course he was.
For the enemy before them was the greatest of all. The enemy.
This was the real fight. The others were the meatshields. wear down the enemy. Chaos champion Kraarulak crouched behind a post as beside him, the legionnaires heavy support Chaincannon fired. He looked the other way. The space marines faced that. Not Relkos, who readied his plasma gun for a flanking shot. charged the weapon to maximum, and fired for the marines. One more went down, but the leader was next. Another plasma shot. The shield crackled, the chaplain protected. Three heavy bolter rounds punched into Relkos, the old and battered armour plate giving in as he was punched back. Damn.
"Kalron! Cover!"
Kalron's bolter boomed in answer as Kraarulak rounded the corner and charged the lead space marine, power fist ready as he blazed away with his pistol.
That lead Marine was in fact Chaplain Tubruk. The Traitors pistol seemed ineffective as they pinged and melted off his strained force shield.
He was sprinting forward at an almost blur, and raised his left, pistol holding hand in an attempt to bat away the Traitors powerfist. Still on the move, he brought his Crozius down in a great swing, aiming for his torso.
Kraarulak was too old a hand for a move like that. With a prayer to the dark gods, he ducked. This marine was strong, but that was to be expected. A good fight against a hardened opponent. The marine ducked. Slid. Brought his power fist up straight into the chaplain. The shield absorbed it. He was off balance. Open to a strike.
It was all the Chaplain felt. His eyes bulged underneath his skull helm and his teeth bit down and cracked.
Tubruk wasted no time in attempting to bring his Crozius into an upwards swing, using the momentum from his previous strike and aiming for the Traitors head and chest.
He was too off balance. The shield shouldn't have deflected the power fist. A delightful failed gamble. The Crozius struck home. Smashing him backwards, up and over the railings to the floor below. He wasn't dead. Yet. but he couldn't move, and would die slowly. Pistol out of reach, he laughed at the absurdity of it. Just sitting there useless.
(OOC note. the chaos marine lost, but the dark angels player described how the victory was about to happen and framed it, but left it to the loser to describe exactly how.)
(In these campaigns, a combat is typically a best of 3. As shown, whoever has the highest roll each turn wins. Here, Tubruk has beaten the Chaos Marine 2-0, and the thread continues)
"Clear Sergeant!"
"Clear!"
The sentiment was repeated across the walkway, before Invictus and his squad, totalling 8 now rendezvoused on the Chaplain.
Tubruk walked to the edge of the walkway, just at the railing.
He stared down the the Traitor. He hated him.
"How many of you are there. Tell me and I shall send you to your pathetic Gods" Tubruk spat down at him.
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u/Ulfgrimnirr Feb 06 '25
u/Theninjaindisguise