77 replies to this topic

[Prosperan Son]

"Confessor..."Ariella called out to him. The Cannoness walked over to him, her face stern." Just be careful. The Cultist in the city know that we're up to something. And they've been getting more reckless. Don't let anything catch you off guard." She warned.

[Warmonger]

"Your concern is touching, canoness," He turns and addresses her "But with your sisters as my hammer, and the emperor as my shield, nothing shall smite me! Only the emperor may sunder me and summon me to his side."

[Prosperan Son]

Four Hours Later....

The Heavy Stubber barked repeatedly, firing a staccato of heavy slug down the hallway towards the Confessor and his retinue of sisters. And to think, it hadn't even taken that long to find a hidden cell of the heretical filth. The breach into the compound had been relatively easy, but proved to be much more difficult when it turned out they were well armed. Such as they heavy stubber for example.

[Warmonger]

"Sisters, echelon formation, take fire to these Bastards!" he orders the battle sisters "covering fire, with me, CHARGE!!"


he pounds towards the enemy, reciting the litany of hate and firing as he does so

[Prosperan Son]

Cannoness absent, the Sisters followed behind the Confessor, taking their positions. Heavy Stubber rounds peppered the ground around them, the cultist unable to handle the recoil on the gun very well.

The Confessor and seven sisters accompany fall upon the cultist, one of the sisters falling to the ground dead, body pumped with enough tracer rounds that her armor simply couldn't protect her against.

[Warmonger]

Roaring in anger, the confessor turns towards the heretics, swinging his power mace with the emperor's litanies on his lips

"Death to the Heresy, The Emperor Eternal! Faith and Fire!" he roars, spittle flying from his lips in his righteous fury.

1d100 rolled for a total of: 90 (90)

[Prosperan Son]

The first heretic stumbles blindly, desperately trying to pull out his own blade. He never had a chance. The Confessor's mace smashed into his skull, disintegrating it and his torso with relative ease.

One of the foul heretics charges the Confessor, an axe in hand and swings at his side.

1d100 rolled for a total of: 41 (41)

[Warmonger]

Hans sees the blade arching towards him, and twists to intercept, arching his bloodied mace to hit the heretic in his swinging wrist, to disable him and remove the axe from his grasp

1d100 rolled for a total of: 70 (70)

[Prosperan Son]

The entire lower half of the man's hand shatter's in a spray of blood and bone shard and he falls to the ground, flailing and clutching his hand stump.

Another of the foes raises a bolt pistol of all weapons and fires a burst at close range.

1d100 rolled for a total of: 97 (97)

[Warmonger]

Spoiler

god knows how I am ever going to avoid a roll like that!

the confessor stumbles, praying that he is saved from the worst of the fire

1d100 rolled for a total of: 57 (57)

[Prosperan Son]

Three of the bolt rounds miss but a lucky shot glances the Confessor's left side, digging deep into the armor. It appears to be a solid slug round, and only manages to crack several of the Confessor's ribs.

The cultist raises a serrated blade and slashes at a gap in the confessor's armor, in between the knee joints.

1d100 rolled for a total of: 10 (10)

[Warmonger]

The pain lances through the confessors body like a hot poker and he gasps. Fury roils within him, and he cries a wordless shout as he hurtles forward, swinging the mace at the attacking cultist with as much fury as he can muster

1d100 rolled for a total of: 42 (42)

Spoiler

have the battle sisters managed to kill any?

[Prosperan Son]

The cultist slams back against the floor, blood splattering from the massive crater in his chest caused by the confessor's mace.

"DIE LOYALIST DOG!" A cultist shouts from up ahead, aiming a las-rifle at the confessor. He would have made a headshot if not for the fact, that a battle sister, Clara, had taken off the man's head with but a single bolt round from her pistol.

[Warmonger]

The confessor nods his thanks, and then glances round to see how well they have fared against the foe

Spoiler

can't wait to see what you have lined up for the techsorcist xbl sometime? we need to play gears

[Prosperan Son]

The cult forces lay decimated, your retinue of battle sisters calmly walking through the area. They make sure to check it twice, putting a bolt round to each cultists' skull, just to make sure they're not faking, before another sister enters, purging the area of both the deceased and chaotic filth with the cleansing flamer.

Battle Sister Clara approaches you from the side, bolter in hand." We've cleared both the first and second floors Confessor, we're preparing to down towards the basement." She informed, gesturing for him to follow.

[Warmonger]

"It is there I fear we will encounter the sternest resistance sister," The confessor sighs heavily, kicking a cultist with his boot
"These bastard barely provided the sport their 'gods' are famed for, I feel there is a deeper madness at work on this planet. We must take the bulk of our force into the basement. Leave a token force to defend the entrance ways to the building, and rally the rest of the forces on me at the entrance to the basement."

[Prosperan Son]

"They'll have surely dug themselves in much tighter then before, but we will prevail none the less. "Clara affirmed wit a nod" I'll see to it, that your orders are carried out." With that she left, relaying everyone told.

[Warmonger]

"Sisters!" the confessor shouts, his voice easily cutting through the distant sounds of battle across the city
"We have the Emperor-given chance to purge the taint that resides on this planet, in this city. With hammer and flame we have purged these miscreants, but I fear darker powers await us below. With fire and fury, we must cleanse them!"

With that he leads the way into the levels below

[Prosperan Son]

The Battle-Sisters before him raised their blades and bolters high in a cheer, energized by his rousing words. They advanced behind the confessor, the clanking sound of over 15 power armored boots marching in step. The way before them was ill lit, the lumens dim. There was an eerie silence to the basement that was troubling.

[Warmonger]

"Sisters, arrowhead formation, on me" The confessor orders, using the light from his inferno pistol to light the way ahead

"Stay sharp, there could be anything down here..." he adds.

glancing round, he scans the basement area for hidden threats, while carefully placing one foot in front of the other

1d100 rolled for a total of: 65 (65)