Dark Heresy - Wisdom is the beginning of fear.

[Justice Augustus]

With a cry to the Emperor, Xerxes tried with all his might to throw the creature away from him, and withdraw to a safer position.

[Jak Snide]

The Emperor was listening today, or so it seemed to Xerxes. Crisis advanced swiftly, bringing his weapon to bear and toggling it to single-shot. When he was close enough he fired, putting a bullet straight through the neck of the thing trying to claw Xerxes' helmet off. It fell backwards, blood gurgling out of the wound. Sneering and panting, the arbitrator put his boot in, forcing his fear down and replacing it with seething rage.

Cryvus noted with little joy that the two with him had drawn their pistols and shot a corpse dead. Unfortunately it wasn't the one assaulting him and, try as he might, he couldn't force it off him. The corpse adjusted it's hold on the old man and sunk it's teeth into his neck, eliciting a cry of pain. While the damage was superficial something in the back of Cryvus' head told him this was very, very bad.

Mithras drew his side arm and snapped off a shot, the bolt of energy flying wide as Dariel was tackled by a second body, forcing him to the ground. Mikolas and those with him continued to pour fire onto the man's position, the watchmen switching their stub autos. Nothing hit home, save one bullet. Dariel's head lulled to the side, his brains now splattered over the deck of cargo hold, the man quite dead. The shooters didn't have any time to feel remorse, though, as a clamour from behind them draw their attention towards the bay doors they'd entered through.

A veritable horde swarmed into the hold, well over a score of them making it through the entrance before anyone could react. Mithras heard screams of terror and pain, casting a glance over his shoulder towards the entrance from B-3. Meta and Ramz had paid for their cowardice, running straight into a second mutated horde. They went down under overpowering numbers, their cries quickly snuffed out. Things had taken a drastic turn for the worse.

(Xerxes has been freed thanks to Cryvus' intervention and has regained his senses. Cryvus was not so lucky, and was bitten for 1 damage. A couple of the risen dead went down this turn, but a vast horde has arrived, flanking the acolytes from holds B-1 and B-3 and blocking off any escape in those directions. Only 60 things are in the hold at the moment, but there looks to be a great many more just outside. Map updated, turn 4 commences.)

[Justice Augustus]

Xerxes glanced over at Crisis, wiping a smear of gore off his person. Muttering a thanks under his breath, he brought his shotgun up to his shoulder and glanced at their situation. "I suggest withdrawin' ta the doors, we should be able to bottleneck tis lot provided there aint another horde flankin' around."

[Christian]

So they were dead. The Emperor saw to their punishment, which he assumed was the correct thing... but he remembered their faces, scared, confused and far too young...

But to the Emperor, duty was everything, and they shirked it. Nuts to that.

More pressing, however, was the sudden resurgance of... several new, wandering dead where they had entered... this was not a good sign. He didn't know how things looked through the other exits, but had a hunch that going the directional opposite of the exit they came through... would not be a good idea.

All things considering... unless there was some heavy armament tucked under the Captain's bed, they might be looking at only one option here...

"We're heading back! Mikolas, take your group to the northern exit, Crisis and Xerxes join up with Mikolas and wait for me and Cryvus!" he shouted through the vox-com before making a mad dash towards Cryvus, realizing that the older man would probably need some kind of help. He prayed that it wasn't too late...


[Mithras run towards Cryvus to get within firing / saving range. Full Action]

[Kelne]

At this point, Cryvus's top priority was to get away. There were, to put it mildly, a lot of the living dead here, and killing them all would simply not be possible before they were all brought down and turned into more of the foul creatures. Such a fate would not serve the Emperor.

Of course, right now, Cryvus had his work cut out for him escaping one zombie, let alone the rest. Forgetting all thought of killing the cursed creature, he fought simply to escape its clutches.

[Capntastic]

Not wanting to let the horrible mob of corpses get too close, he made to fall back a bit.

"Come on!"

He then made to dash towards the nearest non-enemy group. Safety in numbers is a powerful instinct.

(Run to J9)

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis nodded--a tactical withdrawal was likely the best option here, given the numbers involved. Bottlenecking would help at least, and if worst came to worst, the contents of these holds could be sealed off until they dropped out of Warp space, jettisonned elsewhere, and then destroyed...

However, a more immediate problem reared its head: there were a few of those...things...standing in a position opportune to hinder the retreat of the others...

This had to be rectified.

[Full-auto at the nearby abominations]

[Jak Snide]

Crisis braced himself for the recoil and fired. Two of the oncoming horrors fell, flopping lazily to the floor as their legs gave out, leaving one to charge forward, bounding towards Xerxes, the dark skinned man targeted once again. He was read this time, however, and ducked under the malformed arms of the ex-mutant, pressing the muzzle of his shotgun against it's abdomen. One trigger pull later and it was gone, replaced by two mangled pieces of meat and a slew of gore.

Mithras ran to Cryvus's aid, getting within 5 meters before the watchmen with the elderly man turned their guns on the corpse biting him. The woman with him, Venus if he remembered correctly, scored a lucky hit, taking the thing in the knee. Cryvus used this opening to free himself from it's grasp, shoving it away with all his might and trying to regain his composure.

Mikolas, meanwhile, did the smart thing and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. The watchmen with him did the same, seeing the wisdom in his actions. Behind them more of the risen dead surged into the hold, a large pack racing after the five of them in their eerily silent and choreographed manner. Others split off, heading prowards and towards the exit to Hold A-2. A few remained behind in the doorway, utterly motionless. Across the hold he could see the other swarm was doing much the same, though a few had headed sternwards towards Mithras and Cryvus.

(While all bar one of the original corpses has been returned to rest there are now 120 more loose within the hold. Mikolas will note that 30 of these are hot on his heels. Map updated, declare actions for turn 5.)

[NamagomiMk0]

And with those mutants dead, Crisis did the smart thing in this circumstance.

Run. Like. Hell. The Emperor's not protecting anyone dumb enough to throw themselves into a swarm like that.

[Run to B15.]

[Christian]

Mithras felt a small sting of relief as Cryvus' assailant was shoved off the old man. Dying here against these brainless things would be pitiful, and without doubt a betrayal to Inquisitor Skane's faith in them.

"We have to leave now!" He roared as he came within a few metres of them, voice definitely louder than necessary, "We can't counter this kind of threat by ourselves, we need better armament!"

Oh what he wouldn't do for a team of Heavy Weapon specialists right now...

He began to run back towards the A-2 doors, praying to the emperor that the three behind him would catch up.


[Turning on his heels, Mits head towards Team 2 and ultimately the A-2 doors. Full Action]

[Justice Augustus]

Xerxes just screams "Fall back" and follows his own advice. Pumping his legs, he dashes for the exit.

[Capntastic]

Despite the lessened gravity Mik was experience, inertia was still universal. As such, he kept running towards the exit.

"Haul ass, boys, or they'll haul your ass home in pieces!"

[Kelne]

"Why did it have to be zombies?" Cryvus asked rhetorically, waving to his companions to join the retreat (as if anybody needed any encouragement).

(Running at full tilt for the relative safety of the northern doors)

[Jak Snide]

The acolytes and the remaining watchmen turned and ran, the overwhelming numbers of their enemies excluding any other course of action. Cryvus noted the distraught looks of the two youngsters with him as he cast a cautionary glance behind him. The corpse that had bit him lay on the ground, utterly motionless. Mikolas meanwhile inspired the voidborn with him to keep pace, though a quick glance behind him told him that the mutant pack chasing them had stopped for some inexplicable reason. All thirty of them stood motionless, faces devoid of any expression.

This was not true of all the risen dead, unfortunately. Mithras watched in horror as a score of them rushed towards him and Cryvus, trying to cut them off. Even more headed towards the doors to hold A-2, though their eyes remained focused on those closest to reaching it.

(Map updated. The entirety of the horde did not move this turn, a good 50 or so slowing to a halt and standing motionless. That said, things are looking grim. Turn 6 comes.)

[Justice Augustus]

"Emperor's light, protect me now!" Xerxes gasps under his breath. He runs up to the door with Crisis, and glances behind them. "They'll never beat this horde to the doors. Do fight and hold here, or fall back and seal off the cargo hold?"

(Move to A-15, delay second half of turn to wait for response)

[Christian]

This... was not looking like it would turn out well.

Mithras had long since abandoned his fervent whispering of prayers, now he knew the Emperor was watching him, like he'd done before, judging him by standards none but him could comprehend...

They were close by, far too close for comfort. His shotgun lay abandoned on the floor... and between it and him was a veritable horde of these damn walking dead.

His hand flung to his packpack, a thick velcro strap being hastily ripped away and a metallic object roughly the size of a man's clenched fist was pulled out.

Desperate times...

He flung the object towards the walking abominations closest to his weapon while heading in a towards it. Timing the throw right, he hoped he'd manage to rush past the (hopefully) wounded and disoriented things and fetch his gun before leaving through the northern entrance... Chances were looking less and less good however. He didn't bother looking back at Cryvus, the old man had been running his way when he turned around, either he'd make it or he wouldn't. Right now, things were too dangerous for anyone to stay around.

[Mits is being an idiot and wants his gun back (I don't remember what square he left it in), so he's using one of his frag grenades at the zombie horde in square L-20 while running towards the shotgun. Obviously he doesn't intend to run straight into another group, or the blast range of the grenade.]

[Kelne]

Cryvus kept running, intent on beating the zombies to the door, however low his chances might be. Staying here in the hold was a losing strategy.

[Capntastic]

A rolling stone gathers no moss. Mik kept up the pace, conserving his breath by choosing not to holler encouragements this moment. That could wait until they were safe, now.

[Jak Snide]

Xerxes and Crisis made it to the door, pausing to take stock of the situation. Mikolas' team barreled towards them as risen dead closed in on their only means of escape, a small horde now within 10 meters of it. The giant of a man caught Xerxes' question and paused to take a quick glance back towards the others.

Mithras and Cryvus ran as fast as they could, barely keeping ahead of the corpses. Havelock and Venus weren't so lucky, outstretched arms snatching at clothing and hair. The acolytes tried their best to ignore their tortured screams as the two watchmen were dragged down and torn to pieces, but fear took root in their hearts and drove them onwards.

(Havelock and Venus have died horribly, the silent horde bringing them down with weight of numbers. On the bright side this seems to have slowed down one pack of the undead, though others still close in. Teams 1 and what's left of Team 2 have merged by the doors to A-2, and are now faced with a choice: do they try to hold off the 30 zombies until Mithras and Cryvus reach them or do they retreat and seal the doors? Cryvus and Mithras have also failed fear tests, and will now do nothing but try and flee the swarm at their back. Cryvus gains 1 IP and Mithras racks up 2 IP. Map updated, and the ill omened turn 7 arrives.)

[Christian]

Very few thoughts ran through Mithras' head as he dashed, panic spread wide on his face. Somewhere deep inside him, he was looking at all of this with calm, knowing that the Emperor had protected him before. Many, many times. Nothing bad would happen.

But then there were several layers of bodily chemicals, electrical impulses and other influential things between that voice and reality. Right now he just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Shut the holds, reach port, bring in flamethrowers, lots and lots of flamethrowers, and end these damned things.

It didn't even occur to him that his fellows up ahead, those in the relative safety of the doorway, could at any given moment just close it up and run away to a significantly less dangerous environment.




((This might be my last post until next week. If need be, Mits can be played by Jak or some such... If he survives, that is. ;3 ))

[Kelne]

At this point, Cryvus wasn't thinking entirely rationally. The overwhelming priority at this moment was getting to that door and away from the ravening horde of zombies before they tore him apart and raised him in a hideous parody of life as they were no doubt doing to his fallen comrades even now.

Somehow, Cryvus found the breath to rant about hiding in the attic with a week's supply of food before fleeing to Valhalla even as he ran.

[Capntastic]

Mik did not want to leave any of his new crew behind. Especially with a mob of terrible...shambling guys making to tear 'em up. So, he spun around, quickly assessing the situation, and hollered an order to his companions.

"Blow a frakkin' path through 'em! We're gonna-"

But it was impossible to hear his surefire plan for success, as he was busy unloading his combat shotgun into the nearest group.

(Semi-auto burst, A-10, with a side of belligerant shouting! [as a free action])

[Jak Snide]

Those at the door only had a split second to decide between saving themselves and risking it all for their comrades. Thirty of the risen dead rushed forward in unison, twisted faces staring blankly as mutated limbs stretched out to grasp the living. They made their choice.

Mikolas bellowed as he unloaded shell after shell into the zombies rushing from the port side. There was no chance of missing at this range, but the sheer carnage he caused was immense, only one target being left to shamble over the bloody ruins of the other nine. Crisis put his faith in the Emperor and emptied his clip into the enemy, the whisper of his weapon inaudible over the din surrounding him. A bloody swathe was cut, the foremost six of the zombies toppling to the ground. One of the Watchmen placed two shots into an equal number of heads, reducing their numbers even further as another scored a hit to a chest, the stub auto pitching the small ex-mutant off it's feet. Xerxes mimicked Mikolas, his own shotgun bringing ruin to the sternmost pack that assaulted their position. Where a few seconds ago there had been thirty zombies there now were only five.

A horrific wail echoed through the minds of the acolytes, utterly inhuman yet carrying a profound sense of grief. Mikolas and Xerxes clutched at their ears to no avail, a trickle of blood running from their noses. The Watchmen panicked instantly, rushing through the doors to hold A-2, screaming benedictions to ward off the horrors of the warp. Cryvus and Mithras kept running, even more desperate to escape these horrors than before.

Then the dead fell, toppling forward into tangled piles of limbs as they ran towards their targets. Though they began to rise almost immediately afterwards it didn't change the fact that a window of opportunity had opened up for the acolytes and those with them.

(Utter bloody carnage. Through a liberal use of fate points the acolytes by the doors have caused utter devastation, killing 22 zombies in total before the watchmen added 3 more onto that. If the wail had anything to do with the sheer amount of bloodshed is unknown, but it gave the acolytes a bit of room to breathe. Map updated, turn 8 begins now. All threats are currently prone, Cryvus and Mithras are still terrified, Mikolas gained 3 IP from having his mind ravaged and Xerxes picked up 1 IP for similar reasons.)

[Christian]

The Emperor protects.

Never had he had such a profound respect for a few simple words. But what had happened here... truly a miracle and a sign if any that they were granted the blessings of their most holy benefactor.

These were all conclusions in the back of Mits' head as his legs seemed to want to have the most attention right now. He didn't even realize what had happened, just that suddenly there weren't quite as many undead things bearing down on him anymore. And he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Fall back and barricade the doors! All this will be for naught if they find another way through!" his voice echoed, distant and apparantly also functioning per automatica, because he was pretty certain he hadn't thought about that.

True to his own words, however, the guardsman spared little time in putting these things behind him.

[Kelne]

With relative safety attained, Cryvus halted momentarily behind the others, trying to figure out where to go from here. The way ahead was unknown and potentially just as zombie-infested as the way behind. Perhaps there was safety in numbers. For now, at least.

"We need promethium," he said, "Lots and lots of promethium."

[Capntastic]

Mik was too busy alternating grumbling and keeping his eyes darting back and forth about the corpses and not-so-corpses. But, he did nod at Cryvus's suggestion.

"I got some grenades."

[Jak Snide]

The survivors fell back into hold A-2 as they chattered, one of the Watchmen running to the doors' control panel and, after swiftly mumbling a litany to the machine spirit, sealed them behind the group. The acolytes caught site of the dead rising once again as the door slid shut, their previous immobility overcome.

Mithras and Cryvus stopped running, the fear leaving their hearts as several inches of steel cut off any pursuit behind them. Mikolas conversed with the old man as Crisis took this pause in the action to slide a new magazine into his carbine. Xerxes quickly surveyed their surroundings, finding them free of threat, though their situation was hardly ideal. The layout of the hold made it perfectly possible to be cut off from the exit in A-1 unless they made haste.

On top of that, the remaining members of the watch didn't look to be doing so well. The girl Mikolas knew as Kadi looked like she was about to go to pieces. Her older watch-partner Ishmael was doing his best to keep her together, though the man looked deeply disturbed himself. The young Scab, having sealed the hold, was muttering to himself and sliding new shells into his shotgun. Only Vern, the most senior looking of the four of them, seemed to have remained reasonably unshaken, a grim expression worn across his face. He looked to Xerxes, the arbitrator's armour and insignia marking him out as the most important, and asked "What now, sir?"

(The group has successfully made it into hold A-2 and shut the doors behind them. This hold is far from empty, crates stacked to varying heights dominating the room. Navigating through the center of the maze they form would take time, but thankfully the sides of the hold are clear of such obstructions. Also, since I forgot to explicitly mention before, Mithras has lost his shotgun, swarms of zombies and gut-clenching terror preventing him from retrieving it as he beat a retreat.)

[Capntastic]

"Well at least I don't feel space sick anymore. Just damned angry."

He began reloading his shotgun, smiling with a bit of pride at how well it'd performed.

"What the frak is wrong with 'em? An' what was that yellin'?"

[Jak Snide]

"Muties, man." muttered Scab in response to Mikolas. "I said it ain't right that they're about, but nobody listens to me, nobody ever listens and now it's too late!"

"Witchery. That's what it is." rumbled Vern. "That scream wasn't made by any mouth, mutie or not."

[Kelne]

"A hand reaches out of the Void," Cryvus said, "The reward of tolerance is betrayal. Have you the frequency for the bridge?" he asked Vern, reaching for his vox. They must be warned.

[Christian]

"We move through A-1 and, if we have the time, we barricade the doors to B-1 and A-2 before we report back to your captain."

Mithras had been hunched over slightly, hands on his legs as he caught his breath... and kept the bile in his stomach from rising as memories too recent for comfort swept across his mind's eye. He balled his fists as he rose, sweat on his face under his helmet yet a somewhat determined, if weary, look on his face.

It seemed it hadn't occurred to the Guardsman that Vern had directed his question to Xerxes.

"Cryvus is right, we must contact them ASAP to ensure that should we fall, they take the necessary steps to make sure this doesn't spread past the holds."

He fought back an urge to sit down. He was used to beating it down, once you drop from your feet you're not getting up again.

"We have to move now; we have no idea what manner of intelligence these things have, they could be working their way around us right now. You," he pointed to Scab, "we're sealing the doors to A-3 before we move on, you come with me."

And he'd never made it past private. He gave a chuckle, but the surprising tenseness of his jaws made it a drawn out wheeze-like sound.

"You might want to get that bite seen to, Cryvus." he added before he stretched his back, heart beating like a hammer in his chest. Did they notice how nervous he was by his voice? Could they guess?

"Let's go!" he yelled suddenly, clapping his hands. "We can cry once we're done with this!"

[Jak Snide]

Vern fiddled with his vox caster: a slim yet worn looking unit, and passed it to Cryvus wordlessly, eying the wound at the man's neck as Mithras mentioned it. Kadi was babbling now, her voice shrill as she talked of Bronson and her men and how they'd risen against them as well. Ishmael did his best to calm her, though a few of the acolytes noticed a nervous glance in Cryvus' direction. Scab fell in behind Mits, glad to follow someone else's lead in lieu of making his own choices.

[Kelne]

Triggering the vox, Cryvus spoke clearly into it even as he fell in with the others, "Bridge, this is Cryvus Valnik, of the hold investigation party. I am declaring situation gamma; infestation of the ship by foes in excess of company strength. Respond."

Situation gamma was not something Cryvus had expected to invoke during his lifetime. If any of the Emperor's vessels had been boarded by hostiles in significant numbers, something had gone badly wrong. Certainly no captain of one of the Emperor's warships would ever allow such a threat to grow unchecked in the very heart of his ship.

For now, Cryvus would hold back from assigning blame or judgement. The important thing was that the ship's complement be armed and mobilised to deal with the threat. Of a more personal importance, he definitely needed to deal with his wound. The bite carried with it a sense of festering wrongness, and the longer it was left, the worse it would be for him. Best to deal with it now, while they had at least a momentary breather.

[Christian]

Mits readjusted the straps on his uniform and gear, swearing quietly as the realization that his issued Shotgun remained in the room filled to the brim with seemingly immortal, reanimated dead. It was hard to be upset though, he and the rest of his group of Acolytes had survived, as had some of the guards.

He felt bad about those who hadn't, but for a captain to let his ship get this far... and he was certain he'd seen some form of recognition from one of the guards...

"You knew about these things?" he asked Scab without turning to look at him. His twitches were coming back, but his eyes had never ceased rolling in their sockets. Some things are so deeply rooted not even a brush with death can clear it out from you.

He made his way at haste towards the A-3 hold, every second wasted meant those things could come up with a new strategy. They hadn't seemed incredibly bright, but judging from the set-up they knew enough to use bait as well as working in several groups. Not all of them had been mutants... but he wasn't ready to rule that possibility out. His fists were balled up before he even finished that thought.

By the Emperors golden Throne, he hated those things.

[Jak Snide]

"Always been muties in the far holds." muttered Scab as he followed after Mithras. "Been there since my granddad's time and before, or so's the talk. Too many to go blast and they keep to themselves. S'what the Captain says, anyway. Should have voided the lot of them cycles ago if you ask me."

(Going to give Gus and Nama a chance to reply before moving the others on.)

[NamagomiMk0]

Crisis only stood by and listened, expression completely hidden behind his gas mask. He listened to the entire exchange--the "Situation Gamma" announcement, the statement that the holds have been in such a situation for entire cycles...to him, there was no other choice. The holds and their contents would have to be jettisonned if possible--preferably onto an uninhabitable planet, or to a location that could be reported back to Imperial forces as to have them destroy it.

Finger-pointing was for the cleanup crews. He was there for decisive action regarding problems, no doubt about it...

He pulled out his trusty writing tools, taking the time to detail the situation before all of his current allies:

'Have the holds sealed. The captain will jettison their contents once we drop into standard travel, or he will answer to the Inquisition. Make him understand this if he does not immediately cooperate with this move. After this is done, all areas nearby are to be examined in orbit and upon landing. That is all.'

[Jak Snide]

Cryvus had gotten the attention of the remaining Watchmen when he'd declared situation Gamma; it was not something invoked recklessly and it hammered home how bad the situation was. Crisis scribbled his note out as they waited for a reply from the vox, Mithras and Scab moving off towards the door to A-3, and presented it for all to see. Xerxes' reaction was unreadable behind the visor of his helmet, while Ishmael and Kadi stared at the strange symbols cluelessly.

"What's it say?" the girl asked as she glanced at Vern.

What little colour the voidborn man possessed had drained from his face as he'd read those few terrifying words, the living dead no longer his source of fear. He answered the girl, voice shaking.

"Nothing. Just do as these...men tell you to and we'll all be alright." He looked to the acolytes, eyes fearful and pleading. The other two watchmen didn't say a word, though they knew their elder was holding something back.

The vox in Cryvus' hand crackled into life, breaking the tension. The voice that emanated from it was positively livid, drowning out the static with it's sheer volume.

"What in the void are you doing, broadcasting on an open channel!? What's the meaning of this?! I demand an explanation!"

"Cap'n's angry..." muttered Ishmael.

[Capntastic]

"How could ya live in the save buildin' as those beasties without killin' 'em or nothin'? I mean, if I'd known this place was full of those guys..."

[Christian]

Mits heard the commotion and the vox-transmissin from behind him, but paid it only little attention. Right now his focus was the door;

would it be open? ajar? closed or destroyed? He stared towards it, yet his eyes couldn't focus long enough and old habits kicked in. His head crooked and craned as he took in his surrounding.

"You should have. And had you been an upstanding, righteous citizen of the Empire, you would have done it yourself as no one else on this Emperor-forsaken piece of space-travelling rock seems capable of it." his voice was only slightly frustrated, "you lost a lot of good friends today because of your captain."

[Kelne]

"Captain," the word was a veritable snarl. Cryvus would never have believed he would address a superior officer in such a manner, but circumstances were dire indeed, and this man was not in the least bit worthy of his respect, "You have mutants aboard. Mutants who are not, as you have hitherto believed, willing to keep to themselves. If not dealt with immediately, they will overrun this ship. Now, acknowledge situation gamma."

Having this confrontation over an open channel was not what Cryvus would have chosen, and he was avoiding casting out the truly disturbing knowledge for all to hear and despair from. If the captain wanted to defy him to the bitter end though, he would find out just who held the greater authority here.

Cryvus found himself wishing momentarily for a ship's commissar. Of course, a commissar would have dealt with the mutants long since.