Post by Harmen on May 25, 2016 11:43:12 GMT
"All they want is a little rest" Said the thin, almost skeletal witch, standing before the oversized throne that the Pride's lord and master occupied. "They're tired, oh so very tired. Cousin and I'd only need a few of the Family". She'd come in some time earlier, the captain of the Embrace wearing a colourful dress clearly made for some noble three times her size. Her playful demeanor never failed to amuse Arbalan, nor the little ones who often claimed the cavernous throneroom as their playground. This time it was a bold new, simple, straight forwards and with only half the details mentioned: A strike at the Velspar mining colony which fed the neighboring Imperial outposts. "Why" the monster forced out from on high, speaking was difficult now a days... the tongue used by his little kindred anyway.
The smile which he got in return threatened to tear the stretched skin of her face. "'Cause a few days without backbreaking labour would do those poor souls good... And an maybe cause an itsy bitsy disturbance in the aether." At this she ran over and fetched a walking corpse which one of the children was riding around. "Wouldnt you wanna go make some new friends?" the witch asked " Ofcourse you would, many many new friends to play with!" She turned again to the throne. "Please"
That part had so far gone off without a hitch, Forlorn and Desolate managed to bypass Imperial patrols and for a few hours the skies of Velspar screamed with shells, shuttles and simple pods filled to the brim with the brave ones chosen, some breathing. Most not.
It was with a dry laugh, a rasping attempt at exhilaration that the witch Mencia couldnt contain as reality was torn apart infront her her eyes. The rituals had taken time, preperation, churning the immaterium into a raging, boiling, mess. What her brothers and sisters were doing on Velspar simply threw promethium on the fire and the results...beautiful.
Like flowers they blossomed, swirling shining sparkling *somethings* where a moment ago there had just been empty space, and the greatest family gathering she'd seen in a long long time. She could hear them sing, almost imagined the sweet scents of daddy's gardens as the ships headed in. A moment later they were through, unimaginable distances crossed in moments or months. The important part was that the daemons advice had rung true, not far off was an Imperial fleet, led by the Lord Admiral himself according to what she'd been told.
Moments later the void was again split by the shrieks, she'd always imagined lances to shriek, of weapons fire as the Desolate lead its sister-vessels onward.
The first to fall were the Cobra vanguard, cut apart by the three cruisers.
The second was one of the Carriers trying desperately to scramble pilots even as their comrades were swarmed by the Dreadclaws from not only her own vessel, but those from the great Pride itself.
Third to fall, she knew that one, "Crown of deliverance". She couldnt help but giggle as fire was traded between the Navy and her Family. The exchange left it little more then a limping cripple, bleeding fuel and crew in equal measure from gaping wounds in its starboard side.
They all ran, ran screaming into the warp begging their corpse-lord for protection even as the flagships shields collapsed under the strain and deep gouges were seared into its armour.
i
In the end there'd be little left to tell the story of what happened, the debris thick as it may be now would soon scatter. Her blossoms would wither and disappear, the only evidence would be carved into the cowards who had murdered so many of her kin over the years, the thought brought out another smile as the fleet slowly turned away from the ambush site and set course for the nearby Penal colony of Rommacus.
Game 1: Blockade run at Velspar
Harmen: no damage sustained, gained 7 renown
game two: Fleet Engagement over Rommacus
Desolate suffered 3 pts of damage.
Harmen won, gained 7 renown.
Gaunt +1 ld, Forlorn +1 ld, Desolate +1 ld
The smile which he got in return threatened to tear the stretched skin of her face. "'Cause a few days without backbreaking labour would do those poor souls good... And an maybe cause an itsy bitsy disturbance in the aether." At this she ran over and fetched a walking corpse which one of the children was riding around. "Wouldnt you wanna go make some new friends?" the witch asked " Ofcourse you would, many many new friends to play with!" She turned again to the throne. "Please"
That part had so far gone off without a hitch, Forlorn and Desolate managed to bypass Imperial patrols and for a few hours the skies of Velspar screamed with shells, shuttles and simple pods filled to the brim with the brave ones chosen, some breathing. Most not.
It was with a dry laugh, a rasping attempt at exhilaration that the witch Mencia couldnt contain as reality was torn apart infront her her eyes. The rituals had taken time, preperation, churning the immaterium into a raging, boiling, mess. What her brothers and sisters were doing on Velspar simply threw promethium on the fire and the results...beautiful.
Like flowers they blossomed, swirling shining sparkling *somethings* where a moment ago there had just been empty space, and the greatest family gathering she'd seen in a long long time. She could hear them sing, almost imagined the sweet scents of daddy's gardens as the ships headed in. A moment later they were through, unimaginable distances crossed in moments or months. The important part was that the daemons advice had rung true, not far off was an Imperial fleet, led by the Lord Admiral himself according to what she'd been told.
Moments later the void was again split by the shrieks, she'd always imagined lances to shriek, of weapons fire as the Desolate lead its sister-vessels onward.
The first to fall were the Cobra vanguard, cut apart by the three cruisers.
The second was one of the Carriers trying desperately to scramble pilots even as their comrades were swarmed by the Dreadclaws from not only her own vessel, but those from the great Pride itself.
Third to fall, she knew that one, "Crown of deliverance". She couldnt help but giggle as fire was traded between the Navy and her Family. The exchange left it little more then a limping cripple, bleeding fuel and crew in equal measure from gaping wounds in its starboard side.
They all ran, ran screaming into the warp begging their corpse-lord for protection even as the flagships shields collapsed under the strain and deep gouges were seared into its armour.
i
In the end there'd be little left to tell the story of what happened, the debris thick as it may be now would soon scatter. Her blossoms would wither and disappear, the only evidence would be carved into the cowards who had murdered so many of her kin over the years, the thought brought out another smile as the fleet slowly turned away from the ambush site and set course for the nearby Penal colony of Rommacus.
Game 1: Blockade run at Velspar
Harmen: no damage sustained, gained 7 renown
game two: Fleet Engagement over Rommacus
Desolate suffered 3 pts of damage.
Harmen won, gained 7 renown.
Gaunt +1 ld, Forlorn +1 ld, Desolate +1 ld
