Chaos Unleashed

Bunker Poppin' Baneblade Droppin'

In the aftermath of our massively successful occupation, I led the 1st, 2nd and 4th infantry on a veritable looting spree of the manufactorium located at [REF. 122877331.b]. We already had our commandeered Crassis transports, and I know the remainder of the Seven had their own victories and acquisitions, including a bona-fide Storm Bird!

I wasn’t present at the time, but I believe it was Magos Shakespear who found the hidden bunker. The installation was vast, and VERY poorly defended. We infiltrated virtually unopposed until we were deep inside in our lovely new tanks. I don’t see why anyone would take anything except the Leman Russ but I suppose it takes all sorts. When we finally did hit a wall of people that needed killing, there were 3 Leman Russes, 7 Sentinels and an honest-to-throne Baneblade. I’ll skip the telling, but basically we garnered ourselves a Baneblade. I took one look at the spacious interior and proposed a mobile command/medical unit, and we knew we’d hit on a brilliant plan. The one thing we were missing in these engagements was a nexus for this sort of thing.

On the trip home (Strange. Home? When did Sacgrave become home?) I finally took the time to crack open the Brazen Lance and rewire the workings, and now the thing fires with its old reliability! I spent a good day testing it out and damn but it punched a hole right in the centre of every target, every time! Noxias, Iisk and I took the time to implant him with the muscle growth regimen I figured out all those months ago, and damn but the man took to it with aplomb. He had requested a larger dose, but it was absurd! His skin is stretched so tight now, it hasn’t taken the time to stretch itself over the new muscles. He’s a hulking mess now, and the muscles themselves are packed tight, as dense as one would find on an aquatic species. I braced his long bones a little and gave him something for his ligaments to hold up to the new strain, but I’ve advised him to take it easy for another month or two. Iisk agrees with my conclusions. I cannot wait to get back to the Ziggurat and install all the manufactorum gear we raided. I can finally take a crack at mass producing some of the designs I’ve been working over for these last years!

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There and back again, a marine's tale.

With the shuttle still hot from exiting the atmosphere, the heretics disembarked and promptly boarded another vessel to return to the surface. With the disoriented Sienna in tow, the seven entered the tavern where their original journey began and were confronted by an unusual sight. In the centre of the room stood a huge chaos space marine, surrounding him were the corpses of the taverns slaughtered patrons along with the body of the one who had sent the heretics to free Sienna in the first place.

Attempts to reason with this mysterious figure failed, alongside threats of violence and cunning psychic powers. The end result being a semi unarmoured Noxias and Claudanis held in a headlock, Sienna ran screaming from the tavern and the heretics let the marine pass. In short order Sienna had returned and the party bid a hasty retreat to the shuttle and back to the pirate vessel.

A short jump through the warp with the pirates led back to Sacgrave whereupon they set about repairing the generators. After the spirits were coaxed to life, the pirates were preparing to leave and Noxias regaled them with tales of glory and wealth. The pirates pledged their allegiance on the spot and agreed to set up supply and shipping lanes.

Able departed to salvage hangar doors from the wrecked vessel while the remaining heretics left in search of the Alchimera control room. A brief battle ensued after an Alchimera ambush before the control room was located and Garret was able to reprogram them to better serve the Ziggurat.

A plan was developed to visit the dark eldar to discern the location of Noxias’ stolen idol, only to discover they had relocated to a location within the vaults. The heretics then traveled to the slaughter pits, Noxias gave another rousing speech and a large number of the mercenary groups seemed convinced. The leader of the Levincenders challenged Noxias to single combat and an epic whip/scythe battle ensued. Noxias managed, through the favour of the gods, to avoid all incoming attacks and disembowel his opponent. The mercenaries began to look at the heretics with newfound fear and respect.

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The Great Heist

++++BEGIN DATA FILE EXCERPT++++
++++Personal vox-log of Magos ÜÂCþóf黨LîƒÃË­z»xAÍs“²[[CORRUPTION DETECTED]]++++
++++Thought for the Day: Success is commemorated. Failure merely remembered.++++

It galls me to admit that occasionally, RARELY, my brilliance is insufficient to solve a problem. Whatever damnable heretek came up with whatever powers this Ziggurat, I cannot understand it. I have spent weeks analyzing every bolt, every rivet, every unhallowed leyline of power and yet I am no closer to understanding its nature. With regret and chagrin, I have put down my other works and followed the rest of the Seven to Kymerus; the pirate clan that Noxias and Able seem to have ties to believe that the Temple of Lies holds a book that they require in order to enact repairs upon the foul device.

Carrion Corpse had changed quite drastically since our last visit; while much of the town remained a crumbling cess-pit, new buildings had sprung up with incredible swiftness, swelling to well over triple its original size, seemingly in the middle of some sort of industrial revolution. The architecture bore no resemblance to what we had seen earlier, incorporating traditional Imperial styles with Tzeentchian iconography. Despite my general disinterest in the conditions of the populace, they practically fell over themselves to regail me with tales of their various plights and pleasures. Most interesting was the fact that those who believed they had done something to displease Elika the Seer were now trapped in the original ghetto-like areas of Carrion Corpse, unable to leave the planet or go anywhere else with better chances.

I met back up with the rest of the Seven in the Broken Halo, the crashed bulk-lifter that served as Kymerus’ sole inn and bar, only to find that the entirety of their plans for finding the book consisted of climbing the walls of the Library and ‘seeing what happens’. Despite the fact that we are known criminals on this world, The Seer wishes us dead for slaying her erstwhile master, not one of us knows the first thing about climbing, and we don’t even have any cog-damned ROPE. Claudanis was the most vocal advocate of this plan, naturally.

And so, we proceeded to the Library. Unsurprisingly, almost all of us suffered wounds from the viciously spiked walls, despite Able’s attempts to bend them back out of the way. Despite Iisk’s swift medical attention, none of our wounds would stop bleeding unless we moved cautiously; Photep’s witchsight revealed the spikes had ensorcelled edges that slowly ate away at flesh that came into contact with it.

Our attempts at sneaking past the Library’s guards bore little more fruit. To no great surprise, a group of seven people – four of whom wear power armour, one of whom is now permanently wreathed in flame – have trouble sneaking through gardens that have next to no cover. It was only a matter of time before we had our first encounter with the Library’s guardians, though Photep’s quick-thinking bodyswitch with one of the guards, Claudanis was able to sneak up behind the soldiers and slice their necks in twain with typically-messy results.

Able’s familiarity with starship design allowed him to guide us to an airlock that allowed us the run of the maintainence tunnels that wended their way through the Library, allowing us unfettered access to almost everywhere, though the paths were wending and difficult to comprehend. Shortly after breaching the entrance, we found ourselves above the main antechamber, where we overheard Elika arguing with a large power-armoured man, seemingly in the service of a man called Keilrus. Where have I heard that name before..?

Taking little interest in Elika’s histrionics, we continued our way up the ship-library, with Iisk plucking memories from the guards and librarians to lead us towards the book we sought. Several hours passed, and we found the dusty alcove, filled to the brim with books of all kinds. Unwilling to risk drawing in more guards, Photep decided to try his bodyswitching trick again, replacing first the guard and then the taking the form of the librarian inside, retrieving the book with nary a moment’s pause. ‘The Care and Feeding of Lumenwraiths’. The blasted generator’s a bio-hybrid! No wonder I couldn’t understand how everything fit together, the creature must have died years ago and rotted away!

Apparently one of the others had been asked to save a prisoner in here, so we continued through the vents to the upper levels of the Library, following Iisk’s breadcrumb trail of pilfered memories to a vault that dwarfed our own incarceration system. Able’s native talent at dissembling the machine spirits of security systems allowed us an overview of the prisoners contained within. With malice aforethought and intent to extract our target without being noticed, a code was overridden. The most heavily sealed door in the complex retracted adamantine bolts threaded through its core, while warp-energy flared and faded into nothingness as the psychic shields fell. Watching through the auspex-feeds, even I couldn’t help but shudder in horror at what daintily stepped through. Blessed Tesla, it wasn’t just a daemon. It was a daemon PRINCE. The burning sigil of Slaanesh was proudly displayed across her chest, while a whip of crackling energy coelesced into her hand and then immediately struck out, slaying a dozen guards at once. Claudanis, Barak and Photep’s drone all leapt out of the control room, bellowing with fury about anyone going near their beloved lady.

Meatsacks, honestly.

Close to a hundred guards fell by our hand, with no losses on our parts for once. Working quickly, we found Sienna, the woman we had been tasked with finding. I reprogrammed the cells to activate after thirty minutes; after all, what better time to slip out of a fortress than when there’s a full-blown prison riot and breakout behind you? Despite her apparent mindwipe, Sienna proved surprisingly capable at guiding us to an exit from the Library, bringing us to a small balcony about halfway up the spire’s side. calling in our dropship and foing our best to fight off the screamers that were attempting to eat the craft alive. I must say, blasting plasma in low orbit at a daemon through the half-open landing doors of that rustbucket the pirates keep giving us is… a unique experience.

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Daemons, Pirates and Aeronautica.

Able’s initial attempts to open the bridge door ended with nightmarish visions of daemonic symbols, this prompted him to cease all attempts and mash lho sticks into his rebreather. Photep took over with a series of telekinetic needles which bypassed the locks and the bridge door swung open revealing an inky blackness.

The marines, fearing nothing, waded through the darkness and it parted before them like a curtain. The remaining heretics followed while Able stayed behind to fend off any intruders.

They were immediately faced with a bizzare sight, an immaculately appointed room with a table chocked full of food. A handsome man stood at its head, flanked by 6 beautiful women. The man welcomed the heretics and beckoned them to sit and eat, most were reluctant to accept this offer due to the strange nature of it. Noxias however immediately fell upon the fare with great gusto, enjoying it immensely. Barak attempted some mild conversation before being unable to resist the wiles of one of the women, then proceeding to the table to enjoy the meal with Noxias.

Barak finished eating, wiped his mouth and paid with a pair of frag grenades. Their host seemed understandably upset and quite literally became incandescent with rage, everything spun in a blaze of colour and the glamour was removed from the room. Revealed were 6 daemonettes and a herald of slaanesh who attacked immediately. Entranced by the heralrd’s gyrations, several of the heretics were momentarily stunned by his erotic motions. After a brief but bloody battle, Claudanis triumphantly attached the herald’s head to his belt and Noxias proceeded to burst into flames.

A few flights in some newly acquired fliers and the vessel was properly looted, stores and aircraft securely locked in the ziggurat behind some lovely stolen doors. Several of the heretics then decided that being almost dead was rather dull, receiving treatment for their wounds and then deciding to contact some pirates. The helpful pirates arrived to assist with the uncooperative power generator and requested a tome to repair it. The heretics agreed to fetch the tome and accepted the pirates offer of transport.

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Of Ships Distraught and Mutants Many

Here continue the documentations of Magos Andreovich.

I know reactors. I repaired the ancient claptrap on that planet I remade myself upon, and I was singly responsible for maintaining the power supply on my berth away from that place. And yet, this thrice-cursed archeotech is an enigma. There is some essential part missing from it.. and I can’t seem to puzzle this out. I will require the original diagrams, it pains me to admit. This reactor needs the fine touch of expertise, not the eager hands of curiousity.

I delivered my report of the generatorium to our erstwhile figurehead (such as he is) and he said he take it under advisement. The smirk in that man’s eyes worries me. Skillfully brushing aside my statements of the urgency with which we must get the generatorium working, he informed us that he had made contact with that contemptible creature Vycraft. Apparently the man had some work for us, and before long we had the dubious privilege of his presence. He tasked us with butchering some mutants, in return for his official recognition of us (for whatever that will prove to be worth). We agreed, and I would like to note that the impatience of the traitor legionnaires (excepting that of the sorceror) could be a liability in the future.

Following our skillful massacre of the blighted wretches, we were beset by a Vindicare assassin. Noxias was dealt two nearly-fatal blows to the skull, yet by some mercy he lived. My ministrations showed that one of the rounds failed to detonate, and the other was a glancing blow along the man’s temple. Prodigious bleeding followed. The assassin was dispatched by the abominable arm-gun of that disgusting creature, Barak, and only his helm was salvageable. Both Photep and myself tried to examine the assassin’s weapons, but the wards were too strong, and I regret to say that in my anger I destroyed them. I must remember that in the proceeding weeks, evidence of long term damage from Noxias’ wounds might surface. One does not recover from a wound like that overnight.. a truth to which my form is testament.

Vycraft’s attitude did nothing to dissuade my suspicions that he had something to do with the assassin, but regardless, he seems a creature of structure, and followed his agreement to the letter.

Following some further ministrations for Photep, Noxias and myself, Noxias told us that he had a source that claimed they knew of a blast door that might serve our purposes. To seal the ziggurat from the vaults is no small feat, but stranger and greater things have happened. We were directed to the (relatively) recent crash of a nameless “Devastation” class cruiser-carrier. I procured some transport and we made best speed for the crash site.

We spent a few hours circling one side of the vessel, looking for a point of egress, and I saw (to my disappointment) that the neck of the great beast had broken with its planetfall. The entire underside seemed to have been stripped away in the long furrow marking the great voidship’s passage. It was in the broken neck that we found our point of egress. My not-insignificant experience with voidships left me the resident expert, and I pointed us on a course toward the ship’s bridge, Claudanis, Barak and Kynska in the lead.

It was shortly after we began our infiltration that the fear started. I do not know whence it came, but this ship is cursed. Whatever remains of the machine spirits do not welcome us to this place. The visions were like.. as if I was trapped in time, outside of myself, in a place of infinite cold, and dread. It felt like death, and I was not alone. I did not want to stay in that place. I could tell from the reactions of my comrades that they felt similar moments of, what I can only think to describe as time-displacement. Eventually we came to the ship’s bridge doors, sealed tight as a tomb. I failed to open them. While working on the lock I saw a, a flash, a vision, of this place as I suspect it truly is. There was a symbol on the door, something grand and terrible, something that speaks to me of a daemon beyond any of us. I do not trust this place. I do not want to stay here.

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The best laid plans of Marines and Men.

This tale of woe begins on the planet of Q’Sal. Our heretics made a few menial acquisitions here, as well as some necessary items and sacrifices for later rituals. A short warp jump on a pirate vessel brought them back to Sacgrave. Their new home.

Quickly returning to the Painted Ziggurat, Photep and Iiskraviccus set about gathering the final pieces and slaves for a ritual to bind a daemon into a weapon of the mortal realm. On the crescent platform, a place blasted by fire and magic, the corpses of 999 slaves lay dismembered in blasphemous runes upon the ground. Wreathed in multi coloured smoke, a Screamer of Tzeentch burst from the immaterium, the warp shark quickly slaughtering the remaining cultists and sacrificial slaves. Photep mastered the daemon but its will was too strong to bind, bursting through the wards bent on destroying the one who had attempted to enslave it. Bolter and blade quickly dispatched the rogue daemon and the summoners retired to rest off the ill effects of the failed ritual.

The Seven sat in council to discuss what was to be done to set up the Ziggurat as their new base of operations. A plan was quickly and efficiently hatched as to what was to be done and who was to do it, before Noxias set off to speak with the Lord of the Weeping Halls and the remainder began to follow power conduits in an attempt to locate the generatorium. The heretics, despite previous experience, decided to let Photep lead the way once more. At first the trip was uneventful, until an ambush by three Alchimeras slowed them down. Although the tainted servitors were quickly disposed of, it left the heretics open to ambush from a trio of Dark Eldar Mandrakes. The surprise attack left Claudanis critically wounded and needing urgent medical attention, a task that required the tender ministrations of Iiskraviccus and Able. Photep and Garret continued on and located the generatorium, an ancient machine of unknown design that will require extensive repairs or even replacement.

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Battle of the Crescent Platform
In which Foul Cage once more makes an annoying appearance.

After confronting a Juggernaut of Khorne and destroying it in two mighty blows, the Seven proceeded through the Candentia Vaults, in hot pursuit of the Tyrant’s Cord’s temporary owners. Their hunt led them to a vault of trapped memories, where several of the group elected to allow the errant personalities into their minds.

After Barak’s tracking abilities failed him, the group stumbled upon a genetor’s laboratory, seemingly dedicated to cloning the former Duke of Sacgrave and restoring him to full awareness. Able and Noxias promptly looted the area for anything they considered valuable, wiping the rest from the cogitator interlink present in the chambers.

A brief fight with mutated servitor chimeras preceded another encounter with Beylix Ireshor, the Archon whom had so aroused Garret’s ire earlier. Knowing himself to be outclassed and outmatched, the Archon offered a deal; fire-support to hinder the escape of those carrying the Cord, in exchange for an urn located deep in the Vaults. After arguing for some time, an accord was struck, the urn was found, and the bearers of the cord were brutally cut down one by one, until finally the jagged spurs of linked chain were held in worthy hands once more.

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The Tyrant's Cord

The Seven dedicate themselves to their first Compact, a quest to find and recover the Tyrant’s Cord, the proof of leadership for a planet of warring natives (who happen to each consider a virulent strain of poison their divine mandate to protect and spread).

A half-considered promise to perform a favor in trade of a map leads them to another twisted realm, cracked basalt pillars and constant driving rains the only remarkable features.

Feats of daring and uncompromising violence catapult them into a position as the most feared entities on the planet, from conquering gladiatorial pits to gunning down a Dark Eldar noble. Ultimately their quest leads them deep into the undercity, where they confront a Juggernaut of Khorne…

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Death of an Oracle

The Seventh Guests take another step on the path of their destinies by slaying a man who sought to escape his own.

A tenuous alliance is formed with an ancient Astartes of the Word Bearers, Corvis.

The warband regroups on Q’Sal, homeworld to the Vortex’s foremost sorcerer-technocrats, with grand ambition buoying their steps and little idea of what awaits them

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The Temple of Lies

7 individuals wrapped in the strands of fate have been summoned to the Temple of Lies, a bastion dedicated to Tzeentch.
After failing to slay a champion of Khorne and facing down a surprisingly large flock of corrupted cherubim, the heretics spent several days within the Library of Tzeentch, seeking lost knowledge either for its preservation or, in the case of the rogue Astartes Claudanis, its destruction.

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