The Barbed Hook

OOC: Did he ever tell them the mission?

"In that case, i'll call for transport"

OOC yea, recon

"Go on then"

OOC: Okay

+This is brother Tyren, requesting transport the the Flamewrought.... yes i'll be bringing the target. oh.. uh, confirmed+ "well you're getting the red carpet rolled out"

Anders: wot

"How so?"

"The Captain is coming down on a storm eagle to pick you up"

"For me?"

Lyanna: A bloody storm eagle?!

"Yes, and yes"

"The transport should be here in 5 minutes"

"Admiral, how close do you intend to take us?"
"As close as possible, General Flak" The Fleet admiral says calmly, standing at the helm of his Imperial Cruiser; the ancient vessel dating back to the earliest days great crusade. Perhaps even before that.
A plump man, Servak Trib was a genius in his own right, wearing a regal blue uniform covered in burnished gold medals and trinkets. Having been through the heresy, he was one of the few fleet admirals to survive on the loyalists side.
"I don't mean to impede your plans Trib, but the iron warriors fleet could be waiting in ambush" Flak says with a annoyed tone, his hand instinctively holding onto a railing.
Flak is a old warrior, his face a tapestry of hundreds of battles. His hair has been buzzcut, some growing back due to the lack of time given to it, giving it a black fade that dissipates at his ears.
Covered in pockets, bags and small ammo pouches that strap around his frame, Flak is a common soldier, despite his high rank. He isn't afraid of being in the shit when the battle starts.

"You aren't impeding me" Servak says as he sends off some data streams to other ships in the fleet, the amount of data almost dizzying to Flak, but Servak takes it in like a dry sponge.
"I would ready your men General, heavy drop. You know what to do I'm sure?" Trib says to his old friend.
"Admiral, it would be my pleasure" Flak says with a faint smile, strapping on his simple helmet and walking out of the bridge.
+on my mark gentlemen, unleash hell+ Servak says with a hint of apprehension, his navigators all wailing as the fleet exits warp space violently, a host of gigantic ships opening fire upon the planet below.

*the storm eagle swings in low, the wash from the engine blowing dust up, before gently landing. Tyriel stands up.* "Gentlemen."

Lyanna sits up, grunting, as anders faces the marine, lasrifle in hand

Ooc:Rip

+calling out to all loyalist frequencies, get me a secure channel+

+This is Marshal Drell of the solar auxilia+

+ah, good day Marshall. This is Admiral Servak Trib, we are the reinforcements for the imperial war effort+ Servak begins mobilising the fleet into a planetary assault formation, the lumbering engines of war dropping into the planets high atmosphere, casting huge shadows on the lands below.

*The ramp drops revealing a marine in standard power armour, with a salamander hide cloak, a bolter on his back and a power sword at his waist. flanked by a pair of cataphractii terminators*

Pyriel: *he walks down the ramp* "Brother Tyriel, good to see you." *he looks to them* "Hello"

+That is good news my friend. The war is going...rather poorly+

Anders takes a nervous step back, gripping his rifle tight

+the mass drop shall begin shortly, I advise you join us on the assault, we push now+

+Where?+

"No need to be worried soldier, my brothers are here simply because we don't know your friend over there's abilities" *he gestures to bush's guy, and walks down the ramp*

he takes another step back as he approaches

+where do you want the attack to take place, is there a higher authority, otherwise I shall attack the northern defence lines+

+We are currently bolstering the northern defenses and preparing for surgical strikes against enemy prison camps+

The alpha legionnaires have set themselves up deep in iron warrior territory. Theyou have a small barricaded 'camp' which consists of a few blood angel and salamander bodies, with a few legionnaires studying the engraving and paint jobs to make even more convincing disguises.
The leader resides at the back, sitting down, still bloodied from when the angel he fought did the heroic suicidal attack, and is being tended to by a 'medic'.
The other legionnaires simply stand around, idly cleaning weapons or perfecting their disguises and imitations.

"interesting, I shall inform General Flak" the connection severed

The ground rumbles as Gehrman's armoured column thunders towards the ash fields, his personal spartan at its head

There is a sudden, more intense rumble as streaks of light shine through the sky, getting brighter by the second.

"No need to worry soldier, we're not here to hurt you, in fact.... *he turns around* Gideon i brought you along for a reason!"

*a rather perturbed looking apothacary walks out of the stormeagle* "yes yes yes, where are the casualties."

The column's hyperios whirlwinds begin tracking the incoming signals

Lyanna is visibly frightened by this

they are actually high power munitions, fired from the fleet in orbit, a saturation bombardment, the alpha legion marines see it also, the whole sky becoming a white glow from the amount of beams, lasers and missiles raining down.

the whirlwinds' scanners track the trajectory, plotting their descent to see if it is anywhere near

Its coming straight for them, from the machine spirits calculations nothing will be spared unless heavy interceptor fire can blow them out of the sky before they reach extermination level.

Tyriel: "Don't worry, Gideon is strange, but he's a brilliant doctor"

Lyanna nods but is still nervous

Gehrman: Damn. We must bait them into believing us their victims whilst simultaneously advancing to our objective. Terminators activate teleporters. Get us to the ash-fields. Whirlwinds, set ordnance to intercept course and open fire. Get me a flight of dropships headed to the ash-fields now. All tanks, take evasive manoeuvres.

Gideon: "Well then little lady, lets get this leg dealt with" *he slowly and gently rolls her trouser leg up, surprisingly gently for a space marine.* "Alright, entry wound, and exit. no bullet in there, thats good"

Lyanna: did you just call me 'little lady'?

The legionnaires arm up and prepare to move out, the one in charge at the fore, his wounds still showing.
"The warriors are gonna need a little bit of help, id guess."

missiles get intercepted, debris clattering against tank hulls as large laser steams blow chunks of the battlefield away, one tank being clipped and partly vaporised.
more missiles come through, huge detonations knocking men to their feet and scattering ash up into the air, blocking the sun.

"You're certainly little compared to me. Now, I'll set the bone and sew up those wounds here, but I'll have to make a cast back up in orbit, I'll splint it and make sure the pilot goes easy so the g force doesn't hurt too much"

*pyriel walks over to the silver armoured astartes (bush's guy)* "you seem to be an astartes... But, different somehow, what legion are you from?"

"I'm not an astartes, I share similar genetic modifications but I'm not one of you"

"What... How can.... Who else but the emperor can produce astartes? Surely the basis of your implants is astartes gene seed?

"I honestly don't know"

the tanks continue their evasive manouvers as they advance further, the spartan's flare shield keeping it intact

Lyanna nods

Anders: aint it the apothecaries that actually make the astartes?

"They remove gene-seed and implant it into candidates, the actual gene-seed itself is the emperor's doing"

Anders: a) the gene-seed is self-replicating b) there's more to astartes than gene-seed from what I've heard

Gideon: "yes quite, the procedure is slightly more complex than simply implanting gene seed into a candidate... But that's the gist." *he gets to to dealing with her leg*

"It's grown and harvested, there is a lot you've got black carapace and the indoctrination, memory wipes, etcetera"