A slightly smaller Mess

Charles: we should have time to prepare defenses. Choke points, kill zones ect.

Jack: "I can think of a few ideas. We got any wire?"

Charles: plenty.

Jack: "And explosives?" 

Hakken: "A few spare rifles wouldn't go amiss."

Charles: we will have more than enough. The Archmagos' fleet will meet up with us. It can manufacture whatever resources we require.

Jack: *Grins* "We'll have this ship made into an emperor damned deathtrap."

Charles: exactly. *grins also*

Logen: "We can add a few little tricks."

Charles: more than a few. Turn the odds in our favour.

Logen: "We'll have something special made up."

Charles: I'll be counting on it.

*Logen nods, and turns to leave, his brothers following* 

Hera: "Right, lets get to work."

Charles: Dismissed.

*meanwhile on laurence's ship....*

*Laurence is practicing swordwork, a wide birth afforded him in the hangar. He makes slow deliberate movements towards the stack of crates acting as his target, before dissapearing in a blur, appearing behind it, Muurthien rammed through a crate.*

Caiber is watching him quietly. Meanwhile, an astropathic message reaches the ship. Supposedly, from Macragge itself.

*With the astropath dead, laurence plucks the message from the warp himself*

*it's a recording. One of a grand parade across the streets of Macragge. The ultramarines in all their splendor. This, only days after the world was reported beseiged. And, in clear view above the parade, hulking, gigantic compared to those around him, the new lord of ultramar stands, blade burning in his hand. The emperor's avenging son.*

*Laurence at first scoffs, the ultramarines grandstanding, nothing new. Then he pauses.* "FUCKING WHAT?"

Caiber: What?

"Robute fucking guilliman. Is alive."

"....who?"

"Primarch of the ultramarines... I'll explain it to you eventually."

"....good or bad?"

"The primarchs are the emperors sons. Times a space marine by twenty."

"so....good?"

"Potentially very."

"...yay?"

"Not that it helps us here, it just means that the thirteenth crusade might get slightly more fucked."

"Always a good thing."

"True indeed."

"so... Who is this guy exactly?"

"Primarch of the ultramarines. The blue ones. Brilliant strategist and warrior by all accounts. Being a twelve foot tall demigod helps as well."

Caiber: how good?

"I'm not spending the next hour describing robute guilliman to you, read a book, you'll find him soon enough. In bloody close to everything anyway."

"....yay"

"Any book on strategy references guilliman."

"....Pretty good then."

"Damn good."

"...good"

Laurence: *Swings Muurthien in a quick circle and sheathes her* "Well then, thats... Entirely surprising, but doesn't affect us much."

"Yet."

Laurence: "Unless he comes here to save our arses, not so relevant."

"And after this?"

Laurence: "If we survive tomorrow, we can think that far ahead."

"We'll live."

Laurence: "There are no guarantees of that. With me, you'll be alongside one of the biggest targets out there. They'll come for us, and they'll come hard."

"And we'll live."

Laurence: "Well, optimism is good."

Caiber: I've been at rock bottom. Can only go up.

Laurence: "We've not hit rock bottom 'till we die." *he grins* "Then the real battle starts."

Caiber: Need I remind you where I was when you found me?