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@askawatchsergeantwh40k-blog
I’m aware I’m not around much, I am attempting to fix that, but it’s easier said than done. Here’s some music.
Entirely harmless, marshmallow covered cinnamon roll. Likes to think she's a monster though.
Cinnamon Roll Meme
“I do not ‘like’ to think I am a… a monster…”
“Good.” Flan the Flesh Tearer ruffled her hair. The answer was concise and simple, but whom it had come from, mattered more.
Deathwatch
by hammk
askawatchsergeantwh40k:
“What does he know that should keep us from cutting him in half, the second we see him, Inquisitor?”
This time the quietest of the bunch had spoken up. The one clearly a son of Corax if not Raven Guard by his shoulder pad not identifying him as such. It happened to be the wrong color a plate mail metallic rather than the white of the Raven Guard.
“If the traitor is so dangerous, it would be better to silence him forever, than to keep him around. If you know something, now is the time to share. You are expecting we, of this brotherhood to trust you, to see you through this. It is time to start earning that Inquisitor. Unless you enjoy feeling very alone over there.”
The Astartes nodded to this, agreeing with their brother’s sentiments. It was as plain as the black armor they wore, that she was isolated over there, with a killteam that had been together for Emperor knew how long staring her down. She was the outsider, this Astartes was offering that to change, but she would have to earn it.
“Machiavelli is correct Inquisitor.” Came the rasp and thick accent that accompanied his long, once stark red beard. It was a clearer marker than he was a Space Wolf than even his should pad or axe. He looked considerably friendlier towards her than the others too. “You may not have sought us out, but here you are. Lean into the blow, not away from it.”
‘Unless you enjoy feeling very alone over there.’
The subtlest twitch of her eyes narrowing was the only betrayal as to how effective the statement was. Verit let out a sigh, doing her best not to be overly irritated at their questions. They weren’t Grey Knights, they were Deathwatch - they weren’t just going to follow her orders, or literally read her mind to get the answers they needed.
“It is not fair for you to gang up on me.” The quip is accompanied by a slight smile, more trying to ease her own tensions than theirs. Her hands go to her hips, though her shoulders slack as she shifts her stance.
“Heretics rarely work alone, if they want to be successful in their goals. Our target is no exception. While my immediate goal is the artifact, due to the danger it presents, the uprooting of the group willing to unleash such a thing on hive worlds is my long-term mission. However, despite my best efforts to identify more associated with this sect, and where they may be operating from, our target is the sole contact I have been able to positively identify, connect, and track down in the past three years.”
Not for lack of trying. She heavily suspected the group had agents among the Arbites and Administratum on worlds they operated on, concealing their activities. If she could get a live member to interrogate… maybe there’d finally be some headway. But if he died, she’d have to start over. If they failed in this entirely… well. The Inquisitor didn’t want to think about that.
“As I said. His death is preferable to his escape. But if at all possible… I need him alive.”
“Purgation mission.” Just like before it was intoned by all the Astartes around the table. Their minds were one. A team in perfect sync with each other.
Kree, with a broad smile, stroked his beard and looked at the Inquisitor. “You come to the wolf pack and don’t expect to be ganged up on?” There was a chuckle that reverberated between all of the Deathwatch Marines even Ezikel.
“She will do, Ezikel, if she lives.” Kree looked back at his Watch Sergeant and nodded, which gained a nod of approval from him. She had dropped the wall and now all the Astartes moved a few steps over, and she seemed to have been drawn into the ring of them.
“So, the operation has changed a bit gentlemen and Flan.” The Flesh Tearer flipped his Sergeant a very uncivilized gesture in response, which generated chuckles anew. “Slaughter everything you see, gut them all, take no prisoners but this one target, if he resists, blow a hand off, or a leg. We can save him from that. Just, don’t kill him unless you absolutely have to. The Inquisitor wants her information and she’ll have it. After that, we’ll come back and burn the whole place to the ground and walk through the ash.”
“You can do better than this.”
“If I had better supplies I could” Aestra complained, pushing the rag around with one foot. This rag is so threadbare it’s practically vapour. If you see fit to supply me with something better this floor would shine like glass.“
It had been several months since her disastrous run-in with the deathwatch and she was taking it with her usual grace. Spared the bolter, they had quickly found work for her. As obnoxious as she was, the former slave-turned-archon was a hard worker, and ego prevented her from doing a poor job. Thus this criticism filled her with annoyance.
“What is this stain anyway?”
“Tau blood,” Ezikel responded casually and then disappeared.
He returned several minutes later with what looked like the disassembled parts of a servitor meant for cleaning. As he was now carrying a mop and bucket in one hand and a bundle of cloth rags attached together. Dropping them in front of her.
He looked at the stain again. “I stand corrected, that’s Traitor Astartes blood. Must be from that break in a Terran month before we captured you.”
Unfortunately for Aestra, her snarky vox work had been easy to track. The team had descended upon her and in an act of calculated brutality, liberated her from her former life. Upon sparing her, they found her very useful. The traitor‘s that had appeared from the Great Rift had ruined much, most of all, all of their maintenance servitors, which meant that they had needed a replacement and Aestra Khromys had made a good one.
“That should do you a greater service, so long as you put your effort into it.”
Ezikel was growing used to her complaints, frankly, she was beginning to entertain him.
“Very,” The simple word her only answer before she offered yet another smile, “And yes, ready as I’ll ever be I guess. That is until the next ship comes…” Her words cut short as the Wolf removed his ax from his hip. His fingers running over it as though it was a favorite lover or maybe some kind of a pet. Either way, when an Astartes put a weapon in hand one often stopped what they were doing. A bit of primal fear whispering in the back of the mind to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice. For if the man would not kill you, whatever caused him to draw his weapon might. Still, she was ready and knew that the rest of her belongings would be unloaded with the rest of the crates. So, she took what little she was carrying on her and followed. Making sure to follow close and stay out of the way of those moving about the transfer bay. Stopping short when the Space Wolf did. Blue eyes looking up to meet the disapproving stay of the Watch Sergeant. “Spero Ancora…Historian,” She repeated herself and knew she would again and again until everyone knew who she was. “A pleasure Watch Sergeant Ezikel, though I would not say I’m late. If I was late,” The woman’s words held little fear to them, her tone calm and collected. “If I was late, the ship would have left with me on it and Lord Wolfbane would have returned to you empty-handed.” Yet, she could not help but smirk a bit. Knowing if she had been a bit younger, she would have been just as upset as the Watch Sergeant looked. Not wanting to miss a second of time that could have been put into her work. But the times had changed and she had learned that there was no reason to kill yourself over a few minutes lost. More so when it came to the reports she would be writing.
“Kree wouldn’t have returned emptyhanded.” Watch Sergeant Ezikel said flippantly. “You’re both late. This ship has been unloading for over half a Terran hour. It will be for another two. If you had left with the ship, I would have just assumed you’d abandoned your objective. Not that it would have surprised me.”
He turned on his heel and marched off deeper into the unwelcoming metal of the Watch Fortress Enoch.
Kree, for his part, shook his head and pushed, gently, Spero ahead of him. “Don’t mind the Watch Sergeant. He’s never been the most cheerful Astartes, but he’s always been specific on time. Especially since we ended up alone. Just because we’re alone, doesn’t mean the requests for aide or mission files from the Ordo Xenos stopped coming in. There’s only us and precious little time to waste on anything that isn’t an objective or getting to one.”
They soon came upon a briefing room where three other marines stood. Ezikel set his stormbolter down and gestured to the mortal. “This is the addition we’ve been saddled with by direct request and favor. Don’t let her get in your way, but try to make sure she lives long enough to complete her objective.”
An Astartes, pale of skin and dark of hair pointed at the mortal. “What is she doing here anyhow?”
The Exorcist shrugged. “To the Warp if I know.”
It looked like she was about to say something for a moment, then thought against it. Deciding it was best just to keep what thoughts she had to herself, after all, it would not do her any good to get on the Sergeant’s bad side already. She needed them to talk to her, or at less be open to the idea that she would be around. So when Kree gave her a soft push, she started to walk. Making sure to keep in front of him as he spoke, allowing him to guide her toward where she needed to go. “I see, I will make sure to keep that in mind while I’m here.” The trip through the Watch Fortress was a short one at less, the trio entering the briefing room. Once she was out of the way of the door, Spero stopped. Taking a moment to look over the rest of the team, studying them in a way. After all, if she was going to be writing about them as she did not want to get the details wrong. An action that did not end, even when Ezikel introduced her in that cold tone of voice. Then came that fateful question. Another one of the Astartes giving an answer before she could speak. As if she could not answer the question for herself, “I’m here…” She started, the blue eyes looking over the room. “Because I was asked to go over your team’s history. The Ordo Xenos want what has happened here recorded for their records. The sooner I’m done.” Her eye stopped on Ezikel, “The sooner I can get out of your feet, Sergeant Ezikel.”
The Black Templar, clear as day given his iconography barked out in response to her reason for being here.
“Who in the Ordo Xenos is stupid enough to think that’s a good idea, much less want to record one of our missions?”
It was an honest question if a little crass. The Watch Sergeant simply shrugged. “No idea, but they do, so here she is.”
He turned and looked back at Spero. “Two things, first, introductions. You already know me and Kree Wolfbane of the Space Wolves.”
He pointed at the one that had asked what her purpose here was. “This is Machiavelli of the Knights of the Raven.” He then gestured to indicate the one who’d just spoken, the Templar. “That is Gottfried of the Black Templars.” He pointed to the last member of killteam. Though he was fair of visage and quite good looking, a son of Sanguinius in purity, but, he radiated a sense of danger, barely contained. “Last, but certainly not least, Flan of the Flesh Tearers.”
“This is Spero, a historian, as she said. Now that, that’s done you said the sooner you’re done, the sooner you’ll be gone? When do you think that ship or any other is coming back here mortal? Watch Fortress Enoch won’t be getting another ship passing through, that’s friendly and not our strike cruiser, for at least another five years and that is a small frigate, bringing parts for our vehicle bay. You’re stuck with us at least until then unless you’ve another ride?“
askawatchsergeantwh40k:
“Kill mission.” Simple words, but changed the tone.
“Kill mission.” It was repeated by every member of the Killteam.
They all looked at her, five sets of eyes peering into her soul, or so it seemed. Zek took the lead again. “Tell us about this item you’re looking for us to secure?”
Parameters had changed and now so required the knowledge they needed. Ezikel didn’t like this back and forth game too much but knew it was necessary. At least for now. The Inquisitor would tell his team what he needed to know, because now, whatever they were extracting was potentially worse than a host of Genestealers; the mission had changed to wasting her contact and taking the item as he was a tainted threat himself. Unless she made a damn good argument as to a reason they should bother not just cutting him in half with bolter fire.
The Inquisitor didn’t like the sound of ‘kill mission’. If the man died, as much as she claimed it to be preferable to his escape, there was to be a significant source of information lost. She set her jaw, doing her best to ignore the piercing stares of the Astartes. Her side of the table was feeling awfully small and lonely.
“The artifact itself is, as far as I am aware, some sort… data-storing pyramid. If the information I have is reliable, it is capable of emitting a signal to act as a beacon through the Warp, and to potentially transmit information in that manner. However. This beacon attracts the servants of the Ruinous Powers, and weakens the Veil significantly, moreso over time. This is the function the sect likely wishes to use it for.”
“I feel the need to stress the importance of capturing the heretic alive. He needs not be whole, but it would be ideal that he be capable of being interrogated in the near future. If there are more of these devices in existence, it is imperative that I know as soon as possible.”
“What does he know that should keep us from cutting him in half, the second we see him, Inquisitor?”
This time the quietest of the bunch had spoken up. The one clearly a son of Corax if not Raven Guard by his shoulder pad not identifying him as such. It happened to be the wrong color a plate mail metallic rather than the white of the Raven Guard.
“If the traitor is so dangerous, it would be better to silence him forever, than to keep him around. If you know something, now is the time to share. You are expecting we, of this brotherhood to trust you, to see you through this. It is time to start earning that Inquisitor. Unless you enjoy feeling very alone over there.”
The Astartes nodded to this, agreeing with their brother’s sentiments. It was as plain as the black armor they wore, that she was isolated over there, with a killteam that had been together for Emperor knew how long staring her down. She was the outsider, this Astartes was offering that to change, but she would have to earn it.
“Machiavelli is correct Inquisitor.” Came the rasp and thick accent that accompanied his long, once stark red beard. It was a clearer marker than he was a Space Wolf than even his should pad or axe. He looked considerably friendlier towards her than the others too. “You may not have sought us out, but here you are. Lean into the blow, not away from it.”
“Stop shining that torch on me! I’m not a damn ghost!”
The torch in question was mounted to the Veteran Watch Sergeant’s shoulder and shown brightly, illuminating and blinding the Guardsman in the deep darkness.
It had been backed up by a boltgun being pointed at the male intruder. It wasn’t entirely likely he could see the weapon pointed at him. A harsh metallic sounding voice came from the Marine.
“You aren’t a ghost, but you don’t belong here. What are you doing here Guardsman?”
“The hellgun will do.” It wasn’t exactly the punch he had hoped for when facing a greenskin, but he would make do with it.
It was no lasgun, and that was all that mattered to him. He wasn’t planning on running out and getting killed by the orks anyway. He knew his place in a field full of Space Marines; out of the way so they could do their job, watching the sides and picking off targets of oppertunity while basically just hiding. Perhaps not the most…courageous thing. But he had not survived this long by being a fool.
“I’ll stay out of your way, my lords.”
“Good.” Responded the Flesh Tearer at his comment of staying out of the way. The only thing he hated more than weakness, was mortals believing they could match the team’s combined centuries of experience and genetic enhancement. Though, he rarely said this out loud anymore.
He handed the hellgun to the Guardsman as Kree walked pass and practically knocked the mortal over with a hearty pat on the back. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just a blowhard. When the bloodlust and battle drunkness hits him, stick near me little one. Flan has been known to not pay attention to his targets.”
The Space Wolf as he always was, the ambassador between their Post-Human kind and those whom they protected and sheltered. Even when those mortals were fine warriors in their own right.
“Assuming I don’t find a nice solid piece of cover that’s out of the way and not being shot at so that you can go and bring the Emperor’s wrath to his foes, you have a deal.”
For a guardsman, a Marine was almost as good as cover. They were beefy and moved fast, and enemies tended to focus on them, not the squishy lightly armored normal human. He’d worked with the Star Ospreys before; the “quarterbacks” in front with the larger linebackers behind them and then lines of Guardsmen firing over their heads with long las and rockets. It worked pretty well.
Hadn’t done that same tactic alongside such notiriously vicious Marine members though. This was going to prove interesting.
“If we find any survivors in there, I’ll see about getting them out.” He didnt expect to find any, but…
“Where we are going, you’ll be lucky to be a survivor.” The Flesh Tearer said and checked over his weapon, the hulking Frag Cannon was bigger than a heavy bolter and meaner too. It would be very necessary for the coming engagement.
Kree didn’t argue this, lying to the infantryman now, wouldn’t really do them any good. They were going to try and kill a Warboss and then extract. While it might be just another day at the office for a killteam of the Deathwatch, it wasn’t for the squishy soldier standing amongst demigods of the Emperor’s wrath.
Ezikel returned and sealed his helmet. “Tighten it up! Get the Razor Back running and prepare for drop. I don’t want any fuck ups, you people are dragging me to this, so we’re gonna do it right. You, mortal. Start praying and don’t die in the first five seconds. That would be embarrassing even for one who got captured by the Orks to start with.”
My muse suddenly kisses yours on the cheek for no reason, what is your muses reaction?
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askawatchsergeantwh40k:
Kree spoke up at that moment. “You mean you his extraction is essential?”
Ezikel had caught it too. None of the brothers were wearing their helmets and his eyes were harder than even the Templar’s. He looked at her with a penetrating gaze.
“I suggest you now fill us in on what you’ve been keeping. I won’t walk into a mission that can be solved by a few simple lance strikes. Why is his extraction being prevented, when his extraction was our initial mission? What aren’t you telling us, Inquisitor?”
Verit blinked, before realizing her mistake. To her credit, at least, she met Ezikel’s gaze evenly while deciding it best to explain. “Apologies. Preventing his extraction via his own allies is essential. It would be ideal for us to capture him ourselves, but should it come down to his escape or his death, the latter is the acceptable outcome.”
“While I would love nothing more than avoiding the danger and solving this mission with ‘a few simple lance strikes’, as you so kindly put it, there is a high chance that such a solution will only cause further complications. If everything in the area is obliterated, then a positive identification is impossible. Determining if he has already passed off the artifact, impossible.”
“If the artifact or any of his information has reached the rest of the sect he is a part of, then it is very likely you will wish you only had the Genestealers to worry about, Sergeant. And I will have both more work to do, and lost one of the precious few leads I have had in the past three years regarding this group.” The entire while, her tone was steady and calm. The Inquisitor was ready to carry on herself, if he found the explanation unacceptable - but, that didn’t mean she wanted to.
“Kill mission.” Simple words, but changed the tone.
“Kill mission.” It was repeated by every member of the Killteam.
They all looked at her, five sets of eyes peering into her soul, or so it seemed. Zek took the lead again. “Tell us about this item you’re looking for us to secure?”
Parameters had changed and now so required the knowledge they needed. Ezikel didn’t like this back and forth game too much but knew it was necessary. At least for now. The Inquisitor would tell his team what he needed to know, because now, whatever they were extracting was potentially worse than a host of Genestealers; the mission had changed to wasting her contact and taking the item as he was a tainted threat himself. Unless she made a damn good argument as to a reason they should bother not just cutting him in half with bolter fire.
“Very,” The simple word her only answer before she offered yet another smile, “And yes, ready as I’ll ever be I guess. That is until the next ship comes…” Her words cut short as the Wolf removed his ax from his hip. His fingers running over it as though it was a favorite lover or maybe some kind of a pet. Either way, when an Astartes put a weapon in hand one often stopped what they were doing. A bit of primal fear whispering in the back of the mind to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice. For if the man would not kill you, whatever caused him to draw his weapon might. Still, she was ready and knew that the rest of her belongings would be unloaded with the rest of the crates. So, she took what little she was carrying on her and followed. Making sure to follow close and stay out of the way of those moving about the transfer bay. Stopping short when the Space Wolf did. Blue eyes looking up to meet the disapproving stay of the Watch Sergeant. “Spero Ancora…Historian,” She repeated herself and knew she would again and again until everyone knew who she was. “A pleasure Watch Sergeant Ezikel, though I would not say I’m late. If I was late,” The woman’s words held little fear to them, her tone calm and collected. “If I was late, the ship would have left with me on it and Lord Wolfbane would have returned to you empty-handed.” Yet, she could not help but smirk a bit. Knowing if she had been a bit younger, she would have been just as upset as the Watch Sergeant looked. Not wanting to miss a second of time that could have been put into her work. But the times had changed and she had learned that there was no reason to kill yourself over a few minutes lost. More so when it came to the reports she would be writing.
“Kree wouldn’t have returned emptyhanded.” Watch Sergeant Ezikel said flippantly. “You’re both late. This ship has been unloading for over half a Terran hour. It will be for another two. If you had left with the ship, I would have just assumed you’d abandoned your objective. Not that it would have surprised me.”
He turned on his heel and marched off deeper into the unwelcoming metal of the Watch Fortress Enoch.
Kree, for his part, shook his head and pushed, gently, Spero ahead of him. “Don’t mind the Watch Sergeant. He’s never been the most cheerful Astartes, but he’s always been specific on time. Especially since we ended up alone. Just because we’re alone, doesn’t mean the requests for aide or mission files from the Ordo Xenos stopped coming in. There’s only us and precious little time to waste on anything that isn’t an objective or getting to one.”
They soon came upon a briefing room where three other marines stood. Ezikel set his stormbolter down and gestured to the mortal. “This is the addition we’ve been saddled with by direct request and favor. Don’t let her get in your way, but try to make sure she lives long enough to complete her objective.”
An Astartes, pale of skin and dark of hair pointed at the mortal. “What is she doing here anyhow?”
The Exorcist shrugged. “To the Warp if I know.”
“Isn’t that what you’re already doing?”
askawatchsergeantwh40k:
“We will insert via airdropped Razorback, from there we will take this sub-highway route to your target’s last known transmission. Lighting up everything that isn’t Imperial that moves along the way. Emperor being with us, we’ll make it there before the spider at the center of the Genestealer Cult’s nest can rally his filthy kin against us. The last thing you or your target want is to be fighting every Emperor damned Genestealer in the area and then the Patriarch itself to accomplish this mission.”
Ezikel’s ceramite encased finger traced out the route of their travel.
“Since they are currently still engaging the local PDF and Militarum forces, if we do this right, that shouldn’t be a problem. As for you personally, you’re to pick a Veteran and stick to him like epoxy. We will keep you in the center of our formation and once we reach the target, you will extract your contact or lead us to where ever the idiot mortal bedded down. All the while, I suggest you pray. Fervently.”
Oh.
There’s a twist of nervous pain in her chest as her heart threatens to skip a beat merely at the idea at being airdropped in. Now was likely a bad time to mention her fear of heights - oh well. She’d have to deal with it to get her job done. It was fine. She’d be fine. Right?
The Inquisitor focused on the plan, memorizing the route they were to take as Ezikel traced it out. Her gaze flickers up to the squad, briefly flitting over the options she would have. Which one was least likely to be annoyed by her presence? She didn’t know them well enough to be able to gauge that. Likely Ezikel himself.
“Right. I do not care if my contact dies, but preventing his extraction is essential, as is the retrieval or destruction of the archeotech he is in possession of.” Of course she was going to be praying. There were so many points where this could go horribly wrong. “When are we to depart?”
Kree spoke up at that moment. “You mean you his extraction is essential?”
Ezikel had caught it too. None of the brothers were wearing their helmets and his eyes were harder than even the Templar’s. He looked at her with a penetrating gaze.
“I suggest you now fill us in on what you’ve been keeping. I won’t walk into a mission that can be solved by a few simple lance strikes. Why is his extraction being prevented, when his extraction was our initial mission? What aren’t you telling us, Inquisitor?”
Send 🤐 for a gif of something my muse secretly wants to do with yours.
Send “Zip It!” if you can’t send the symbol!
“Stop shining that torch on me! I’m not a damn ghost!”
The torch in question was mounted to the Veteran Watch Sergeant’s shoulder and shown brightly, illuminating and blinding the Guardsman in the deep darkness.
It had been backed up by a boltgun being pointed at the male intruder. It wasn’t entirely likely he could see the weapon pointed at him. A harsh metallic sounding voice came from the Marine.
“You aren’t a ghost, but you don’t belong here. What are you doing here Guardsman?”
“The hellgun will do.” It wasn’t exactly the punch he had hoped for when facing a greenskin, but he would make do with it.
It was no lasgun, and that was all that mattered to him. He wasn’t planning on running out and getting killed by the orks anyway. He knew his place in a field full of Space Marines; out of the way so they could do their job, watching the sides and picking off targets of oppertunity while basically just hiding. Perhaps not the most…courageous thing. But he had not survived this long by being a fool.
“I’ll stay out of your way, my lords.”
“Good.” Responded the Flesh Tearer at his comment of staying out of the way. The only thing he hated more than weakness, was mortals believing they could match the team’s combined centuries of experience and genetic enhancement. Though, he rarely said this out loud anymore.
He handed the hellgun to the Guardsman as Kree walked pass and practically knocked the mortal over with a hearty pat on the back. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just a blowhard. When the bloodlust and battle drunkness hits him, stick near me little one. Flan has been known to not pay attention to his targets.”
The Space Wolf as he always was, the ambassador between their Post-Human kind and those whom they protected and sheltered. Even when those mortals were fine warriors in their own right.
👀 Have you ever killed Eldar women and children?
Flan the Flesh Tearer looks up.
“Yes, both their women and children.”
Send my muse “👀 + a question” and they’ll have to answer with 100% honesty.
No deleting questions, either!
-Something new. Specify who you want, or I’m just gonna pick at random.-