Difference between revisions of "Philipii Prime"
Taser Maniac (Talk | contribs) |
Taser Maniac (Talk | contribs) (→Campaign Reports) |
||
| Line 147: | Line 147: | ||
<!------------------------------------------------> | <!------------------------------------------------> | ||
{{Template:Campaign Player Extract}} | {{Template:Campaign Player Extract}} | ||
| + | |||
| + | Resolution Part 1: | ||
| + | |||
| + | Zy'Tzev watched through the binocular vision zoom magnification of his goggles at a sight that, had his psychoactive training not robbed him of the emotion, would have filled him with fear. | ||
| + | Horus Lupercal, Warmaster, Son of the Emperor and Archtraitor, battered aside a Mk IIB Land Raider with a contemptous backhand swing of his mace. The Land Raider flipped upwards on its treads before flipping backwards, metal bending and twisting as the tank's weight rested on an axis that was never meant to hold it. With a deafening crash the Iron Hands transport fell to the ground on what had been its top and burst into flames. Zy'Tzev watched without emotion, writing off the Iron Hands inside as dead in the tally of mathematical solutions his sniper's mind saw battle as. In moments though the sides of the tank ripped open as the Warmaster approached, and Autek Morr and his Terminators pulled their way free of the wreckage. Astartes carrying Plasma weapons disembarked from a Rhino as the smaller tank screamed forward, determined to defend the Iron Father to the last from the inevitable death that was about to face him. As he zoomed on the Warmaster's face he saw Horus' lips break into a smile that did not touch his black, burning eyes. | ||
| + | |||
| + | The Vindicare was brought out of his study for the briefest of moments as aircraft engines burned over him. An Iron Hands Fire Raptor was now descending on the Warmaster, the deadly Bolt Cannons on the prow beginning to spool up. Zy'Tzev's eyes snapped back to Horus, watching concentrated plasma and bolt shells rip into Horus' bodyguard and cut them down...but the Warmaster was untouched. His skin and armor rippled with unholy power, bulking his form beyond even post-natural means, shimmering with the very energy of the Warp itself. Whatever this thing was, it was beyond what Horus had been, and beyond the ability of mortal weapons to kill. | ||
| + | Zy'Tzev snapped his hand to a small pouch on his belt and removed a capsule no more than 4 inches long. He pressed hard to his thumb, and felt the small DNA decoder key press the sharp needle home into his flesh, tasting his blood and keying green to unlock. He removed a single bullet; a shell casing holding the most valuable weapon in his arsenal. Every one of his Temple received only one such round, a round used to defeat things that no sane mind could reason existed. In his time trapped behind the Ruinstorm, providing his services to Guilliman until a way to Terra could be found, he had been tempted to use it almost a dozen times against the worst horrors imaginable, and some even beyond that. Now...he gave silent thanks to the Faceless Master and the God-Emperor Himself that he had always erred on the side of caution. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Horus was nearing Morr now, laughing a deep, booming chuckle that chilled the very marrow...but Morr and his Astartes stood resolute, firing their weapons until the barrels burned red hot. Zy'Tzev snapped his head up once more to find the Fire Raptor and then back to the Warmaster. He had time. His bleeding thumb snapped the round into the breach, and pulled his Exodus rifle up to firing position. The crosshairs zoomed in automatically with the mind link shared with the weapon, skipping down past Horus head and to the eye leering out from his chest. Wind adjustments keyed in and clicked, showing the direct firing line, but he ignored it. It was not needed, not with instinct. Instinct would always be far superior to any technological aid. He took a breath, let it out and held it out. Then, he squeezed the trigger. Horus' armor was hammered by a fragmented shell. Within the round was a tiny stasis field, surrounding a single drop of liquid. Specifically, it could be called a tear. The deadliest poison to the Warp Touched in the galaxy, severing their touch to the beings they called their Gods and burning their very essenses to dust. A tear of the God Emperor Himself. The tear smashed into Horus' armor, and the Warmaster glared in the direction of the Vindicare almost impatiently...and then his face curled into a rictus of agony as golden light burst from his chest. He screamed as the dark aura surrounding him faded for the briefest of moments...moments enough. Plasma bolts from the Iron Hands burned into him and the first bolt shells of the Fire Raptor's furious assault cracked his armor and spilled crimson blood to the dust of the ground. The Arch-Traitor fell to his knees as the assault continued, roaring as a plasma blast tore off part of his face and the attack run of the gunship battered him. He raised his claw to the sky and bellowed something. With a flash of light and a brief whiff of ozone he disappeared. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Zy'Tzev cursed under his breath and shook his head. He should have known better than to expect the Astartes to finish the chance to kill the Warmaster, and for his confidence in them Horus had escaped. Had he been faster he could have loaded another round into his rifle and ended the Heresy on this forsaken planet. He told himself that to feel better about the situation; nothing Warp Touched should have been able to survive the impact of that round. Nothing from that hellish realm could even stand the presence of it without withering. For the first time in his life, despite all of his training, he knew fear. Fear of what was to come if Horus reached Terra, and the Emperor. | ||
==Battle Reports== | ==Battle Reports== | ||
Revision as of 16:42, 21 July 2017
| Philipii Prime | |
|---|---|
 Frontier Imperial world | |
|
Segmentum: |
Ultima Segmentum |
|
Sector: |
|
|
Subsector: |
|
|
System: |
|
|
Class: |
Agri World |
|
Type: |
Major |
| 280px ' | |
Loyalist armies have descended upon the Traitor held world of Philipii Primaris, a stable gateway through the terrible Ruinstorm. With their hearts set on intercepting the Warmaster and his armies before they can reach Terra itself, the Loyalists will stop at nothing to take this world.
Meanwhile the Traitor forces are digging in, prepared to take the full force of this counter attack and blunt it, so that Horus' sacred task can continue uninterrupted. As the first contrails of Imperial dropships burn through the atmosphere, gauntleted fists are raised, and a single cry is raised in defiance: "DEATH TO THE FALSE EMPEROR!"
PhysicsType Large iron/silicate Mass 1.34 x 1453 kg Density 5.11 g/cm3 Composition 30.1% oxygen, 29.3% iron, 28.2% silicon, 9.1% titanium, 1.9% other metals, 1.4% other elements |
GravimetryGravity 15.78 m/s2 Escape Velocity 14.9 km/s Rotation Period 47.1 hours Axis Tilt 9.81 ° |
AtmosphereType Thick Breathable Pressure 81.13 kPa Composition 60.3% nitrogen, 21.3% oxygen, 16.4% argon, trace other gases |
Population
History
Campaign Reports
Imperial Search....No Result
Resolution Part 1:
Zy'Tzev watched through the binocular vision zoom magnification of his goggles at a sight that, had his psychoactive training not robbed him of the emotion, would have filled him with fear. Horus Lupercal, Warmaster, Son of the Emperor and Archtraitor, battered aside a Mk IIB Land Raider with a contemptous backhand swing of his mace. The Land Raider flipped upwards on its treads before flipping backwards, metal bending and twisting as the tank's weight rested on an axis that was never meant to hold it. With a deafening crash the Iron Hands transport fell to the ground on what had been its top and burst into flames. Zy'Tzev watched without emotion, writing off the Iron Hands inside as dead in the tally of mathematical solutions his sniper's mind saw battle as. In moments though the sides of the tank ripped open as the Warmaster approached, and Autek Morr and his Terminators pulled their way free of the wreckage. Astartes carrying Plasma weapons disembarked from a Rhino as the smaller tank screamed forward, determined to defend the Iron Father to the last from the inevitable death that was about to face him. As he zoomed on the Warmaster's face he saw Horus' lips break into a smile that did not touch his black, burning eyes.
The Vindicare was brought out of his study for the briefest of moments as aircraft engines burned over him. An Iron Hands Fire Raptor was now descending on the Warmaster, the deadly Bolt Cannons on the prow beginning to spool up. Zy'Tzev's eyes snapped back to Horus, watching concentrated plasma and bolt shells rip into Horus' bodyguard and cut them down...but the Warmaster was untouched. His skin and armor rippled with unholy power, bulking his form beyond even post-natural means, shimmering with the very energy of the Warp itself. Whatever this thing was, it was beyond what Horus had been, and beyond the ability of mortal weapons to kill. Zy'Tzev snapped his hand to a small pouch on his belt and removed a capsule no more than 4 inches long. He pressed hard to his thumb, and felt the small DNA decoder key press the sharp needle home into his flesh, tasting his blood and keying green to unlock. He removed a single bullet; a shell casing holding the most valuable weapon in his arsenal. Every one of his Temple received only one such round, a round used to defeat things that no sane mind could reason existed. In his time trapped behind the Ruinstorm, providing his services to Guilliman until a way to Terra could be found, he had been tempted to use it almost a dozen times against the worst horrors imaginable, and some even beyond that. Now...he gave silent thanks to the Faceless Master and the God-Emperor Himself that he had always erred on the side of caution.
Horus was nearing Morr now, laughing a deep, booming chuckle that chilled the very marrow...but Morr and his Astartes stood resolute, firing their weapons until the barrels burned red hot. Zy'Tzev snapped his head up once more to find the Fire Raptor and then back to the Warmaster. He had time. His bleeding thumb snapped the round into the breach, and pulled his Exodus rifle up to firing position. The crosshairs zoomed in automatically with the mind link shared with the weapon, skipping down past Horus head and to the eye leering out from his chest. Wind adjustments keyed in and clicked, showing the direct firing line, but he ignored it. It was not needed, not with instinct. Instinct would always be far superior to any technological aid. He took a breath, let it out and held it out. Then, he squeezed the trigger. Horus' armor was hammered by a fragmented shell. Within the round was a tiny stasis field, surrounding a single drop of liquid. Specifically, it could be called a tear. The deadliest poison to the Warp Touched in the galaxy, severing their touch to the beings they called their Gods and burning their very essenses to dust. A tear of the God Emperor Himself. The tear smashed into Horus' armor, and the Warmaster glared in the direction of the Vindicare almost impatiently...and then his face curled into a rictus of agony as golden light burst from his chest. He screamed as the dark aura surrounding him faded for the briefest of moments...moments enough. Plasma bolts from the Iron Hands burned into him and the first bolt shells of the Fire Raptor's furious assault cracked his armor and spilled crimson blood to the dust of the ground. The Arch-Traitor fell to his knees as the assault continued, roaring as a plasma blast tore off part of his face and the attack run of the gunship battered him. He raised his claw to the sky and bellowed something. With a flash of light and a brief whiff of ozone he disappeared.
Zy'Tzev cursed under his breath and shook his head. He should have known better than to expect the Astartes to finish the chance to kill the Warmaster, and for his confidence in them Horus had escaped. Had he been faster he could have loaded another round into his rifle and ended the Heresy on this forsaken planet. He told himself that to feel better about the situation; nothing Warp Touched should have been able to survive the impact of that round. Nothing from that hellish realm could even stand the presence of it without withering. For the first time in his life, despite all of his training, he knew fear. Fear of what was to come if Horus reached Terra, and the Emperor.
Battle Reports
Imperial Search....No Result
Skirmish Reports
- Imperial Search....No Result
