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Karian Icefang      Adramus four was normally a fairly quiet planet. Nothing ever happened on this agri-world. Except that lately more attention had been brought to the world. Now, the world had been descending into dark worship of the prince of excess. Things had gotten bad enough that most of the planetary milita even worshipped. To sum it up, they had begun to start up the lengthy ritual of openning up a portal to the warp, and worse yet, it seemed a few marines of the Emperor's Children were on-site directing, as well as some townspeople being lead to the alter by a trio of deamonettes.
Karian Icefang     Follwing the reports from an imperial drone, Karian and his wolves deployed quietly onto the planet. He didn't know things were as dire as they were, but he knew that this needed to be stopped here and now. "We have no idea if any militia are still loyal. Even so, be cautious. Also keep a scan for allies in the area. Move out, Brothers." He instructs, leading the way towards the ritual.
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     Those who arrive at the designated landing zone would find no trace of any Imperial assets at all, except the presence of a floating servo-skull tucked into a crevice in some rocks. Upon sighting the Wolves however, it hovered out of its hiding spot, moving ahead of Karian to scan him.
    "Identity confirmed. Encrypted message for attention of Space Wolf forces. Beginning playback."
    The servo-skull floats backwards for a moment, before displaying a holographic video of sorts. The image is rather shaky, obviously taken at a large distance and zoomed in, but it outlines the area around the ritual site, runes blinking on the view in Fenrisian to mark potential sites to stage an ambush or tactical insertion. Another few runes flash up, this time with warnings of planted explosives. The view suddenly lurches and shifts, showing the face of a Space Wolf, a noticeable feature of his being the wolf pelt he wears, muttering quietly in Fenrisian.
    "<Going to be maintaining radio silence. Too many traitors. Advise you do the same. Keeping an eye on the ritual site. Should it get too close to completion, I'll detonate the charges. Don't be near it.>"
    Then, the message flickers off, the servo-skull shutting down with its purpose complete.
Mortimer Balman      Mortimer was hanging with Karian when the call went out. Granted, even if he hadn't been, he'd have gladly volunteered to aid his friends. Even without the politics of a mutant fighting alongside Astartes (which, really, could only be good given his track record), they were comrades. The problem of course being that much of this world was deviating, and the Enemy would be looking for the Imperium. They would have to be cautious until more, proper forces could arrive. This is a mission that would require cunning and care.

     The best way to avoid being seen, is to not be looked for in the first place. The best way not to be looked for, is to provide your enemy with something demanding their immediate attentions. What better use for someone who cannot join in on the tactical espionage action, than to have them provide a distraction?

     An Astartes drop pod, with the Space Wolf insignias and identifiers removed, began screaming from orbit. It had no Chapter markings of any sort, only bright flames hastily painted on the sides. 12,000 kilometers per second, screaming across the skies. Broadcasting a message across all local channels in a voice only a few would be familiar with.

     "SALVATION COMES. LOOK TO THE SKIES. THE FAITHFUL WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN. THE EMPEROR PROTECTS."

     The pod slams into the middle of an enemy formation. Traitor Guardsmen are forced to scatter or risk being crushed as the pod lands, and the doors slam open. Bolt shells begin flying out from a handful of small automated guns, and a terrible, truly inhuman roar that echoes for miles is unleashed from within, sending even more of them fleeing in horror. What nightmare has been thrown at them? Space Marines make no such horrid sounds.

     Flames and the whirling of a golden blade bigger than a man follow, cleaving into those who have the stones to hold their ground. There will be plenty to keep the Traitors and their Daemonhost occupied while the heroes position themselves.
William Pauwel     It's a Chaser's duty to explore the vast expanse beyond the distant horizon. To see unseen lands and travel the roads less travelled. To gaze upon the far-off hills and meet the people who live there. To boldly go.

Where no man.

Has gone before.

    And to make a handy profit when you find a ruin full of stuff to excavate, but Will suspects that he won't have a chance to find any of those here. There's a crack of plasma and the sharp scent of ozone as a nearby warpgate lenses to life and explodes in a manner not-too-different from those that a daemon might emerge from. This is no warp monster, though. It's a suit of power armor covered in jet black plate, armed with a handcannon that blazes with the hot, blue light of a young star.

    "I heard y'all needed a few hands!" William Pauwel yells as he lands, kinetic capacitors in the T-45's legs charging with the impact-- and then discharging a wave of force into the daemons and their profane altar. "Eugh, these things are ugly," the Chaser grimaces, taking aim with his trusty sidearm. The Solano blazes with a flash of eye-searing light, unleashing a quick series of blue-white starburst shots at one of the Daemonettes.

SO MUCH FOR SUBTLETY
Yulia Koslova      For all that Karian and his battle-brothers think well of her, Yulia has never been one to leap at the first chance of battle. Oh, certainly they can depend on her, but she fights not for glory and honor but out of necessity.
    That said, after what's been going on in her backyard here lately, she is really really glad for a battlefield on which the enemy is clear cut.
    And so one Not-Really-A-Titan twenty meter tall mecha has come to support the Space Wolves. Stealth is not really an option for her, but she does try to keep her energy output as low as possible to decrease the chance of being picked up on scans. Cockpit open and sitting cross-legged at its edge, her brow furrows at the video message delivered by drone. Nope, this doesn't looks good. "So, where do you..." she begins, only to be interruped by the Giant Screaming Drop Pod that's just sailed overhead. "...um. I guess that sneaking up is moot now."
Kushiko "A new Alert is available, Tenno. Check your Navigation for more details."

Those were the words of the Lotus which in turn Kushiko began to review through the optics of her Warframe situated at the Orbiter's bridge. "Huh," she muses. "Chaos." Enough had been gleaned from various sources about them. Coupled with the transmission itself, the mission itself was more of breaking the back of those growing in strength. Extermination and assassination rolled into one.

And given the nature of Chaos and their tendency to remind her of the Grineer and Infested rolled into one, it was Valkyr she had chosen, coupled with a reasonably potent heavy shotgun and rifle-like sidearm, she too would depart. Oh, and a very /big/ Kubrow (even if the space wolves might merely think the walking slab of meat and fur merely a puppy relatively) of black and purple fur similar to the colors the technorganic Warframe sported.

All the same, the way /this/ particular individual got herself to the field was a far cry different from say someone EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE HELLO OVER THERE DROP POD was the Liset landing craft. Prismatic crystal alloying aside, it did a remarkably nice job of being on absolutely /no one's/ sensors, and only when it actually allowed Kushiko's Valkyr to disembark from the underside drop point did it even physically show up as thrusters that had brought it in fired quickly and steadied the ship long enough for the spade-shaped vessel to drop off the feminine-looking frame onto a nearby roof along with the Kubrow. Yet as quickly as she arrived, she just as quickly faded from view.

After all, they were here to hunt, and the Kubrow could smell prey far better as they needed to quickly assess who they needed to go after. Daemonettes were one thing, but there were surely more, right?

In the meantime, the mysterious Lotus would also make contact with those here and make a very confident forewarning about the presence of 'Tenno' here.
Karian Icefang     The traitor guardsmen scatter as the pod falls to the ground, and some flee at the sound eminating from the pod. Others lock in and find themselves getting cleaved. "What a bother....deal with them, my dears. We will finish this ritual." said the apparent leader, a traitor marine in rather decorated armor. The trio of deamonettes turn and smile widely. "Oh....this will be fun!~" They say in unison as they charge for mort. William gets a glance from one of them, and a wink. From near the alter, and unholy cacophany of noise echoes. "This silence is an affront to slaanesh! We will fill it with our blessed sounds!" shouts a noise marine, letting his sonic blaster roar loudly at anything that got near, be it Kubrow, Tenno, Firebader, or armored chaser.
    Karian looks over the runes from the servo-skull, surprised. "We have scouts deployed? Another company perhaps. Still, share that info with our allies." He says to his Iron Priest, who quickly dessiminates the into. Yulia gets a fond nod. "We have a portal to prevent, as well as what appears to be another ally. Let's move." He says, moving towards an ambush point.
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     With Distraction Mort in operation, it isn't long until a loud shot rings out, aimed at the leader of the group. The shot impacts against their armor, the burst of explosives in the bolt cracking and blowing chunks of their ceramite plate away and exposing their mutated flesh underneath. A few more shots ring out shortly after, scattered amongst the various guardsmen and blowing chunks of gore around them, their chests exploded by the tell-tale burst of bolter shells. It seems the scouts have the area surrounded given the angles of the shots. A moment later, each of the explosives are detonated, catching the fleeing guardsmen in their blasts. Some of them may be near Kushiko and others, but those who were warned beforehand should be safe. Karian would recieve a short direct vox meanwhile, but no actual voice. A very brief burst to acknowledge the other's presence before silence again.
Mortimer Balman      The Daemons are one of the most dangerous things that his allies will have to concern themselves with on the battlefield- to that end, Mortimer's careful positioning and flagrant, ostentatious display of entrance has done its job. The Daemonettes are now focused on him. He is fully aware of what they do, what they /can/ do, to a mortal mind. While he would never doubt his allies' ability to withstand the vile temptations these creatures offer, he would rather not risk them dealing with them at all. "C'mon girls, let's go fer a /run!/" He even goes so far as to slap his ass and shake it when the Daemonettes begin rushing him. Taunting them in a way that only the dumbest or bravest would even dream of doing- or, perhaps, one with a plan.

     Ostensibly, Daemonettes are fast as Hell. Far faster than humans. Mort is too, though. And even as age is coming after him, he's fully capable of leading the wretched Slaaneshi beasts on a merry chase across the settlement. Away from their allies, though more than a few of the Traitor Guard who haven't been killed yet will no doubt give chase, if only to be in the presence of the wondrous Daemonettes.

     Away from the safety of Noise and Numbers.

     Across alleys and rooftops, down the roads, a good two or three hundred meters away from their Master, too far for him to help them- if he's even still alive- and Mort will stop leading them on, stop goading them. He throws the colossal Daiklave into a Traitor Guard, pinning him against one of the walls, and then pulls out his knife. "I think this is a good spot fer some fun, don't you? Nobody to get in our way.. I always was a sucker fer romance though, ye know what I mean?" The knife is flipped around a few times. "...Tell me girls, you think the show's gonna be more fun fer /yer/ worthless God, or p'raps fer that Blood Bastard?"
Kushiko Hmm... given what's going on here, /sabotage/ may well be in the cards for what the Tenno need to do. With only a short burst of acknowledgement over channels, the Tenno starts to move. And when we say we move we mean /really/ move.

The Kubrow too, both figures cloaked by Void energy fields break into a sprint, the Valkyr in particular launching into the air in a spiralling motion only to start to glide, skipping one building and lightly kicking off another as she circles.

Indeed, however she is rather mindful of explosives as they go off--frankly to another's eyes she might be too close to some but they don't seem to bother her. Assuming it's a her at least beyond the shape. Nonetheless, she does watch the flow of battle for just a few moments and with Hrolfur's scouts doing what they're doing, the Tenno switches gears.

Now, the Space Wolves, and perhaps to a similar extent the others nearby would not so much... /hear it/ though it certainly echoes distantly but likely feel a howl of some sort--primal power woken with deliberate intent as Valkyr suffuses herself with /Hysteria/. Thus from seemingly out of nowhere, one traitor Guardsman is knocked to the ground and his head splatters into horrific gore.

The reason for this simply bleeds out of the cloaked shadow--Valkyr, now bearing long energy claws and looking more predator than not, launches into a flurry that spares no waste of movements. Tearing armor off with simple sweeps of clawed hands. Throwing a kick into one, three clawtipped toes leaving ruinous damage in it's wake as she simply /rips and tears/ like nothing else.

Granted, Hrolfur and some of the others nearby may get a nice eyeful of this sudden carnage of Valkyr and her Kubrow launching themselves like well-oiled killing machines into the likely terrified Guardsmen. The massive hound, batlike snout and all tackling more than a few Guardsmen down in order to tear their throats out, leaving little more than a few strands ofe skin and sinew behind. Only marginally less murderous than the way Valkyr's going at it.
Yulia Koslova      Yulia gives a sharp nod, then scrambles back into her seat. Her haro copilot wastes no time in shutting the cockpit hatch and bringing the weapons systems online. Around them, screens brighten to give her a mostly unobstructed view of the world around her. A silent view, as she's muted the mic pickups from outside. If that means that having to communicate with her by hand signals, so be it. She learned from the last time.
    She makes a quick check of her feet to be sure the way is clear - stepping on her allies would be a Really Bad Thing - before the mobile suit takes its first thudding steps forward in the direction of the area that had been marked as having been wired with explosives. With the map they've been given dropped into an inset screen, she moves to the top of the largest hill she can find...well, calling it a hill is still laughable, but it's at least a few meters higher than she would be otherwise...and starts laying down plasma cover fire for the others.
William Pauwel Will visibly shudders at the Daemonette's FLIRTATIOUS WAYS. "Sorry lady, you are definitely not my type," she's not even a little bit mechanica--

Er.

N-nevermind.

    Unfortunately, Will's targets-of-opportunity are being drawn away into a well-meaning weasel with a little too much agility for his own good. "Wha-hey! Get back here!" The Chaser yells, lurching into a lead-footed pursuit. The old T-45 is nowhere near as mobile as an armored pokemon, but it does have one thing going for it.

That thing being that Will is a hell of a mechanic.

    "Redirectin' power," Will mutters, surging into a sudden leap. The suit's greaves suddenly hiss, shift and transform. Devices like tank treads press into the ground in mid-spin, driven by miniature servo-motors devised by a civilization older even than (most of) the rest of the armor. It takes off like a shot-- or rather, like a walking tank, rolling over hills and smashing right through doors, concrete walls and worse.

If Mort thought he'd be getting the Daemonettes all to himself, he's somewhat mistaken.

    The T-45 rolls out from behind an alleyway. "Yer really goin' at this with nothing but a knife?" Will says with mild disbelief. His weapon discharges another series of white-hot plasma slugs right at one of the Daemonette sisters. "I reckon you've got a deathwish or something!"
Karian Icefang     The deamonettes happily charge after mort and once he stops, smiles. "We will enjoy playing and toying with your soul, mortals. You may even learn to enjoy the pain.." They whisper, before turning to smile at william. As his plama gun hits one, she makes some rather uncomfortable sounds, hinting that she enjoyed that a little bit. "You really now how to treat someone, mortal. I think I'll make you my pet." the victim muses, leaping for William. The other two leap for mort, all wielding horrific bladearms. Meanwhile, Kushiko draws the attention of the noise marine, who lets out the hard, sonic waves from the sonic blaster, despite looking like something out of an 80's reject hair metal band. The kubrow would find some shots from the traitor guardsmen coming it's way, but most of it was panic fire. The leader looks down as his armor is hit, and lets out a truely unholy scream. "HOW DARE YOU?!?! MY PERFECT ARMOR!" He then turns and starts to take off in the direction of the fire, only to be pinned by incoming plasma fire. "Damn you!! Finish the ritual, Cultist! SUMMON MY PERFECT BRETHREN!" He screams, but then the explosives go off. "NOOOO!!!!!" The leader yells out, his plans starting to fall apart. But still, the alter remains strong and intact. "Yes, master! We will get the rest and offer them!" A culstist shouts, darting off towards the nearby cells.
    Karian and the space wolves move in as the explosives go off. "CHARGE! FOR THE ALLFATHER!" He bellows out. From the ambush spot run the sons of russ, who instantly clash into the running cultists. He then makes a motion towards where he imagined some scouts were. "Move forward, secure the people and make sure they are not sacrificed. I wager just one and we have a portal."
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     The cells. Perfect. As the cultists near the cells, a sharp whistle sounds out from one of the nearby habitats. With a snarl, out lunges a large Fenrisian wolf, going straight for the cultist's throat and biting down. From the opposite side is a howl to match Karian's own, with others sounding from all around the place. Seems the scouts are making their presence known now, shifting into nearby cover and taking bolter shots at individual cultists, specifically prioritizing around the cells. Meanwhile, one scout wearing a wolf pelt, the one from the servo-skull message, charges out as well, combat knife swirling to chop through cultists and taking the occasional pistol shot towards the leader, a swirl of blades and fur in the meantime. For now, he's focussing on the hordes, leaving the leader for the heavier armored foes.
Kushiko Against one of the other Warframes, that sonic blast would probably do something to at least /stagger/ the frame Kushiko is using. For a moment, it seems to, momentarily making Valkyr stagger forward slightly in the midst of her murder.

But then, that's when she simply turns around throws out her hand--the gesture launching a grappling hook connected by a line of solid lilac-tinged energy, and when it connects? She yanks down and towards her, the sheer tensile strength exerted not just yanking the Noise Marine towards her, but slightly upwards as she herself pivots and launches herself forward. It's in this the Noise Marine may release that sonic blast did /nothing/ but piss her off. As if to say that wound of primal ancestry, that great and terrible wrong done to her was something /far worse/ than anything the Noise Marine of Chaos could ever imagine.

Not that he has /time/ to imagine as ten individual energy claws sink into his chest as Valkyr meets the 80s hair reject mid-(h)air in order to simply shove her hands through his armor, through his body--

And split him down the middle, sending the bifurcated body downwards as she threw out another grappling hook of a Rip Line and send itself in a tight ball of somersaulting claws like a /literal/ buzzsaw into the Noise Marines with almost wanton abandon.

No, change that it /is/ wanton abandon as she cuts her way back towards the portal with a dizzying kind of speed and ferocity; those watching her /know/ she's swinging her claws but she's speeding up by the moment while those she fight simply slow down by the sheer killing intent she's giving off in oppressive waves as she makes a beeline for the leader.
Mortimer Balman      Mortimer exhales a plume of smoke, thick and acrid. He can already feel their Presence gnawing at his mind a bit. Hopefully that damned fool boy in his fancy armor won't get affected too badly.. And hopefully he could keep up. This was gonna be a Charlie Foxtrot and a half.

     He was getting too old for this shit.

     "Sorry sweethearts, my soul's already spoken fer. But hey, I'm not averse to a one night stand.." Don't look at the boy, Mort quietly prays in his head. Don't focus on the boy in his slow armor. Focus on the burning Pokemorph. Focus on the man whose head is ablaze and.. Giving off tons of smoke, making it hard to see. Will and his electronic senses would pierce through it easy enough, but the Daemonettes would have to rely on their own innate daemonic senses. And Mort, well, he'd have to rely on sound. Sound and the /stench/.

     The old pokemorph launches forward once his headflames die down a bit, puffing out balls of flame just large enough to catch the attention of the hermaphroditic horrors, so that he can force them all to lock themselves into close combat with him. The sound of metal from Mort's knife and the bands wrapped over his boots can be heard bouncing off of Daemonette claws and pincers, along with the roars and shrieks of people trying to carve each other to pieces.

     It might be hard for Will to see whose who in this mess, though.. The radiation that Mort gives off no doubt makes him show up on the same wavelength as the Daemonettes.
Yulia Koslova     Things are presumably on fire at this point, and small-c chaos abounding. In all honesty it's hard to keep up with what all of the others are doing on the field. This is hardly her first sortie like this, sure, but that doesn't make it any less tricky to keep track of so many smaller friends-and-foes. Trying to not hit the friends remains a priority, but since nothing seems to be overly coordinated on the ground, she concentrates on finding where she and her suit can do the most good.
    Where that seems to be right this moment just may be in the center of this mess.
    The Not-Titan continues firing as it backs down the shallow hill, then stops. The sound of supercharged plasma shifts to that of a revving hum, almost but not quite like a rocket, as the jagd doga's underskirt and foot thrusters are warmed up. Technically they're designed for maneuvering in space, not atmosphere, but...
    The heavy thuds of walking kickg up to a run as the 'suit clears the edge of the shallow hill, Then it leaps, thrusters kicking in to give it a greater boost in the air and to hopefully clear those below. There's no windmilling like you see in a proper long jump, and as soon as the thrusters kick off it starts falling with all the grace of a concrete block, but its aim is clear - to land on top of the altar!
William Pauwel     Man, a direct hit only mildly inconvenienced this thing? And she liked it? Looks like he might need a bit more power. Will grunts, snapping a thick cable into the back-end of his trusty plasma pistol. "Like I said, lady. I reckon there's probably someone out there what likes the pink-skin tentaclehair look, but it ain't me!" Will growls, a dull throb beginning at the back of his head. A quick warning from Mort has him click his tongue-- don't look at them. Right. "Switchin' to targeting mode. Maestro!" The T-45's visor flickers, then lights up with a flash of cold, blue light. Will's field of view is suddenly swallowed by a wash of electronic noise that shortly thereafter dissolves into a complicated series of geometric shapes. Electronic targeting, courtesy of the Ancients themselves.

Unfortunately, it doesn't really help much in melee.

    Will lifts an arm to fend off the daemonette's polearm, but her strike hews into the T-45's armor regardless. A tiny paperdoll display on his HUD flashes from pale blue to yellow. Moderate damage to the left arm. But nothing he can't deal with.

    His damaged arm snaps up, seizing an mailed fist around the polearm's shaft as it comes in for another swing. The T-45's servos whirr with power, holding the weapon fast with ironclad strength. "Sorry," Will says, pointing the business end of his weapon at the little squiggly outline that is the Daemonette. "Y'all probably won't feel this."

    He squeezes the trigger. The Solano seems to go up like a tiny supernova, a veritable cylinder of stellar fire erupting from its barrel. That Daemonette might not find this one nearly so... pleasant.
Karian Icefang     The forces of chaos had planned well. They had prepared for ground forces, even bombardment, but not a giant mech. The alter is smashed to pieces under the weight, and the sheer scream from both the leader, and the warp itself was audible and palpable. This even distracted the deamonettes, who now seemed slower and sluggish. This allowed Mort's knife to cut into the deamonettes, and williams pistol to strike true. "No...please don't send us back.....we'll behave....we promise!~" They whisper, trying to bait and lure. The one targetted by william grins again. "Hehehe.....yesss......pain is so much pleasure...." She taunts. The leader turned to try to think, only to meet an angry warframe. To be fair, he was a skilled swordsman, and brought his blade up in a parry. Meanwhile, cultists tried to run away from the scouts, and right into the charging space wolves. A whistle finds Karian's wolf Ygdril leaping from the shadows and mauling one poor culstist. "You....name and company?" He asks towards Hrolfur, the seeming commander of the scouts.
Hrolfur Asgeirsson Hrólfur whirled around, his knife catching another cultist in the throat before he forcefully yanks it free, the victim falling with a gurgle. He looks to Karian, his pistol swinging to shoot another cultist behind him in the chest. Notably for Karian, it seems to be a Guardian Bolt Pistol. That sort of thing isn't standard-issue.
    "Hrólfur Ásgeirsson. I answer to the Great Wolf himself," he says, switching to his bolter now to pick off the farther foes while slipping back into cover near Karian. "Lost contact a week ago. Been observing the situation since. First traitors, now xenos. Glad to see the Vylka Fenryka again."
    He pops his head above the collapsed wall, taking potshots at the leader now, aiming to punch more holes in their ceramite armor with his high-explosive rounds. The more mutated flesh exposed, the easier to take out their twin hearts. He ducked back down, punching the fire-selector on his gun to switch back to standard ammunition. Nothing too fancy for the heretics remaining.
    "Until I get word from Grimnar, I guess I'm under your command," he growls out, almost seeming to dislike the idea. "Don't waste my pack."
Kushiko Oh that leader, ooh he is a /tough one/. Which if anything gets Kushiko even /more/ interested in killing him. Or was that Valkyr's influence? It didn't matter. What did matter was taking him down as quickly as possible. And frankly, with the chaff of minions being torn through between her and her Kubrow, it didn't take long for her to simply bolt out of /nowhere/ and send herself hurtling towards that leader.

But, the thing of it was, it wasn't just her trying to lunge at him, no. As she spiralled into close range, she unleashed a howling cry, crossing her arms and then /venting/ Voidlight energy from her shields. It was a stunning wave of force outwards for one reason alone: to put him off balance just a bit more; especially with what Hrolfur's boys had already been doing--that torn open armor point was just too juicy of a target.

Hard to parry energy like that, she would think.

It was then that she simply leapt forward to drag him down backwards and with the most efficient economy of movement--if he /did/ topple over? She would curl and flip around to plant a knee into his shoulder and neck to brace herself to simply /shove her clawed hand/ through that broken armor and grab a handful of guts and viscera to rip from his body.
Yulia Koslova     There is a shuddering but very satisfying *WHUUUDTHMMMP* as twenty-eight tons of combat machine comes crashing down on the unholy altar.
    Being at the center means that Yulia can't not hear the screams of the warp. Her hands whip away from the controls to clamp over her ears, but of course that's no help for something that wails in her mind. Her mostly silent cockpit echoes with screams - the warp, and then her own, too.
    The good news is that with the radio silence, no one has to hear her.
    The other good news is that planetside means gravity, which means what inevitably follows is slightly less disgusting.
     The mech stop moving for reasons that from the outside aren't clear. After a few moments, it brings it shield up to protect the cockpit in its chest as the haro starts taking over defenses, but it's still vulnerable.
Mortimer Balman      The sudden sluggishness allows Mort to simply cut one of the wretched things down, striking with such ferocity- having expected her to try and deflect it- that he almost slices her in half, tainted blood spraying across the ground, and over the knife. Which sizzles as the corruption is purged away by the protective wards on the metal.

     This made dealing with the other much easier. "KILL IT, BOY! QUICKLY!" A hastily barked out command to Will, hoping he wouldn't /listen/ to them. The remaining Daemonette he grabbed by the throat, lifting her into the air with one hand and holding her oversized pincer to the side with the other. He even looked the /thing/ in the eye, meeting its lustful gaze with a zealous, righteous /hate/ that would almost seem uncharacteristic, if the people who knew him well could see it. "When you arrive in the palace of your worthless God, ask it this: what value do you, or any of your misbegotten kind, truly possess? You have accomplished little of note, and nothing that cannot be repaired in short order. You have earned at most a handful of souls that will not even begin to slake your thirst, and built nothing of any lasting beauty. Ask your God if you will even be remembered."

     And then the Daemonette burst into flames, which she would no doubt enjoy, before vanishing back to the Immaterium in wisps of smoke and ash.
William Pauwel     "You don't need to tell me," Will answers with his characteristic drawl. The Chaser yanks his pistol to the side, disengaging the charge cord. He lunges in, powered strength driving the Daemonette back to open its stance for him to take aim right at its skull.

    Will doesn't really have any concept of 'gods' or 'spirits' to contextualize this thing's true nature. He doesn't need to. He's got a gun, and this thing's presumably got a brain. The Solano discharges once, twice, three times. Fist-size bolts of plasma blast into the daemon's face and bite deep into the hollow of its skull.

There's no blood. Plasma cauterizes way too quickly for any bleeding.

Not that demons bleed or anything. They just kind of... go back home.

    "Still not as bad as that... coral thing," Will says with a grimace. Shooting at anything that even looked vaguely human seems to leave a bad taste in his mouth. But this thing was clearly nooooot looking out for his or /anyone's/ best interests. "But I ain't gonna take the chance."

So he shoots the thing again. Three more times, in fact.

Double-tapping is a good policy.
Karian Icefang     The cultists that lived watched in horror as Kushiko and her valkyr rip the innards out of the leader, and his last sight is that of any angry techno-creature. With him dead, the warband fractures and quits the field. Some of the guardsmen remain to to take some potshots at Yulia's stunned titan, granted it likely would just scour the paint. But thats....when something funny happens. All of the cultsist, guardsmen, and anything else with the taint of chaos vanishes. The only thing left were their weapons...and strangely enough their clothes. It appeared that Slaanesh was either going to have a grand laugh at his followers expense, or something much worse.
    Karian looked over towards Hrolfur. "I am Wolf Lord Karian Icefang. In time, I am sure the Great Wolf will respond. For now, take your squad and ready for transport back to the Fang...and good work. I need to thank our allies and....prepare you for some things. Especially our allied Xenos and mutants."
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     With the cultists suddenly vanishing, Hrólfur would give a whistle as he stood up, accompanied by by a hand gesture of some sort. Whatever it was, the scouts from before would quickly fall in, all of them somewhat agitated by the sudden end to the combat. Regardless however, orders were orders, and it was time to pack up and move out to the Fang. Hrólfur and Amaroq however, would hang around for a bit, glaring at the assembled allies each in turn before back to Karian. The scout pack would be doing the same as well, especially towards Mortimer, given the supposed mutant taking down a Daemonette.
    "Allied xenos and mutants?" he repeats with a growl. "What happened to cause that? They are our enemies, Jarl, you know that. And you know just as well I can't have my pack walk away from enemies."
Mortimer Balman      /Two/ Daemonettes, but then the smoke would have prevented the Scouts from seeing that. They didn't tend to wear helmets, so that meant no autosenses. Oh well. Mort would look at William, and wave a hand at him. "C'mon, son. Let's link up with the others." He'd go over to the wall to pull the massive golden sword from the side of the building, and then heft it up onto his shoulder as though it weighed nothing- even though it surely weighed hundreds of pounds, it might give the Scouts a reason to pause in their scrutiny.

     He could be seen walking back toward the main group, lighting up a cigarette with his fiery breath and looking rather agitated. Fighting daemons always left him agitated, though. "We should probably call the Machine Cult to handle the cleansing and rehabilitation of this planet, and not the Ecclesiarchs. If I remember the layout of this sector correctly, there's more Mechanicus-aligned worlds that benefit from the foodstuffs produced here than Temple worlds."
Yulia Koslova     One of the guardsmen's aim is better than most, and a gout of flame erupts from side of the mecha's left leg as the fuel tank for the thruster on that side is ruptured. Maybe that will help him when he meets his god? But probably not. The fire burns out quickly once the fuel is spent, but there's no obvious reaction from the pilot to that.
    Said pilot, when she finally regains her senses, uncurls from the bundle she knotted herself in on the cockpit floor with no clear memory of how she got there, only the shallow gask on her forehead to show the landing. Her hands are still shaking as she grabs her seat's control-laden armrest to hoist herself up, trying to but not able to completely ignore the acrid smell of the lost contents of her stomach. "Did...is it over?"
    'It's over, haro,' her haro warbles, then makes a concerned warbling noise. 'You passed out.'
    "Yes, I know," Yulia mumbles. "But I'll be okay. Water, please. Then call Wolf Lord Karian and let him know we're all right."
    'Roger, haro.'
Kushiko Blood. So much /blood/. And yet as much blood as she's causing, the pure energy heat from it all is making that blood turn to steaming, red-tinged mist to say nothing of cauterizing. IT's entirely plausible that it wasn't just /one/ hit but a rapid-fire lunging of two hands to turn the Traitor's Leader into pulverized meat.

To the question Hrolfur poses, Valkyr lifts her head. In an instant, that terrifying, oppressive hysteria seems to vanish and by instinct, she reaches for the quad-barreled shotgun that was born on her back for now, readying it in case of traitor filth that /didn't/ quit the field. Just in case. The tail of the feline-like Valkyr flicks once as her faceless visage orients on Hrolfur for a moment, before simply shrugging a little bit.

"What matters more, that they're dead now or that they're dead because someone else helped?" That voice is a projection that's clearly not something from any speaker on the suit nor a spoken voice emanating from the suit. It's an odd thing, akin to a local vox without the vox. The Kubrow in the meantime, trots happily with the arm of a cultist and settles it in front of herself as she comes to rest next to where the technorganic frame stood.
Karian Icefang     Things are...different here. Not every alien or mutant wants to destroy the imperium. In fact, that one there is my very good friend. His name is Mortimer. Be nice to him, as if your not he'll leave you with a rather considerable arse whipping." Karian says, waiving mort over to him. He then looks over and nods towards Yulia. "I have some inceanse that will help you, Lady Koslova. I imagine you took some nasty backlash..." He says softly. "And Hrolfur...Welcome to the Multiverse." He says, taking a knee to offer Amoroq a pet, while Ygdril heads over to sniff at the Kubrow.
Hrolfur Asgeirsson Hrólfur looks to Kushiko, narrowing his eyes. "What's important is that the Allfather's enemies be hunted down and destroyed wherever they are," he growls back at the warframe. At Karian saying he has a very good friend in Mortimer, he seems to almost bristle at the mere suggestions. A wolf lord. Friends with a mutant. He locks eyes with Mort, the wolf inside him growling at his presence, but outwardly Hrólfur remains indignant rather than outright violent. Still, orders are orders. He gives another sharp whistle, Amaroq breaking from sniffing at Karian and Ygdril to return to his master's side, while Hrólfur busies himself with debriefing the scouts and prepping for withdrawl.
    The sooner he could get some mjod in him, the better, he thought.
Yulia Koslova     Finally, there's movement from the mecha! The cockpit hatch opens, and a mostly cleaned up but still shaken Yulia lowers herself via ziprope to solid ground. The fresh air really isn't, but she gulps it in anyway.
    Outside the mech, she might be the smallest person here. She's a good two feet shorter than any of the Space Wolves, that's for sure. She tries to muster a smile as she walks up to Karian and company, but it doesn't really quite form. "Incense and a bottle of aspirin would be great, Wolf Lord, thank you." Then, realizing there are a lot more people here than she first thought, some of them complete strangers, the young woman tries to straighten up more formally. Like the smile, though, it doesn't really happen. "It's good to see you again, Mortimer...um. Hello, everyone else."
Mortimer Balman      Mort exhales another cloud of smoke. This is just the stuff from his cig though, not the smoke he can produce on command for combat purposes. "Damn Charlie Foxtrot and a half, Karian. This planet's gonna take years t'get all fixed up. We need get ops underway right fast to figure out what poor bastards are still left alive an' see if we can salvage them back into people again. Unless whoever gets stuck with the job of gettin' this place back in order is willin' to throw in some heavy manpower an' infrastructure improvements, might take ten years 'fore they can start producin' crops." And Mort knows exactly how absolutely unacceptable that is for an agri-world.

     He waves over to Yulia. "Lady Koslova! Are ye okay? Y'look a mite unsettled. Ah but this'd be yer first time facin' this particular breed of Traitor Filth, wouldn't it? Please let me know if'n there's anythin' I can do ta help. This sorta hell ain't good on most people's stomachs, much less minds." A brief glance over at.. What the fuck is that anyway? He flicks his ears at Kushiko. Obviously an ally but.. The fuck kind of ally is it? Heavily armed, for starters. "Whoa hey no drop that!" He waves his free hand at the Warframe's pet monstrosity, who's about to start snacking on a cultist arm. "No no drop it! Drop it right now! Yah don't know where that's been, you'll get sick!"
Karian Icefang     Karian nods. "Aye. Already notified the mechanicus. They'll be here in a few hours time." He says, though he just looked over towards the Kubrow and laughs. One of his men moves over to let the people out, apologizing for not doing so already. "Mort, meet Hrolfur. He's a bit...anti-social, but we'll break that."
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     With Hrólfur being too busy debriefing the other scouts, he doesn't respond to the comment about breaking it. Though it definitely seems like he and Amaroq heard it, as the fenrisian wolf glances back towards Karian from beside Hrólfur. The scouts with him are quite a motley bunch as well, just as eclectic as Hrólfur himself. Some dark-haired, some bearded, even one with a mix of mohawk and braided ponytail. Just as individual as expected of the Wolves. Though it seems even they're a bit uneasy at the thought of an alliance with mutants and xenos.
Kushiko Hey, with the titan doing what it was doing, and her focused on things, she hadn't the chance to divert much attention to it so thusly, Yulia gets a firm 'look' from the faceless Warframe, before the Valkyr inclines her head slightly. She lifts her shotgun and sets it over one shoulder for a moment before well. Mortimer not only noticing her, but noticing her Kubrow's choice of 'prize'.

Kiras, as she's known just sortof tilts her head in confusion.

"Nor do you know where we've been either," comes the voice. With a free hand, Kushiko simply gestures: a misty haze from her palm over the arm itself, Kiras obediently dropping it for now. The arm itself goes awash in... /some/ kind of energy from it, the Void energy mist effectively sanitizing it for consumption. At least in theory. That's why she simply directs a scanning device to make sure.

Probably safer for the Kubrow in either event, though that voice and the demeanor of her might seem a bit... familiar? Depending on those with experience with Evangelions. Just a smaller scale.
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     Hrólfur's acute senses catch Kushiko using some sort of odd power, something he's never quite seen before. All he knows is he doesn't trust it, grabbing his boltgun and taking aim at Kushiko. A fraction of a second later, his scout squad follows suit, with Amaroq growling at the Kubrow next to her. Space Wolves are superstitious for sure, so something unknown must really rub them the wrong way. Or at least, without being properly exposed to the Multiverse.
    "Foul witch!" he snarls, baring his fangs at Kushiko. "What did you just do?!"
Mortimer Balman      Mort nods a bit, watching the Warframe vaporize the meat. "True that, but I don't wanna see yer partner there get ill. Best safer rather'n sorry when yer dealin' with the Ruinous Powers.. Speakin'a which." The old pokemorph begins trotting off to help Karian's men with getting the civilians and loyal Guardsmen out of their cages. Most of them would, no doubt, be shocked and perhaps terrified of seeing a huge badger-man who is on fire carrying a sword that looks like it could cut Astartes in half. But most of them would, probably, be calmed by the idea that he is in fact, Imperium-friendly! Keeping that card with the Seal of the Inquisition on it should, at least in theory, get most of them to keep from completely freaking out.

     After all, if the God-Emperor's most inscrutable servants have accepted and personally approved a mutant who is capable of wrecking shit on the Traitor Legions, who are they to argue? At least that's the idea Mort banks on whenever he flashes his Seal. Better to keep the proles in a comfort zone they are familiar with. It makes ensuring their health and safety /much/ easier.
Yulia Koslova     "I've fought daemons before," Yulia replies to Mort. "It's just been a while." She's trying to sound assuring, but chances are she's not fooling anyone. She turns her head to find Kushiko looking at her, and she just sort of headtilts in turn. That is, until that bit of...well, weirdness for lack of better term, wih energy and a severed arm. That makes it through the cloud-haze enough for her to stare openily and wide-eyed, and then realize just what she's staring at (Ew!), and she snaps her head to look anywhere else.
    Which happens to be at Hrólfur. Angry Space Wolf. With other Angry Space Wolves. Without consciously realizing it, she's moving to put herself between them and the other them, being Mortimer and Kushiko. "We've already fought together. Could we please just not shoot at each other?"
Kushiko At first, Kushiko via Valkyr was about to be polite, cordial, if a little playfully snarky. If she could, she'd frown a little, and Kiras paws at the dirt. Alas. "Unfortunate," she muses softly. Now that people have a genuine chance to really take stock there's something about this figure.

It's a flexible technorganic shell that could easily be a suit as much as it is an individual figure. Can't be someone in there unless that someone's felinoid, given the slight digitgrade quality of the legs.

Something's really wrong.

Actually several things truly wrong when the guns come out. At nearly the same time Kiras jumps in front of her Mistress, fur on end as she brings her body as shield in front of Valkyr. What's really wrong is the sense of disquiet from Valkyr. Like all sense of her presence is drawing itself back into her. "I erased the taint this one spoke of." the voice of the actual Tenno quietly intones. "If you really want to call me a witch for /that/ I could give you something worthy of it. But you've seen what I already did to those guys. I don't really care too much about that but the Lotus said they were your enemy but to expect this.

Then again, it's probably not terribly surprising that Valkyr here is rubbing them the wrong way. Or more specific Kushiko even though none of them have actually seen the real Tenno yet.

She is hoping to save that for dire needs.
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     "I have no fight with you," Hrólfur growls at Yulia, his scout squad now fanning out around Kushiko, guns still trained in her direction. "But interfere with the Allfather's work, and you will die."
    Kiras isn't the only one. Amaroq likewise takes up position between her and Hrólfur, his eyes locked on the Kubrow as a direct challenge. Assuming the canine instincts in the Kubrow are still there, that is. Otherwise it'd look like an awkward staring contest. But that's just what's happening now between Hrólfur and Valkyr. Or at least, where he would assume eyes to be, trying to stare down the whatever-it-is before him.
    "That doesn't prove you friend nor foe," he replies to Kushiko. "Orks may fight Tyranids, but both are still xeno scum. And here I have a foe using some sort of Warp powers. One that threatens me further, at that. What is that if not a foe?"
Karian Icefang     Karian had stepped away for a moment, but returned to hear that. Immidiately, the scouts would hear a LOUD growl, the kind and alpha made to settle his pack. "ENOUGH!" He bellows, standing in front of Yulia and Kushiko. "Lower your bolters right now." He says, his one eye glaring HARD at Hrolfur.
Mortimer Balman      Mortimer's ears perk up at the sound of possible combat. "Whoa, hey now!" He trots back over, planting his sword into the ground. "Let's all cool our britches a wee bit, aye? Even if we're not all good chums just yet!" He doesn't know what the hell just happened because he was busy with the civilians and Guard, but now his attention is fully here. "Let's all take five steps back and just like.. Put our guns and stuff down, yea? Karian's got rank here, right? Let's all at least briefly pretend we've got some kind of orderly rank structure in place, one befitting a powerful milit'ry operation, an' do what he says."
Yulia Koslova     If Yulia wasn't trying to think through a stomach-churning headache, she might have better twigged into why Kushiko's weirdness is a somewhat familiar weirdness to her. Maybe later, in retrospect, but right now, no. Right now, she's just a really weird person.
    Also, if she wasn't trying to think through a stomach-churning headache, it might have dawned on her by now the obvious stupidity of being in the crossfire if Kushiko and Hrolfur do decide to start shooting at each other. But she doesn't move back. Her hands ball into fists, expression hard from anger and pain. "We don't need to fight any more today!" she shouts at both of them.
    And then Karian intervenes, thank goodness. He's not only more intimidating, he is also far more in charge. She really ought to move back, but she doesn't.
Kushiko For Hrolfur's reaction--and subsequently Karian's own, Valkyr simply raises one hand as if to say, 'no, it's okay', even if it really /isn't/ okay. Not that she'd assume anything given she knew Karian was in charge overall but even if the issue was buried it'd remain.

There's /very much/ canine instincts born and genetically bred within Kiras. Though there's perhaps the subtle sensation as if Kiras is more trying to protect and warn Amaroq and Hrolfur away from Valkyr. "Purity, is it? Or is it... no?" She stops herself for a moment.

No, that was pleasently enough of this. She preferred not to, but maybe this would help, she wonders. Valkyr gestured with an empty hand, fingers half-stretched as energy began to slowly coalesce in her palm. "We do not know your Warp any more than you know our Warp. Not firsthand. But what we know of it is there are similarities. It is a place to travel between. It is where reason and logic die." Some of these words sound as though they were simply recalled like a mantra.

"We do not threaten you. We have no reason to yet, though you are surely giving us cause to." At this, the energy coalesces into a holographic projection, a panel through which a face shows up--slight staticing on it before it resolves into clarity otherwise. She's young. Scarred, around the right eye. Some measure of equipment on her face. But really, it's the eyes, in more than one way. Almost faceted pupils of iridescent lilac energy, a thin ring in the center of which. As strange as it was it was the look of someone who really had done /way too much/ and simply didn't care. Transcended that point of no return.

At least, that's how it felt. This much, she was restraining from showing on her Warframe.

"We are Tenno." The projection only shows the young girl--no more than 15--from about the shoulders up and she's restraining her irritation. "The only fight here is the one you wish to have. Is it worth it?"
Hrolfur Asgeirsson     Hrólfur peers at the transmission for a moment, squinting his eyes before lowering his weapon, just as Karian barks the order to. Another shrill whistle and the squad follows suit, cautiously returning to Hrólfur.
    "A psyker?" he responds, eyeing the scar around her eye closely. "Why not show in person? Why hide behind this..." he gestures to the warframe. "This thing? If you are sanctioned, you know the Imperium has no qualms with you." He glances over to Mort, tensing for a moment before spotting the Ordo Malleus seal he wears, relaxing again. "This world is strange. I don't like it. I want to know exactly what's changed in this 'Multiverse' with the Imperium when we return to the Aett."
    He doesn't hang around much for a response though, whistling again for the squad to holster their weapons and resuming the debriefing. A debriefing that now seems to be going to be very interesting indeed.
Karian Icefang     "A child?" Karian asks, stunned by this. He had no idea, especially with the level of ferocity. "What happened to make you.....like you are?" He asks, more metaphorically then anything else.
Mortimer Balman      Mortimer looks at the 'Tenno' for a brief moment. Then he sniffs a bit at the Warframe. Watches her movements. "..There's a person in there, I'm pretty sure." He'd rub his jaw a little, and then turn his head back to Hrolfur with a bit of a toothy grin. "Heh.. Oh, son, yer in fer a wild ride. The Multiverse has changed.. /Everything/, just about. Well.. I shouldn't say everything.. But the Imperium has been put into a position where it must Adapt. Or Die. And it will certainly not accept the latter, so it has been doing the former. Don't worry, only so much has /really/ changed fer everyday life.. But yer part of a much, much larger universe now. An' that universe won't let the Empire of Man sit, dwelling its own decay an' complacency."
Yulia Koslova     Yulia isn't really bothered by how young Kushiko looks. But then she has a weird perspective on that. That it's a hologram of some kind is a lot more surprising, but then in her current haze she isn't questioning that too much either. Far, far more important is that weapons are getting holstered instead of being fired.
    She lets go of the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. And then she quietly sits down right where she is.
Kushiko "... There are other questions you should have answered first." Kushiko begins briefly, even as Kiras, for the moment relaxes, before shifting her weight to settle near Yulia. And staring. Hard not to imagine the massive hound as some sortof husky with that look. "... but as to what's changed, everything. You're now... part of something a great deal bigger."

Something to note about the projection is behind her--around her?--is this swirling miasma and mist. Clouds and rivers of light behind her, ephmeral and ethereal all at once before she heaved a quiet sigh, the Valkyr's head glancing momentarily towards Yulia as to inspect what Kiras finds so fascinating, allowing for Mortimer to begin explaining a little bit.

It's then she chooses to answer Karian properly with a faintly bitter tone, "That's a good question." She pauses. "Let's just say someone was very desperate and no cost was too great, no idea too extreme." That even the castoffs from the Orokin Empire, the rejects, could be used. No idea if it'd even work but who cares about the devil children now?