++ S19 - New Conflict ++

"Scoop" Yurik, Freelance News-agent

Please note, dear readers, that our pict-link is experiencing interference. We will supply picts when possible. - "Scoop"

As we trudged along a catwalk several meters above the grasping hands of several carriers, we were surprised to find the air becoming dark with small flakes of sooty ash. A quick glance towards the dome roof revealed an old forge-waste duct that had long ago ruptured in catastrophic fashion. The hole in this waste duct now deposited forge-waste directly into an air supply, distributing a thick layer of gray-black ash across the floor of the dome and further impeding the clumsy pursuit of the carriers. Fortunately the path ahead of our caravan had been kept clear thanks to the stronger air currents through the various gantries and structures.

Suddenly my pictographist, who had been snapping picts of the phenomenon, called out that he had seen movement far below in the drifting ash. Almost as one, our group dropped to the deck and I edged forward, spying the distinctive violet fatigues of the 7th Ash Waste Rifles gang. Seamus nudged my shoulder and pointed out another group, clad in long white coats, struggling through the waist-deep soot - KFC's Voodoo Posse.

Lending credence to the rumors of their past as ash wastes reconnaissance soldiers, the Rifles seemed less affected by the ash. Several members managed to find a way through the black drifts and onto the cleared platforms above the floor. This attracted the attention of nine carriers that had followed us to the dome, and they moaned hungrily as they traipsed towards the bright purple figures.

The distinctive sound of bolt weapons ripped through the air as Rifles members Laertes and Lazarus attempted to remove a carrier from their path. Perhaps unnerved by the sight of the shambling creature, Lazarus' aim was off, and the bolt round scythed through the ash and blew up a plume of black dust. Laertes carefully braced his arms in a firing stance and his pistol bucked in his grip. Heedless of the smoking ruin that had been its ribcage, the corpse continued to advance with a disturbing groan of hunger. Spotting another shuffling form in the midst of a black drift, Rifles heavy Zeke unslung his autogun from his back, preferring mobility to firepower as he made his way through the shifting ash and scrambled up a ladder to the platform above. Shots rang out and the carrier's moan cut off midway, the diseased form dropping in a cloud of swirling black.

Several meters across the dome, KFC's Voodoo Posse struggled to make headway against the thick layer of soot, the pockets and pouches of their long coats filling with ash and greatly hindering their progress. Despite their handicap, Posse gangers Bad Mojo and Prince both managed a shot at a pair of carriers, but to no avail. Their shots ricocheted harmlessly away into the ash and their intended targets lurched forward.

Suddenly a bright burst of blue-white fire lit the dome's ceiling and the stink of ozone was heavy in the air, as Orion, the leader of the Rifles, let fly with a fully-charged shot from his plasma pistol. The shot ripped savagely across the torso of a nearby carrier, tumbling the foul creature into the dust with its left arm missing below the shoulder. Seeing this, Laertes attempted once again to put down his target, this time deciding that quantity superseded quality when it came to the undead. This time the carrier fell, and despite the distance between us, this reporter could clearly hear the CLICK of a dry chamber. Laertes was out of ammo and now had only his blade to defend himself from the teeth of the relentless carriers. Nearby, Zeke swapped his autogun for his trusty stubber as he spotted the flash of a Posse member's bright coat near a tower. The Rifles heavy let fly with an impressive burst of fire, forcing the Delaque to scramble for cover, but suddenly the barrage was cut short with an extensive outpouring of profanity from Zeke - it would seem some inner mechanism of the weapon had failed, rendering it useless for at least this fight.

Burning promethium flared near the base of a refinery tower - a sign of KFC's entry into the fracas. The spear of flame reached up to a catwalk, engulfing a carrier plodding towards several Posse members. The uniform of a former Necromundan PDF sergeant caught alight, but the carrier showed no sign that it was aware of the flames, as it continued relentlessly across the catwalk. Fortunately for the Voodoo Posse, heavy Replay braced himself against the recoil and opened fire with his heavy stubber, messily punching the undead PDF man into several burning bits. Despite his ruthless domination of the ghoul, the heavy’s mood was sour – his heavy stubber had overheated during the long burst and fouled the action of the massive weapon.

In cover atop an adjacent tower, Visili, one of the Van Saar lasgunners neatly obliterated the knee of a plague carrier, toppling it comically onto its face. A path thus cleared, his fellow lasgunner Vincent sprinted out across a catwalk to scoop up a glittering hunk of metal. It seemed this was indeed another battle over forgotten archeotech, as multi-colored wires and myriad buttons could be seen protruding from the object as it was tucked into a pocket on the ganger's tunic. Meanwhile at the base of a distant filtration structure, juve Tex let loose with a short burst from an autopistol, erasing the face from another carrier's skull and dropping the creature in an instant. A fierce grin flashed across the young man's face as he continued forward through the soot in search of other targets.

A brief instance of quiet settled over the field as the Delaque struggled through ash drifts towards the open ground of the gantries and catwalks overhead. A few of the goggled fighters had already made it to high ground, and now warily advanced across catwalks with eyes peeled for carriers or members of the Rifles amongst the rusting buildings and equipment. Taking advantage of the quiet, Rifles autogunner Judd seated his weapon against his shoulder - readying himself for a quick shot should any of the Delaques be foolish enough to cross his path. Similarly, Zeke cycled the action of his backup autogun and pushed his senses to their limit, waiting for the opportune moment to cut down an unsuspecting trench-coated figure.

The lull in combat did not last long, however; Orion once more unleashed a full charge from his pistol and cursed as the targeted zombie continued towards him, its dead nerves impervious to the otherwise searing pain of plasma burns in its flesh. Nearby, Tex’s grin grew even wider as the juve’s autopistol blasted a line of bloody craters across yet another carrier’s torso and head. Smoke curled up from the barrel of the pistol as the Rifles juve worked the action to clear a jammed shell casing, eventually sending the brass spinning into the ash.

Nearby, Prince's gray trenchcoat appeared at the top of a platform, as the Delaque ganger made a run for what appeared to be an old collection of dataslates. As soon as the man was visible atop the platform, Judd and Zeke opened fire, liberally hosing the area with autogun rounds. Despite standing amidst a literal rain of gunfire, Prince was unharmed and held tight to his loot, although he was quick to dive for cover.

Further from our position, another of the Voodoo Posse was in motion. Get Right ran across a gantry towards a pile of ancient knick-knacks and scraps of paper; the white square shapes brilliant amongst the small piles of ash. While he ran, his fellow gangers opened fire to cover the movement. Little Caesar took aim at Rifles member Judd, but the shot went wild, sparking harmlessly off the structure above the purple-clad man. Nearby, Bad Mojo fantastically lived up to his name by firing a blistering fusillade of shots, none of which found their way to the shambling plague carriers that were the intended targets. Fortunately for the Voodoo Posse, Grease Job's aim proved true and the cold body of one carrier slumped below the ash drifts with a series of large-caliber holes in its rotting frame.

Voodoo Posse leader KFC made a move out from the relative shelter of the tower, searching either for new targets or for the precious loot sought on both sides of the conflict. The fluttering of the leader's coat did not go unnoticed, however. Determined to make up for his previously poor marksmanship, Rifles heavy Zeke tucked the battered stock of his autogun into his shoulder and carefully loosed a tight burst of shots that connected solidly with KFC's arm and torso. With a defiant growl, the Delaque slumped to the ground, then rolled onto his back as the pain of his wounds overtook his consciousness.

From a raised vantage point not far from his comrade, Van Saar ganger Judas had carefully tracked the Voodoo Posse's shots, watching the muzzle flashes. His patience paid off with a clean shot at Little Caesar, which took the Delaque in the leg and flung him against a bulkhead. The trench-coated man shouted a curse at his assailant, but fell on his face as his wounded leg gave out. Taken completely by surprise as his fellow ganger was hit, Bad Mojo's unfortunate moniker came true once more; the second ganger's nerve fled and he bolted for cover. Less fortunate still for Bad Mojo, his hasty retreat was taken up by the rest of his gang. Flurries of soot marked the paths of the retiring Delaque gang. The field of battle and the victory belonged to the 7th Ash Wastes Rifles, along with perhaps a couple of plague zombies.

As we left the blackened field behind us, this reporter could not help but wonder what this new rivalry between the 7th AWR and KFC's Voodoo Posse might mean. Between this new battle and those fought against their common enemy of the Cawdor gang Nex Manus Imperator, perhaps new alliances might soon take shape. More likely, no such allegiances might take form and the spoils of Subsector 19 would only be claimed by the last gang standing.

++ S19 - Death and Undeath ++

"Scoop" Yurik, Freelance News-Agent

Once again, I must apologize for my lengthy absence from the news-channels. The subsectors below Sump's Drift have been treacherous. We have made our way deep into the immediate vicinity of The Collapse, and our caravan have been forced to slow our pace due to a significant threat of plague carriers, unimaginable creatures, and the incredible instability of the structures that surround us.

Nevertheless, I humbly submit this reporter's account of the events of day-cycle 20080906.

+++ARCHIVAL ENTRY FOLLOWS+++

Our party's travels into the depths of Subsector 19 were once more punctuated by violence as the OI-FU led us into an exceptionally gloomy dome. As we started into the darkened ruins of the Underhive, we noticed that almost without exception the light-panels in the area had failed from what seemed to be an electrical fire of some sort. We had little time to discern the true cause of the light-system failure, however, because within moments of our arrival, ganger "Ugly" Sean emerged from the murky shadows with grim news. The scars on his face twitched as he spoke.

"Mínádúrtha. In the ruins ahead."

Although this reporter had seen no evidence of plague carriers in the area, the last weeks have served as an intensive education in the true nature of the Underhive, and our party quickly moved to high ground, picking our way across gantry and platform to avoid the majority of the carriers. Despite the rather arduous task of climbing and descending various ladders and stairs, the moans of the plague victims were enough to remind this reporter that it was all indeed worth the effort.

Finally locating a suitably defensible location atop a series of mechanical platforms, our group began to make camp. As portable shelters were opened and cooking coils lit, we heard shots ring out in the darkness.

Without pause, the carriers below us began to lurch into the deep shadows of the hive, heading for easier prey. As the threat of the mínádúrtha eased, this reporter made ready to seek out the nearby battle. In spite of the relative safety afforded us by the sudden absence of undead, my pictographist was exceptionally reluctant to leave camp; his sentiment was shared by the OI-FU. Indeed, Seamus expressed his incredulity at my proposal in words that are quite unfit to report here.

After a great deal of negotiation and a few harsh words from both sides, this reporter was able to convince not only my pictographist, but gangers Liam and Murphy and even stalwart juve Michael from the OI-FU to brave the dark and fulfill our role as journalists (and mercenary bodyguards) by reporting the events unfolding below the Drift.

Thankfully, we observed the strobing effect of multiple muzzle flash-patterns in the gloom, and moved quickly across the dome towards the light-show. Where we could not negotiate a high road, we hastened across rubble-strewn floors in what the OI-FU call the "roadie run" - essentially a crouching trot named after the sound technicians of synth-grind musical groups. The undertaking of this method of motion would be utterly ridiculous were it not so effective in avoiding incoming fire (or in this case the attentions of any lurking mínádúrtha). But I digress.

Liam led us to the base of a large refinery tower that had long ago suffered a cataclysmic explosion, and we clambered up after him to a steel deck nearly ten meters above the dome floor. From here we could easily follow the pict-bulb flashes of gunfire and the streaking sparks of richoceting solid-stub rounds back and forth across the battlegrounds.

Thanks to the light-sensitive night-cycle lenses provided by my pictographist was this reporter and able to determine that the Delaque leader King and his crew had once more found themselves in conflict with the notorious Nex Manus Imperator of House Cawdor. As we clambered up to a suitable observation post, we were greeted by the sharp report of a shotgun blast, fired from a bridge by one Caius of the NMI. The shot narrowly missed its target as it staggered through the dusky gloom of the hive. While the Cawdor ganger’s missed shot drew the attention of the undead in the area, sneaky Delaque fighters took the opportunity to advance quickly through the dark shadows of the ruins, holding fire until valid targets presented themselves in the piercing blackness.

The members of Nex Manus Imperator matched this advance, although their movements were joined with a great deal of devout battle cries and gunfire. Caius, seemingly unfazed by his previous miss, bellowed an oath of “Purgatus!” and let fly with a Man-stopper round, taking down his target in a spray of coagulated blood. Nearby, heavy Callixtus drew his batterd shotgun from its carrying straps on his pack, and blasted the legs out from beneath another of the carriers, howling a victory cry as the miserable creature flailed in confusion on the ground.

However, it would seem that these cries of celebration were premature, as a sudden scream of terror pierced the air. My pictographist panned his lens across the battlefield just in time to capture the last mortal moments of Cawdor ganger Conon as he was dragged to the ground by a carrier, its jaws locked on his neck. The cry of pain and fear was suddenly cut off in a gurgling rasp, and the red-robed ganger ceased his struggles. Once more the Voodoo Posse took advantage of their adversaries’ misfortunes; their gray coats could be spotted flitting between cover, across gantry and gravel alike. Their weapons stayed silent; only the occasional crunch of grit under running boots could be heard as they moved forward.

This graceful advance was further aided by Urbanus, his autopistol illuminating his cowled face along with the decaying features of yet another odorous carrier. The numerous auto-rounds ripped gaping wounds into the creature’s torso and dropped it to the ground as bones shattered beneath the fusillade. Before any other members of the Cawdor gang found other targets, Delaque weapons fired for the first time, a burst of fire from an autogun driving Caius into cover. A burst of heavy stubber fire from Posse heavy Replay found a target, but unfortunately for the Delaques, said target was not in fact a carrier, but Posse juve Sweet Tooth, who was shot several times before staggering in pain off of a platform edge to the ground several stories below. The young man lay still, quickly soaking the floor with his blood. Las- and auto-fire also clipped Cawdor Juves Pius and Innocent, sending the former sprawling at the base of a processing tower and the latter tumbling into the dirt mid-stride. Both promised retribution in terms that would have seemed incredibly vulgar for supposed holy men, had they not been uttered by members of the NMI “crusade.”

Seeing the juves of his brotherhood wounded by the brazen Delaques, Caius steeled his nerves and sprang up from cover, leveling his shotgun at Replay and letting fly with a shot that wounded the heavy and knocked him to the floor in pain and confusion. Unfortunately, this last spectacular shot not only wounded his opponent but spectacularly backfired, wounding Caius and blasting him off his perch to the floor below and rendering the crusader unconscious in the dust. Above the battlefield, Father Benedictus opened fire for the first time in the engagement, using his elevated position to his advantage as his bolt pistol sent a powerful round streaking into the trenchcoated form of Posse ganger Tom Tom, taking the man down hard.

Meanwhile, Posse ganger Prince took careful aim with his trusty shotgun and caught NMI ganger Urbanus full in the center of mass with what must have been a Man-stopper; the crimson-clad man dropped like a slag deposit and laid still as a stone. Nearby, NMI ganger Vigilius spotted one of the vile mínádúrtha moving hungrily towards his downed comrade. The ganger raised his autogun and neatly put a round through the walking corpse’s head, ending its unlife. Unfortunately, as this threat to Urbanus was dispatched, another plague zombie had fallen upon juve Innocent, wounding the young man severely before it wandered back into the shadows.

As the Voodoo Posse positioned themselves for a final assault, Father Benedictus’s voice rang out, reciting a chant which called for, and I quote, the “…most valiant of the Emperor’s servants to praise His name in the act of humble retreat…” The Cawdor pulled their wounded to safety and faded quickly into the darkness, leaving the Voodoo Posse victorious.

Immediately before our group made to leave for camp, Liam grabbed hold of my sleeve and pointed to Conon’s corpse. The ganger was on his feet, his bolter forgotten. The mínádúrtha groaned plaintively as its dead eyes met mine, and then it turned and staggered clumsily into the darkness.

++ S19 - Situation Report ++

"Scoop" Yurik, Freelance News-Agent

First and foremost I must apologize for my absence and any upset it may or may not have caused. A great deal has transpired during the past week-cycles, and I have found myself beleaguered by poor transmission conditions, inquisitive (and sometimes kleptomaniacal) wildlife, undead plague carriers, and gang battles.

Rest assured I am still very much alive along with the rest of my party and I shall endeavor to deliver more reports as soon as the hive quiets a bit.

Yurik out.

++ S19 - Fierce Gunfight in the Ruins ++

"Scoop" Yurik, Freelance News-agent

At around mid-day-cycle, as our party emerged from yet another dank and odorous access tunnel into another gloomy and cavernous dome, we were greeted by shouts and the unmistakable sounds of gunfire. Under the watchful protection of both Liam and Seamus himself, this reporter and his pictographist moved within sight of the fierce battle. Once more we were able to make out the regal violet uniform of the 7th Ash Waste Rifles moving into cover amongst the seemingly skeletal remnants of clustered hab-units and air-processing systems. Not surprisingly given their rather enthusiastic approach to "exploration," the Nex Manus Imperator were spotted across the ad-hoc battlefield, their crimson robes standing out against dull, gray and brown debris.


Father Benedictus and juve Pius run toward their opponents

It seemed that the infamous Cawdor gang had once more seized the initiative, as several of their fighters moved swiftly towards the Rifles' positions, shouting battle-prayers and promises of retribution. Only a select few of the NMI elected to stay behind, selecting elevated positions. Not to be outdone, the Rifles moved carefully across the ground upon sighting the NMI advances, dispersing their numbers laterally and vertically, with several fighters scrambling up ladders to obtain superior firing positions. Most notably, 7th AWR heavy "Zeke" was spotted lugging a rather large stubber to the top of an air-filtration tower, scanning the field below for targets.

Nex Manus Imperator fighters were quick to take cover from the potentially lethal heavy stubber, but in doing so were forced to halt their advances, leaving NMI heavy Callixtus exposed along a catwalk. While other members of the Cawdor gang moved beneath catwalks and through cover to flank the Rifles' firing positions, Callixtus was cut down by a burst of stubber fire and sprawled awkwardly on the metal decking before his flamer could flush out the Van Saar fighters in the lower levels of the air-filtration tower.

Despite the loss of their heavy, the NMI returned fire from cover, forcing several purple-clad Rifles to dive for cover and wounding a few others. NMI ganger Donus fired on Rifles juve Tex, resulting in a display of violence so spectacular it forced Rifles leader Orion to flee whilst wiping his face clean of the juve's blood. Unfortunately, as Donus took aim for this shot, it allowed Zeke sufficient time to unleash a long burst of stubber fire, punching into the Cawdor ganger and throwing him bodily off the platform to the ground below.


Rifles heavy Zeke takes aim as ganger Visili looks on

Father Benedictus' considerable skill with threats of "PURGATUS!!!" inspired the NMI to fight on, even as juve Innocent was wounded by autogun fire from the 7th AWR. The Cawdor zealots leapt forth from cover, with a small assault element flanking right, hoping to scale the tower and silence the Van Saar heavy stubber for good. Before the group could reach the tower, they spotted Rifles ganger Old Chester and opened fire, and allowing Cawdor ganger Caius to subdue the Van Saar in a swift melee action. As the other NMI fighters prepared to open fire once more, the panicked Orion ordered the 7th Ash Waste rifles to retreat.

The Nex Manus Imperator had brutally fought their way to another victory, but the cost this time was indeed high - Donus, who might otherwise have survived his light stubber wound, had broken his neck as he struck the concrete floor of the dome. In an unusually somber act, the other members of Nex Manus Imperator prepared a pyre for the body of their fallen comrade, and after a brief ceremony, Father Benedictus set the platform alight with his own hand flamer, and led the Cawdor gang away into the shadows in silence. As the group departed, our party spotted a flash of purple amongst the crimson robes - Old Chester was now a captive of the Nex Manus Imperator.

Yurik out.