Gone, all hands presumed lost. In another time, in another place, the great bell of lost souls on Terra might have rung; a great, slow, sad peal for each of the Emperor's precious angels drowned in the Sea of Souls.
Not now. Not for them.
Rarely it is that I can speak, and rarer still to something that understands. I am glad you are here. Sorry, too, for it means that you have come as adrift from reality as myself. You have eternity here now, in the wallowing lucidity of the dreamsea.
Let me tell you, then, star-lost sailor to star-lost sailor, of how I came adrift. Of how stone and iron clashed, and of how I fell overboard from the starship Boeotian.
+ I had a great game of Space Hulk against my pal Bob Hunk earlier in the week; here's the report: +
+ The Battle of Phall – part 1 +
+ The Imperial Fists are in reluctant retreat. Even as their fleet slips away, boarding assaults are launched; spiteful and proud. The Iron Warrior Strike Cruiser Boeotian, part of the reserve line of assault, recklessly moves past an ailing Imperial Fists Cobra-class Destroyer in its efforts to catch up with the escaping Fists. +
+ Its torpedo and engines wrecked, the Captain of the First Strike orders a full assault on the Boeotian. A cloud of boarding torpedoes, drop pods and assault rams sprays into the aether and slams into the Iron Warriors craft. Within minutes, hundreds of Imperial Fists are pouring into the Strike Cruiser, intent upon capturing the vessel – or scuttling it, if that is the only option. +
+ Half an hour after first contact, and with damage to the generatoria plunging most decks into the uncertain strobing light of gunfire, a group of Iron Warriors are directed to prevent the Fists from activating the Gellar fields – this close to the jump point, the VII Legion could make it into the warpswell of a Capital ship and escape, capturing the Boeotian. +
|Disposition of deployment. Gellar field control in the central green room.|
+ A lone Iron Warrior rushes forward, braving overwatch fire from the surprised Imperial Fists, to allow his comrades to push forward. +
+ Undaunted, the Fists continue their steady advance. +
+ The Fist on point ducks down a corridor as a flamer-armed marine steps forward in synchronicity as perfect as a closing gauntlet. The Iron Warrior is doused in burning promethium jelly, but his sturdy armour proves strong. +
+ The Iron Warriors make the most of the cover. +
+ An Iron Warrior guards an intersection... +
+ Long range fire takes out the Iron Warrior sergeant.+
+ Stoic in victory, the Imperial Fist pushes up to contest the centre. +
+ The overwatching Iron Warrior guns down a trailing member of the flanking force... +
+ ...Only to be doused in flame! Again, his armour proves unusually resilient. +
+ Honours even on casualties, the Imperial Fists keep focus and close in on the objective. +
+ Realising the peril, the Iron Warriors rush to cover the door, leaving their flank exposed. +
+ The Imperial Fist sergeant guns down the Iron Warrior attempting to cover the door, but his trailing companion is caught by a burst from the advancing Iron Warrior support. +
+ The Imperial Fists remain close together; while the Iron Warriors have become strung out. The disciplined Fist Sergeant resists the urge to claim the Gellar field controls and instead covers his brother's advance. +
+ Desperately voxing for back-up, the lone Iron Warriors near the controls pushes forward, desperate to hold the ship.+
+ ...But his furious assault proves no match for the disciplined crossfire of the Fists.+
+ Hearing running footsteps, the victorious Fist turns about smartly, just in time to execute the remaining Iron Warrior with a stream of boltfire. +
+ Nodding grimly, the Imperial Fist sergeant confirms victory, then turns to the controls... +
+ IMPERIAL FIST VICTORY +
+ Elsewhere on the ship, the loyalists meet furious resistance from the treacherous Iron Warriors... +