The first mission

Ar'Mat, quite incredulously, stepped into the pool of burning prometheum. From it he used the flamer to direct more fire at the horde.

"By fire be purged, Xenos filth!"

Cloten continues to hack at the horde.

Petrix watched as the opposition began to disintegrate, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. With the line of hormogaunts pushed back and the warrior all but felled, he turned his bolter to the sky, filling the air with flak from his shells airbursting amidst the gargoyles, hoping to clear the last major obstacle to their advance...

Seeing the danger the Warrior represented for the group, Stein decided to do what he did the best. An old battle song came to his lips about an old hunter facing a fenrisian wolf to defend his brothers. Ignoring the hormogaunts around him, he activated his jetpack and charged the Warrior, with the knowledge that while he was locked in melee with him, his brothers could be trusted to finish the hordes....

As the Warrior stumbles under the heavy fire, Kenshen smiled brightly beneath the ceramite facemask. His lady was magnificent and they danced to the only tune worth hearing anymore. With heat to her barrel, the ticker in his helmet, and even the monstrosity counted down. The field of fire was interrupted by Stien's jump, going to finish off the wounded Warrior. Fine then, the Storm Warden had taken the glory of it already.

Redirecting his aim into the hormogaunts, Ken was at it again. Everyone was pulling their share, and in spite of the suddenness they were holding out decently as the numbers thinned. Was that all that nested here, or were there more of the intelligent ones, accomplishing tasks elsewhere in preparation of the next ambush. For now the battle-brothers must silence their screams.

Stein fire is jump pack and jump out of the melee with hormagaunts scratching at his armor. Having to readjust the angle of his approach, he did not have the full power of the charge behind his blow. The stunned Warrior lift one of his four arms and the chainsword bites into the chitin without causing much damage.Ar'Mat walk into the promethium and turn around to fire at the hormagaunts behind him. On the other side Elyas and Cloten keep blasting and slashing the hordes. Hormagaunt M4->M0, Hormagaunt M19->M8Petrix's storm rounds splashes the thickest spot of the Gargoyles making more Xenos rain on the battlefield. Gargoyle M15->M10

The hormagaunts M8 keep slashing and tearing, piercing armor and drawing blood but no serious wound.

The Gargoyles M5 and M10 barrage pierce Petrix armor, but the worst of the hit as been mitigated by the reinforced part of the rebuilt armor's left leg. Petrix receive 1 wound.

The Warrior fails to stand up and is still stunned on the ground.

The promethium flame start to engulf Ar'Mat's power armor. While he endure the heat without serious injury, the experience is taxing even for him. Ar'Mat suffer one level of fatigueIt is your turn to act!

Cloten stores his beloved chainsword, and triggering the jump jet, blasts into the cavern air, oblivious of tearing and slashing claws around him. He feels the battle song rise in him but holds it back briefly. The heavy flamer rises into position as he arcs toward the gargoyles. Thumb triggers the weapon, Holy fire taking them by surprise. He hovers there, an angel balanced on a wire of flame.

Elyas, seeing the battle dying down, Elyas keeps firing, glad this wasn't going to end badly.

Ar'Mat emerged from the prometheum like a flaming avatar of wrath. His flamer barked once more to finish off the remaining Tyranids. He is confident victory is assured, and wants to make sure none of the Xenos escape the wrath of the Astartes.

Kenshen expertly time his bolts to pass over his teammates and unleash maximum devastation on the hormagaunt and Elyas clean up the rest.

Ar'Mat change his target to the gaygoyle, combining his flame with Cloten's spray to cover the entirety of the ceiling leaving no Gargoyles alive.

Having cleaned the last of the hordes with great efficiency, there is only the Warrior left in the burning room, still struggling to get back to his feet, almost waiting to be executed.

As the fire dies down, the Kill-team can appreciate its first victory and take some time to take care of their wounds and armour, extinguish their burning brother, as well as planning there next move.

Seeing they are secure, Ar'Mat quickly reloads his flamer with a fresh canister. There was no telling if they were going to run into another horde of the chitenous devouring horde. In all likelihood, they were. This warrior form looked formidable, but it was likely not the only of its kind here. He shared as much.
"This likely was only a part of the swarm. The hive mind is likely aware it has fallen. We should press on and strike at the swarm's heart."

Cloten lands near the warrior, outside of reach and switches to the chainsword to finish it off (strongarming the weight of the flamer in one hand).

As the swarm began to disperse, Petrix took a few steps forward, his hand on the hilt of his knife as he watched the death throes of the Tyranids, for any that might need to be finished off. As the flames began to die down, he glanced wordlessly over his squad, assessing their condition, mentally tallying their resources. The tunnel fight had not been pretty, but tunnel fighting never was.

Looking over the Kill-team as they execute the last of the Xenos, Petrix could see no life-threatening injuries. He knew also that wounds and fatigue can pile up unexpectedly. Since their were no immediate danger, a few minutes to maintain optimal fighting condition, especially since the Tyranid menace was basically immune to traditional Shock-and-Awe strategy.

Elyas went around to examine quickly for treatable injuries and signs of contamination, using his Narthecium to diagnose and treat his Battle-Brother rapidly, efficiently and without having to remove the power armours. Every armor would required some application of repair cement to be sealed again, but it was up to each battle-brother to decide if it was needed.

While the apothecary was doing his duty, the rest of the kill-team stood watch over the tunnel or executed grimly some broken but still breathing Xenos. Standing in the room painted with the gore and flesh of their ennemies meant different things for the Adeptus Astartes. Some could barely contain their disgust over the Xenos filth, for others, the duty of destruction was a gleeful pleasure. Many would use those moment to nourish their blessed hatred of the Uncleaned. Some would already forget the fallen foes, as they were merely a stepping stone for their next duty in the Name of the Emperor.

After a short amount of time, the Squad is ready to move.

After getting treated and thanking brother Elyas, Stein proceeds to scout where the xenos filth came from to see where they would go next...

The wet crunch and explosive spats of fluid-filled sections of the organisms was a silently satisfying series of sounds. The armored boots made sort work of now defenseless Tyranid refuse. With just a little pressure, and perhaps a twist, the hardened endo and exoskeletal structures of the varied beasts would succumb to the subtly applied force of the Storm Warden's cold hatred. Ken made his way toward the 'warrior', standing silently over the ripped and mashed corpse. Before moving on, Ken reaches down and breaks a claw from the large Tyranid's forelimb, storing the trophy for later. Thirty rounds down from two-fifty, minus 1 frag. If that was the doorbell then Ken was sure to enjoy the full reception. Nodding to Brother Elyas, the Devastator took up position again, close to the apothecary. Though he had not needed medical attention yet there was no telling what the next corner would bring. Ken had made the assumption, by the assignment, that one of his tasks was keeping Elyas him close. They had no report, but Ken trusted in the teaching ad techniques of the Astartes.

Petrix put a hand on Elyas' pauldron as the checkup of the squad continued apace. He checked his arms, taking up station at the far entrance to the cavern as his squad gathered its wits and cleaned the room of any remaining twitching xenos. He was silent as his squad reassembled. He motioned to Ken and Elyas, to the right wall, and then Cloten and Stein, to the left. The heavy flamer and heavy bolter would have the lead, weapons free, to let them blast through any resistance until they reached the next tunnel. Elyas, Ken, and Stein would have to manage their positions if a threat closed, but he wanted a clear line of fire for the heavy bolter.

He and Ar'Mat would bring up the rear. Though he had confidence that their rear was secure, he wanted a flamer ready to clear out their retreat, and Ar'Mat's ability to project his psychic power without risking friendly fire made it acceptable to put him on rearguard.

Words could wait. Once his squad was in position, he tapped his boot to indicate a double-time pace. Though he knew the Tyranids spoke through some sorcery with one another, he hoped their reaction time might somehow be limited, that speed and intensity would win them some ground before the adversary was fully roused...

Cloten nods. This isn't his way, this isn't his style. A flight of Blood Angels raining holy vengeance from the sky, bouncing into a swarm and the cleansing sweep of the chainswords. Or better yet, jumping in alone, the press of bodies, the scream of nerves as any missed step could leave an opening for the horde to get through, to stop through the relic armor.

He reloads the heavy flamer, pleased with its performance, but wishing for a second weapon to pair with it. That's his way: two fists, no waiting.

He signals his readiness. They'll choke on our fist rammed into their gullet.