0 021 017 .M42 “The Access Codes, Trail Rekindled” – Solo Play, Follow-Up Operation
After the failed extraction at the Fraglan outpost, the crew spent several days tracing the Waning Choir’s retreat. The cult had dispersed quickly after purging the Scrivener-Node, leaving only fragmented signs in the dust and a trail of hurried transit markers heading north across the basin.
Sigvir and Erogar reassembled the same team—Graff’s enforcers, the commando pair, and the support specialists—but their approach would be different this time. The previous breach had shown them the danger of being boxed in by swarming bodies. In terrain this tight, even lesser foes could bury them under weight of numbers.
- Sigvir Red-Hand - Lone Wolf Astartes (Biomorph Captain)
- Ergil the Hermit - Wolf Scout (Commando Soldier Specialist)
- White Shadow - Fenrisian Wolf (Guard Dog Soldier)
- Erogar, the Half-Saint - Ministorum Priest (Mystic First Mate)
- Hunter Grekka - Witch-hunter Acolyte (Burner Soldier Specialist)
- Graff the Longshot - Charter Enforcer leader (Sniper Soldier)
- Runner - Cyber-Mastiff (Runner Soldier)
- Latch - Charter Enforcer (Trooper)
- Wick - Charter Enforcer (Chiseler)
- Vint - Charter Enforcer (Hacker)
Ergil and Runner tracked the cult down to a rundown mining settlement clustered around the skeletal remains of a half-collapsed starport. Once an ore-shuttle waypoint, the port now hosted only scavengers, smugglers, transient labor gangs, and the kind of permanent lowlifes who had nowhere else to go. Perfect cover for a Choir enclave shifting its operations deeper underground.
A note on the battlefield setup: This time I used the full recommended 2.5' x 2.5' board size and building size and quantity, unlike the first attempt where I played on a smaller Battle Systems mat. The difference as seen is significant. This will hopefully make enemy reinforcements have to spend at least one turn moving into the actual battle instead of appearing immediately adjacent to the crew. Let's see what happens then...
Their goal was unchanged:
Find where the Choir moved the surviving intelligence on Chella Rean's location, seize it before it is hidden again, and leave the area before a major conflict erupts, dealing as much carnage as possible on the way out.
Sigvir Red-Hand and Erogar took opposite entry points, while Graff and the trooper established a firing nest on a skeletal gantry overlooking the back street. Their role was simple – keep the exit corridor clear and prevent the crew from being enveloped again.
As a few days ago, Sigvir attempted a quiet breach on his side of the structure, using the same bluffing approach that should, in theory, intimidate lesser men into stepping aside. But the guard on this door proved just as obstinate as the ones at the prior outpost. The Astartes paused for a moment – not out of hesitation, but recognizing the futility of engaging in a protracted verbal routine with vermin unworthy of his time – and signaled Erogar to proceed on his flank instead...
Erogar’s entrance went far smoother. With the practiced calm of a priest accustomed to navigating hostile congregations, he invoked the Suggestion power. The authority in his voice slipped past the guards’ defenses, and the door hissed open.
Inside, he found exactly what they’d hoped for: the Scrivener-Node, sitting brazenly in the open, flanked by two renegade Militarum troopers who clearly didn’t expect visitors.
This time, however, the acolyte Grekka didn’t push into the room. The previous outpost had taught her that promethium in a confined data chamber would do more harm than good. She instead fell back toward the entrance to secure the rear approach.
Behind her, the hacker and chiseler shadowed Erogar but held at the threshold, waiting to see whether the bluff held or if they’d need to rush in.
It held for all of five seconds.
A murmured challenge, a suspicious shift in posture, and the alarm blared again – echoing through the broken starport structures.
Before the renegades could bring their weapons fully to bear, Erogar unleashed a powerful psychic blast activating his Dark Energy power. The words of the Emperor rolled through the chamber like heat from a furnace. One renegade convulsed, armor plates glowing from within as the psychic backlash cooked him alive. With the moment secured, the hacker stepped to the Scrivener-Node and jacked his dataslate into its archaic prongs. The machine-spirit resisted at first, code-glyphs stuttering across the cracked display, but he forced the interface open through a mix of ritual prompts and hard overrides. Moments later, he extracted the encrypted data-string – precious coordinates and descriptors that would lead them one step closer to locating Chella Rean.
Gunfire spread through the settlement as reinforcements spilled from the alleys, auto-fire snapping across the broken concourse. Yet the crew held the ground with far greater control than the previous conflict days before: Graff’s high perch cut down the first wave and Sigvir – finding the side door sealed – simply shifted position without hesitation. A tight burst through the window slats dropped the nearest scum, and then he drove into the flank, White Shadow and Runner racing ahead to finish off the stragglers he had already wounded. The courtyard lit up as the firefight grew, but this time the team fought from open lanes rather than a choke point, each member covering angles as the line held firm against the rising surge.
Sigvir triggered a burst of combat stimulants through his enhanced frame, the Adrenal Surge dulling pain and sharpening instinct. With a single heave he tore the weakened door from its hinges, stepped through the gap, and charged headlong into the storage annex. A cultist scum barely had time to level his rifle before the Grey Hunter’s power fist split him apart, the concussion sending broken crates and dust spiraling through the gloom. White Shadow and the cyber-mastiff barreled in behind him, slamming into the mob of cultists gathering near the doorway, their snarls echoing violently in the confined space.
With the data secured, Erogar took a moment to steady his breathing and mutter a brief benediction, stitching together the worst of his wounds with practiced faith. He then advanced into the fray, swinging his sanctified mace – an electro-censer whose head crackled with charge – with firm, deliberate strokes. A nearby Renegade crumpled beneath the blow, as Wick the chiseler darted past Erogar to drive a blade beneath the dying man’s breastplate, ensuring the threat was ended cleanly.
Outside, the situation deteriorated quickly. A mass of cultists surged through the alleys, and Grekka was overwhelmed beneath a tide of blades and wild autogun bursts.
Ergil fared better, withdrawing step-by-step while providing covering fire, but the sheer press of bodies forced him to break contact entirely...
..surrounded and cut off from the others, the wolf scout vanished into the dust storm rising across the concourse – his loss uncertain, though his vox-beacon flared only once before being drowned by interference.
Even Graff’s elevated perch did not spare him. A rogue shot caught him across the abdomen, and he tumbled backwards from the gantry, badly wounded and unable to continue. The trooper, Latch, was left as the only steady gun on the extraction lane, bracing himself beside the buckled railings as the cacophony rolled closer and Graff's blood pooled beneath his feet.
Yet the momentum inside the structure was shifting in the crew’s favor. Vint, clutching the encrypted data-slate, sprinted along the back corridor toward the planned escape route. Sigvir and Runner held the widening gap behind him, the Grey Hunter still unbowed despite the mounting casualties. His fenrisian wolf companion lay bleeding among the shattered crates, but the cyber-mastiff remained mobile, snarling and snapping at any cultist foolish enough to push forward. Together, they carved a narrow channel of survival as the fight entered its final, frantic moments.
Wick found a narrow opening in the fighting and sprinted toward one of the unsecured cargo lockers near the rear wall. With practiced efficiency he pried the seal apart, sifted through the interior, and pulled free a compact but clearly high-value device – solid-state scrap, but worth a fortune out here.
Without hesitation he slapped a mag-clamp onto it and locked it to Runner’s armored flank. The cyber-mastiff accepted the extra weight without slowing, its internal gyros compensating immediately as if built for exactly this kind of improvised haul.
Erogar staggered back through the doorway moments later, burns searing the side of his coat. With a quick invocation he pressed his palm to Sigvir’s vambrace; a pulse of healing energy surged into the Astartes’ system, knitting torn flesh and rebalancing his combat stimulants. With the data secured and the secondary find attached to Runner, they were finally in position to break contact and withdraw.
But the pressure outside was mounting fast. More cultists spilled from the alleys, their shouted blasphemies growing wilder, and scattered Renegade Militarum followed behind them in loose but increasing numbers. Latch was caught by a spray of autogun fire as he pulled Graff to safety and triue to return fire – his flakk armor held the first few impacts, but he went down under the weight of the volley, leaving the crew's covering fire suddenly silent and him and his boss hoping for extraction atop the gantry.
Recognizing the danger, Sigvir triggered Quick-step, his form blurring as he surged across the concourse in a controlled burst of speed. In the same motion he activated Void Blade – a power that sharpened his reflexes beyond even Astartes standards and enhanced the lethal output of his blows. His power fist hummed with focused energy, and his posture shifted into the defensive rhythm this ability granted, letting him deflect or evade incoming fire with precise, economical movements as he prepared to hold off against the incoming enemy waves.
The Lone Wolf stepped through the broken doorway just as a knot of autogun-wielding cultists swept into view. Rounds sparked harmlessly off the ground near his boots or whined past his shoulders, turned aside by the unnatural acuity Void Blade afforded him. Sigvir braced himself in the center of the killzone, drawing their attention and absorbing the opening volleys so the others had a respite.
Inside Cultists were pouring in through the opposite doorways crossing the room that had become a charnel-house: the two Renegade Militarum lay in distorted heaps, and the Scrivener-Node was cracked open like a desecrated reliquary. Autogun fire began to lance through the gloom of the doorway towards Erogar, snapping past him as he braced his censer-mace and prepared to hold their rear for as long as the Emperor granted him breath. The shots hurt, but each would was a prophecy and his life was the Emperor's to be spent.
The crew was nearly aligned for escape—but the circle of enemies around them was tightening from every direction…
Cultists were converging from both sides of the compound, drawn by the gunfire and the death cries echoing through the broken structures. Some moved with feral desperation, others with the slack-jawed devotion of souls already half-consumed by the Choir’s rituals – each one driven by the same unnatural compulsion to earn favor from whatever dark presence guided them.
The crew had reached the final stretch. The data was secured, Runner was loaded with some unknown tech-loot, and their escape route lay only a short dash through the ruins ahead. But all around them stretched a mass of flesh, steel, and blasphemy. Here, at the edge of the derelict Starport’s shadow and a few meters away from their escape route, every bit of ground became a test of will. The Emperor would grant them passage only through sacrifice, precision, and unshaken faith, and each member of the team steeled themselves for the push that would decide whether this mission ended in deliverance or burial on this forgotten ruin of a place.
Sigvir barreled forward through the choke point, boots grinding rubble underfoot as he swung a brutal, sweeping backhand strike with his pistol hand at a cultist blocking the alley. The blow smashed into a improvised armor, shattering plating but failing to finish the wretch. Before Sigvir could adjust, Vint darted past him – wiry, breathless, but resolute – and jammed a blade beneath the cultist’s collar. The strike hit just right, punching through bone, dropping the man in an instant. Sigvir gave the hacker the briefest, curt nod – a flicker of approval rare from an Astartes, and enough to set Vint’s nerves alight.
The alley behind the structure was already filling with bodies. Runner lumbered backward under the weight of the mag-locked loot, servo-motors whining as the mastiff reversed toward the extraction tunnel. Cultists spilled in from both ends of the lane, their silhouettes framed by muzzle flashes and the blurted stutter of autogun fire. Their yelling ricocheted off the walls, a rising chorus eager for blood.
Vint broke into a sprint and reached the narrow hall leading to the escape tunnel, disappearing into the dim passage with the precious data strapped to his chest. Behind him, the rest of the crew formed a ragged perimeter – Sigvir at the fore, Runner just behind him, and Erogar pressing toward the exit while the others tried to stem the tightening noose.
Sigvir stepped deliberately into full view, drawing fire from every angle. A hail of autogun rounds tore toward him, punching sparks off masonry and detonating against the ground. A few found purchase against his armor, but ceramite and transhuman physiology absorbed the impacts with minimal effect.
Beside him, Wick crouched behind a sheet-metal shack, using the warped panels as improvised cover. When the next volley ripped through his position, shrapnel slashed across his side, but he held firm, teeth gritted, refusing to fall until the others were clear.
With Vint safely through the threshold, it was now a matter of seconds – just a handful more heartbeats to bring the remaining members into the tunnel.
But fate had one last diversion left to spill onto the dirt...
As Erogar turned to follow, a cultist burst from a side door, firing wildly. A shot punched into the priest’s flank; the force dropped him instantly. He hit the ground hard, robes smoldering, censer rolling free across the gravel. He had time to utter one last prayer before the world went dark around him.
He thanked the emperor for the grace to fall on his service.
Sigvir reacted with immediate, brutal efficiency. He seized the unconscious priest by the harness and swung him over one shoulder, shielding Erogar’s body with his own bulk as a fresh wave of cultists flooded behind them. Round after round hammered against the Astartes’ armor, sparks showering off his vambrace and greaves as he backpedaled toward the tunnel mouth.
Runner slipped through the corridor at last, skittering past Wick’s cover and disappearing into the gloom. Sigvir followed, dragging Erogar with single-handed ease.
When the last of the crew cleared the threshold, he spun, planted his feet, and drove his power fist into the load-bearing struts above the entrance. The impact cracked the ferrocrete spine of the passage. With a grinding roar, loose piping and sheets of rusted support metal collapsed, sealing the entrance behind them.
Dust billowed through the tunnel.
Outside, cultists screamed in frustration.
Inside, the echoes faded into silence.
The crew escaped.
The coordinates to Chella Rean were secured.
Mission accomplished – barely, and at great cost – but accomplished all the same.
Conclusion
With the data in hand, the first mission is finally completed successfully. The crew extracted with the primary objective, a recovery of most team members, and an additional loot token to offset losses.
Rescue rolls were mixed. White Shadow, Graff, and Latch made full recoveries with no lasting effects. Hunter Grekka sustained a serious injury but survived, and will start next game at half-health. Erogar suffered a permanent injury – his arm crushed during the extraction run, resulting in a reduced Fight stat. He accepts the damage without complaint, treating the scarring as a mark of duty.
Sigvir saw heavy use of Adrenaline Surge, gaining multiple extra actions at critical moments. His experience was spent on two level-ups: lowering the activation number of Void Blade and increasing his Fight stat by +1. Erogar improved Dark Energy, which has repeatedly proven essential for removing armored targets in a single strike.
The crew’s recovered loot was a Plasma Encoder – not broadly useful but potentially helpful for misleading bounty hunters, the crew kept it. Remaining credits were used to buy ablative armor for Erogar and to upgrade the cyber-mastiff from Guard Dog to Striker. Seventy-five credits remain allocated for future Combat Armor maintenance (no failed Armory rolls yet, lets keep it rolling).
With the coordinates secured, the crew is now positioned to attempt Chella Rean’s rescue. Progress will pause briefly while I assemble combat drone models for the next mission – I really wanna try and make my own kitbashed autogun servo-skulls to play that role.
+ 0 021 017 .M42 +
++ Hope Eternal – Mission 1, second attempt: The Access Codes, Trail Rekindled ++
+++ Success — Data recovered and extraction achieved under heavy pursuit. +++
++++ Chella Rean’s coordinates secured; rescue operation now underway. ++++
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