Ilana made the sign of the aquila in contrition. "I spoke out of turn Legatine. Though Vennedes and her ilk have strayed from His light, it is also the duty of the faith to redeem those capable of it, and here I erred."
"Zeal is a virtue, Sister. You have nothing to apologize for," Lethicia replies. "It is merely a matter of how to implement it."
@Zeitgeist Blue @greendoor @Mina
Already armored, it does not take you long to ready the holy arms of battle. Laden with weapons and ammunition, you venture out into the rows of garages to where teams of Sisters and enginseers ready the Mission's holy vehicles. A sudden detonation shakes the street just outside the garage gates and kicks up a wave of filthy water that sprays into the garage and washes over your lower legs. Palais scoffs as the filth runs off your hydrophobic armor, leaving your sabatons and greaves spotless and shining.
"Can't even dirty our armor!" She laughs, before motioning at the open hatch of a Rhino Razorback. "There's our ride, Sisters," She says as another shell lands up the courtyard, sending a PDF team leaping into a muddy ditch.
A Sister you don't know gives you a cursory greeting as you begin to board the vehicle. As you do, you make out a sudden flash of light in the dark clouds outside the bay, followed by the thunderous retort of a battlecannon detonation. One of your Order's thunderhawks speaking its voice.
"Finally," Your driver mutters as, at last, the mortars fall silent. But the Little Cog district remains quite alive.
The pounding rain rattles against the Rhino's thick ceramite roof, audible even over the rumble of the vehicle's steady engine. It is a measured ride, the Razorback seeming a staid beast compared to the ever eager Viatorem. Roads flood in the storm, leaving the vehicle trudging through waist deep water in places. Twice, Maria and Caelia are forced to disembark to push the Rhino out of thick mud, and you can only imagine that given the number of cracks and crunches you hear as the Razorback rolls over other obstacles that if you were in a lesser vehicle, you'd have a great deal more trouble. Certainly, the rugged PDF trucks following in your wake are repeatedly slowed, though to their drivers' credit, never stopped for long.
But the storm does not seem to put a damper on the mood of the population. If anything, it has riled them up. You can hear the explosions and gunfire outside the vehicle, and the vox is alive with reports of heavy combat as Sisters and PDF units engage mobs of cultists dug in across the district, or try to direct mobs of self-proclaimed Frateris Militia. At the least the Arbitrators are reporting lessened pressure along the quarantine; perhaps it is thanks to your efforts at redirecting the rioters?
As you listen to a PDF lieutenant cursing over the vox about heavy casualties and demanding support, the Rhino starts to slow. The driver pokes her head around the corner.
"Sister-Superior, disembark's about 300 meters up, but we've got a de-tracked Rhino at 50. Permission to stop and render assistance?" She asks.
Palais sighs, but nods. "We can continue the rest of the way on foot," She says, rolling her Sabbat-Pattern helm in her gauntlets. The back hatch opens up, the din of the rain seeming almost overpowering as the thick hail of rain pounds against the ramp. Palais gives you all a wan smile at the rain, then raises up and locks her helmet.
"O divine machine-spirits, demideus Omnissiah espiritum, I beseech thee to shield my fragile flesh from harm," She intones as her helmet hisses shut. You dismount, weapons raised. Ahead, a Rhino side leans deep into a great crater torn into the road, already half filled with murky water. The vehicle's left track is a tattered mess, its sacred hull blackened and pitted from a powerful explosive, and you see a pair of carmine clad Sisters trying to push the vehicle out of the flooding hole whilst others surround the vehicle in defensive positions. Smaller craters pockmark the road, and two dents are visible along the side of the Rhino. Dead men and women clad in civilian rain coats, industrial work gear, and improvised tactical gear lay soaking in the rain, streams of red washing out from their tattered bodies, their chilling hands clutching stubbers and improvised explosives. Limbs have been pulled off, bones shattered, skulls caved in, and throats ripped out, whilst others perished clutching deep gashes or spilled entrails. This was clearly a close quarters fight.
"Hail Sisters! Squad Selveria at your service. We ah, our suspect must have missed a mine or something." One of the Sisters calls out, cradling her boltgun, the point of a monoblade snapped off in her plastron. Somewhere in the tenement behind, you hear a brief crack of a lasweapon, followed by the roar of a chainsword. A few boltgun rounds follow, their double-boom echoing over the rainswept courtyard. "Sister-Superior Selveria took a demi-squad to clear out the building-We were taking RPG fire from there during the ambush. Praise the Throne that besides our noble Rhino, no one was hurt."
Palais makes the sign of the aquila. "Emperor be praised, though I pray the Machine Spirit recover quickly. I wish we could have lent aid, but it's clear you didn't need us," Palais says, giving a brief glance. Through the winding warren of streets ahead, you can just barely make out the tip of the squat Carmine tower, its fading scarlet paint barely visible in the mist. In another direction, near the harbor, you can make out the smoke and glow of a significant fire from near where the Pellager ghetto was.
"The Razorback's got some recovery gear and will try to help. You need any further aid?" Palais asks.
The Sister gives a thumbs up back. "No, Sister-Superior. We're alright, but you ought to watch your step out there, 'lest you lose a leg as our vehicle lost its tread. Oh, if you're heading to the Carmine Tower, there's a river ahead. Looked like there'd been some pretty heavy fighting between some of the civilian militias and somebody over it. Main bridge looked halfway to collapse."
Palais glances behind you as the PDF cargo-8s roll to a halt. PDF troopers begin to disembark into the rain without complaint, pulling the thick raincoats over their segmented armor tight. The officer in charge starts shouting for thr servitors to be unloaded.
"Well, we're proceeding on foot anyway. Let's get those munitions lockers out Sisters. Take up formation."
