"Drake," came a voice from behind from the branch. "Stay your blade. It is just Aramendel."

The elf sat perched on the the second tier or branches, staring at the clearing. The spirit army was grouped in sight, but seemed to meld into one being.  He could only hear a few words between the marine and the lone spirit, nothing that could explain anything. "This isn't our fight, General. This is Gallus' but it seems Master Mason and Miss Vanessa are caught in the middle. If something happens, back up the marine, I don't think he can do much equipped as he is. Let us just pray it doesn't come to that."

The specter of Novus moved in close to Gallus. It seemed to tower over him as it slowly made itself grow with his words.

"It was a fight that should not have been, Brother. You knew better, you knew that we were not ready for the mission, Brother. Many of our men died in that fight, Brother.  You knew your orders were misinformed, Brother."

"My orders were to hold the line. I was a Sergeant then, as I am now. I had no say in which orders we carried out, only that the Chapter Masters knew what they were doing for it was their orders. You knew the stakes as well as me. We are Space Marines and do not cringe from battle. You of all should know, you taught me. We had served for nigh on two centuries together. We were ready, the Tyranids are a bitter and tough foe."

The more the specter talked the more Gallus knew something was amiss. Novus knew as well as any other Skyhawk, maybe even more so, that Space Marines were always ready. They had been prepared for a defense and had fought hard. Many did die, but a hive fleet was driven away, no easy task. Novus knew the risks, as did they all.

"I did teach you, but I also taught you that orders can only be as useful as the information that leads to them, Brother.  I also taught you that the better fight was the smarter fight, Brother. The line was doomed too be flanked and you knew it, Brother. You could have changed the plans and protected your men, your Brothers."

Every word seemed to get louder, and every time the specter repeated 'Brother' his face would flash blue.

"And you also know why I chose to stand! Those men did not die in vain! Yes, the flank fell, but if I had turned to face the horde, our center would have had no support and the entire facility would have fallen. I chose duty, Brother. You know the creed! THE EMPEROR BLESSES THE DUTIFUL, FOR THEY SERVE HIS WILL! FAITH ABOVE HONOR, DUTY BEFORE DEATH! These are the words you taught me! Be at rest spirit for you are not Novus! Novus sacrificed himself to save the entire planet. He would not moan of self-service and loyalty to brother before duty. BEGONE SPIRIT!"

His voice was loud and clear, amplified by the voxcaster in his armor. He moved closer to face the spirit head on. Behind the visor of the helmet, he held a stern gaze. No longer was he unsure, no longer was he doubtful. He was a Space Marine! He shall stand and fight or die trying. Novus would know, he did it.

The spirit let out a bellow and hardy laugh.

"Perceptive, Brother"

The spirit began to warp and twist, still keeping the same shape but all the details of the face began to fade as his eyes turned to a Daemonic red.  The face settled finally appearing melted and stretched across the bone. His armor seemed normal, but corroded.

"Always like you brainwashed. . . the moment something doesn't make sense you call to your emperor."

Mason again draws the glorified air pistol.  The barrel pointed down.  18 rounds in this weapon.  Really three round minimum to put one of these specters down.  No spare clip either.  Why hadn't he thought to get more ammo.  Because he had never needed it.  He never did a run without magical support.  Now he is stuck in the woods without Dream Walker, Peppin or Max.  Frag it.

"Vanessa, the gun is empty.  That only holds 6 rounds."

He knew he could hold them off, the whip would hold them at bay, but it couldn't really kill them.  Kill isn't really the right word, disrupt them, banish them from this plane.

"That is yet to be seen.  For the time being though, I concur."  Garrett kept his blade drawn watched the situation unfold.

He carefully moved to the tree under Aramendel, "I'll cover you in the event things turn.  Unfortunately, I will only be able destroy them one at a time."  He didn't appear worried but neither did he appear particularly anxious to engage an army either.  With his left he reached into his uniform and pulled a flask and drank the contents before tossing it aside.

This wasn't good. Even if he could damage them, there was still too many.  The elf decided to shift his focus to the crowd of spirits.  Something about them did not seem right. Many of the phantoms were fading in and out of sight.

"I think we may be in luck. They don't look corporeal. That gives us time, they can only do so much if they haven't bound to the plane yet."

He looked down at the soldier, then back up to the crowd. Praying his observation was correct, he took a deep breath.

"We need to get closer," he said jumping to the forest floor. He started heading around to his left, circling the clearing.

She'd thought she'd only fired three rounds, but she had no real idea. Something's weird. She answered Mason, following the back and forth between Gallus and the spector.

Gallus was annoying in many ways but they were the nostalgic, self pitting ways.  In fact, the very things that made him annoying would be the antithesis of what would make this scene make sense.  He would have had to have been a very different character for what the spector to be saying to be accurate and personality change did not seem feasible for Gallus's past.  Though she did agreed, Gallus was seemingly brainwashed, at easy lament calling his emperor, dead colleagues.... Exactly, this was weird.

She saw Aramen and Drake opposite, and hoped they didn't try anything.  She had to wonder, how many of these others had travesed what her world called hell?  She'd seen this kind of thing before. Zagan? Pryo?  But there was no proof of that or which, and it mattered.

Nergal?  He would be happy about Kevin.  Would he come if she called to him?

Brother-Sargent Gallus,She hoped she'd gotten that right, she hoped that it might encourage the the Marine to listen to her. Ask him what he wants. She suggested calmly, softly, but firmly.  It should give them, at least her, information. And clearly the spector wanted to talk to Gallus.

He stood his ground under the tree making a gesture for the elf to hold his ground rather than approach, "I advise against approaching.  At this time they don't seem to care about us and there is a chance the situation will resolve on its own if we let it.  If we povoke a physical response we will endanger those on the other side."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:05, Fri 27 Feb 2009.

Gallus drew his bolt pistol up and aimed it at the specter.

"Foul Chaos wretch!Yes, I do call on the Emperor in times of need. He is my light, a beacon against your foul kind. You would have me to sway so easily, to fall to your words? I could say the same things about you, calling to your foul gods when in need, ever placing yourself above others. I know my place and it will rise in due time. Until then I will not dream of glory and power, for I look at you and see where that path ends."

The elf bent over and found a small flower. Lavender. He looked up to examine the woods around him, he realized what was so odd about the forest.
"This is a warring ground."
He turned to face Drake. "I don't intend to provoke, but I think I have an idea. You are well traveled. Look at the foliage. Every plant here is used for various divine rights, blessed and profane alike. If we gather up holy plants we may have something to at least keep them at bay. Ivy, Aloe, Wolfsbane, fill your flask and light it."

Vanessa rolled her eyes.  Gallus was either ignoring her or in his own world.  Though either was possible, she actually suspected the latter, which meant if he fired his weapon at his "ghost" there would be risk he'd shoot thru the spector and hit some unintended target, like Aramen or Drake.

Can you get him to ask? Or ask yours? She asked Mason quietly, and began to back away slowly, hoping to circle round and get the other two out of the way.  Her best chance she figured was to point out the situation to Aramen, and hope Drake listened to him.

"Foolish Marine. In death I have had the glory I so deserved. My only regret is that my service has come to an end. But as you arrived here, I realized, it does not have to end."

The Chaos Marine reached over to touch the marine. His hand passed through the helmet and his skin. Where he made contact begins to feel cold.

"I am not able to impart strong force to living flesh. And as I watched battle after battle of my brethren as they progress across the galaxies, I felt useless that I could not interact with their world to assist them. But here. . . AH, but here i can interact with the the unnatural and nonliving, especially by temperature."

The phantom withdrew his hand, "You may ask why that matters. But what makes you so superior to the common man?"

The Marine never flinched. He stood still as a tree.

"My glory is not my own,but the Emperor's. I am superior only in physique and nothing else. I have seen men of the Guard with as much zeal and faith as a Chaplain. I have seen peasants with the courage to rise against your bretheren. I carry the stregth of the Emperor's people. I am his will and their arm. I am death incarnate."

He lowered the pistol and holstered it, doing the same to the chainsword. He then reached up and removed his helmet. The tattoo of a double headed eagle on his neck. He lowered the helmet to the ground and redrew his weapons.

"Let us end this then. Take form wraith and prove that you deserve your glory, otherwise haunt the hell you came from. But be warned and know this."

He smiled a cruel smile. He signaled Vanessa to flank around with his lowered sword hand.

"Marines don't die, they just go to hell to regroup. We will find you and you shall face a reckoning."

"Due time, for I am having, So. Much. Fun."

The other spirits began to get anxious. In some of their ghostly hands held primitive weapons. Some axes, but mainly clubs. Others without weapons began fading in and out of sight.

"Did you ask yourself how I knew about your fallen Brother? Because it was still in your mind. That moment was still there, filled with repressed doubt.  I also see many other moments of doubt.  If you feel such doubt, why blindly obey? No, don't answer that. I will for you." The spirit's voice changed to match Gallus'.

"GLORY FOR THE EMPEROR. FOR I AM BUT A TOOL FOR HIS GLORIOUS WILL."
His voice returned to normal.
"What has he done for you? He turned you into a soldier. But did he do that for you? No, he did it for himself. For his will, for his greed, for his ambition. You aren't even human anymore. A human has free will. You, Brother, Are a puppet."

The phantom then reached for the chest of the marine, trying to pierce it with his incorporeal hand.

With a blinding speed, Mason aims the pistol at the ghost and puts a three round burst of FAB Strain III bacteria into it.

The spirit riled back as the shot seemed to burn expanding holes into where it received the rounds. As the holes expanded the figure managed to utter

"It has been planted......."

The other phantoms begin to soar closer to the others. Those with weapons trailing behind those without. Groups of about 5 spirits each approached the 3 is the clearing.

Pushing the last ivy leaf into his only torch which he took from his side pouch, Aramendel looked up and saw he was out of time.  The torch was oiled and ready but he didn't have time to light it.
"Drake! We need to move!"

He slid the torch back into his pouch, it seeming to disappear into the seemingly small bag and reached over his shoulder and under his cloak. He then sprinted to the north end of the clearing, coming to a sliding halt. Aramen then ripped the sheath off his ankle, dropped it on the ground and notched the arrow he drew before into his new bow.

"May her blessing be with me"

The ranger released an arrow towards the leading ghost chasing towards Vanessa.

"If I am a puppet for greater means, then so be it. I serve for Man." With that and taking advantage of Mason's distraction he pulls back and resets himself, aiming the bolt pistol at the specters.

"Emperor, guide my hand, steel my soul, bring death to those that defy you. I am your will on this mortal coil, bless me to do your bidding."

And having complete the Litany of Battle, he charges in, firing his blessed bolter rounds at the nearest target. He has a smile and song of battle upon his lips.

No. Vanessa tried to cry out, but things had moved too fast.

Mason's funky weapon might work on the undead, but her general experience and she had had quiet a lot, was that there was no weapon outside of Mason's that worked to rid ghosts  In Hell, weapons might harm demons, though not destroy, take out hellhounds, sure, but if these were truly spirits of the dead, it would just hurt the rest of them.

She dropped fairly quickly, and nearest to Drake, pulled him down with her, before errant flying bullets filled the air in the area.  He'd probably be annoyed with her for it. He'd probably tell her she was a stupid little girl and bullets went thru him.  And if so, he can stand up and be shot at. The voice in her head scoffed.

This is not the way to handle nasty p-ed off spirits. She hissed generally to herself, annoyed.

The lead spirit chasing after Vanessa was stunned momentarily as the arrow burned it. It wasn't defeated, but it felt locked in place, at least for now. The woman was able to roll away from his attack because of this.

It was similar for the ghosts hunting Gallus. Each one he shot was frozen in the air, slowly trying to regain their mobility. Each one getting more mobile as time goes on.

The 4 spirits continued to go towards Mason while one spirit tried to go after the little ferret.  A large club raised, a spirit took a heavy swing at Mason.

It worked, at least for now.

Aramendel reached and grabbed another arrow and launched it towards another nearby spirit. Alright that's all for now, time to move. He reached down and grabbed his knife, and in one swift motion tossed the sheathed blade to Vanessa.

"Vanessa, use the dagger!"

Without taking the time to explain he sprinted into the middle of the clearing, firing another arrow on the way.

It's time for the whip.  Mason's left hand extends, moving in a wide arc over his head.  The tip of his finger comes off and seems attached by an invisible string, a mono-filament whip.  While not truly only one molecule thick, the energized whip could cut through almost anything.  High tech weapons were rarely able to kill spirits, but this one hurt like he@$ and would prevent any of them from getting close.  He had used this trick before.  The gun came up again and three more rounds impact into the spirit charging at Slick as Mason steps cleanly over him.  Each round burns as it hits the non substantial being.  The round itself not touching anything but the bacteria starting to eat away at the spirit creature.  He can't let that rat die, he had brought him here.  Dream Walker wouldn't care if he gave the rodent away, but if told his chummer that he had gotten it killed, he would never hear the end of it.

To himself he mumbles:
"12 rounds left."