Final Transcribed Transmission of Land Raider Izod, designated transport of Captain Tobias
125.817.M41 1827 Hours
Operational Theater: Rheelas

Tobias: “Squad Alpha, get me a visual on the other side of that grain depot. If we lose the rations, we’re looking at a thousand rebels turned to a million. Igneous, give me a report on the–”

A loud crash is heard, along with the sound of ceramite on ceramite collision within the hold

Tobias: “Commander Brazen, status report!”

The sound of movements, metal on metal, and other activity can be heard

Brazen: “Sir, the engine is running and we’re not moving. Reporting… Magnetic field of… 200 Teslas! An industrial magnet? The decking itself is shearing apart around us. Structural integrity sound, locomotion ineffective. Diverting power to locomotion.

The sound of an extremely large motor can be heard growing rapid from undetermined location outside Land Raider

Tobias: What is… BRACE!

Transmission peaks with impact noises for 1.7 seconds, followed 3 seconds later by the sound of submersion. No further audio evidence of life in Izod.

Izod: “Automated transmission system of Land Raider Izod activated. Hull punctured in… 32 places. Depth at 100- 110- 120 and counting meters below sea level. Locomotion ineffective, assumed destroyed. Life support inactive. Weapons functional. Depth at 200 meters and counting. Awaiting bottom impact. Assumed time until emergence from ocean based on topography: 9999 hours. Praise the Emperor. Message will repeat.”

Contact ceased before message could repeat. Land Raider assumed lost with all souls aboard. A grave loss for our chapter.

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Pre-Battle Report of Captain Alister Mac Lir
125.787.M41 1813 Hours
Operational Theater: Rheelas

The meeting with the Salamanders and Ultramarines has amounted to little but wasted operational time and a foul taste in my mouth. However, the presence of the Deathwatch, and the fact that a fellow brother ranks among them, is encouraging. No Xenos shall stand against us, and the habitual over-cautiousness of the other chapters will not hinder us any further. My honor guard and myself are en route to the city-ship Esmerelda, where we will pluck this infestation root and stem, by whatever means necessary.

By the tribes of Sacris, our will be done.

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From the desk of Inquisitor Ulysses Wright
125.787.M41 1357 Hours
In Transit to Hestus, Jericho Reach [Achilus Crusade]

Lord-Captain Incanus Gilden, Rogue Trader:

I write this to you mere moments before we enter transit, this very temporary delay only justified by the potential inexcusable loss of Rheelas. I have deployed a Deathwatch Kill-Team to aid against incursion by unknown Xenos on the planet’s surface, and cannot wait to resolve the situation. Please make haste to collect them immediately afterward, and have them brought to the Death World of Bellom at greatest possible speed. As per usual, an agent entrusted by myself can be safely assumed to traffick in nothing of danger to the Imperium, and your mission and related dealings will be expedited at the highest possible speeds, including customs checks. Please also provide all pertinent expertise in Xenos artifacts.

With Commendation,
Ulysses Wright

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There comes a time in one’s life where you need to look at the decisions that you’ve made, and decide that enough is enough. That just because you’ve spent a great deal of time and effort pursuing something, that alone does not mean that you should continue without purpose, or with misguided purpose. There is a great bravery, I believe, to certain forms of failure, to certain forms of concession, those that cause you to grow in the process, and lead to further success. If one spends their entire life, shortens it even, in the name of a single, unenviable and wrong-headed ethic, then they have written their own epitaph long before their time has come. The drive to persist, to continue, is written deep into the fabric of the human ethos, but doomed is the starving man that walks unstoppably and inexorably toward the center of the desert. That is why, Dear Diary, I believe our time is at an end. You have chronicled my failings dutifully, and it is time for me to find the truth in them, rather than persist foolishly. May that gun one day melt in the fires of Hell.

-Recovered from a dust-stained page in the diary of an unnamed debt collector, written late August, 1877

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As the cruel winter subsides, one last cold front moves in to rock Upper Minnesota.  Will our intrepid entrepreneurs be able to cross the perilous roads and find their target, or will the cruel wheels of fate smash them into the pavement?

This is part of an ongoing interpodcast series.  This episode can be consumed on its own but the greater archives of RM10k Lakes as well as the setting summary can be found here.  Apologies also for the audio quality this episode.

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