Carmillus stands, "My Lords, is there anything else I may address before we get started?"
"I believe it is clear. In order to locate [i]Back Breaker[\i] we must move as a single pack when we reach Serenity."
Yngvar satisfied with the Inquisitor's recommendation, rises just after Carmillus. "If that is all, we will assemble in the Armory." Yngvar departs for the Armory, recognizing the full worth of this team. He expects this value will be reflected within the gleaming and worn wargear, awaiting it's eventual deployment.
"If that is all, see yourself to the Armory and get yourselves outfitted. We drop out of the Warp soon and will be within Thunderhawk range of Serenity. The Emperor Protects," says Carmillus.
Angellion rises, "I will remain aboard the Doomsayer for this mission, Astartes. Do me proud. Do the Primarchs proud. And do the Emperor proud. Good hunting, Marines."
The Inquisitor makes the sign of the Aquila across her breast and bows deeply. Angellion follows suit and makes his way to the exit.
Gunter remains until everyone but Inquisitor Carmillus has gone.
"Inquisitor Carmillus, this talk of a rogue psyker has me concerned. I would not put my brothers in harm's way if my 'affliction' were likely to be exploited by the deceptions of Chaos".
Carmillus considers a moment before responding, "There is always the chance of Chaos intervention, of which you are surely aware. Why is it different now?"
"Before we had not spoken of the risks. We have not worked to strengthen or test my resolve. I would take whatever lessons we have time for before insertion if you have the time and inclination".
"Well, take heart that we do not know if a psyker is even responsible for this. It could be anything at this point. But let me make myself clear, if I had not before. This is your first lesson, Gunter."
"How is your faith at this moment in time? How is your resolve?"
Gunter responds with conviction, "My faith and resolve remain firm. I have no doubts in our Emperor's divine plan or the part I am to play. I belong to him body and soul - every sinew of my being is devoted to his service. "
Carmillus's expressions are impossible to read, but she may be pleased by this answer. "And that is why I am not particularly worried at this juncture. It is like I said previously, if I believed the developments of your powers to be a threat you would not have been seconded to the Doomsayer. You would have been shown the Emperor's Mercy. Trust in yourself and in the Emperor. Whether you know it or not, our training has already begun. Here, I have something for you." Carmillus reaches under the solid wood table and brings forth a deck of cards. "This is the Emperor's Tarot. Many of us with the gift use it for guidance and inspiration. Trust in yourself and trust in this and the Emperor will show you the way."
Gunter accepts the gift reverently - connected as it is to the Emperor's name it cannot be associated with evil.
Carmillus stares at Gunter and gives him a trusting nod. "If I were a betting woman, I would bet on you, Templar." She makes her way to the door and turns before leaving. "Hate your enemies more than you hate yourself. Hate them with the purest hate imaginable. That is how you focus your gift. Good luck, Astartes." With that, she slips out of the door and leaves Gunter in the Kill Room.
Gunter allows a smile. He KNOWS how to hate. He automatically begins reciting the litany of hatred - a list of crimes wrought by the enemies of mankind that the Black Templars intend to repay with interest. He continues it long after he leaves the room and is still reciting the rolls of enemies when he rejoins his fellow marines in the Armory.
Angellion leaves the room as the greater portion of the team does. "Find the Armory and get kitted out. I will meet you in the Hangar Bay."
You all make your way to the Armory and grab the necessary gear for the mission ahead. Frater Astrotechnis Mikail, the squat techmarine of the Raven Guard is standing over a massive workstation. The multiple arms coming out of the back of his armor all working on a different aspect of some grand project. He looks your way as you enter, the only sign of acknowledgement to your presence, then goes back to his work.
The Armory itself is spectacular. The relatively small space, compared to the Armor on say Watch Fortress Erioch, is absolutely filled to the brim with weapons and ammo. Rows and rows of stasis-shielded weapon racks line the walls. Bolters, flamers, and ordnance are abundant. You even spot some curious alternate pattern weapons and others that you could have sworn were of Xenos origin. Serfs and servitors bustle about quietly and are ever-ready to serve you with a obsessive compulsive obsession that no doubt aided in them being placed in the holy armory. Attention to detail and a dogmatic reverence for Astartes weaponry make their placement here a perfect fit. One Serf in particular, a large mortal human who should have been an Astartes but for one reason or a another failed while also survivng the recruitment process tends to your every need.
When you have all outfitted yourself for the mission ahead, you look even more deadly than you did before; a feat in and of itself. Content that you have what you need, you prepare to make your way to the Hangar Bays. Before you exit the Armory a familiar voice speaks over the ship's vox unit.
"Attention passengers and crew of the Doomsayer, Warp exit imminent. Brace for momentary time-space lapse. Return to Realspace in 5...4...3...2..." The return to Realspace is just as traumatic and jarring and instantaneous as the jump to Warpspace had been. As the Warp engines scream to a cool, the Doomsayer breaks back into the Jericho Reach, as if emerging from a pinpoint of light, the ship pulls itself into the material universe once again. Plasma heat signatures ripple off of the hull as the ship glides silently through the void, hundreds of thousands of kilometers out of Serenity's orbit. The ship will glide silently with its void shields activated - invisible to the eye and to radar - until you are within Thunderhawk range.
Once you arrive in the Hangar Bay, you see Angellion standing beside the powerful Thunderhawk transport. The Thunderhawk, a typical staple of Space Marine strike forces is a fast, well armored and highly reliable infiltration and exfiltration vehicle. Most of them are named by their loving crews who view them as sacred entities with proud Machine Spirits, and they are correct. But, for whatever reason, this Thunderhawk has remained unnamed. Odd to say the least. Regardless of its namelessness, it is armed to the teeth; each wing houses a lascannon and twin-linked Heavy Bolters, and a second pair of twin-linked Heavy Bolters are mounted on its nose under the front fuselage, but the most iconic weapon is the dorsal mounted Thunderhawk Cannon, capable of bringing a great amount of firepower to a single location. Two pilots sit at the top of the craft under reinforced armaglass. Their seats are under the dorsal cannon but above the troop hold.
Angellion waits near the troop hold, ready to hear your Oaths be sworn.
Perhaps contrary to his new kill-team-mates (or perhaps not), Pax makes time to talk shop with the attendant serfs as they attend to his needs. He discusses technical data about his weaponry, inquires about some of the unfamiliar xenos-looking gear on display, talks shop about the pros and cons of various incarnations of power armor and in the case of one particularly interested serf, even divulges the name he's given to his servo-arm. While not Astartes, these serfs serve a useful purpose in bringing the Emperor's cleansing justice to the galaxy, and Pax expresses his recognition of this to them in his own way (usually through humor).
His pleas and prayers to the machine spirits of his armor, weapons and gears complete, Pax dismisses the serfs and servitors, that he might make his genuflection to the Omnissiah, taking a knee and quietly whispering prayers meant only for himself and Deus Mechanicus. He takes his time with this, not feeling rushed, and finishes by tracing the outline of the Cog Mechanicum branded into his head, as seems to be customary for him.
Finally, he rises and makes his way to the hangar bay, where he intends to swear his oaths to his new brothers, his Watch Captain and to the Emperor himself.
Sarlock moves his eyes across the armory, looking for the specific rounds he knows will bring punishment to the xenos scum they will all inevitably exterminate. He tells the serfs, in his twisting mechanical voice, the exact number of rounds required and has them load the rounds into his Heavy Bolter ammo backpack. He also goes to the area where they horde the grenades and points at one of the Cryo ones, asking for one of these for the next mission. While waiting, he picks nervously at the skin on his right hand, causing his hand to bleed slightly, a habit he has formed before each battle to ensure victory and to remind himself that the flesh is weak.
He attaches the heavy bolter to the supply backpack back in his quarters, gently caressing the bolter that has seen him through countless battles and has yet to fail him. He makes his way to the hangar bay, eager to swear his oaths and get on with it.
Once the din of adamantium welders modifying the Astartes armor with implants and circuitry of various sorts has died down and each member has selected their gear for the mission, Yngvar addresses his Deathwatch kill-team for this mission.
"Astartes, kneel." Recognizing the reassuring nature of the theatrics and taking the oath parchments upon which he had previously prepared the oath, Yngvar calmly and quickly recites the Oath of Glory, for he is eager to fulfill it. He has no doubt each of their chapters has legends of acclaim and grandeur to which their minds will go as they recite the words.
After pinning each parchment to each marine's armor, he declares "You have taken the Oath of Glory. Now rise and do those that have sworn it before you proud."
As the kill-team rises Yngvar turns to Angellion, so that each member of the team is facing him. "Let us find this spacewolf."
Mission: Back Breaker; Welcome to Serenity. Welcome to the Suck
"Only in victory is your Oath fulfilled," starts Angellion. Knowing what is coming next most of you join in.
"Only in death is the price of duty paid."
Angellion holds up a hand and moves it in a small circle around his head. Reading the signal, the pilots light up the engines of the holy war machine. The Thunderhawk screams to life and it brings reassurance to all the Astartes present. This was what you were bred for, this is why the Emperor created you and your forefathers and their forefathers before them. The galaxy may shift and spin out of control; frontiers may change and battlefronts will shift; enemies may become friends and vice versa, but war... War never changes.
Aisha is the first inside the Thunderhawk's troop hold. The Vox Caster on her back, the Narthecium on her right arm and the Diagnostor helmet marking her as both the squad's Apothecary and impromptu Master of Vox. Sarlock follows, hefting the massive heavy bolter like it were no more than a child in his half robotic hands. He finds a seat built specifically for the Devastator and straps himself in. Gunter and Pax walk in in near synchronous step, each returning the sign of the Aquila to Angellion as they enter, both of their requisitioned flamers mag-strapped to the side of their backpack power supply; their belts adorned with grenades, extra Bolter ammunition and shining tanks of promethium for their weapons. Yngvar is last. As Squad Leader he will be the first foot on the ground and the last one back in the Thunderhawk upon completion of their mission. He nods to Angellion and climbs aboard. Before the door closes, you see Mikail step into the hangar bay and make his way toward the gunship. Without a word he clambers up an external ladder and into the cockpit. Apparently he will be piloting this bird. The two pilot servitors who had primed the ship move into the co-pilot and navigator's positions.
The troop-hold doors come to a close and you find yourself in a much larger area than is necessary for your small team. You are used to being exactly where you are, but in the past it has been with the rest of your squad, pack, or crusade force - with the exception of Aisha. Many battles she found herself in Thunderhawk gunships with a select small squad of Daughters of Death. This was home to her: small squad, tight knit over decades of battle, able to read one another without a second thought. It was time to build that bond anew.
The Thunderhawk's triple RX-92-00 Mars Pattern engines build up into a crescendo as the ship roars off into the void of space. It moves with a fast and agile finesse, while remaining ultimately deadly, much like the ancient Terran bird of prey the design was named after. After pushing the afterburners for a few minutes, the pilot eases off and lets the ship glide through space at thousands of kilometers per hour.
For close to twenty minutes you fly in silence. It is peaceful. The calm before the storm. Then a voice comes over your Power Armor's internal vox frequency, "Kill Team Doomsayer," it was Mikail. "We make landfall in five minutes. We are going in silent; check weapons." It needed not be said, but if Mikail was anything he was thorough.
"Preliminary scans of Settlement Alpha-Ichi show no movement. Scattered infrared heat signatures. They seem small. It could be indigenous fauna. There is a lot of static feedback and readings are shaky at best - no doubt splashback from the downed comms and/or the psychic blackout." The Thunderhawk shook as it broke through Serenity's atmosphere, and then calmed again as it entered the clouds. You were on the planet's day side. "Weather conditions are overcast - slight rain. Atmosphere breathable. Temperature forty-five Faren." The Thunderhawk began a rapid descent as Mikail brought it in low and fast making as small of a target and signature blip on radar screens technologically advanced enough to pick it up. "Bringing her down."
With a thump, much softer than you thought possible in a craft of this size and power, the Thunderhawk sat down. With a hiss the forward bay door went down and broken sunlight and soft rains made their way inside to greet you.
Sarlock braces himself for the eventual impact, happy to be back on solid ground, knowing that the real fun was about to begin. He unstraps himself from the Dev. seat and checks to make sure the ammo supply backpack didn't come loose during planetfall. He checks his weapons to make sure they are all in order and steps forward, waiting for his squad leader to make the first move.
A good day for war, he thinks to himself, grinning underneath his helmet, gears spinning in his eyes. The thrill of killing running through his veins.
Aisha unstraps herself and quickly goes through the process of checking her weapons and armor. Now that she has landed she does a quick test with her Vox Caster.
"Vox test, do you read?" Expecting an answer from Mikail she quickly prepares herself to follow her brothers into the field.
This is where she was meant to be as a servant to the Emperor. She bows her head silently in prayer as they prepare to leave the ship.
The breeze through the bay door compliments that smell of rain as it reaches Yngvar's senses. He checks his gear, making sure all explosives and extra mags are well within reach. As he approaches the bay doors he quickly scans the immediate terrain for any threats and cover.
"Be vigilant and report any sign of any personnel, Imperial or otherwise." Not observing any immediate threat, Yngvar sets his feet on the soil scanning for Back Breaker and ready for any further encounter.
"Loud and clear, Doomsayer, but that is mostly due to proximity. I will attempt comms from the Doomsayer sporadically in the event that luck is on our side, however I highly doubt you will read me. Once you have both communication towers operational, report, per Watch Captain Angellion."
Once you have all cleared the bay doors, the Thunderhawk revs up its engines and is gone in under 8 seconds. The mighty gunship a tiny black dot on the horizon in no time, disappearing into the thick dark clouds.
Rain patters down in a constant annoying steam, ticking and spattering off your black and silver armor. Outside of your hermetically sealed armor, a soft chilled breeze blows by. Had any of you your helmets off you could pick up the scent of ozone and vegetation that only fresh rain could bring. You stand in a lush hilly landscape; thick green grass sprouting out of rich black soil cushions your foot steps, leaving giant imprints of powered armored boots in your wake. Far off in the distance, multiple kilometers away, you make out the beginnings of a temperate forest. As per the battle-plan you have been dropped half a click (1/2 km) to the South West of Alpha-Ichi. From where you are, you currently cannot see the settlement due to the rolling hills, but you approximate it will take you about ten minutes to cover the distance accounting for the terrain and remaining situationally aware. Preliminary scans of the immediate area turn up no threats, so you move North-East, toward your first destination.
In three minutes you have crested the largest hill and have a clear sight of the settlement. It is eerily silent and still. Obvious battle damage litters its outer grounds and walls. To the South, the greenhouses and farming habs have been ransacked. Broken chunks of steel and plastik are turned over alongside similar sized upturned earth. The two large south facing front blast doors of the settlement, large enough to fit three Astartes side by side without trouble, have been blasted inward, leaving the settlement open to anyone, but nothing stirs. Perhaps the most obvious sign of battle are the multiple bodies surrounding the open entryway and gardening habs. Many of them are human. The inhabitants of Alpha-Ichi, but many more are Green skinned monsters with large jutting tusks emerging from their slack maws. Orks.
The approach to Alpha-Ichi is "blocked" by a patch of high grass at the base of the hill you are currently standing on. The grass extends in all directions and it is pretty clear that human intervention regularly clears it to stop it from encroaching into the farming habs and to keep a clear line of site from the settlement walls.
The wind blows over your silhouettes again, and below it grabs the grass and pushes it from one direction to another, giving the illusion that something as of yet unseen moves in it.
"Hold, Astartes," says Pax, holding his fist up in an obvious 'stop' motion. "Do you hear that? Orks." He motions to the grass with his flamer. "We will never get the smell out of the grass. Serves it right for its part in trying to deceive us."
"Orcs travel in large numbers and it is unlikely that the defenders slew them all, or they would be here to greet us. If Back Breaker saw the overwhelming odds, he may have gone to ground. His primary objective was unlikely to be the defense of the Imperial compounds - so remaining alive until he could be extracted seems his likeliest course of action. I don't imagine he's been able to slip away from the compound easily - and I wouldn't mind sending a few of the green-skins to their deaths while we look around." Gunter hefts his bolter, trusting that the greater range will be helpful when they first make contact with the enemy forces. He continues to scan the surrounding area, focusing on a tall patch of grass at the base of the hill. He sights along his bolter, waiting for an enemy to reveal a tusked face.
"Let's light up the grass." Sarlock screeches silently through the vox, as he makes his way into position overlooking the grassy area below. He points his HB downwards, keeping the switch enabled to the regular Bolt round feed.
"Unless you all want to pussy-foot around. Yngvar, what's your insight into this? Can't you smell the other space wolf?" He smirks underneath his helmet, ready at a moments notice to begin laying waste to the green skins in the grassy area below.
The Orks continue to shuffle and move 25m below you in the high grass. While they attempt to keep their voices down, for reasons unknown to you as you can neither see their full force or their armaments, they are not doing a very good job of it. The cloud cover breaks, only for a moment, and a beam of filtered sunlight floats down onto the hilltop from the heavens perfectly illuminating your fearsome forms and shining further down into the grass below you.
The sunlight provides a brief glimpse at the enemy force. You count six Orks, three facing away from you and three facing your direction. All of them are in sitting positions, focussing on something on the ground in between the group. It is apparent that these Orks are armed and very entertained by whatever is on the ground at their feet.
The sun is just about to go back behind the clouds when one of them glances up. His face full of confusion that immediately turns to anger. "Dem metal 'ummies iz here, boyz!"
Yngvar bursts into action with inhuman reflexes the moment he sees a look of recognition on the Ork's slack-jawed face. Suffer not the enemy to act first. "Astartes, be sure of your aim," Yngvar says as he glances to his battle brothers at his sides. "We can send all but one of these stinking piles of green flesh to their demise. Spare one of the loathsome walking callouses for questioning," he sends over the squad's Vox as he sails through the air. Yngvar's arms disappear behind his back. When they return to the Ork's view, they are each gripping a chainsword, a mastercrafted work of artful death in his right and a standard Astartes chainsword in his left. He lands just behind the middle crouched Ork who had his back turned to the group. Your first and last mistake, thinks Yngvar as he swings his weapons, revving the diamond-tipped chains. He sweeps low, severing through the closest Ork's left leg as it attempts to rise, listening as it screams pitifully and falls to the ground. The Ork next to it rises as well and attempts to kick the Blood Claw in the chest. Yngvar sees it coming from a mile away and spins gracefully to the side, bringing down both chainswords that tear through the Ork's thigh and knee with equal precision, erupting in a flood of green as arteries are severed. It too falls to the ground in a heap of murmuring nonsense, clutching at its ruined leg.
Gunter lines up a shot at the Ork who noticed your Kill Team. Gunter fires into its right leg, perhaps in an attempt to keep one of the greenskinz alive. The bolt, however, passes clean through the meat of the Ork's thigh, detonating after it cleared his flesh leaving only a flesh wound. The Ork glares at Gunter, hatred and anger and no sign of pain on its face.
With a smooth motion, Pax slaps his flamer to his chest, but comes away with his Needle rifle almost instantaneously. He brings it up to his shoulder fluidly and after a moment's sighting, fires a single almost unheard shot from the silenced weapon, nearly silent shot at one of the oblivious Orks. The weapon fires true, but the Ork proved tougher than Pax expected, swatting away the small crystal as if it were a mosquito and turning to face his attacker. "I 'ope ya have more den dat, ya oversized git!"
Aisha pulls up her Bolter, offering three names inside of her helmet, almost silently: The Mother Mariana, The Father Emperor Divinatus and His Child The Unknown Primarch. She takes aim at the Ork next to the one who first noticed you, who is now very aware of your presence but too focussed on the fury of Yngvar to notice Aisha aiming his way. She fires three controlled shots from her Holy Bolter. The first hits directly on its left kneecap, exploding a millisecond later severing his leg from the knee down. Shock stretches across his face as her second round finds its mark in his hip to the same effect; his left leg disappears from the hip down in a spray of bone matter and green blood. As it starts to fall, her third round finds its heart, opening up its chest cavity in an explosion of foul xenos organs and green entrails. It lands in a heap next to its comrade without a word.
Sarlock smiles in his helmet, ready to open the floodgates of Hell onto the green Xenos below him. He squeezes the trigger on his trust Heavy Bolter... and nothing happens. Frustrated, he looks down at the weapon in confusing, cursing himself for perhaps not reciting respect to the machine spirit exactly as he had done in the past.
It is currently Ork C's turn, but I will have to update after work.
Yngvar 15; 25m N of squad.
Gunter 13; [Bolter, 27/28]; 25m S of Orks and Yngvar.
Pax 13; [Sniper Rifle, 5/6]; 25m S of Orks and Yngvar.
Aisha 12; [Astartes Bolter, 24/28]; 25m S of Orks and Yngvar.
Ork E is dead.
Ork D is dead.
Ork F 11; has taken 3 damage.
Ork A 9; has taken 6 damage.
Ork B is dead.
Sarlock 6; [Heavy Bolter,[i]Jammed, 124/125]; 25m S of Orks and Yngvar.
Busy day at work today. Will update more ASAP.[/i]
The Ork with the wounded knee is furious and lets out a haunting scream into the air; knowing that it has no chance to reach the Space Marines currently holding the high ground, it focuses on Yngvar. "Time to die, you metal 'ummie squig-pisser," it yells at the top of its lungs as it ferociously charges Yngvar, its crude heavy blade held high above its head as its squat legs pump across the relatively short distance. It swings hard at Yngvar but the blade, intended for the "soft" area between the Space Wolf's head and neck is expertly diverted to the reinforced silver Shoulder Pauldron, causing no more damage than a piece of chipped silver.
Yngvar ignores the enraged Ork and moves to the center of the Ork's attention before the bloodshed had begun. He hoists something into his arms, knudging away one of the Orks with his foot as a father might do to a petulant child. "I will be back for you, tentacle-frakkingm filth," he promises and ignites his Jump pack sending down vengeful flames onto the small grouping of Orks. Two of them scream in pain as the momentary burst sears their flesh. The third Ork, the one with the leg wound who first noticed you and attempted to attack Yngvar merely covers his eyes with his right arm and growls at the fleeing Space Wolf.
He lands softly back on top of the hill with his comrades and sets down the form of a young barely concious naked woman. A cursory glance shows that the Orks had been abusing her in more ways than one before you had arrived. Her eyes roll around in her head and her breathing is shallow. She is hurting, but it does not appear that she will give up the ghost quite yet.
*** Yngvar 15; 25m S of Orks.
Gunter 13; [Bolter, 27/28]; 25m S of Orks.
Pax 13; [Sniper Rifle, 5/6]; 25m S of Orks.
Aisha 12; [Astartes Bolter, 24/28]; 25m S of Orks.Ork E is dead.Ork D is dead.
Ork F 11; has taken 6 damage.
Ork A 9; engaged in melee with Yngvar; has taken 6 damage.
Ork C 8; has taken 3 damage.Ork B is dead.
Sarlock 6; [Heavy Bolter,Jammed, 124/125]; 25m S of Orks.
Gunter draws a bead on one of the Ork Boyz, and fires as it thrashes about, trying to get a hold of the situation. Perhaps due to its movements all of the shots miss their mark. Only one just barely grazing the Ork, its algae-filled blood repairing the damage in moments. If he were not such a pious member of the famed Black Templars, he might have cursed at his luck.
Pax doesn't move a muscle. He mentally chides himself for presenting his first attack where the Ork could anticipate it and vows that his next attack will not suffer so. And for all intents and purposes it should not have suffered the same fate, yet the Ork somehow manages to roll out of the way the moment Pax squeezes his weapon's trigger, as if it anticipated the exact moment Pax would squeeze. Inredulously, it waves a meaty hooked finger at Pax and laughs. "I fawt dat thuh Spaze Muhreens could shoot!!" He begins barking mad with laughter at Pax's misfortune...
...that quickly turns into Aisha's fortune. In a proper fighting stance, she had followed the Ork's fluid movements as Pax's shot just scathed by it. She waited for it to begin laughing before she did the same inside of her helmet, knowing before she fired exactly where her mass-reactive Bolter rounds would land. As practiced as before she pumps three rounds downrange, the first two dissentegrating the Greenskinz's leg in a shower of blood and bone. The final shot destroying its heart in a shower of green victory. And while its finger still points accusingly at Pax, it is no longer laughing. The stupid smile on its face remains, however.
The first Ork to see you screams at the top of his lungs and runs at full speed towards the group, hefting his large "Choppa" in his beefy right hand.
The remaining Ork, almost unsure of what to do as the last 8 or so seconds have seen his entire group nearly killed to a man aims his "shoota" and holds down the trigger, shooting at the Marine in his immediate line of sight: Gunter. Gunter moves to the side, getting his body out of the way of the majority of the damage and soaking it into his armored arm. However, based on the sheer amount of filthy Ork bullets coming at him, some find their way through his armor and tear into his flesh. He grunts as though more annoyed than actually hurt.
Sarlock closes his eyes, knowing that sight will not help him here as much as prayer. He prays to the Emperor, mumbling through the vox. He prays to the machine spirits of his trusted Heavy Bolter to clear so that he can vanquish their enemies. He enters into a trance for a few seconds, moving his hands fluidly over the weapon, chanting to it. He extracts the round deftly and violently, cursing it for failing to fire, and loads the ammunition feed back into his weapon. He silently thanks the machine spirits and turns his attention back to the fight.
*** Yngvar 15; 25m S of Orks.
Gunter 13; [Bolter, 23/28]; has taken 4 damage; 25m S of Orks.
Pax 13; [Sniper Rifle, 4/6]; 25m S of Orks.
Aisha 12; [Astartes Bolter, 20/28]; 25m S of Orks.Ork E is dead.Ork D is dead.Ork F 11; has taken 24 damage and is proper fucked.
Ork A 9; 7m N of squad; has taken 6 damage.
Ork C 8; 25m N of squad; has taken 3 damage; [Shoota, 10/20].Ork B is dead.
Sarlock 6; [Heavy Bolter, 124/125]; 25m S of Orks.
Yngvar resolves to take no mercy on the enemy after seeing the condition of the woman formerly in their capture. "Lay waste to these foul beasts." Yngvar ignites his jump pack once more and cuts off the thrust deftly enough to give him the upper hand while swiftly attacking the charging Ork. He lands 1 meter in front of the Ork and deftly barrel-rolls forward under a sideways swing of the Ork's crude blade. As he exits his roll he comes up and swings back with his chainsword, biting through the Ork's hamstring and leaving its right leg a tattered ruin of pulped muscle and bone. Somehow, the Ork remains standing. Staring at the Space Marine and clutching the ruins of its leg. Yngvar takes two steps towards it and thrusts both of his chainswords into its chest cavity. He pulls his right hand toward the sky and his left hand toward the ground. The rest of the team watches as the miserable beast falls in two into a heap of steaming green entrails and organs. Content with his work, Yngvar swings his swords in a circular motion while revving their engines to clear any gore that may have gotten caught in the blades.
*** Yngvar 15; 18m S of Ork C.
Gunter 13; [Bolter, 23/28]; has taken 4 damage; 25m S of Ork C.
Pax 13; [Sniper Rifle, 4/6]; 25m S of Orks.
Aisha 12; [Astartes Bolter, 24/28]; 25m S of Ork C.Ork E is dead.Ork D is dead.Ork F 11; has taken 24 damage and is proper fucked.Ork A 9; 7m N of squad; has taken 25 damage and is cut in fucking two slices.
Ork C 8; 25m N of squad; has taken 3 damage; [Shoota, 10/20].Ork B is dead.
Sarlock 6; [Heavy Bolter, 124/125]; 25m S of Ork C.
The bullets tearing into his flesh don't bother Gunter nearly as much as the four bullets he's already wasted on the remaining Ork. Gunter begins moving purposefully toward the surviving Ork, stowing his bolter and pulling a large sword cross-guarded with the Imperial Aquila. Glowing runes flash along the length of the black metal; if any of you are paying attention you would have sworn that a Black Templar just pulled out a psychically reactive force sword. Gunter says a prayer of contrition for whatever sins he has committed to have lost the favor of the Emperor or the Machine Spirit of his Bolter.
Pax turns to confront what he heard mere seconds earlier. Two very large Orks, nearly the height of an unarmored Astartes, are attempting to flank you from the rear. Aside from their large stature and higher amount of body armor, you find it very odd that they did not immediately charge toward your position with WAAAAAAGH!!! warcries on their breath. No doubt they are responding to the enormous reports of the Kill-Team's bolter fire.
Pax deftly maglocks his Sniper Rifle behind his back to the right side of his backpack and purposely twitches slightly inside of his gauntlets, sending his Flamer flying of its own will into his waiting grasp. He aims at the closest approaching Ork and bathes it in a cone of searing white-hot promethium; it is so bright that your optics have to balance out the light levels to cope with it. The Ork drops down into a ball and you can hear it scream as the flames wash over it. Pax lets off the trigger and the Ork screams and moans.. but somehow does not catch fire. It looks up at Pax, terrible smoking burns covering its body, as burnt clothing falls away, and decides it will kill the Techmarine first.
It leaps up despite its awful wounds and sprints toward pax, covering the 20 meters between them and closing for melee combat. It's filthy, sharp "choppa" is clutched in its right hand.
*** Yngvar 15; 18m S of Ork C.
Gunter 13; [Bolter, 23/28]; has taken 4 damage; 13m S of Ork C; 12m N of squad.
Pax 13; [Flamer, 5/6]; in melee with Ork AA.
Ork AA 13; has taken 16 damage; in melee with Pax.
Aisha 12; [Astartes Bolter, 24/28]; 25m S of Ork C.
Ork BA 11; 20m S of the squad.Ork E is dead.Ork D is dead.Ork F 11; has taken 24 damage and is proper fucked.Ork A 9; 7m N of squad; has taken 25 damage and is cut in fucking two slices.
Ork C 8; 25m N of squad; has taken 3 damage; [Shoota, 10/20].Ork B is dead.
Sarlock 6; [Heavy Bolter, 124/125]; 25m S of Ork C.
Aisha turns to face the new threat to her at her six; two large ferocious Orks have spread themselves out and are attempting to silently flank the group from the rear. She fires four shots, eager to rid this planet of these seemingly clever Orks. The Ork, however, proves to be clever and agile as he barrel rolls to one side, leaving her Bolter rounds to do nothing more than turn up dirt and grass.
Coming up from its roll without missing a beat, the new threat issues a terrifying "WAAAAAGHHH" from its lips and charges towards Aisha, covering the distance between them in no time at all.
Standing in a pile of its dead comrades, the Ork facing down Gunter drops his Shoota and pulls his Choppa; mimicking the Black Templar it walks with equal steadiness. Whether or not this is the result of fear or bravery is unknown.
Sarlock watches the large Ork bathe in the righteous fire of Pax's flamer; smiling as it screamed. A look of annoyance crosses his face when it rights itself and charges towards the Ultramarine. He follows it with his Heavy Bolter, watching as it closes the distance faster than he thought an Ork was capable of. Interesting. He waited until it pulled its Choppa back to swing for the Techmarine's soft neck armor...
...The Ork, an "Alpha-Boy" as they were affectionately called among the clan shook off the flames and made for the techmarine who doused it in fire. I fawt the 'Startes wuz spozeda be 'Ard it thought with a savage grin, bringing its choppa to bear. It would cut this one's head clean off its body, and then do the same to the others. Smiling and howling it cleared the final meter between itself and the Marine with the third arm on its back and swung for the fences. Or, would have when its left leg buckled and exploded. It barely registered the overbearing scream of the Heavy Bolter - barely registered any pain at all through the instantaneous shock of its body crumbling under a hail of enormous mass-reactive anti-everything rounds. The third and fourth shots took its torso and right arm away, sending the choppa flying through the air. Its head went like a grape in an oven and only steam remained where the Ork once stood.
*** Yngvar 15; 18m S of Ork C; roughly 14m N of Ork BA and AA.
Gunter 13; [Bolter, 23/28]; has taken 4 damage; 7m S of Ork C; 12m N of squad.
Pax 13; [Flamer, 5/6].Ork AA 13; has taken way too much damage; is in Ork Hell.
Aisha 12; [Astartes Bolter, 16/28]; 25m S of Ork C; in melee with Ork BA.
Ork BA 11; in melee with Aisha.Ork E is dead.Ork D is dead.Ork F 11; has taken 24 damage and is proper fucked.Ork A 9; 7m N of squad; has taken 25 damage and is cut in fucking two slices.
Ork C 8; 19m N of squad; 6m N of Gunter; has taken 3 damage.Ork B is dead.
Sarlock 6; [Heavy Bolter, 118/125]; 25m S of Ork C.
In an effort to aid the squad's Apothecary, Yngvar ignites his jump pack, launching himself in the direction of Aisha and her assailant. The Daughter of Death is more than capable of removing the Ork as a threat, but he cannot resist the combat opportunity. Screaming through the late afternoon air, Yngvar cuts his thrusters as before and lands with a thud and the scream of his Chainsword. The Ork lifts his Choppa in an attempt to parry, but the unwieldy weapon is easily side swiped as Yngvar's Chainsword rips down along the length of the Ork's arm. The Ork makes a clumsy strike with its left hand at Yngvar's face, which the Space Wolf easily sidesteps and, in the process, brings his second chainsword don across the face of his enemy, tearing away scraps of flesh and utterly destroying its right ear in the process.
Gunter charges forward, bringing his sword to bear against the lone Ork. In his zeal, however, he misteps on the soft Earth, pulling his swing the millimeter it needed to miss. The incredibly heavy, sharp weapon sails inches from the Ork's face and thuds harmlessly into the ground.
Pax, looking to finish the Ork brazen enough to assault his comrades, rushes forward. The large Alpha-boy sees him coming, and at the last second swings his body back, narrowly missing an attack from the Techmarine's servo-arm that surely would have crushed his head into pulp.
But its luck runs out in an instant as the Daughter of Death revvs up the chained melee attachment under her Bolter and swings low. In one motion she tears through the Alpha-boy'z leg, sending it sprawling in a random direction. Dark green blood spurts and drains out of the ghastly wound, drowning the ground in the foul fluid. A testament to the Ork's physiology and toughness comes in the fact that it does not succumb to shock and lies on the ground writhing in agony.
The Ork facing off in melee with Gunter swings for the fences, knowing that it has to kill the Astartes quickly if it has any hope of surviving and fleeing. It swings overhead in a huge arc that Gunter sees coming fairly easily. The Black Templar does not even attempt to get out of the way, but tilts his head forward so the hardest part of his helmet will take the full force of the blow. And that it does. The blade sparks off the Templar's helmet, taking a small bit of ceramite with it.
Seeing that the remaining Alpha Boy will be easy work for his three Battle Brothers, Sarlock smirks and focuses his attention elsewhere. My brothers will make quick work of the green scum, he thinks. He pivots to look down where Gunter has charged the remaining Ork and continues to battle with it. He slings his heavy bolter into position and takes aim. Hoping his aim will be as true as it normally is, the Iron Hand finds his target. He watches as it swings down and makes contact with the Holy Cranial Armor of an Astartes. That just will not do. He presses down the firing rune and smirks as the brilliant incandescent rounds find their target. Squeezing the trigger always felt so comforting. The first two go wide as the Ork moves about in the chaos of the melee, but then sweet justice is served as the remaining three find green flesh. The first two Heavy Bolter rounds tears its left arm from its body; it does not fly away. It simply vanishes in a shower of green, white, and red. Fragments of shrapnel from the exploding round blanket its armored torso, finding weak spots and eviscerating internal organs. The final round detonates prematurely, mere centimeters from the Ork's face. The force of the blast peels back layers of its face, revealing bone and muscle structure that is then torn to shreds by the monumental amount of shrapnel. Brain and bone shower the Black Templar as the ragged headless body of the Ork falls at his feet.
*** Yngvar 15.
Gunter 13; [Bolter, 23/28]; has taken 4 damage.
Pax 13 [Flamer, 5/6].Ork AA 13; has taken way too much damage; is in Ork Hell.
Aisha 12; [Astartes Bolter, 16/28].
Ork BA 11; in melee with Aisha, Yngvar and Pax; has taken 8 critical damage; has suffered 5 levels of fatigue; is stunned for 6 rounds; suffering from blood loss; is prone; is no longer a threat and helpless.Ork E is dead.Ork D is dead.Ork F 11; has taken 24 damage and is proper fucked.Ork A 9; 7m N of squad; has taken 25 damage and is cut in fucking two slices. Ork C 8; 19m N of squad; 6m N of Gunter; has taken massive damage.Ork B is dead.
Sarlock 6; [Heavy Bolter, 112/125].
Calmly, though perhaps internally upset by his almost bloodless performance, Pax approaches the surviving ork. With loathing in his eyes and with his mouth twitching along to his silent recital of the Litany of Hate, he scoops up the orc, grabbing it across the torso with his servo-arm and forcing it to look toward Gunter. He waves his flamer under the creature's bleeding stump of a leg, teasing the blue jet of pilot flame ever closer to the ragged wound. "Tell us why we should not burn you slowly, foul ork scum."
Sarlock brings his heavy bolter to rest and paces over to Gunter and Pax, wishing to view the scene and see if his presence can make a difference in the interrogation of the ork. He eyes the ork with curiosity as it squirms around in the servo arm of his brother. "We should just rip his remaining limbs off, stomp on his head, and be done with it, brothers," he cranks out with his eerie screeching voice. "No use wasting time on this green filth."
Yngvar removes his helmet and tastes the air mixing with the salty perspiration on his upper lip. He looks to the Astartes beside him; the Daughter of Death who deftly crippled bulky Alpha-Boy. "Not just a medic, this brother," he says nodding to Aisha. He turns to the Techhmarine and grins at him as he pokes his chainsword at his over-hanging servo arm, he says "Green isn't a good color for that mechanical monstrosity anyway."
He steps to the writhing, bloody Alpha-Boy and attempts to revive the beast's focus by smacking him across the face and stepping on the wound in its leg, hoping to gain some intel about other patrols in the area. He also enjoyed inflicting a bit of pain. "It is cute that you would try to exact revenge for reducing your group to shreds. Unbelievable that you could even think such a thing is possible. Now, if you tell me what you're doing here, perhaps we'll spare them the pain of death by blood loss. Be sure to tell me what you did with the imperial forces."
The Ork, hanging on to consciousness albeit barely stares at the Son of Fenris' face. "..S-Space.. S'pace Wuff.." The words dangle out of its throat with raw unadulterated hatred. "You'll be wishun you'uz sucklin' at the teat of yer whore mutha, you will."
It curls its lip up into a snarl and spits green blood at Yngvar's face, getting most of it on his already gore stained armor, but his point has been made.
"Ha.. HA ha... hahahaHAHAHA.." the laughter erupts from him in fits, like a coughing bout enhanced by the fact that it hits itself in the chest armor with a closed fist periodically to accentuate the laughing.
"You will ALL die out 'ere, 'Space... Mareens.' ..haha..HAHAHA!" it finishes its laughter and grimaces as Pax's pilot light glides near its wound.
Gunter closes in on the prisoner, doffing his helmet and tucking it under his arm. As he approaches he sizes up the injured orc, scanning him - reading every detail of his personality with his actions toward Yvngar and the other Astartes. He sees pride, and conviction that his brothers will avenge him. Gunter considers opening the interrogation with a grim assessment of their chances - perhaps the Ork would reveal exactly how they would die if he agreed their formidable numbers would be sufficient - but Gunter discards that approach. Besides giving the Ork a modicum of joy in his final moments, his pride is strong enough that he has a better way.
"I doubt that, very much, pig. Look at you - the best your miserable clan could throw at us. And what do you have to show for it? Gunter pulls off a heavy power glove. "Oh dear. It looks like I might have cracked a nail." Gunter focuses on his fingers, seemingly oblivious to the Ork held by Yvngar. Silently to himself he counts the seconds before the Ork can no longer stand being ignored and begins making useful threats.
Edit - Interrogate 64, Success
"The best?!" The Ork's eyes turn from fatalistic laughter to anger. "You ain't know pain, 'ummie. You ain't know despair. You wait 'till 'em big ol' metul Boyz gets 'hold uh you. Squish ya proper right, an' the rest uh da Boyz fuck the insides of ya tin canz all at once. The best." The Ork attempts to twist inside of Pax's servo-arm, but fails to move much. He looks tired and furious.
"YOU AIN'T SEEN THE BEST, 'UMMIE FILF!"
"I wish we could. There's nothing I'd like better than to exterminate your filthy race, but our mission is complete. We need to find a survivor and bring them back for interrogation. We'll be leaving the planet and using gun ships to clean up your mess." Gunter is confident that the Ork is desperate for the 'hummies' to be overwhelmed by the Ork force and will provide a reason they should stay.
Aisha stops watching the spectacle and begins walking to the injured woman. She has no doubt her brothers can extract the information from the sin-made-flesh. If they needed her aid in pulling certain tendons and organs from the green flilth she was sure they would call out for her.
She scans her brothers with her diagnostic helmet as she walks by. Each looked unhurt except for Gunter and he did not look critical. She would tend to him after she dealt with the woman.
As she approaches the woman Aisha takes a moment to study her with her Diagnostic helmet. Her mechanics beep, whirl and blink her statistics into Asiha's skull.
As she begins her treatment she gently turns the woman onto her back and revels at her size. Aisha could not remember a time she had encountered a human without great power or years of bio-implantation. Multiple lacerations on the thighs, arms, trunk and face. Several cracked ribs. Both ankles broken....
Aisha's screen continues to pour information as she carefully slides an injector of her narthecium under the half conscious woman's skin.
"Through the Emperor's grace may you find warmth and healing."
Although confident in her abilities Aisha breaths a sigh of relief when the woman's breathing begins to return to normal. She had feared the orks had done damage beyond her abilities.
"Hehehe, the guts of your unclean kind have already made their contributions to my armor. Giving yours freely only brings further dishonor to your already pathetic attempts to best we Astartes" Yngvar bellows. Trusting that Gunter and Pax have the interrogation under control he returns to where the injured woman is being tended to by Aisha.
"Can you determine when she will regain consciousness?"
As Yngvar walks off to inspect the girl he rescued, the Alpha Boy responds to Gunter, although it seems he is not far off from going under.
"Wish ya wuld, wish ya culd, but Twista-Fista gunna smash ya gud." He laughs a little more and blood dribbles from the sides of his mouth. "You fink shooties from orbit gunna stop us? Gonna stop 'him?' He will jus' go ta groun' an' be back stronguh than evuh. We already crushed one of ya big 'ummies. We crush the rest too." He begins laughing again and attempts a futile swing at Gunter's face and misses by a mile, due in no small part to Pax being astute and jerking away before the swing started in earnest. He gave a squeeze with his servo-arm and a small squeal errupted from the dying Alpha boy.
The woman, no more than seventeen standard Imperial years old comes to with a series of coughs and begins moaning, immediately recoiling from the pain done to her body. Before she has a chance to begin screaming, Aisha's pain suppressant cocktail and healing serums flood into her veins. While the broken bones will require long-term treatment, her internal injuries are being meticulously mended already as are the superficial cuts and gashes covering her body. She eyes you with confusion, giving a startled stare at the Space Wolf whose feral look resembles that of an animal, not completely unlike the looks of her former assailants albeit much more human. She turns and sees the three more armored giants asking questions to one of her former torturers and watches intently. "K.." she coughs again, "Kill it... Kill IT! KILL IT!" She then passes out again.
"Let's just flay him already and be done with it." Sarlock, content with the fact that his two brothers are asking all the right questions of the ork filth, proceeds to scan the surrounding area for anymore threats. He takes a look at the settlement as well, noting structural damage and any signs of life coming from that direction. Hope they get on with this, he thinks. I'd have killed him ages ago.
He uses his red mechanical eyes to survey the scene around them in all directions. He turns in a complete circle, taking in the entirety of his surroundings. It just wouldn't be right to miss an opportunity at more bloodshed, he ponders to himself.
PER (35 + 20 (auto and heightened)) = 55
Sarlock takes in the surroundings, noticing the quiet nature all around him. The lack of human life, the lack of xenos. Unsettling to say the least. We are wasting time here, he muses to himself. I think I'll oblige the human woman's wishes. And with that Sarlock, being fed up with the questioning, and loathing this particular ork as the xenos scum it was, walks over to where Pax holds the vermin over his head.
With a quick motion, he pulls his helmet off, revealing the multitude of scars and metallic alterations on his face and head. His red glowing eyes look at the ork, twisting and whizzing about. He gets up real close to the bleeding thing, a few inches from the grotesque face. "Think this scum needs a bit of a shine," he says. He opens his mouth and spits into the ork's face.
The spit hits the ork square in the face, an acidic blast that melts the green flesh right off the bones. The ork struggles for a bit, twisting and writhing in the last throes of death. It goes limp in the techmarine's servo arm, another xenos eradicated in the name of the Emperor.
"Perhaps now we can move forward with the mission at hand," Sarlock voices to the others before reaching down and grabbing a chunk of the ork's flesh. He pulls at it, ripping a good section of the ork's mangled body away. The green blood drips down his gauntlets. He sniffs at it and then takes a bite out of the green mass, chewing slowly, before reattaching his helmet and walking in the direction of the front gate of the settlement before them.
Pax immediately drops the ork, even before it has an opportunity to die. He spins on his heels, facing Sarlock as his servo-arm maneuvers to a position near his face where he can inspect it for acid damage. "You would do well to inform me the next time you plan to enrage one of my machines," he warns angrily.
He immediately gives the jaws of the servo-arm a thorough inspection, whispering a prayer to salve any insult to the machine spirit within.
"Xenos are always dead weight. Look's like they left the front door open." He turns to Aisha, "If she can be moved, I will carry her with us until she regains her senses and can tell us, if anything, what the hell it is we're dealing with."
After reattaching his helmet he reaches down and lifts the unconscious girl so that she is draped over his shoulder. "Onward", he says flatly. The image of Gunter approaching the ork with a sword of gleaming inscriptions flashes before his eyes as he moves towards the settlement.
Sarlock stumbles a bit on his way towards the gate, taking in all the ork had to offer. He lets the memories wash over him from the warm ork flesh. This was not his first time devouring the enemy to gain intel. It would not be the last. "Mission briefing displayed the orks as feral, limited in their technology. The orks came in droves from the atmosphere, riding their roks." He stops walking, making sure to get every single detail.
"They brokered alliances with the feral ones, gave them arms. Mining operation to the south, devoid of human life. The humans fled to the settlement, but were overpowered by ork artillery and shoota fire. I see our brother, killing the foul orks. Now he is in chains." The vision takes hold of Sarlock.
"Into the forest. They took him. Looked grim. Killed the girl's husband. Raped her." He intones the last lines mechanically, opening his eyes on the final statement.
He turns towards his brothers and waits for Yngvar's orders.
Pax looks like he's suddenly developed a bad taste in his mouth. Whether that's due to the new information about the girl's treatment or to seeing his battle brother actually ingest the unclean flesh of the xenos is not apparent. "How long ago?" he asks.
"Doesn't feel like very long ago. They seemed to have had their way with her recently." Sarlock intones the words through his screeching metallic voice. "Yngvar, orders?"
Aisha follows the space wolf quietly monitoring her patient. In the hands of her brother the young woman had little to fear. She turned her gaze to Sarlock when he received a vision from the Ork flesh. She could feel her lip curl even as she assessed the intel.
She shivered and appeared to shake off the mind-corruption Sarlock exposed himself to. "The Emperor cleans all," she whispered to herself.
"While we must follow our directive to locate and extract Back Breaker, I will not leave this human, puny and weak though their kind is, exposed in the open. They do not know we are coming and so can afford return her to some kind of shelter. We make our way to the settlement before proceeding to the forest in pursuit of the ork force. Perhaps we may even find some useful information about the orks' business on Serenity or the reason for the psychic blackout. Can anybody see if there is another way into the settlement?"
Seeing only one immediate way into the settlement, the group pushes forward. It only takes them a few minutes to reach their destination.
They step through dozens of bodies, both Ork and Imperial alike. Most of the Orks have suffered multiple lasgun burns as well as solid projectile damage from automated settlement defense guns. Some Orks have huge chunks missing from their flesh - limbs and heads are completely removed from some. Others have their chest cavities completely destroyed and it is obviously damage that only a Bolt Weapon could inflict.
You stand outside of the vaulted arched entryway, with all the outlining support columns of the settlement following a similar Gothic architectural pattern. You are in between the ag-habs and the scarred outer walls of Alpha-Ichi. Nothing stirs and the area remains oddly calm.
After a few minutes of taking in the scene, Pax begins to lay out what he's seen, whether for the benefit of his brothers or simply to help his own mental process ork more efficiently. His autotuned voice speaks. "Back Breaker was here." He points. "Do you see how this crescent of orks were all killed by a single bolt round? Do you also see how all these smaller, less-armored orks all appear to have lasgun burns? He took out the bigger units himself and directed others in exterminating the lesser fodder. He's good."
He turns over an rok body with his boot. "One thing does puzzle me, though. These burns here..." He indicates a large burn that apparently killed the ork. "This is bigger than a lasgun blast, more powerful, but not large enough to be a lascannon. It is like nothing I've seen before." He frowns in concentration. "Perhaps someone with some talent for it helped the defenders by increasing the efficiency of some of their lasguns? I don't know." He shakes his head, curious, but at a loss.
"Regardless, this point..." He indicates an area behind the rise. "...is where Back Breaker made his final stand. It looks like he emptied every round his bolter had before he was overrun. If he was taken, it was probably that way." He indicates the obvious path the orks used to exit after their bloody work.
Aisha stands off to the side absorbing Pax's words. To her the hanger door is completely sealed. She presses her fingers on it, traces a key hole and listens. She turns to Pax. "I think this may be you're department."
Aisha turns back to her patient. She gently unslings her from Yngvar's shoulder. She presses her hand over the woman's face. "I can wake her up now. I don't want to take her near the Ork again."
Edit: no idea what's beyond the door
The woman in Aisha's arms doesn't stir. She seems to be in a deep sleep and perhaps it is for the best. Entrance into the living habs is unrestricted should Aisha wish to place the woman in a more secure environ. It is clear that the living quarters took up the majority of all of the floors that made up each wall of Alpha-Ichi. So far, nothing has stirred since the squad entered and that either means you are in the middle of an extremely elaborate ambush conducted by the most well-disciplined Orks you have encountered, or that the threat has moved on entirely. Aisha is reasonable sure that placing the young woman in one of the living habs is a safe bet.
[OOC: will update Pax's tech-use roll when I get some more time]
Gunter has no fear of ambush. Orks are undisciplined rabble and would not be able to hide even this long with Astartes so clearly wandering into their trap. He's often seen how a few over-eager Orks can ruin the best laid plan in their zeal to kill the 'hummies'.