EDITS, LOTS OF EDITS
Turning to Sarlock, "Let's give our extractors their signal. My jump pack is your ticket to the tower. Want to feel what's it's like fly, Brother?" With that Yngvar steps forward out of the heavy brush and
Yngvar and Sarlock move forward to the closest tower and prepare to jump into it for purposes of giving the greenskins some visual confirmation of an enemy, not to mention an adamantine care package.
Aisha lays a hand on Gunters arm. "Patience Gunter. I'm sure our brothers are moments away from drawing their attention."
Se holds her bolter ready, the Meele attachment jutts dangerously out.
"I do not like that hole inte fence. It speaks of dark and monsterous things."
Yngvar issues his... unorthodox orders... which is hardly surprising given the snarling wolf heraldry on his shoulder pauldron. Since when did Sons of Russ give a damn what the Codex had to say? When an opportunity presents itself, you take it.
Sarlock steps out of the bush and shrugs at the Space Wolf. An Iron Hand would not waste an opportunity to show the Orks the power of Iron over Flesh. With a nod and a glance at Pax that almost screamed "Have fun waiting while I deliver the Emperor's justice" on its emotionless ceramite scowl, the Devastator makes ready as Yngvar grabs the back of his large ammunition storage unit.
With enough thrust to get them both off the ground, Yngvar gives his jump pack a quick burn, almost gliding as the two make their way just above the height of the tower in order to descend down inside of it. With amazing precision, the young Blood-fang Assault specialist brilliantly guides himself and his new Brother into the tower proper. Luckily, the two Orks killed by Pax cushion their landing and muffled wet thumps are the only noises made as they come down. They hunker and wait for a moment, but the absence of screams of rage and alarm or gunshots make it apparent that they have somehow gone unnoticed.
With a quick scan of their surroundings, they see a teeming mass of Ork Boyz clustered around the impromptu fighting pit to the West, North and East. A large Alpha Boy with an enormous Choppa stands in the middle of the pit, arms up in the air in prideful victory. The severed remains of several former citizens of Alpha-Ichi lay spread about the arena in disgusting display. Arms and legs are picked up by the Alpha and randomly thrown into the throng of Orks to be used as play things or worse - food.
To the South of the Pit is a secondary fence holding the remnants of Alpha-Ichi's population. From a glance it is apparent that none of them are your target, codename Back Breaker. The fence sparks and crackles with energy and two bundles of thick cabling trail off from its Eastern facing wall. They lead off into to a huge scrap yard in the South East of the camp. A similar scrap yard occupies the North West of the camp, but it is not as large. It is almost time to unleash hell.
Meanwhile, Pax watches as the two fly off to the tower he first engaged. He makes ready to take the fight to the enemy again.
Sarlock takes in the scene, hatred crossing his mechanical features under his imposing Mk. 7 battle-helm. He looks to his squad leader. Yngvar nods once.
Green light to go hot.
The adamantine tipped Kraken penetrator-rounds feed into his hallowed Heavy Bolter as the weapon's machine spirit grows furious at the enemies presented before it. The target presents itself in his HUD - a reflection of what the weapon's view-finder sees. The bastard was still grinning as another human was pulled out from the pen and given a crude cutting weapon. It was an older woman, in no type of fighting shape. She weeped as they dragged her to the pit, mimicking those citizens still locked in the pen, screaming for mercy. Mercy for the woman. Mercy for themselves. The Orks merely laughed at them. The Alpha began toying with her - taunting her. He took a few steps and landed a purposely shallow cut across her thigh, cruelly playing with something that was obviously no match for him. He turned and said something to the crowd. Harsh and garbled. They laughed and the woman made a choice: fight or die. With incredible will power she charged the Alpha and slashed down hard across his back. The frail blow barely pierced his skin but it did plenty to enrage him.
He turned and pushed her down. The blade they gave her clattering away into the mob. The Alpha, furious in his blood lust wasted no time. He ran toward her, his choppa lifted in the air for the death blow. The woman simply closed her eyes and whimpered.
And then the scream of a thousand years of fury and vengeance blazed through the night, as loud as a supernova unleashing its dying breath. The Alpha simply fell. Forward momentum kept it moving forward as holes the size of grapefruit mushroomed through its body, ripped its sword arm off, and turned its head into a memory. Blood sprayed over the woman and she screamed, no doubt thinking it was her own. The heaping pile of steaming, sizzling green and red pulped-flesh slid on its stomach a for a few feet, resting next to its would-be victim. She looked down at in in shock as a pool of red green ooze poured out of its exposed neck and the remnants of its lower jaw.
Silence enveloped the camp and every shocked Ork head turned toward the sound of the blast.
..."wwwwWWWWWAAAAAAGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!" and then the camp erupted in chaos.
Rustin, Gunter and Aisha share a few uneasy moments of silence as they wait for any indication that the other team has gone hot. A small dialogue ensues between the newcomer, Rustin and the pious Templar. Tensions seem to be getting hot when Aisha intervenes with calming words and advising them to stick with the original plan.
A flicker of steel in the starlight catches the team's eye. The low glow of a jump pack's exhaust idling back to near nothingness confirm movement from the other team. Somewhat amazed, Gunter and Aisha both realize that Yngvar has just carried Sarlock through the sky and into one of the guard towers. Watching Sarlock level his heavy bolter, they know it is time.
The three of them lock eyes. Rustin points to one of the Orks near the fire pit and grips his soot-covered serrated blade at a downward angle. Gunter nods and points to the other, holding a combat blade that is half-again as long as Rustin's and much heavier. Aisha, not needing to be told, stares straight at her target - the Ork just inside the camp. They would need to act fast, but she had confidence in the abilities of this newcomer Rustin and her Battle Brother Gunter.
Rustin heard more than felt his heart beat in his chest as adrenaline started pumping through his veins; he had butterflies in his stomach for the violence about to erupt. Seconds turned into minutes - minutes into hours. The Marines next to him remained as still as statues, the swords they called combat blades basically screaming for blood.
And then a very real scream pierced the calmness of the moment. The unmistakable bark of a Heavy Bolter's massive calibre rounds cycling at an incredible rate roared into life from the watch tower formerly occupied by Orks.
Without a word, all three sprang into action. Rustin moved quickly almost without a noise. As the Ork sentries looked stupidly toward the interruption of the night's festivities, the silent killers went about their business. Rustin grabbed the forehead of the Ork and pulled it sideways, simultaneously putting the entire length of his blade into the creature's jugular. With a gargled cough, the Ork went to the ground like a sack of potatoes. But for how fast Rusti was, the Astartes were faster. Almost a blur, they moved so quickly and fluidly you wouldn't know they were wearing Power Armor save or the sound it made and the bulk it occupied.
Gunter pushed his blade in the base of the Ork's spine, jabbing upward at an angle so it punctured both lungs, robbing the foul xenos of the chance to make any noise and penetrating as many vital organs as possible. Pulling his blade out he gently held the beast as it crumpled to the ground; for good measure, he cut the throat of the sentry on the way down and was rewarded with a spray of dark red arterial blood.
Aisha moved faster than the human eye could perceive. The sentry never had a chance to turn around. Her blade flashed once. Twice. Three times. Each slice severing the throat from different angles. Sheathing her knife in the time it takes to blink, she grabbed the Ork under the arms before it could fall. Dragging it back to just beyond the fence line she twisted its head violently to the left and then back to the right. With a sickening pop, the skull detached from the body.
In the distance, the enraged feral scream of an Ork WAAAAGHHH!!! rings out.
Rustin moves first, indicating silently with his hand his intended objective. The Orks remain focused on the tower and do not seem him as he stealthily moves along the fence, angling himself in the direction of the two large storage tanks, fully intending to get as close to cover as soon as possible.
Sarlock turns slightly toward his brother, speaking clearly through his vox. "Show them just how weak their flesh is." He then opens up on the Orks below him, raking his bolter slightly left and right, tearing through the horde with brutal efficiency. The penetrator rounds simply punch through the first line of enemies and into the second before detonating.
A rumble emerges into a roar from the scrap pit to the South East. "Whuz dis den?!" The half mechanical, half Ork garbled language booms forth from haphazardly constructed steel speaker-mounted automated vocal systems. A massive Meganob walks steadily out of the scrap pile toward the comotion, one massive hand ending in a crackling power claw. The other houses a massive twin-linked Shoota' with two ludicrously large drum fed ammo boxes. A massive steel lower jaw juts out horrifically, at once making the Meganob look dumber and intensely more fierce. It bellows into the night air at its brethren, speaking the harsh Ork tongue - using no bastardized Low Gothic whatsoever - and it is fairly obvious orders are being given. Still yelling at the horde, it begins a loud thumping bee-line around the prisoner's electric fencing trying to get as close as it can to the tower Sarlock is in.
Yngvar's eyes light up as the head of the Alpha-boy bursts into red and green meaty chunks. He turns toward Sarlock as he ceases firing and imagines he sees the mechanical facial features display a certain elation. "Keep them busy brothers," he instructs over the vox. As Sarlock's heavy bolter starts eating into the horde again, Yngvar guns his jump pack straight toward the front lines rapidly disentagrating under withering heavy bolter fire. As he lands he finds the nearest foe and cuts his arms off before turning and beheading two more Orks who stand dumbfounded by this new turn of events. With a snarl of delight under his Mk. 7 battle-helm, the Son of Russ pulls free his second chainsword and revs the ancient engines. "All Father and Russ!" He says in Fenrisian, "See these pig-whores back to Hell." And the dance of death begins.
Meanwhile Aisha, blade in hand "sneaks" as best she can, covering Rustin as he makes a trail toward the tanks.
"WAAAAAAAGHHHH" comes a second blood-curdling war cry from the scrap pile. Another Meganob steps forth, equally ugly and destructive looking as the one before it. It wastes no time ordering anything around. Its only focus is to crush the intruders. With three bounding steps it is out of the scrap pile and on the trail of its seemingly twin brother, power claw crackling with wild energy.
The horde surges forward, its intent clear and its resolve strengthened by the appearance of the two Meganobs. Screams and gutteral curses are made toward the Astartes in their midst and the mob is in a frenzy to be take Space Marine heads. They surge at Yngvar, their trepidation at his brutal twin-chainsword assault fading into a distant memory. It would be far worse to be noted as a coward in the eyes of their comrades and especially their leaders than to die at the hands of the Space Wolf. With fury they swing at the Space Marine, eager to draw first blood. But, furstratingly for them, Yngvar is quicker than all of them. His years of melee training see him sweep away their feeble attempts at injuring him, and he gracefully moves out of the way of the more overzealous Ork attacks.
Gunter moves quickly following the others but keeping his eyes on the ensuing battle. His Brothers were doing well - making the enemy pay for every inch of ground in between them. He kept his blade at his side, ready to silence anything his small group came upon.
Pax moves through the heavy underbrush and out along the fenceline. He scans the area for targets, but sees none. Eager to get in on the action, he makes his way to the main entry gate and makes ready to tear it free. He watches through the fencing as two giant meganobs burst forth from the scrap pile and begin running toward the action.
Rustin 15 - 6m N of the tanks; undetected.
Sarlock 14 - Heavy Bolter [113/125 Kraken] dealt 7 mag damage; 10m W of horde; in Watch Tower.
Meganob A 12 - 18m S of Team B.
Yngvar 11 - Chainswords, dealt 2 mag damage; in melee with horde.
Aisha 11 - 6m NE of the tanks; undetected.
Meganob B - 19m S of Team B.
Horde 6(Ork Boyz) - in melee with Yngvar.
Gunter 5 - 6m NW of tanks; undetected.
Pax 4 - 4m S of Sarlock, opposite side of the fence; undetected.
Rustin maintains his steady pace, not giving his position away to noise or flashing movements. He makes his way behind the two large tanks, keeping his rifle up in front of him. From his position on the East side of the tanks he is now out of sight of the horde.
Sarlock sprays his metal fury at the ork horde, punching holes the size of watermelons through his victims, grinning wide under his helm. The two Meganobs burst through the scrap piles and Sarlock, without a moment of hesitation, swings the bolter toward the closest one, anticipating his movements, overjoyed by the new monstrous enemy. The new challenge presenting itself ever so clearly. The Space Wolf can handle the horde, he thinks momentarily, before pressing down on his holy firing rune. The civilians near the fence had been watching the whole spectacle and as the more agile dove out of the Iron Hands firing path, more followed suit. Luckily, none were injured as the Space Marine lit up the Meganob.
Screaming death stitches its way to the new threat, punching through armor where it can. Sarlock keeps his weapon expertly on target, chunking armor and flesh out of the creatures legs and thick body armor. One of the rounds catches a weak spot in the Nobs arm and blows it from the socket - a rain of gore and sparks shower the ground and electro-fencing as the arm with the shoota slides along the ground. The Nob would have screamed out in pain if its head didn't immediately dissapear. The Nobs slides to the ground with a loud thump. A stray round meant for the now dead nob crashes into the mid-section of the second enormous Ork, causing a grunt of pain to emerge from his lips.
A massive Ork steps out into the same allway behind the building Rustin and Aisha are about to trek through. It is facing the fighting in the west, barking orders - to whom is unclear. What is clear is the purple-gray arachnid leg you can see just in front of his. While you cannot spy the beast itself, Aisha knows without a doubt that this is the same creature the Kill Team fought in the forest an hour or so earlier.
Another Ork, just as massive if not bigger than the Alpha Boy Team A spies emerges from the Southernmost building with the tower attached to it. He rushes out of the Eastern door and turns back to bark some angry orders inside the building. Confident that his orders will be followed to a T, he runs into the scrap pile from which the Meganobs emerged.
Yngvar continues his assault, but the pressing number of Orks on all sides causes him to fight a bit more conservatively. As a result, he merely wounds a few of the nearest Orks to him, but fails to land any lasting damage.
Aisha makes her way up with Rustin, covering the human as best she can with her Bolter at the ready. The weapon absolutely dwarfs Rustin's las-carbine, and she is skilled enough to alway keep it scanning for targets without ever flagging either of her companions.
The Meganob barely slows as Sarlock's last, stray Heavy Bolter round finds its way into the monster's massively armored torso. It covers almost the entire distance to the tower in its bloodlust fueld haste to bring destruction upon the Astartes.
The horde swarms and roars all around Yngvar, desperate to bring the Marine down; but alas, his skill with the blade proves marvelous and he deflects their blows at every turn.
Meanwhile, with a thought as though he were moving his own arm, Pax stretches his Servo Arm and grips a chunk of the gate in front of him. He pulls back, tearing the chain holding it to the main section of fencing with ease. In front of him, the Meganob runs straight for the Watch tower that is holding Sarlock. A few meters in the distance, Yngvar dances the dance of death with a horde of hundreds of Ork Boyz - all vying to deliver the Space Wolf's deathblow.
Rustin 15 - 2m S of the tanks (in between the tanks and the building), 24m N of the Ork/Rad Spider; undetected.
Sarlock 14 - Heavy Bolter [107/125 Kraken]; 10m W of horde; in Watch Tower.
Rad Spider 13a - 24m S of Team A.
Ork Alpha Boy 13b - 24m S of Team A.Meganob A 12 - 18m S of Team B.
Yngvar 11 - Chainswords; in melee with horde.
Aisha 11 - 2m S of the tanks (w/ Rustin), 24m N of Ork/Rad Spider; undetected.
Order Barkers 10 - disappeared into scrap yard.
Meganob B - 4m S of Sarlock; has taken 7 damage.
Horde 6(Ork Boyz) - in melee with Yngvar.
Gunter 5 - 2m S of tanks (w/ Aisha and Rustin), 24m N of Ork/Rad Spider; undetected.
Pax 4 - 4m S of Sarlock, opposite side of the fence; undetected.
Rustin moves as gracefully as one of the fabled great felines of Old Terra. Without so much as a whisper of sound he continues forward, keeping his Las Carbine, Sexy Sadie aimed directly at the unaware Alpha Boy in front of him. Having decided that the cons outweighed the pros in regards to placing explosives on the volatile tanks of supposed fuel, Rustin is intent on checking the building directly to his right for evidence of his Astartes friend, the so-called Back Breaker. He keeps his Las Carbine down range at the Ork as he risks an eye into one of the impromptu "windows" of the building. It is nothing more than a piece of raised sheet metal, but it is enough to give Rustin a good view inside. Rough bunks are lined up all over the place. Sometimes four-high bolted into the wall, it is obvious that this is a barracks of some sort. Boxes and half eaten food and excrement are spread around and a general vision of filth assails the human scout. If Back Breaker was housed in here, there are no signs of him now. But more frightening is the rusty cage in the far corner of the room; it is currently left open and a second Rad Spider appears to be standing still, as if awaiting orders.
Sarlock feels the elation coursing through his monstrous body, watching every last hit pulp the Meganob into oblivion. His senses kick in and he can feel the other Meganob moving out of his line of sight, creating problems for his bloodlust. He grunts slightly and turns his heavy bolter once again in the direction of the horde, trusting in his Techmarine brother to show his worth against the meganob. Whether it is the tactically superior move or an easier target remains unclear. But Sarlock suspects Pax can deal with the Nob easily enough. With ease he presses down on the firing rune of his Heavy Bolter, sending high velocity death into the mass of green; skin and muscle separate and bones explode under the oppressive barrage.
The Rad Spider remains focussed on the fighting happening in the middle of the camp. Having not been commanded to do otherwise, it remains still as if under a spell. The Alpha Boy in front of it seems to just stare in disbelief, unsure of what to do.
A large Ork breaks from the horde and charges at Yngvar, visions of grandeur in its eyes. Bringing the Warboss a Space Marine helmet as a trophy would surely rise him through the ranks faster than the weaklings around him. It brings in its choppa in a furious sweeping blow, eager to separate the Space Wolf's head from his mighty armored shoulders. Too eager. As the blade flies toward its target in both hands, Yngvar disappears - ducking below the obvious blow faster than the Ork's brain can process. The next thing it feels is the thousand bites from Diamond tipped adamantine as Yngvar presses both chainswords into the beast's stomach and out of its back - severing spine and leaving two where there was only one.
Aisha follows Rustin, knowing that this human is their one active link to their objective and the importance of keeping him covered. However, moving silently - something she is absolutely not accustomed to, her Chapter favoring much more direct surgical assaults - proves to be much more difficult in power armor than she had trained for. While the reinforced flexsteel and ceramite was brilliant in a firefight, it was clumsy and loud in a black op. She curses in her mind as she notices the Rad Spider's legs twitch and turn in response to her movement. She readies herself, knowing that the jig is up. Emperor, your strength through my veins, your guidance through my aim...
The Meganob closes the distance to the tower in a flash. The last 4 meters seem a blur as the already running monstrosity of steel and green flesh charges the structure itself! It shoulders through the first leg of the Watch tower and with a vicious swing of its power claw, severs the second leg supporting Sarlock. The entire structure shudders and begins to clumsily fall over on one side, giving it an almost comical lopsided look. Sarlock braces under the impact and attempts to jump back and catch onto the railing of the still standing side... and does so just in the nick of time! The Meganob rages under him, screaming for his just kill. "Come down an' fight like an Ork, sissy Spez Mahreen! YOU ARE WEAK!!" Froth flies from its engorged lower jaw and hate fills its beady yellow and red eyes. As the gate behind it tears and breaks off its hinges, it turns in time to notice a heavily armored Space Marine with the Royal Blue and white "U" of the Ultramarines on its right shoulder pauldron stroll into the camp weilding a flamer in his mighty hands.
Watching its number get smaller and smaller, the remainder of the horde lashes out at Yngvar. Many of them die in their risky attempts to engage their target. However, many are starting to get through the Space Wolf's defences. Whether he is tiring or they are finally getting lucky is irrelevant as he feels the tell-tale bite of a blade piercing a weak spot in the flexsteel armor at his elbow.
Gunter holds his position, allowing Rustin and Aisha to move ahead of him. He keeps his bolter trained on the horde that Yngvar is engaged with, ready to open up a second attack front should any member of the team need a distraction - and for the glory of putting these abominable Greenskins in the ground.
Pax watches the Meganob rush straight through the first leg of the watch tower before stretching its arm back and demolishing the second leg with its huge power claw. Mars be damned he swears, thinking that Sarlocks body is about to tumble down and interrupt his shot at the Nob. But, the body never falls. A quick glance up reveals that somehow Sarlock was able to dive out of the way and catch himself on some railing before half of the tower collapsed. With a smile under his battle-helm, Pax lines up the flamer at the hulking nob and squeezes the trigger. White hot promethium streams from the tip, bathing the area in liquid fire. But the smile fades into a sneer of grim determination as Pax watches the huge beast all-too-nimbly jump out of the way just in the nick of time. Apparently this would be a fight.
Rustin holds up a fist, indicating for Aisha to halt, sizing up the new threat and taking action. In a second he has a plan formulated in his head and is transmitting over the microbead to the Templar and the Apothecary whose livery he has never seen before. The vox comms crackle with static as he begins to speak.
"Humor me for a moment...I got a plan, but we 'ave to move quick, no questions aye?" With that he motions back the way they came and takes off at a full sprint. Gunter keeps his weapon trained on the horde, but spares a look when he hears Rustin come across the vox. As he passes by, Rustin taps Gunter on the shoulder pauldron, indicating that he has moved behind him and back the direction they came. By the time he has finished moving he is back by the torn fence from where the small group entered. He has his Las Carbine up and pointed in the direction of the horde, covering his sector until the Marines can follow.
Sarlock hangs from the ruined tower, his feet roughly eight meters from the ground. He has two options - attempt to climb back up or drop to the ground. He knows that the high ground is the tactically superior option and must be maintained. Holding his revered Heavy Bolter in his right hand with a grip that would crush weaker steel and with his left gauntlet gripping the railing, the burly Iron Hand starts to pull himself up. He makes it maybe a meter or so before the poorly constructed railing gives way under his weight and sends him crashing to the ground. He slams to the wet earth with a dull thud, realizing almost immediately that 1) that did not feel pleasant and 2) he is lying on his back while a hate-fueled Ork Meganob stared him down. Reacting as fast as possible he squeezes the firing rune mere seconds after he lands, sending a stream of tracer rounds at the furious 'Nob. In a surprising display of agility, the Ork dives out of the way as Sarlock tries to draw a bead on it.
The first two rounds fly high into the sky as Sarlock brings the weapon to bear. The next three fly through the space formerly occupied by the hulking 'Nob, smashing into the horde beyond - obliterating those they connect with. In a shower of gore, two huddled groups of the creatures are reduced to smoking piles of green and red flesh in the cool night rain. The last round that leaves the Heavy Bolter connects solidly with a sound like Thunder as it punches through the armor surrounding the 'Nob's right arm. It screams in pain, reeling from the overwhelming force of the huge kraken round.
With a hiss the Rad Spider disappears only to reappear on the side of the building. With a clang of spiked feet on steel, it runs the length of the building straight for the Daughter of Death, covering the distance to her in seconds and closing for melee.
The Alpha Boy is close behind the Rad Spider, screaming obscenities and what appear to be harsh orders to the Rad Spider. It sprints just behind the spider, quickly closing the distance so it can bring its deadly Choppa to bear.
Yngvar thought he could hear the splintering of the tower Sarlock had been firing from, but it was quickly overcome by the wailing of the orks around him. He almost thought their numbers might give them the upper hand, but his anticipatory movements could only scarcely be matched by their impulsive and reckless attempts. Classically Ork, he thought as the heavy bolter fire from the tower which had once turned orks around him into pulp, seemed increasingly delayed. He was able to catch a glimpse of the faltering tower, it being barely propped up and upon hearing the taunts of the Meganob made a clean turn and ignited his jump pack.
The Orks around Yngvar made dismal attempts at hitting him as the jump pack burned through the night. He charged straight for the Meganob, hoping to even the odds stacked against his Brothers. Cutting out the engine he landed a few scant feet behind the creature, driving his chainsword into the leg of the creature. The teeth bite through chunks of armor but do not seem to penetrate any more than that, much to Yngvar's frustration.
Meanwhile, back behind the Ork Barracks, Aisha covers Rustin as he retreats, watching as the foe closed distance with her. Like fish in a barrel she thought as she turned and ran before they could attempt to attack her. The Daughter of Death motioned for Gunter to follow suite as she rendezvoused with Rustin near the hole in the chain link fence.
The Meganob doesn't even turn to acknowledge the arrival of Yngvar. He bellows at the top of his lungs, murder in his eyes - staring straight at Sarlock. "You killed me bruvva! NOW IMMA KILL YOU!" With that, he charges with his crackling powerklaw raised to strike...
Round 4 Cont.
... and swings down with tremendous force. Sarlock tries to roll out of the way, but his bulky backpack ammo supply seems to anchor him to the ground. He hears more than feels the wretched claws tear through his armor, rending great slashes in it that quickly bite into his muscle and scrape across his reinforced bone-plate that protects his internal organs. Blood pours from the wounds faster than it can congeal and Sarlock gasps inside of his helmet at the force with which he was struck. Weak flesh, is all he can angrily think as the claws are pulled free and his life fluide pours over the black body glove he wears under his armor. Emperor, mend my flesh as if it were steel over the smithing fires. Sarlock prays with fury, swearing vengeance on any who would dare sully his honor, armor and the reputation of the Iron Hands. Astonishingly, he feels the wounds on his chest begin to mend - faster even than his enhanced biology should allow. Thank you, Master of Mankind and Ruler of Humanity, he thinks with reverence.
The horde screams as Yngvar departs, watching as he attacks one of their leaders. They don't spare a moment to look in any other direction, needing to vent their fury at the Space Wolf and his allies. As one, they charge Yngvar. They crash into the statuesque-Marine who barely even turns around at their approach. He bats one down stupid enough to get close to his elbow, smashing in its face in the process and pays no mind to the Choppas that futiley clang off his armor. He knew the real threat when he encountered it, and he wasn't about to let it escape.
Gunter watches as Rustin retreats back to the hole in the fence. When Aisha follows, he considers joining them. But then he rejects it. Battle has been joined and his chapter training instructs that when attacking, attack to excess. Gunter rolls a krak-grenade under the tank as he slips between the tank and the building, advancing along the front of the building as fast as he can, hoping that he will not draw any attention. He moves quickly to get out of the blast zone and is confident he has not been seen as he watches the remainder of the horde charge toward Yngvar.
...Charges after the Meganob as it laughs at the damage caused to Sarlock. The Techmarine is enraged that the foul xenos would dare lay its filthy hands on his brother and the holy armor encasing him. He moves with a purpose, still cradling his flamer to his chest, intent on smashing his servo-arm through the beast. He turns slightly at the end of his charge, but his aim is off. The Servo-arm screeches by the 'Nob, denting and raking across its armor, but does no real damage to the creature himself.
Rustin waits as the seconds pass. Where the fuckin' feth is that Templar, he thinks. He wouldn't risk a shot, especially at a potential tank of compressed promethium, when a member of the team was downrange of his weapon. Damnit, come on, come on.. Finally, movement, fluid and absolutely lethal looking comes from between the barracks and the fuel tanks. Gunter.
The Templar moved with purpose, heading away from Aisha and Rustin and making a bee line to what appeared to be just outside of the tanks' blast radius - the go-ahead that Rustin needed. The scout took aim at the tanks and decided to see if his gamble was right; they were either going to be filled with Ork shit or unrefined Promethium. Either one just as deadly as the next. He squeezed the trigger three times in disciplined precision, each shot landing within mere centimeters of the one before it. The first visibly burns through the crude steel. A small gout of flame erupts which gives little insight into what is actually inside the tanks. The second and third shots, however, do.
A wash of white hot flame simultaneously singes Rustin's face and completely annihilates his night-vision. Promethium after all he thinks. Half of the Ork Barracks disappears under the pressure of the blast, throwing sheet metal and wood in all directions. The other half catches fire and slowly starts to burn. Rustin keeps his eyes in the direction of the explosion, still unsure as to whether or not it did the trick of destroying their pursuers.
Sarlock stands up with great effort, grunting through the pain in his chest even as his enhanced physiology does all it can to cope with the shock of his wounds. Without a second thought to the ramifications of his actions, he drops his Heavy Bolter to the ground, knowing it would be useless in a fight this close, hoping that the Omnissiah is forgiving in situations as dire as this. He fluidly pulls his Bolt Pistol and points the barrel directly at the Meganob's yellow eye.
*Click* The report of the weapon's jam almost as loud as the shot that would have been. It appears that the Omnissiah is not so forgiving after all.
Round 5 Cont.
The Rad Spider continues through the flames unimpeded by the damage done to its legs. It screeches slightly but otherwise seems completely relaxed - still in some sort of psychic daze no doubt.
Its master, on the other hand, screams and wails as the fire engulfs its body. More scared than actually it hurt, it simply runs after the Rad Spider as quickly as it can.
Angered that the Nob disregards his attacks as if they were the cuts of a Guardsman's combat knife, Yngvar thrusts his jump pack forward, eager to bring the fight to the enemy. As he lifts off, the flames of his Jump Pack reach out and burn through the nearest Orks. They writhe on the ground for moments, smoking and charred. He puts his gargantuan strength into the blow, revelling as his master-crafted Chainsword Ice Splitter rends through the enemy's thick armor in a spray of sparks, steel splinters and blood. The Meganob roars in defiance and Yngvar masterfully withdraws his blade, content in the damage - albeit minor - caused.
Aisha watches as the horrors march through the flames. The Rad Spider, as large as a mortal human covered in glittering carapace and armed with vicious fangs and razor sharp talons moves carefully through the flames toward her and Rustin. She levels her Bolter at it and fires. She had Hellfire rounds chambered and knew exactly what they would do to the beast in front of her. The specially crafted chemically-laced round slams into the creature with a hiss. Immediately the carapace armor on the Spider melts and sloughs off in huge chunks. The scream it emits is as pitiful as it is horrifying. Large portions of the creature simply disappear into burning chunks on the fire-ridden ground. Somehow it remains standing, but just barely.
As the ball of flame and pressure engulfs the barracks, another alpha boy comes running out of the Southern building, staring in disbelief at the chaos of the camp. It is much smaller than the one who ran out of this same building earlier and headed for the scrap yard. Still, it sizes up the situation and sprints Westward along the building, rounding the corner and climbing up into the tower. With a grunt, it quickly tosses the dead sentry over the armored wall of the tower and racks a fresh round of ammo into the twin-linked Shoota situated in the tower.
The Meganob takes its focus off of Sarlock as Yngvar's blades bite deep into its arm. It turns around, somehow managing to be even larger than the Space Marine. "You should'n 'ave done that, Spehz Whuf. Imma bleed you now!" It rears back its power claw and lets loose with a crazed roar that reverberates against the armor of the Marines surrounding it. Headless of its own safety, the Ork enters a state of pure berserk. Its eyes wash over with fury and it swings its sparkling Power Klaw with all of its might at Sarlock's would-be rescuer...
... Yngvar watches the massive and cruel power weapon fly toward his body. It was too late to dive out of the way or ignite his jump pack and he knew it. Knowing the only chance he had was to deflect, Yngvar brings up his left chainsword and deftly parries the blow away from his body. Showers of sparks dance across the two mighty warrior as chainsword teeth vie for dominance against the cruel red-glowing power klaw. With a twist he redirects the Meganob's inertia away from his body and spins around, extending Ice Breaker as he does so. The Mastercrafted chainsword cuts into the Meganob's right thigh, spraying steel and flesh the same as before. "WAAAAAAAAGHHH!!" the beast rages in the only way it knows how and brings the Power Klaw down against Yngvar's sword arm. Ceramite parts and flexsteel shreds away. The red klaws tear through armor as though it were paper - moreso against the hard muscle and tissue of Yngvar's arm. The Space Wolf screams inside of his helmet through the pain - a mighty and deep sound - and pulls his arm back before it can be severed completely. As he pulls back the Ork retracts the Klaw, scraping deep gouges in the black Mk. 7 Power Armor. Unable to maintain his grasp, Yngvar unwillingly drops Ice Breaker to the ground...
The Meganob just grunts and laughs. "Time is almost up, pup."
Meanwhile, the horde makes to charge Yngvar again... and then the world behind them explodes. Pieces of shrapnel land among their number. Some are cut in two by flying pieces of the fuel tank and barracks. For their own part, they seem stunned and immobile. They stare dumbfounded at the explosion. Their stupification lasts for a few seconds and then they spy an armored figure moving lithely across the front of the barracks. Gunter.
"WAAAAAGHHH!!" as if forgetting about Yngvar completely, the horde charges toward this new target.
Just as the remainder of the horde begins to charge, a secondary explosion erupts from the remnants of the fuel tanks. Gunter's Krak grenade. Built sturdy enough to not prematurely detonate as the tanks exploded, the Krak grenade sat still on the ground as its internal fuse wound down. It explodes just as the Alpha Boy runs screamingly across the burning landscape. The screaming stops as abruptly as the ordnance explodes; the Alpha Boy seeming to just dissapear in a haze of pulped burning flesh and organs - almost as if it had exploded from the inside out. The splashing of liquified flesh turns to sizzling on the burning ground; the swan song of an elite Ork fighter.
Gunter pays the explosion no mind, not so much as flinching when it occurs. He focuses on the approaching horde. He levels his Bolter to deliver justice when a soft sensation enters his mind. It was reminiscent of another time - a terrible time. Loss and pain. Separation and failure. As they charge with the flames reflecting from their eyes and armor, Gunter is transported back to that time in his own mind. The screams and flames remind him of the witches that he and his Chapter-brothers have condemned to death on the pyres. The faces of untold numbers flash through his mind. As they do so, he feels a touch again, soft as silk and brief. Gunter is surprised for a moment, but this presence is familiar - and if what he has been told is true, it could be the Emperor himself. Still restrained, with eyes closed, Gunter allows that energy to flow through him. Then, without warning, the witches burned at the stake erupt from Gunter in physical form, swarming over the horde of Orks like the blast of an Astartes Heavy Flamer.
Dozens of burning psykers stream out of Gunter as he kneels, Bolter still levelled but not firing. They swarm the Orks as the greenskins batter at them uselessly with their Choppas. They are englufed in flame, screaming as they die yet not screaming as loud as the terrors unleashed by Gunter. The Black Templar slumps forward slightly and when he opens his eyes it is over. Dozens of Orks lay twisted and steaming in the cool rain filled night. A few stragglers remain standing, singed and completely shocked at the destruction unleashed upon them. In the distance, Gunter spies the deadly melee consuming his other three Brothers.
Out of the corner of his visor, Pax's HUD sends immediate readings of the spike in temperature from the horde's position just East of him. The machine spirit must be wrong - some of those temperatures burned hotter than a plasma weapon. How could that be possible? After all, he was issued the squad's only flamer. Momentarily he thinks he spied figures in the flames - not Orks - but terrible tortured figures sending the Orks to their deaths. It will have to wait, he thinks to himself, lining up another attack on the Meganob. He has to maneuvre his body to the right in ordo for his Servo Arm to be effective. The Servo-Arm misses by a mile, perhaps due to the awkwardness of such an attack. Pax swears under his breath. This Meganob was proving more troublesome than he ever imagined.
Round 6 : The Bigger They Are...
His focus on the burning tanks and the threat ahead, Rustin only catches a glimpse of the warp energy, but he feels it. He knows that sensation and it is unlike anything else in the material universe. Rustin spits, his saliva hits the ground with a slight sizzle. An all too familiar taste fills his mouth. He glances over at the smoldering Ork corpses, then at Gunter. A rare look of true anger takes hold of Rustin briefly. Shaking off the disturbance, the battlefield appears to slow as he scans his surroundings. Spotting Yngvar's brutal combat with the mega nob, Rustin selects his next target. As he speaks to Aisha, he speaks in a tone that for once seems to lack any hint of sarcasm. "Lad, take care of that feckin' bug!!" Taking a knee, Rustin kisses his las-carbine - Sexy Sadie, be good ta me, girlie. He then tucks it tightly into his shoulder, taking aim at the mega nob twirling around in the melee with three massive Astartes; a battle of epic proportions. He inhales and slowly lets about half of the air out of his lungs before squeezing the trigger.
The first shot tears through the melee, striking the 'Nob in the chest fully. The incandescent las beam burns through the armor of the beast completely, but fails to pierce its thick, oak like skin. The second shot has less effect, failing to burn through the layers of scrap armor. The final shot screams true, catching the Nob in the exposed flesh of his left arm - his Shoota arm. Blood and skin fly free from the wound and it is clear that it will take more than an arm shot to put the beast down.
Sarlock feels the disturbance in the air, the flames kicking up to the east from a familiar and all too terrible force. The Warp. He grits his teeth, a flurry of anger rushing into him. Sure, the Iron Hands had Psykers, but Sarlock was not one for the Warp. It had taken many of his men, and would take many more. A trifling thing that shouldn't be used lightly. And from a Black Templar no less. Eyes on the prize, compartmentalize. We can deal with that later.
Sarlock knows better than to throw another weapon of the Omnissiah's to the ground. More to stubbornly press the attack than beg the machine-lord's forgiveness, the Iron Hand grabs a Krak grenade off of his belt. He was hoping to jam it into the 'Nob's mouth. That'd be a nice touch, but with all the movement, he'd have to settle for just getting it near the nob, and not near his brothers. He lunges forward as the beast squares off for another round of attacks against the Space Wolf. Timing and accuracy come together with divine precision. He lodges the Krak grenade in between two folds of crude leg armor. He jumps back and cradles his pistol with both hands awaiting the pop.
An influx of air and a millisecond later the muffled explosion rings out and the Meganob screams in pain as pieces of armor and flesh are pushed from the back of its thigh out through the front. Sarlock and Yngvar both feel the force of the blast against their reinforced black ceramite plating, but they feel no further breaches. Although, both sets are going to need a good layering of repair cement before this is done.
The Rad Spider manages not only to keep its footing, but also avoid the worst of the flames from catching a hold of its body. However, being in the midst of the flames takes its toll and it visibly starts to weaken and miss its footing. With a last show of strength it charges forward and finally clears the flaming ground, staring at Aisha with its multitude of eyes as it brings its talons up to strike. It bangs its talons against Aisha's armor, but in its weakened state the attack is hollow at best; it fails to penetrate and causes no more than a mere annoyance to the towering Daughter of Death.
Ice Splitter having been wrenched from his grasp by the overpowering blow of the elite, Yngvar, in a fluid motion, attempts to shove a Krak grenade into the some crevice of the Meganob's armor. Sarlock seemed to get a modicum of success from that tactic, so why not adopt it? Himself fully armored, he senses when his mane-like facial hair would have been singed away by the heat of psychic fire. With no more than that half-formed thought about the burning horde at his flank, Yngvar makes his move with the Krak genade. He feints to the left as though about to strike with his remaining chainsword. Just as planned, the Nob moves to block the blow and Yngvar expertly removes a Krak from his belt and slams it into the elbow joint of the Ork's Power Klaw arm.
With the same muffled explosion the Ork's arm comes apart in ragged chunks at the elbow. It wails in agony, screaming to the heavens in a cacophony of anguish and pure brutal hatred. Somehow, the Power Klaw remains attached to the arm, strung up by bits of flesh, bone and sinew. Even still, it is obviously useless now.
Aisha turns her head toward the sickly energy creeping from Gunter. This strange new turn from one her Brothers causes bile to build in the back of her throat. How were they supposed to be a team and trustworthy with such corruption? Aisha says nothing out loud but she feels a dread creep into her subconscious. Her attention is refocused when Rustin speaks and as the half-dead spider charges toward her. She engages the chain-attachment under her Bolter and gorges the spindly animal. With a clean sweep she takes off its four front legs. Screaming, it falls to the ground in a torrent of blue blood and viscera. The blood gushes in heaping buckets around the feet of Aisha and Rustin and they are likely to slip and fall if they start running around in the foul smelling xeno life fluid.
From the scrap yard, Gunter can hear a metallic whirring and whizzing - as if something were powering up.
The Alpha Ork that had made it up into the tower watches as Gunter incinerates the Ork Boyz with his mind. Its target is now obvious. With a roar it lines up the twin-linked Shoota and sprays an intense amount of firepower at the Black Templar. Both barrels of the crude weapon spray out an eight inch blast of fire as the slug rounds fly forth. They slam all over the area Gunter occupies, but none seem to seriously damage the hardy Templar Psyker.
The remnants of the horde, as little as they are charge Gunter with fury in their eyes. They leave the broken, smoldering bodies of their comrades behind them and run to meet their fate against the stoic Marine. They close the distance quickly, raining down blows with their choppas. Gunter is able to sway and dodge most of the clumsy attacks, but is caught off guard when three Orks make their way behind him and mercilessly hammer against his right arm. They crack ceramite and flexsteel under their rain of heavy blows and take pleasure and delight when a splash of Gunter's blood erupts through the damage.
Gunter reels from the multitude of attacks raining down on him from the dozen or so Ork Boyz left. Keeping his Bolter in his right hand he deftly pulls his Bolt Pistol in his left. He bats off attacks with his vambraces and fires into the face of the nearest Ork, sending it spinning lifeless to the ground. But there are still more about him and this fight is not over yet.
The Emperor Awaits Action from Pax
Pax takes a modicum of satisfaction from the two detonations of Holy Krak against the monstrous beast before them. He again tries to spear it into oblivion with his vicious servo arm - and nearly does so. As the third appendage flies forth, the Ork - whether of his own volition or not - moves away and it hits nothing but air. Surely, no Techmarine has had such abject failure in the line of duty within the Deathwatch for some time. Pax makes a mental note to increase his daily prayers to both the Omnissiah and the Emperor.
Round 7: ...The Harder It Is to Kill Them
Rustin turns just at the sound of a chain weapon revving up, just in time to see Aisha carve the man sized arachnid abomination into pieces. As he watches Aisha brutally dispatch the rad spider, Rustin grins. Satisfied by the gore filled display, Rustin nods to Aisha, "Yer a feckin' artist boyo." Regardless of the curses, it is a geniune compliment. It is rare for most mortal humans to ever even see an Astartes; they are more likely to be relegated to myth and legend. It was even rarer still to stand beside one, fighting in the name of the Emperor. And Rustin could imagine the untold thousands of Guardsmen who would charge into the bowels of the Eye of Terror itself had they only one of the Emperor's chosen leading them.
His celebration cut short by the sound of a heavy shoota. Rustin watches as fire erupts from the watchtower, hitting the ground around Gunter and even catching the glimpse of a spark banging off of the Marine's holy plate. Shaking his head, Rustin lets out an annoyed sigh. Weighing his options, Rustin targets the heavy weapon. Ork weapons are notoriously useless outside of Ork hands, and he bets that even in an Ork hands they are more prone to damage than a solid Imperial Lasgun. He squeezes off three more shots from his las carbine. The first two strike the tower, sending splinters of burning wood and warped sheet metal flying from the impacts of super-heated light. The third hits its mark. The shoota stops firing abruptly, the shot having melted one barrel completely and warped the other beyond repair. Another burst was likely to cause it to explode all together. With a howl of anger, the Alpha boy looks to the human across the compound who fired on him.
Rustin and the Ork's eyes meet awkwardly. Eyes still locked on one another, Rustin slowly raises his left hand, keeping his carbine centered on the Ork. He lifts his middle finger and almost sensualy mouths the words, "Fuck you."
Sarlock had had quite enough of this Ork scum. With the fluidity the likes of which only comes from being an Astartes, he deftly pulls his combat knife from his side. Unlike standard issue combat knives, this one was special. One solid piece of reinforced Daemaskus ripple-steel from the butt to the point made up this weapon. Nicks and scratches still adorned the ancient blade that had maintained its' radiant glow and razor edge for centuries. The Iron Hands were master craftsmen and this blade was a testament to that.
Iron Kiss, let's make you a bit dirty, baby, Sarlock thinks as he springs into action. With precision and calm, despite the wounds to his body, Sarlock picks his place. He jumps up onto the back of the Meganob - a testament to the Ork's size. Climbing up the rear armor he sees the green of its neck, an opening just for him amidst the multitude of reinforced armor. A steel smile comes over his lips before winding back and then stinging forward with the fine blade. The feeling of flesh tearing would have brought a tear to Sarlock's eye, had he still had tear ducts. He wrenches the blade up from a downward angle, pushing with all his might as the blade emerges forth from one of the nob's eye sockets. It doesn't yell or scream. A gurgle and spasm coincide with a river of blood that pumps forth from severed, oversized arteries. Sarlock doesn't remove the blade cleanly as much as he saws it out of the Ork, severing spine, throat and muscle. With a yank, he pulls the Ork's head back so that it dangles by a thread, the fountain of blood pumping out in ludicrous volume.
The Emperor Awaits Action From Yngvar
Yngvar jumps back as the flood of blood pours from what's left of the Meganob's neck and head. Sarlock was a beast, indeed and Yngvar noted with pleasure that there was more to the Devastator from the Iron Hands than a love of killing things from a distance. He did not mind getting his Iron Hands dirty, either. A Space Wolf could appreciate such things. Taking a cue from Rustin, Yngvar pulls his Bolt Pistol and lets three rounds fly toward the Ork in the tower. Whether they were meant to kill the Ork, its weapon, or just keep it occupied is unknown. What is clear is that the Kraken rounds tear through the sheet metal and wood without any resistance at all, exploding in dangerous fragments that pepper the armor of the Ork warrior.
Aisha, having protected Rustin and herself from the charging Rad Spider, stands covered in its thick neon blue blood. Puddles have formed around the Apothecary's armored boots and she is amazed at how much fluid its body contained giggity. She calls into her neck mounted vox system, simultaneously reaching back and manipulating the Vox Caster in order to make sure her comms get through to the squad. "Kill Team Doomsayer," she says confidently into the Vox, "status report! Has anyone taken injury? Awaiting orders for assistance. Over." Nothing but static barks back into her ears and the Daughter of Death curses inwardly. Either the damn comms towers or the psychic blackout was preventing her from communicating with her team. For now, she will have to do it the old fashioned way.
The Alpha boy in the tower roars at Rustin, the insult clearly understood across species lines. It quickly ducks down as Yngvar fires up at it, feeling the tiny sting of wood and steel fragments pattering across its body. With a leap it is down the ladder, and huddled up behind the steel barrels there. A moment passes and then it extends its head and arms out, Shoota armed and fires at the first Astartes it sees: Pax. The poorly aimed round from the crude weapon pings audibly off of Pax's reinforced shoulder pauldron - the insult to his armor much more damaging than any actual damage done.
The remaining Ork Boyz swell around Gunter, attempting to use weight of numbers to perhaps overpower the Black Templar Psyker. Their attacks come in slow and are easily avoided by the quick warrior. Gunter easily side steps crude choppa blows while cracking ribs and appendages with the Bolters he wields in each hand. Two Orks fall under his brutal blows from the sturdy ranged weapons. Three. A fourth. In the haze of melee, he twists and turns, bringing forth the experiential knowledge of decades of warfare and training. Most recently, he draws upon the memories of facing Yngvar and Aisha in the combat arena - the lessons he learned there. He fires his Bolt Pistol directly into the mouth of an Ork, sending its teeth blasting through the base of its skull. As it falls, he realizes there are none left. The last of the Ork boyz lies dead at his feet - toothless.
In the past minute, Pax has seen an Ork casually turn its back to him like it didn't consider him a threat. He's had the same Ork dance around his attacks like they were nothing. He's seen Sarlock toss his weapon casually to the ground, in spite of a very recent sermon about just that sort of insult. And now he has had some jacked-up miniscule haughty Ork with a popgun chip the paint from his sacred armor. This is simply too much. With a cold efficiency and nothing short of righteous hatred written on his face, Pax slowly withdraws a frag grenade from his dispenser. He takes the time to size up the distance between himself and the ork before tossing it, humming a litany to the blessed Omnissiah as it sails toward its target.
The arc of the throw is nothing short of pristine. The fragmentary explosive seems to float on the prayers of the Ultramarine Tech just before it lands at the feet of the Alpha Boy. The following explosion is loud and satisfying. It wasn't the muffled intake of imploding air that the Krak grenades produced; this was a proper explosion that threw pieces of adamantine shrapnel in all directions. The Alpha boy took the brunt of the explosion in his right leg, yelling out in pain and anger as the shrapnel found weak points in the armor it wore there. Streaks of crimson dribbled and ran down the length of its thigh. But Orks were built tough, and this one was no exception. It stared back at Pax and roared, hefting its Shoota tight into its shoulder and lining up a shot.
Round 8: Bloodied and Ready for More
Rustin looks to Aisha, sensing that she is about to bound off for the Templar. He couldn't be sure the microbead would be enough, as communications at the moment were shaky at best. The Ol' fashioned way then, he thinks. "Lad!" he yells to Aisha as sporadic gunfire rings out from across the camp, accentuated by the detonation of a frag grenade. "We got one uh-them nasties unaccounted fer. Last oi saw o' it, was sittin' real cozy in the corner uh-the barracks." He emphasizes his meaning by pointing first at the sawed-up Rad Spider on the ground and then at the building he is referring to. "Let the..." Templar? Psyker? "Let 'em know," he says again indicating Gunter with his finger.
With that he falls to his knees and pulls off his pack. Precision was everything for what he was about to do, and he couldn't afford botching the job in order to go fast. "Oh," he says before the Daughter of Death has a chance to take off. "The wires powerin' the fence might also be powerin' another Ork Mekk back there. I seen it befor'." He then pours all of his concentration to the job at hand: permatape, mini motisensors, two of the monstrous Astartes Krak grenades and one of his own just for a bit of spice. Rustin hated Orks, and damn him if he didn't hate their Mekks even more.
Sarlock wipes vainly at the lenses of his Mk. 7 battle-helm. The synth-foam gripping on his gauntlets doing a piss-poor job of clearing the Ork-gore from his glowing optical covers and rebreather slits. He will smell like Ork for a week and he knows it. He pays the remaining Alpha Boy no mind as it fires on him and his Brothers. He had just bested a Meganob with the help of Pax and Yngvar, what could this Alpha Boy do? He re-holsters his Bolt Pistol to his thigh without attempting to clear the breech. Later. With the Iron Kiss still clenched firmly in his left hand in a downward grip with the blade facing his elbow couter, Sarlock leans down and gently picks up his Heavy Bolter in one hand. The battle had been such that the weapon remained connected to his backpack via the ammo feed and he knew damn well that it would be a miracle if the Omnissiah did not jam the weapon completely after his transgressions. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and the enemy lay dead at his feet due to his actions. With reverence he holds the weapon one-handed, staring at its firing mechanisms, Forgive me for what I had to do. Inaction would have led to death and mission failure. That weakness of character reflects on my entire Chapter and I will not allow it to pass. The Flesh is Weak, Omnissiah, but the fall of the Emperor's enemies comes first.
Yngvar, not having moved from the spot where Ice Splitter was wrenched from his grasp kneels in the gore of the recently decapitated 'Nob. Not one to leave his exquisitely crafted weapon near the filth of this planet, he goes to one knee and quickly scans the area using all that remains of his focus, which is itself riddled with pain. He holsters his Bolt Pistol as he stares at the Southernmost building. He catches movement inside of it - green. Then another. There were at least two more enemies inside the building, but for whatever reason they had not come outside to join in the fun yet. He holsters his bolt pistol while giving Sarlock a sidelong glance. "The intimacy of you," he says to the master crafted chainsword in his right hand, "will always trump the distance of that." His latter comment was directed at the Heavy Bolter Sarlock cradled so intimately. Now armed with both chainswords, the Wolf looks ready to devastate his foe up close once again.
Aisha nods at the human's sit-rep and moves to run to Gunter's position and deliver the warning. Having faith in her abilities, she pays little heed to the pools of stinking blue arachnid blood around her feet and begins to move at full speed toward her Battle Brother, leaving Rustin to whatever it is he was about to do. As she moves, she feels the slightest violent-jerk under her boots as they find no purchase whatsoever. As if she had attempted this on pure ice, her footing gives way under hear. One moment she is staring intently at her objective, the next she is staring straight up into the night sky as her heavily armored body swims up into the air and lands crushingly on her back. Obviously, the Emperor has a sense of humor.
The maniacal mechanical humming from the South East scrap yard grows louder. Gunter alone is able to hear its ferocity and growth.
The Alpha Boy yells at Pax, but makes no move to charge him. Its scream is quickly drowned out by a burst of fully automatic gunfire from the frustrated Ork. The majority his shots go wide, but two find their way to the Ultramarine's battle helm as a third pings off of his arm. The Techmarine grimmaces as the impacts force his head back slightly. If he was angry before at the affront to his shoulder armor, Pax's humor is furious now.
Gunter holsters his Bolt pistol, keeping his standard Bolter in his left hand. With his newly free hand he pulls a frag grenade from his belt and approaches the burning barracks. He pops his head inside and does a quick scan of the building. Nothing to be seen. Aside from an empty rusting cage in one corner, no one and nothing currently occupies the rapidly burning building.
The Emperor Awaits Action from Pax
Pax reels from the attack, breaking his normal calm and collected charm. With a warcry that emits powerfully from his external Vox, the Techmarine charges forward, bounding over pieces of concrete, steel and wood - the remnants of the watch tower and sprinting across open ground with his flamer cradled close to his chest. "The Emperor's judgement is upon you, filth! You will die screaming!" The voice, more mechanical than human, is one-hundred percent fury. Quicker than any mortal could move, he covers the distance, stopping a mere two meters from the Alpha Boy.
Rustin doesn't take his eyes off of the explosives and bomb-making components in his hands. He deftly begins placing the Krak grenades together in such a manner so that they explode with maximum lethality. He then grabs the permatape and starts carefully wrapping up the ordnance as a mother might bundle a babe in blankets to keep it warm. He starts humming a tune softly under his lips while he works, apparently enjoying what he is doing very much.
Sarlock puts the Iron Kiss into its sheath on his left thigh. The blade practically hums as it is slid silently into the grox-hide and Oaksteel holster. Grabbing the heavy bolter in a much more comfortable double-handed grip, the burly Iron Hand begins making his way over to Rustin to provide the human with any fire-support, should he need it.
Round 9 Cont.
Yngvar thumbs the activation rune of his jump pack as the Alpha Boy fires on Pax. Confident that the Techmarine could handle himself, Yngvar turns his focus to the Southernmost building in this damnable Ork camp. The comforting weight of a chainsword in each hand puts him in what the spirit-healers of Ancient Terra may have referred to as a "Zen like state." He swings the both chainswords in an X across his chest while revving both blades in order to clear the breaches and moving mechanisms of any excess Ork gore - silently noting that the weaponsmiths aboard the Doomsayer had their work cut out for them upon his return to the ship in their efforts to sanctify his blades once more.
He says over the Vox to Pax, "Once you've finished that meal of BBQ'd Ork, join me in the South building for the next course." With a thud he lands a few meters from the Westernmost door of the bulding, just under the connected tower.
Aisha, had she been among a squad made up solely of her fellow Daughters of Death may have laughed at the absurdity of her situation; one of the Emperor's grandchildren, genetically crafted and modified from His own DNA, bested by the blood of a spider to find herself on her backside. But around these new Brothers - especially a mortal human - the Daughter found herself more reserved than normal. The unveiling of her identity, and her sex, had not been her choice. Captain Angellion had made that decision and she trusted in it, but she still didn't know the depth of her new Brothers feelings toward such a reveal. And now a mortal man was among their motley number and thus the Chapter secret must be kept at all costs. She was taken back to the days of her training, the rigorous regimen that had killed lesser women than her. She remembered the standing orders: Any non essential personnel who learn of our secret or even seem to know too much must be silenced by any means necessary. The life of one man is not worth the safety of our Chapter. The Emperor Protects.
With a grunt, the jet black Astartes with two Silver Shoulder Pauldrons in the Mk. 8 plate with its high-collar and reinforced ceramite stood and gave a look to Rustin, still occupied preparing his "Mekk Buster." Shouldering her Holy Bolter, the Apothecary turned her battle-helm with its single white strip toward Gunter - Psyker Liber Primaris - and began to move to reinforce his position. Looking to him she felt a modicum of comfort mixed with dread, We all have secrets now, don't we?
Meanwhile, the Alpha Boy stares with a mix of fear and anger at the mighty Ultramarine striding toward it with a singular purpose. His armor was the color of night - no - darker. One piece of shoulder armor was the color of a star, so bright in its silver silhouette. The other bore a symbol he knew well and loathed even more: "U." The large symbol for Ultra the bane of millions of Orks across the galaxy. How many Orks had been wiped out before the hands of one of the most prominent "Spehz Mahreen" Chapters in the history of mankind? In return, how many Ultramarines had died at the hands of the Orks? The numbers were not in the Alpha Boy's favor, and as he watched the Ultramarine before him charge his position, he saw the vengeance of every single fallen Son of Guilliman charging toward him.
With a scream bred more in fear than anger, it held down the trigger on its Shoota until the nasty weapon clicked empty.
Nothing. The crude bullets fly around Pax with only two making contact. His plate, reinforced like his body during his studies on Holy Mars soaked up the impacts as though they were nothing more than rocks thrown by a child. They effectively did nothing to stop the advance of the Ultramarine.
The Emperor Awaits Action from Gunter
Gunter keeps his Bolter in front of him in his right gauntlet, aimed downrange should anything pop up and produce a target of opportunity. In his left, the frag is held firmly, should he need to pop the safety lever with his thumb and let it fly. In leveled steps, he makes his way to the squat building that has as of yet remained closed off from the spectacle and excitement in the camp. He stops just short of the large, fat steel barrels.
Pax whispers thanks to the spirit of his armor and then sweeps his flamer up, his thumb violently pressing the firing rune. "Burn, scum," he growls. His external vox emits the threat loudly as a sheet of liquid promethium of the finest quality sprays forth. The Ork seems frozen to the spot as it washes over him, the cover of the barrels doing little to prevent the flame from burning flesh, cloth and armor alike. It wails under the super heated attack, but the mixture of the evening rains and its flailing movements save it from the worst of the attack. It stands a singed, screaming mess as Pax closes the gap between them.
Rustin has not taken his eyes off the prize, so to speak. He meticulously fiddles with tools pulled from his backpack, singing wires and cutting others, making sure the heavy explosive in his lap is ready to be wielded against the enemy.
Sarlock continues his run toward Rustin, covering the ground toward the human in no time. Rustin does not even look up, so focussed is he on his work. Sarlock scans the area, casting his gaze from left to right. He sees Aisha running to reinforce Gunter's position, and the Templar himself moving cautiously with guns up to the squat building just north of the scrap pile. He quickly glanced right, noting Agememnon Paxius moving into melee with the Ork while Yngvar Whitebrow moved to the westernmost door of the southern building, ready to clear the structure. Sarlock thought he had caught something on the squad vox about a "BBQ" from Yngvar, but he could not be sure what the Space Wolf had meant. They were odd creations, the Wolves of Fenris. Talkative for Space Marines and wild to boot. But they were good to have if one found themselves in a pinch. His eyes peered over the frightened faces of the Alpha-Ichi settlers, still bound inside of a crackling electrified fence, but he noted that some faces wore determination and pride, no doubt bolstered by the appearance of the Emperor's angels of death. He thought he saw movement in the far scrap yard to the south and focused his gaze in that direction...
He opens up his external Vox to full volume, not trusting the radio waves on the squad-to-squad to give him the desired results. "Got eyes on movement from the far scrap yard. Sensors indicating it as a large Xenos, even more so than the Meganobs near the tower base. I'd wager things are about to get a bit more interesting for all of us," Sarlock screeches into the vox. "Something is gearing up for a fight."
Yngvar walks the last couple of meters to the door on the building with the connected tower. The building itself is made of crudely bolted together scrap metal of various sizes and shapes. It looks more like a shanty than a proper building, but enough of the scrap metal has been piled on top of other pieces that it is sturdy enough to support the weight of the tower and prevent anyone from simply kicking the walls in. The door itself seems relatively sturdy. It looks like one big solid slab of steel crudely smashed into the face of the ramshackle walls.
Still holding his sword, Yngvar extends his right hand extending his large pinkie finger to give a slight tug on the handle. "It is never that easy," he says with a sigh as the door doesn't budge. Locked from the inside, no doubt. Apparently the Orks were smarter than he thought. At least barely. The Space Wolf immediately grips the handle in his left hand and yanks. The door starts to bend open ever so slightly, but it was all he needed. With a small portion of the top exposed and bent outward ready to be grabbed for even more leverage, the Blood Claw knew he was moments away from breaching the building. With his right hand on the exposed bent corner of the door and his left still on the handle, Yngvar places his ceramite boot on the wall and wrenched back for all he was worth, feeling the muscles in his arms, back and legs coil tight. The door flies off with a satisfied squeal of steel on steel and Yngvar gets his firt look inside.
The sound of boots slamming on the ground and a groan of exasperation mixed with a hollar of excitement greet Yngvar. Directly across from him, a large reinforced pig-iron cage fills half the room. The other half seems to be a hallway of sorts that only serves to access the door he just ripped off. The door to the cage is open and to the left there is an epic struggle taking place. One Ork Alpha boy, easily the size of an unarmored Astartes lays on the ground twitching and grasping at its neck. Yngvar notices immediately that the area where its esauphagus should be is a ragged hole pumping blood out at a very...unhealthy... rate. A second Alpha Boy is locked in a grapple with an enormous man. He is completely naked and it is immediately apparent that this is no ordinary human.
Rippling muscle covers a body that is as frighteningly wide at the back as it is tall. There is little chance that these features are anything other than the results of the genetic/biomanipulatory process that creates Space Marines. Completely naked from head to toe, the warrior delivers a brutal head butt that sends the Alpha Boy back a pace. The Ork has no time to reactive before the naked man is hammering its torso with blows that would cause a rockcrete wall to buckle. The Ork yells out and pulls its Choppa, squaring off against its unarmed assailant.
The Emperor Awaits Action from Aisha
Aisha moves at a quick pace to make up the ground between her and Gunter. She eyeballs the captives, taking a mental note of how many there are and how many of those are obviously wounded. It does not look good. Many of them eyeball the Astartes with amazement and pride, but many more look hungry, dehydrated and much worse.
The Alpha Boy facing Pax doesn't so much drop his Shoota as he does toss it at Pax. The weapon clangs off the Techmarine's leg armor doing absolutely nothing to slow his advance. The Ork does the only thing he can; with a shriek he pulls his Choppa and takes a swing at Pax. The Choppa sails into Paxius' breastplate with the tell tale ring of steel on ceramite. With frustration, the Ork pulls his Choppa back and gears up for another swing.
The Alpha Boy facing off against the naked man roars with hate as blood fills the floor of the building. "You! You killed.. YOU KILLED!!" He cannot even finish his sentence, so enraged his is at the murder of his comrade by the enormous human. He swings with all his might, attempting to end the fight before he shares the same fate. In his haste, however, he doesn't anticipate the speed of his new foe who quickly ducks the attack and jumps forward with his own.
With unnatural speed, the naked man flies forward smashing his elbow into the unarmored torso of the Alpha boy. He quickly pulls back his elbow and delivers a vicious closed-fisted punch into the exact same spot he targeted with his elbow. With a resounding crack, the Ork's chest plate fractures under its thick skin.
Ignorant to the melee inside the building to his South West, Gunter heads straight to the door of the squat square building. He keeps his Bolter trained on the scrap yard, having heard Sarlock's warning, but unable to see anything himself. With a quick check from his free hand, he quickly learns that the door to this building is locked tight.
The Emperor Awaits Action from Paxius
Sneering under his helmet, Pax growls out through the external Vox, "Accept His justice, foul thing. Just let it happen." The speakers on this particular suit of armor had been modified, made to command respect and fear from allies and foes alike. It was the latter that had the Ork frozen in place. As Pax speaks, he sizes up the ork, calculating the right angle before launching his servo-arm forward, jaws open, right toward the creature's head. The ork gathers himself enough to move out of the way before the servo-arm catches his head; it smashes instead into its arm, the force disloacting the shoulder and crushing bone under muscle under skin. As the jaws tighten the ork screams, but it only lasts a moment. With a violent twist, Pax turns the broken bones and jam them straight down into the ork's chest, piercing multiple organs and dropping the beast limply to the ground.
For a moment, Rustin sits cross-legged on the ground, admiring his newly crafted explosive device. With a smirk he looks up to Sarlock, showing off the device. "I appreciate the cover and the extra ordnance ye loaned me, lad. Feck, ye and me are practically this ting's parents! Say 'ello' to yer daughter. She's a volatile little bitch, can punch a hole in a big mekk just as easy as she can punch a hole in a Sister Sororitas' well-preserved hymen."
With a grunt, Rustin hops up, strapping the mine to his combat webbing. Grabbing Sexy Sadie, his reliable Las Carbine, he aims down the sights, scanning his surroundings. His eyes dart wildly across the camp. "So... shall we?" He says to Sarlock as he eyeballs Aisha moving to reinforce Gunter. "Lives to save, Greeners to bleed ay, boy-o?" With that he gets up and takes off toward the mostly silent Apothecary and the Templar.
Sarlock grins a little under his helmet, glad that his and Rustin's daughter - blasphemy aside - was made out of steel and high yield explosives and was going to be a natural Ork killer. He decides, through no order of the human, that providing their 'daughter' with cover was the most sound plan tactically. He moves with a purpose. Even heavily armored and carrying hundreds of pounds of ammunition and a heavy bolter, the Astartes proves his physical superiority by surpassing Rustin with ease and taking up a firing position behind the relatively light cover of the closest fire pit to the cage of captives. He keeps his heavy weapon trained on that scrap yard, knowing that the situation was about to get a lot worse before it got any better. Emperor, hear my voice. He silently begins a prayer of destruction upon the enemies of the Imperium.
Yngvar studies the melee intently, quickly spying the room for anything useful while the huge Ork and equally large unarmed human square off. The man seemed to be holding his own, so for the time being Yngvar decided to let him have his well-deserved rage at the expense of his captors. Perhaps due to the excitement, the young Space Wolf makes no attempt at hialing the rest of the squad over the vox about this new turn of events.
Aisha hustles over to cover Gunter. She moves to the minimal cover provided by the barrels on the north-west corner of the building Gunter was inspecting. She quickly scans the small alleyway between the burning barracks and this new squat structure. It was clear. No sign of the Rad Spider Rustin had mentioned. Maybe the man was seeing things? Perhaps he was panicked. She knew normal humans to be much more subjectible to panic and fear than Astartes. Fear was not something she knew personally - the emotion having been genetically and psychologically bred out of her during the process of becoming an Astartes. But still, she was well acquainted with the notion of it. She saw it on the faces of the captives behind the sparking steel walls of the cage. She remembered it on hundreds, if not thousands of faces from the battlefields she had been honored to serve in. It mattered not; she was of one purpose now and that was the mission at hand.
A new sound assaults your senses from the scrap yard that Sarlock had warned the group about. Silence. The sound of silence piercing through the night. At once you realize that you had grown accustomed to the perpetual humming and buzzing of electricity and steel in the scrap yard. Without it, the silence is deafening. You hear the pitter patter of rain again, splatting against your reinforced ceramite and adamantine armor and tip-tapping across your weaponry. A faint breeze blows in from the south and the murmured voices of Alpha Ichi's residents provides a soft undertone to the newfound silence.
Two thunderous thumps explode from the scrap pile. For a moment, everyone save for Yngvar has their attention drawn to two separate smoke trails flying up into the night sky. Up and up they go, breaking through the tall evergreen tree cover a disappearing into the dark. Then they explode. One after the other. The first detonates with a resounding CRACK as bright red flares fly in every direction. The second goes a moment later with the same effect, only it is a bright yellow. The sky flares stay alight for some time. Agonizing seconds pass and then they finally dissipate.
Meanwhile, inside the building the melee continues. The Ork barks something unintelligible to the human and, surprisingly the human barks something else - equally unintelligible to anyone who doesn't speak Ork - right back. The only difference being the giant of a man wore a large grin on his face and the Ork didn't. The misery of a cracked chest plate evident on its features. For the first time, Yngvar catches a glimpse of the man's face. A light brown beard has started to grow over his cheeks, lips and chin, slowly riding up sideburns to the sides of his head. The shock of brown hair on top is wild and parted to one side. It appears as though he has normally maintained buzzed down, if not shaved, sides to his head creating a sort of gap between the beard and the mop of hair. His smile is the most telling feature of all, however. Two long canines, much larger than the Blood Claw Yngvar's own, drop down into a feral grin. He looks very much the part of the lupine and Yngvar is certain at once that he has found Back Breaker.
The ork makes his move, fed up with being taunted. It swings low and then high, hoping to catch his target off guard, but both attacks are affected by the pain racking its body. They are clumsy and off their mark. The man deftly avoids both of them and then drives home another attack. He throws a fist into the ork's face, but it ducks down under it. All the better as he hooked the beasts head and drove his knee up into its already cracked sternum. Ribs shatter under the brutal assault and the Ork gasps for air, clutching at its ruined chest. All it can do is attempt to breath and for the time being it looks as though it has no fight left in it.
As Gunter moves to rip the door off of its hinges, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. His HUD immediately issues warning flashes of imminent enemy proximity. With a flash, the rad spider that had disappeared reappears on the roof of the building. With a hiss of defiance it angles its lower abdomen forward and sprays forth a burst of extremely sticky webbing straight at the Templar. In its choler it sprays the web wide of the Space Marine. The sticky substance coating the ground just behind him as it lets off a slight steam in the cold, rainy night air.
Gunter immediately stows his Bolter as he ducks the weak attack by the spider, strapping it across his body with the leather carry-strap. He pulls his flamer and ignites the pilot light in one fluid motion, angling the barrel up at the rad spider and squeezing the trigger. The sound of pressure being released sings into his ears as the superheated promethium sprays forth, covering the rooftop of the square building. The rad spider screams through inhuman vocal chords and the fire covers its body, burning through its hardened exoskeleton and getting at the meat underneath. But due to the rain or just dumb luck, the burning lasts only for a moment and the spider does not catch fire. It stares at Gunter, fury in its soulless multiple eyes and fangs bared.
Pax admires his handy work for a moment before bending down and extending his Servo-Arm. The powerful bionic deftly grabs the large Ork and hefts its carcass up into the night sky. "There you are, Gypsy," he intones with morbidly as blood covers the jaws of the arm. "You got it, you get to drink of it." With the ork in tow, he heads to find whatever is powering the electric fence.
Rustin watches as the Iron Hand overtakes him. After so much experience with Astartes for a mortal man, he is still amazed at what they are capable of. He is still running toward his objective when the rad spider rounds the top of the building above the Black Templar. Stopping two meters short of Sarlock, Rustin figures that if anything came from the South, the Iron Hand Devastator would provide a 2.5 meter tall adamantine, flexsteel and ceramite barrier between himself and anything nasty. He was beginning to value Sarlock quite a bit. He brings his rifle up tight into his shoulder as the freakish arachnid attempts to cover Gunter in some sort of ultra-sticky webbing. Before he can pull the trigger Gunter has already stowed his Bolter and brought forth his flamer.
It was a no-frills all-business weapon. From the grip to the pilot light, the flamer looked as though it had seen countless battlefields and stayed true throughout all of them. Now was no exception. Flame burst forth from the barrel in a wave of blue, white, yellow and orange. As the spider recovered from the blast, Rustin lined up his shot and sent a single las bolt searing off through the night sky at incredible speed. But somehow the rad spider is faster. With incredible forsight it hops to the left, the las bolt smashing into the roof of the building with a sharp crack.
Inside of the southernmost building, Yngvar advances on the melee, using the few seconds he has to cover the distance and offer a chainsword to who he has determined to be Back Breaker.
Sarlock watches the spider do its dance on the roof. Eyeing his target, back in his proverbial home with the heavy bolter in his hands once again, the Iron Hand squeezes the trigger. Many of the civilians inside the cage close their eyes and cover their ears as the weapon screams its high-pitched roar and literally lights up the night. Even Rustin flinches under the monumental power of the gun, cycling through ammunition at an outrageous rate. Huge calibre shell casings fly from the breech and pool onto the ground some feet away from the Devastator's ceramite boots. The spiders head explodes as the first round's kinetic energy tears it apart faster than the blink of an eye. The remaining rounds hit nothing but air - the creature having been so utterly decimated. Quickly, Sarlock takes his finger off of the firing rune in an effort to conserve ammo.
Yngvar's advance on the soon to be concluded melee of the naked man and the ork is not hurried. He strives for the well timed action, as in any combat. As the heaving, lumpish body of the ork struggles to remain standing before the naked man, Yngvar offers his weapon to the Astartes he has determined must be Back Breaker.
"It was never the Emperor's intention to see you caged forever, Brother. Hold the All-Father's weapon once more and end this quickly. We haven't much time and you need some...armor. Though perhaps The Wolf King will smile upon you giving the Doomsayer's crew a bit of a show."
Though he cannot see his face, Yngvar sees the ears of the battle worn Son of Russ raise, accompanied by a slight nod and widened grin he takes the chainsword. At this point, Yngvar, hoping the terrible state of this 'building' doesn't further hamper vox signal, activates his vox, "All teams, Back Breaker located. Maintain current engagements and report your immediate status." After voxing out, he awaits his squad mates' replies.
Aisha stays in the relative cover of the barrels to either side of her, covering Gunter as the Templar moves to force entry into the square building. Taking a knee, she straps her bolter around her body and pulls a large vial of deadlock toxin off of her belt. Carefully and with precision, she loads the toxin into her Narthecium, a small green light indicating that it has been successfully loaded and is ready to inject. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, but it was better to be ready than caught off guard. As she finishes loading the strength-sapping poison into her medical-gauntlet scrap erupts from the pile to her South...
... Yelling and maniacal laughter follow the veritable shower of scrap metal that geysers out from the Southern end of the compound. The screech of steel on steel adds to the ensemble of mayhem as an enormous form makes its way out of the scrap pile. It had apparently been kneeling down well below its full height, for as it stands to its full potential all of the Marines and Rustin, save for Pax and Yngvar, have no trouble seeing it. Mechanical screeches and hydraulic hisses accompany each thunderous footfall as the largest Nob you have yet to see makes its way to engage you all.
Somewhere between a Meganob and a full-blown Ork Mekk, the monster stands a full head taller than even the largest Astartes of your group. Heavy plates of crude metal have been bolted on top of one another, giving it even more protection than other Nobs you have battled in the past. An ugly power station situated somewhere within the ghastly machine bellows black smoke out of two smokestacks on the creature's back. Two enormous twin-linked Shootas make up the full armaments of the beast, one housed on each arm. Huge drum magazines with dual ammo-feeds lead up to the weapons, and just by a glance you know this thing can put out an incredible amount of firepower. It leers at you behind a steel reinforced lower jaw that juts out in a grotesque underbite. "You come into my camp uninvited, 'ummies! You metal men will die just like the others we been killin'!" With that he roars and it cuts through the shrill night air like a missile. Terrified, the Alpha-Ichi inhabitants shrink away. Apparently, they have faced this creature's wrath before.
Meanwhile, inside the building the nude Space Wolf takes a hold of the chainsword while giving Yngvar a quick once over to assess the Marine. "Even without that beautiful heraldy on your shoulder," he says pointing to the Wolf stencil on Yngvar's right shoulder pauldron, "I can smell a Son of The Fang from a mile out. I am glad yours was the first 'face' I saw. It never gets easy does it?"
When Yngvar doesn't respond, the man continues, "Trying to pronounce the Russ-damned High Gothic. Something about the 'R's and the soft 'C's that feths it up for me." He begins laughing and turns to the stunned Ork. "You bastards should have left Alpha Ichi alone, and then you might have lived to be killed by me on another day." He gives it no time to respond. The Ork barely gets a hand up to protest the oncoming blow as Back Breaker brings the chainsword down in a two-handed grip aimed at the soft spot between its neck and shoulders. The blade screams as it cleaves through the outstretched hand and down through the Ork's chest cavits before exiting at its waist on the opposite side at the end of the stroke. With a wet slip, the two halves of the body party as entrails and filthy green-black organs spill out onto the floor.
The naked Astartes turns back to Yngvar with a nod of appreciation. "The name's Logan. Did Rustin get you here? Is he alive?" Before Yngvar has a chance to respond a furious howl splits the air from outside of the building. Logan looks out what serves as window as quickly as possible and curses loudly. "We have problems," he says to Yngvar in Fenrisian. "Big problems."
The Emperor awaits updated actions from Gunter/Pax
Gunter recieves the Vox transmission loud and clear, the suddeness of it both a minor surprise and boon; it was good to have communications back, even if it was just between the squad. Gunter responds over the Vox, "Status normal. New enemy spotted and engaged." Seeing that he doesn't have the best firing solution, the Templar edges out to get a better shot. The sparking, crackling wires that are powering the fence look extremely hazardous. The blasphemous, shoddy Ork construction bursting with electrical energy was built with no regard for proper prayers to the Omnissiah, and his helmet's HUD is displaying readings that the electricity levels being emitted from them had the potential to play hell with his armor. Even still, the closest area to fire for full effect on his target was across the wires. He made his decision. He moved quickly, focusing more on his target than the wires on the ground. His ceramite boot catches the tip of one of the blue wires, but the electricity dances harmlessly over his armor - trying desperately to coil into some of its internal systems and shut them down, but failing to do so entirely.
Gunter directs the his flamer and engulfs the meganob in white-hot promethium. The refined scorching liquid washes over the gigantic Nob's body, sheeting it in a wave of chemical fire. At first the beast spasms, shaking back and forth in an odd display of movement from such a bulky machine. But then laughter follows and it looks to Gunter as the flames die out over its steel-upon-steel frame.
"FIYA?!" It bellowed between fits of insane laughter, "I was born in fiya, 'ummie!" It accents its words by smacking its twin-linked shoota against the crudely reinforced armor of its chest. "YOU FINK IT HURTS ME?!"
As Gunter voxes in, Gypsy twitches on Paxius' back and drops the Ork it was carrying almost as a reflex. The Ultramarine moves with a purpose, putting all of his reserve strength into his movements. Those human captives who aren't cowering will swear that they saw the Marine standing still to being a blur of light in the next moment, thinking that their own eyes must have decieved them into seeing something that wasn't. He covers the distance to the new enemy in seconds, taking up some cover behind the scrap pile just as Gunter finishes bathing the area beyond in flame. From the sounds of it, this new enemy has taken the attack rather... well.
Round 13: A Robotic Monster Pig and an Irishman Walk Into a Bar...
The wash of Gunter's flamer lights up the night and as the quiet Ultramarine Omnissiah follower rounds the bend beyond the prisoner cage. Rustin takes it all in; four visible Astartes in Jet Black Power armor squaring off against one of the biggest Ork Meganobs he had ever seen. More or a less an Ork Mekk in that hideously thick armor, the beast just shrugged off the flamer attack and looked ready to unleash Hell. Rustin had no doubt that the Marines could destroy this pig, but he wasn't one who sat back and waited for others to do the dirty work on his behalf - Astartes or not.
"Oi!" He yells at Sarlock over the commotion, getting the Iron Hand's attention. "I promised ye some fireworks boy'o, and Rustin O'Kennek ain't no feckin liar. Cover me movement and get me to that alley." He accentuates his message by pointing to the alley just behind Aisha, beteen the rapidly burning barracks and the squat building south of it. With a smile, he tucks one hand onto his webgear, making sure their "baby" is secure and holds his carbine by its top carrying handle.
Sarlock grins under his helm. This human may be brash, crude and perhaps above his station, but damn it if he was not a fighter. Sarlock could respect the courage and resolve of one of the Emperor's loyal in facing an enemy as mighty as this. "...Got to let our baby show her stuff. Providing cover." He moves in unison with the human, protecting him from the obvious danger of the large Meganob while side shuffling to set up a firing solution next to the squad's Apothecary.
Yngvar immediately begins moving out of the trailer-prison-holding area that he and Logan had been occupying. Confident that the long range Kill-Marine could handle himself - He IS a Space Wolf after all - or at the very least not get himself killed, the Blood Claw moves out into the open ground of the Ork camp just south of the caged civilians. To his right, Pax is in position behind some scrap and Gunter seems terribly exposed. He spies Sarlock near Aisha but has no clue where the human has gone. He needs a better view of things. Thumbing his jump pack, the Space Wolf launches himself up and on top of the building he had just occupied. For the first time he gets eyes on the Ork leader - a monster of a Meganob with a massive twin-linked Shoota on each arm. Smoke billows from stacks on its mechanized back and crude hydraulic pistons on its massive legs keep it somewhat agile. From his vantage point, Yngvar still cannot see Rustin, but something tells him the clever mortal is still alive.
It seemed as if hours had passed since the Ork leader had shown itself. To Aisha's rapidly accelerated metabolism and reaction time, it could have been days, but the Daughter of Death knew that only seconds had elapsed. She drops to a knee while shouldering her Bolter and taking aim at the Ork monstrosity in front of her. The cold timber in her voice rolled down the Vox to her companions and squad leader, "Brother Apothecary checking in. No injuries sustained. Engaging Meganob. Kill Team Doomsayer, status report. My HUD is showing sustained hits in the squad. Report injuries!" As she speaks, her hands move deftly over her weapon. The Ork is screaming something at Gunter, but she cares not what it is. Alien filth and their threats matter not; their destruction was the only thing of import. She squeezes the trigger. Fire blooms from her weapon's mouth as empty shell casing fly from the ejector port. Pieces of scrap burn and melt away as the chemically altered Hellfire rounds miss their mark. Three of the shots do nothing more than destroy cover, but the fourth finds its way to the beasts right thigh. "Lead Spitta" hardly seems to react to the impact - momentarily rocking back. The Hellfire round bursts on the Ork's thick armor, doing its part to eat through it, but Aisha knows immediately that it won't be enough.
Out of the corner of her vision she sees the flames of Yngvar's jump pack open up and scorch the ground as the Space Wolf soared through the cold night air and lands on the roof of the building he just occupied.
As Yngvar lands the Ork opens up with an incredible fussilade of automatic weapons fire. Spent shell casings pour out of the sides of its mechanized arms as the four barrels scream fire. Solid slug rounds chew up the ground around Gunter and the Black Templar has to dive out of the way to escape the worst of it. Even still, a few rounds find their way into his armor. Most of them are shrugged off but Gunter feels the pang of pain that quickly turns into a small pinch as his enhanced biology flood his system to staunch the influx of pain. A quick reading pops up on his HUD and apparently two of the dense slugs found their way through the armor on his right arm. Lead Spitta is still laughing maniacally as the smoke pours out of his quad barrelled arms.
Back Breaker tears out of the shack he had been caged in just after Yngvar departs. The Space Wolf, still fully naked and obviously not shy in the least, runs at a full out sprint toward the building Gunter had been trying to force entry into before the fighting at the scrap yard erupted. With deft skill, he gingerly hops over the sparkling electro-cables, easily clearing both of them as well as maintaining his ground speed when he lands. He says nothing to acknowledge any of the Marines, save for a feral smile for any who he thinks might be looking at his manhood. He carries Yngvar's secondary chainsword in his right hand, and it is obvious that he intends to open up the small square building.
The Emperor Awaits Action from Gunter/Pax
Gunter stands in the face of the enemy, a monster he has not personally battled before but close enough to the Ork filth he has denied to exist in his Emperor's galaxy. The creature was an abomination, a blasphemy against the perfect creation embodied in humanity given the light of Truth through Him on High. "Blood on my blade, faith in my heart; allow me to basque in your perfection and bring ruination to those who would seek to destroy your flock and sully your creation; for you are the light and the truth, you are Sol and Luna, from Holy Terra your will shines eternal through the void, bringing illumination to the Warp and thy will be done." An audible humming followed by a radiant glow covers the Templar's skin and body, piercing through even the cracks in his mighty power armor as the Emperor's will made manifest surges through his veins, binding his flesh and sealing his wounds.
He stows his flamer against his back, as the light fades, staring his enemy in the face. In one great motion he pulls a giant blade from the sheath on his back, holding it in a tight two-handed grip. Gunter responds over the Vox to the squad's Apothecary. "I think he tried to give me a shave. It was a little close, but outside of a little burn, I'm alright. Nothing a little lotion won't fix. The Emperor truly protects."
Gunter then flips on his external speaker-vox with barely a thought. "My great-grandmother could shoot better than that after 130 years in the grave."
Pax doesn't pay attention to his Battle Brother, if he had perhaps he would have thought the radiant glow was a psyker trick or perhaps the Emperor truly did shine on the pious Templar. Instead, he kept his focus on the Ork, really absorbing the details of its armor and, perhaps, looking for a weak point if there was one. Born in fire, the Techmarine muses to himself, I wonder how a baptism in Krak Tech will go over. As though in a blur, a Krak grenade appears in Paxius' hand; with a flick of his thumb the safety pin flies free and the clever Ultramarine counts down in his head, cooking off the grenade. With a heave, the anti-armor ordnance flies through the air, crashing into the Meganob's right arm only a moment before detonation.
The tell-tale imloding suction sound of the Krak rings in all of your ears, drawing a rough yell from the Meganob. It reels and turns on the Ultramarine. With malice in its eyes it stares at the Tech for what seems like minutes, although it was only a second or so. "You gunna need ta do betta then that, machine-man." With that, it aims all four barrels at Paxius' position.
Round 14: Four Gretchin Look Up and Say...
The vox channel crackles, "Heading around back lads. Watch yer fire, I mo'ight 'ave to crawl up this squig-feckers arse to deliver the ordnance...and hey...I appreciate you runnin' defense for me boy'o. Been a while since oi've met one o' the Emperor's finest who didn't 'ave a stick up his arse."
Rustin maintains his course at a full run around the back sides of the building and scrap pile. The chaos of battle, automatic weapons fire and screaming, is doing its fair share to mask the sound of the human's approach. As he rounds the bend of the scrap pile, taking care not to cut himself on a piece of protruding rusted steel he spies four small green creatures with long faces and even longer ears. Three of them are practically skin and bones while the fourth has a small pot belly.
Two stand on the outside of the fence, each pulling on a separate arm of the pot-bellied one as they try to pull him through a small hole in the fencing. The last Gretchin has his back smashed against pot-belly's backside, trying with scuttling feet to push his comrade through the hole. His eyes are shut tight in exertion. All four of them have small leather caps and goggles on, with the two on the outside of the gate carrying little backpacks to fit their frames. Rustin spies a crude Snipuh rifle among them, but other than that nothing too powerful in terms of weaponry.
With one final heave, pot-belly slides through the fence with a grunt. Huffing and puffing with exhaustion, the final Gretchin sees Rustin coming around the corner and freezes in terror. He cries out something, but it is lost in a blast of Bolter fire from the battle beyond. But it is enough for his comrades to hear. They all stare at the gruff human in amazement and fear. Four arms reach through the hole and yank the fourth Gretchin through to the outside. Pot Belly has already started sprinting off and the others are close behind him.
Knowing there is not much he can do about it now, as firing on the fleeing Gretchin might give away his position to the Meganob, Rustin moves closer to the Nob, smart enough to stay out of friendly fire range and makes ready to toss his and Sarlock's "baby" at it.
The Emperor has to make breakfast. Sunday is Pancake Day. He will update after pancakes have been consumed.
Sarlock stops at the barrels, allowing for Rustin to use him as cover. He knew the human was worth it and needed all the help he could get. Hell, even our team is having trouble with these orks... He thinks to himself momentarily. It was time for his Heavy Bolter to even the score. Hopefully no one would get in his way this time. A sigh of relief, for Sarlock realizes he can pinpoint the target's head easily from the cover and bracing of the barrels. A quick aim, and a quick squeeze sends the rounds flying steadily towards the Mek's big squishy head. Doesn't matter how big you are...flesh is flesh.
The Kraken rounds tear off at the Meganob whose girth and size make it such an easy target to hit. A sound like a hammer slapping rockrete rings throughout the Ork camp as Sarlock's heavy weapons fire slams into the Meganob. Sparks, flesh and blood fly into the air followed a scream of pain and defiance. The Ork rocks under the assault but somehow remains standing, steam and blood pouring in opposite directions from wounds in its head arms and body.
Gunter keeps his sword held in a two-handed grip in front of his face, praise for the Emperor pouring off of his tongue transmitted at maximum volume on his external vox. "And the Emperor rose up, His light perfect and brilliant pouring forth from golden wings. He was the head of perfection, the body was humankind, whose left hand was the truth of the Word, and whose right hand was the sword of the Astartes. Blessed are those who kill for Mankind. Blessed are those who wipe the filth of the galaxy, the Green defecation, the pig whores and their children out of existence..." He maintains a firm stance as the words flow from his mouth, practically begging the Meganob to fire on him again, knowing that his distraction is hopefully buying the human Rustin the precious time he needs to get into place.
Yngvar stands on top of the rickety roof, feeling it buckle and give under his armored weight. He sees Rustin clear a bend and follows the human's line of sight; he was looking at something.. movement. Three, no four, small green figures blend in almost perfectly to the grass and mossy undergrowth of the light brush surrounding the camp's fencing. Gretchin. They were on their way out from the party it seemed, and he knew that they would be gone without a chance of finding again if he let them get away, but the Meganob was also a serious threat... having made his decision, he pulls a krak grenade free with his left hand and breaks off the safety catch. 1...2...3... he tosses the ordnance at the beast and it impacts against its right leg with another muffled imploding bang. The Meganob yells out in pain and it is obvious he is starting to feel the weight of the attacks leveled against him.
Aisha maintains her cover and pours four more of the chemically altered Hellfire rounds into "Lead Spitta's" position. The report of her weapon was loud in the night, blossoms of fire erupting from the barrel of her Mark IV Bolter almost in slow motion, drowning out the screams of the Meganob. The effects of her constant, disciplined fire was wonderful. Similar, yet more colorful, blossoms of fire sprouted against the Meganob's armor where they made contact, burning and eating away at the crude steel. An eruption on its arm one, twice, then its blocky mid section and finally its head. The head was the most satisfying hit; the pained expression on the Nob's face proof that the Hellfire round had found some purchase in an area already damaged by Sarlock's heavy bolter. The Nob screamed as the round ate away at its face. Then a pop as the Bolter round, apparently lodged in its skull exploded after a malfunctioning delay. Brain matter and skull fragments pepper the area, covering Rustin in a hail of gore. The body spasm inside of its armored shell, causing the legs to jerk forward and then backward as if unsure of what direction to walk. The twin linked shootas erupt in a hail of fire, causing everyone, save Gunter to find some sort of cover. The firing only stops when the ammunition catches run dry.
With a wicked metal groan, the body of Led Spitta buckles and falls to the side in a steaming pile of steel, Ork and stinking defecation.
Oblivious to the events around him, Back Breaker grabs the handle of the square building's door and with a yank, rips it off the hinges completely. He tosses it behind him and it slides over the electro-wires, sparking and jerking around as crude, powerful electricity plays over it. As fast as he pulled off the door, he disappears inside the small building.
Congratulations, Marines! Astartes Victor!
Gunter watches the creature collapse with grim satisfaction. Flipping to the internval vox, "Nice shooting Brother Apothecary, but I thought we were trying to make Rustin feel useful." Gunter watches as Rustin struggles to carry the heavy ordance while trying to match pace with Sarlock. With what passes for humor from the Black Templar, Gunter moves back into action. Careful to avoid the electrical wires he begins looking at the fence - disabling it and freeing the prisoners is now his top priority, considering the naked Space Marine can only be Back Breaker and no obvious threats. But considering that reminds him. "We don't have much time. The orks have summoned reinforcements. They're cowardly, but not dumb. They obviously think that whatever reinforcements are in the area could take care of us, but fortunately, their signal was incomplete. They indicated human opposition; they did not specify Astartes. Any orks in the area likely expect a regiment of the Imperial Guard. I suggest we take what time we have to confirm that impression. It'll be easier to avoid detection until our rendezvous if they're looking for the wrong opposition."
The threat now gone, having lasted a mere few seconds, Pax resumes his mission to find a source of the electrified fence's power and disable it, or to disable it elsewhere, if that's more convenient.
The smoke billowed out from the end of the massive Heavy Bolter still gripped in Sarlock's hands. Over the external vox he speaks his frustration. "I sure wish I could have seen our baby grow up..." And with that he moves forward towards the rest of the team, walking through the gore around him, wishing to inspect the Mek Boy a bit and see if anything might be useful on the giant's body.
"I am sure the Space Wolf needs attention, as do I, from our Brother Apothecary. We seemed to have bit off more than we could chew against that Nob." Sarlock bites his metal teeth down, creating a metallic chewing noise after the words.
His face splattered in orkish gore, Rustin wipes his mouth and spits to the side. Planting a small kiss on the compact explosive charge, he secures it to his lower back. Patting the device reassuringly Rustin whispers. "Soon baby girl...soon."
Inside the scrap yard, a filthy looking generator billows smoke into the night air as it hums and shakes in an effort to keep the barely contained power sparking through the lines connected to it. Rustin, Yngvar, Gunter and Pax all have eyes on it. It looks as though it could be shut off fairly easily as long as someone knew what they were doing. If not, there was always the easy way of doing things, it would just cost the team a bit more ammunition.
Sarlock approaches the downed beast, giving it a once over with his eyes before searching the filth properly. On its lower back are four grisly trophies...
Astartes helmets of various color hang from a belt of crude leather and steel chain links. From the wear and tear it is difficult to make out what Chapter they formerly belonged to.
[Give me a Common Lore: Adeptus Astartes check to gain more info]
After turning the beast over and searching various pouches attached to its crudely armored frame, Sarlock notes a few things of interest. The more mundane search results turn up 32 Ork Teef - a form of currency among the filthy xenos and random odds and ends including bits of metal and squig meat. However, what is really interesting is the klan symbol spray painted in black upon its back.
A red power klaw crushing a skull in its fist.
But even more interesting is the small half crushed mechanical device in one of the pouches on its chest. Far too intricate and complex to be of Ork construction, Sarlock thinks that it might be of imperil origin.
[Pax - Tech Use to attempt to interact with it and figure out what it can do; anyone else Common Lore: Imperium checks please]
Sarlock retrieves the device from inside the foul xenos' pocket, noticing that something was definitely not Ork about this particular find.
"Pax, would you be so kind as to take a look at this?" Sarlock says before walking over to the Tech-Marine and handing him the device.
Gunter spots it before Pax can make his analysis. "It's a multi-key. Well made. It's like a passcard to any Imperial fortress - it would've let the orks infiltrate nearly any bastion without having to breach the walls." Gunter carefully steps up to the generator belching black smoke and scans the mechanism. Finally he sees what he was looking for. Taking a ceramite gloved hand he gives the generator a hard whack to one side. It wheezes, groans, gasps a couple of times and then falls silent, the high current wires rendered inoperative. Gunter asks over the internal Vox, "Pax, you want to free the prisoners?"
"I'm certainly not going to do it," Yngvar says as he steps of the roof, his boots hitting the ground with a sloppy thud. His arm having nearly been ripped asunder swings a little less like it is attached at the shoulder yet still carries Ice Splitter as he makes his way to the elite's body.
"These helms belonged to fallen warriors, some of them our brohers," he says looking directly at Aisha. One by one he rips the helmets from the belt of the enemy with his uninjured hand. Without speaking, he walks to Pax swinging the helms from the chains that once wed them to the xenos elite and hands him one of the helms, now a faded blue. "For it's return to your chapter's home system." He then makes his way towards Aisha looping two of the remaining three helms to his belt.
As Yngvar passes him, intentionally invading his space, one of the helms glances of the armor of Gunter. Without breaking stride he looks down at the impact, then up at Gunter and says "Oh you're still here. That was quite a display. You were glowing so brightly, I half thought you clipped the electrified fence, necessitating us to find ourselves a replacement psyker from the Black Templar chapter."
Making his way to Aisha, he holds up the helm of her chapter. "Perhaps you would like to keep knowledge of armor of this nature within your chapter, Brother Apothecary."
Before tending to his wounds, Yngvar goes into the small building in search of Back Breaker not to mention his second weapon.
Gunter accepts the blow from Yvgnar. Always trust a Space Wolf to be a sore loser.
Sarlock, overhearing the words spoken from their Squad Leader, remembered exactly what he had had to suppress during the battle. The presence of a Psyker. It was not only the fact that it was a Psyker using the warp in front of him, but a psyker from a chapter that supposedly had none.
Of course the Iron Hands had psykers. Most chapters did. But Sarlock didn't have to like them. No sir.
The brother in front of him was a lie. Non-existent in the realm of space marines.
First a woman...now a Black Templar Psyker...throne...
My money's on the Tech Marine actually having a metal rod.
Sarlock walks over to the Black Templar, getting up close and personal, staring at him through his metallic cybernetic eyes sitting beneath his helmet.
"You got anything that you forgot to mention to us, Templar?" His finger edges towards the firing rune of his Heavy Bolter.
"Are you my commander?" Gunter deliberately turns his back on Sarlock and moves to open the gate for the prisoners.
It seems that Pax is faster than the Templar this time, as he's already opening the gate. Without turning, he speaks in what without his autotune might easily be recognized as a serious tone. "No, we are not your commanders, Templar," he says. "But we are your brothers. After shedding blood together and after accepting.... other revelations, do you not think that we are perhaps worthy of a degree of your trust?"
He never looks back to Gunter as he speaks, but instead swings the gate open with one hand as he finds a place on his armor to stow the helmet of the unknown fallen Ultramarine.
Aisha breaks her silence as she takes the helm from Yngvar.
"Thank you brother." She clips the helm to her belt before stopping him in his path back into the building.
"Your arm is in severe need of medical aid. Please stand still."
Aisha takes a moment to analyze Yngver's arm through the display of her helm. Most of his tendons and muscles were frayed and the humerus was shattered. Fortunately the elbow joint appeared intact making the procedure she was about to attempt much easier.
The Space Wolf was strong. She could see that as easily as anyone else. Yet, had he ruined the joint in his struggle she would have been forced to do a battlefield amputation. Aisha feels little security in the lapse in battle and quickly gets to work securing his arm.
Aisha turns to the ground and finds several pieces of metal wire, screws and a plate. She applies a strong antiseptic to the materials from her narthecium before starting her work.
The Apothecary faces the Space Wolf for a moment before meeting his eyes as if saying, "ready?" She injects her narthecium into his shoulder under the armor with little warning. The hand device pumps a strong numbing agent and several kinds of antibiotics into the Space Wolf.
With care, Aisha drills a hole into the top of his shoulder armor and below his elbow joint. She quickly threads the metal wire she sanitized through his upper arm replacing destroyed tendons and muscle and securing his arm back onto his body. Aisha jams the narcethium past the armor and into the middle of his bicep. She injects several ounces of bone replacement very similar to the rubber cement used on the outside of their armor.
She drills several medical screws into the shoulder and elbow joint securing the wires. With her rubber cement and metal plate she applies a patch on the ruined armor.
The rubber cement sizzles into place and she takes a step back observing her work.
With her quick job the Space Wolf should have about 80% mobility back in that arm. Unless he should try and rip it off again.
Her job done Aisha finishes with some doctor's orders. "The screws and wires will need to come out when we complete our mission. Don't scratch."
Aisha turns to the rest of her team and scans them for injuries.
Yngver has received 17 healing
Gunter appraises the Ultramarine carefully before removing his helmet. Rather than respond to Pax he addresses the prisoners. "You are free, and for the moment, safe. Is there one among you who speaks for the rest?"
Aisha follows Yngvar and Back Breaker into the square building to administer aid to the Astartes of her Kill Team she deemed most in need.
The people inside the now de-electrified fencing are spread out in various groupings, most likely among family and close friends. All look haggard in some way or another. Exhaustion, trauma and pain - both mental and physical - is written on their features. Having just survived a full fledged Ork assault on their home, watching their loved ones die under the onslaught and then being the prisoners of such barbaric xenos has taken its toll on the survivors. The sight of the Astartes does not seem to help or reassure most of the people either. The vast majority cower away from the demi-god warriors they had only previously heard about in legends and bedtime stories. Some are still reeling from the speed and ferocity of your attack, never having been witness to such violence and precision, nor firepower, in all of their lives.
One man, in a kneeling position next to a woman, stands and helps her up beside him. He is middle aged with hard features and a lean build. Brown hair is kept short in sync with a beard of the same color. He has bright brown eyes and their is a sharpness behind them. You can easily pick him out as a natural leader, for when he stands everyone seems to watch in silence. He makes his way to Gunter and it is clear it is taking an effort on his part to keep his dignity and courage high in the face of such a mighty avatar of war.
"My lord Space Marines." He speaks in Low Gothic, and it is apparent through the bowing of his head and supplication in his voice that if he could speak High Gothic he would have. "You have liberated us from the Green skins, and for that we are eternally grateful. Praise be to the Emperor, beloved of all." A few murmors of praise to the Emperor start to usher forth from the mouths of the people around. Realization of the situation begins to dawn on them, and those that can push through the fear of being in the presence of Astartes begin to regain their composure. All in all, there are roughly 200 survivors cramped into the confines of the fence.
"I am Dayvon Neu, and this," he gestures to the woman next to him, "Is my wife, Meoni." The woman is beautiful by all normal human standards and conceptions of beauty. Dark hair is pulled back into a tight tail accenting sharp features like that of her husband. High cheek bones nestle under blue eyes the color of the deep sea. She has full lips and wears a white tankers-tee shirt under a thick gray coat a size or so too large and fatigues. The man wears a similar outfit with a buttoned work shirt.
"I am, er, was, something of a defacto leader at the Settlement. My wife and I oversaw the ag-habs and made sure our community was fed, healthy and happy. We maintained the Church as well after our priest took ill with Graboid-Fever two winters past and went to the Emperor's side. We.. well, my wife and our daughter," he hesitates after he mentions his daughter, the look in his eyes one of intense pain, "we were tending the ag habs when the Orks hit us. We got inside and barely got the gates closed in time. When the weapons went dry, they finally got through. We did what we could, and we failed. We held out as long as we could, but it didn't matter. The Orks have changed. They had never had access to that level of tech. They had never attacked us before. We would have all died had he not been there. He saved us. Logan, he calls himself. That Space Marine bargained his life for all of ours."
For her part, Meoni nods as the man speaks. She looks shell shocked, but functional.
Gunter nods at the words, then speaks loudly enough in low gothic for all of the rescued prisoners to hear. "You have all lost friends and loved ones today. They are now at the Emperor's side, and free from any pain or suffering. Take heart that they will be waiting for you when you are called. But today is not that day. Your Emperor and your fellow men have need of you. Logan was here because the Emperor protects! We were sent because our God-King will have vengeance on any who visit harm upon even the lowest of his faithful. But we are not angels. We must eat. We must have materials from which to fashion weapons. It is us who owe you a great debt. Your work here allows us to travel among the stars and save other colonies from this fate, or save those that have been besieged. Your duty now is to restore your colony. We will work to eliminate the immediate threat as you repair and in short order rearm your citadel. Please, take a," at this point, Gunter struggles with the low-gothic to find the word for the holy bolt casings that litter the ground, a visible sign of the Emperor's favor, "bullet shell that you may possess a physical reminder that THE EMPEROR PROTECTS!". Gunter raises his voice with the final phrase, expecting to hear it shouted back.
Sarlock listens to the "heroic" speech of the Black Tamplar, rolling his cybernetic eyes inside his helm. Oh, get on with it then, we have plenty more work to do. He strides over to Rustin's position, mumbling curses as he walks away from the Black Templar. No matter how much he wanted to strike the holy Astartes, he knew it would be unbecoming for one Astartes to attack another in front of these people, especially after the damage that had already been dealt to all of them by the ork scum. Not much else to do, but wait. Hopefully, the report from Back Breaker yields a better amount of intel...
Inside of the Armory...
The inside of the small square building is completely free of windows or openings save for the one created by Logan where the door used to be. Crude Ork armor and armaments line shelves on each wall of what is apparently the camp's armory. Choppas and Shootas sit on wood and rusted metal racks next to similar colored pieces of metal formed into breast plates and helmets all bearing the same mark as the already decaying Nob outside: a red power klaw crushing a skull.
"Russ-damned Templar's and their fethin' deceit. I could feel it on my skin that something was off," Yngvar grumbles once he enters the building with Logan. Aisha followed after him and expertly remedied much of his injuries. After regaining some mobility with this injured arm, thanks to Aisha, he steps near Logan, "I'll have this chainsword back seeing as your gear seems meticulous cared for by those green brutes." He nods towards a half-opened footlocker with the tell tale grip of a Bolter sticking out. Upon sheathing his chainsword Yngvar kneels to inspect a very curious find. He speaks aloud his observations, despite Logan seemingly ignoring all else but the methodical re-application of his armor. As much as he appeared to like being naked, he apparently missed the protection of ceramite and camoflauge more.
Back Breaker gives Yngvar a quizzical look as he mentions the Templar's "deceit," unsure of what to make of it. If the Templar had deceived the team in some way, surely he would be at the mercy of their arms right now. What had he done? Brushing it off, he motions to Yngvar's find - a body stuffed into one corner of the small room. Mechanical limbs snake out of its back, pools of dark black blood formed around chunks missing from its flesh.
Yngvar speaks first. "Causality of the battle, no doubt. Escorting a member of those bloody..." he trails off, "Want no part of that... What would you say we shall we do with this poor half-tech-soul? Think the tinkerer spirits have claimed the juice that was running through his circuits yet?"
Logan eyeballs the young Blood-Claw as he presents his catch. "You can't smell it, pup? Long dead. There is no saving that one. But if we are lucky, one of your Kill Team might be able to access its final recorded memories. Why in the All Father's name one of them is on this rock, or what its mission is, is well beyond me."
"News indeed," replies Yngvar as he tests the weight of his retrieved chainsword in his freshly healed arm. "But we're already a unique bunch," Yngvar says. "Our techmarine will have a look at this heap when he is able. I am sure he will be very interested in doing so. Any idea what the orks were doing here? What they might've been after?"
Logan stands after kneeling to inspect the corpse, cracking his neck from side to side and strapping his empty bolter across his back. "I have some theories, but I think we should discuss them with everyone to save repeating myself. Have you gotten used to it yet?" After a moment of Yngvar not knowing what Logan is asking about, he continues, "Being with a pack that are not your kin? The Deathwatch is an odd group, aye, but I could never get comfortable with it. No, I was rarely comfortable with my Wolf Brothers back on the fang and they at least smelled right. You have to balance the hunter you were bred to be with the member of the pack you resist being - and that is hard for us Alphas." He gives a toothy smile and smack Yngvar on his armored shoulder, leaning down and grabbing a hold of the corpse and dragging it by one of its mechadendrite "arms."
+++Among the shoddily constructed arms and armor the Apothecary of Doomsayer finds something useful while Logan finsihes digging inside of a foot locker containing his gear. As the Kill-Marine recovers a suit of modified Deathwatch Scout Armor along with his blades and empty Bolter, Aisha spies two drums of heavy stubber ammunition in random areas of the shelves as well as what appears to be a drum of refined Imperial quality promethium.+++
Back in the Camp...
After a few moments, Yngvar and Aisha exit the small building just in time to hear the end of Gunter's proclamation of Divine Intervention.
From what they can see, his speech is typical of a Black Templar in that it is filled with holy passion for the God Emperor of Mankind. He intones passages straight from the Imperial Creed and the eyes of those who could not look upon the black-clad giant light up. They were spared and while those around them died, the Emperor had saved them. Why? It did not matter. The Emperor saw purpose in them. The Emperor manifested the Angels of Death and wiped the ground clear of the Xenos that sought only to destroy and imprison them.
What starts as typical becomes A-typical as the Black Templar sanctifies the spent shell casings of the Bolter rounds that litter the ground. Pieces of metal, created in a forge world and stamped by the Mechanicum, become relics of purity in one sentence. The survivors of Alpha-Ichi grasp them in their hands - their beloved salvation of the Emperor tangible in their grasp.
"The Emperor protects..." It begins as a whisper, the more courageous of the group repeating it with a new fervor as the more damaged merely repeat it. But the more they do, the more power it creates; the more faith it instills. Tears run from eyes freely and the chant grows louder. Dayvon grips a heavy bolter shell casing in his hand, tears running freely from his hard face. He repeats the chant with fervor, holding his wife close. She makes the sign of the Aquila and drops to her knees, prostrating herself before the mighty warriors of the Emperor.
After a moment, the chanting dies down. The people of Alpha Ichi, while still haggard, have a newfound light and purpose behind their eyes. They await to hear what they need to do.
Dayvon offers with conviction, "Thank you, my Lord Space Marine. What would you have us do?"
As the evening air quiets down, Back Breaker emerges from the Ork Armory armed and armored. His modified Deathwatch Scout Armor seems to blend with the surroundings, offering an active camoflauge wherever the Kill Marine moves. His bolter is strapped behind his back and a chainsword and combat blade hang off of his legs. Most curious however is the body he drags from the building.
Clothed in a tattered and torn red robe, it slides along the ground as Logan pulls it, multiple steel arms protruding from its back form squiggly lines in the muddy earth as they scratch across it. Its face, partially covered by the hood of its red robe is more mechanical than it is flesh. Multiple optics and audio outlets stick out in all manner of ways. Some of the citizens gasp at this new development. On the back of its robe, is a very clear torn symbold of the Mechanicum.
"Apparently," begins Logan, "there is more to this planet than I previously thought." He dropps it to the ground with a dull thud and looks back at Pax to make sure the Techmarine has seen this newest development.
"Anyone want to venture as to why there are Skitarii here on this planet?"
Gunter glances over to Yvgnar, but with his helmet off he can't consult privately. Turning back to the leader he instructs, "You will return to Alpha Ichi and begin preparing a defense to the best of your ability. It doesn't have to be perfect - if the orks come upon you, we will come upon them! In the meantime, we'll attempt to establish planetary communication. There is a ship in orbit and if we restore communication they can wipe out the ork menace in purifying hell-fire. And of course, resupply you with weapons and ammunitions to bolster your defenses for the future."
Sarlock took a good long look at the Skitarii that they had brought out before the group, inspecting it with a scrutinizing eye. He walked over to the lifeless husk and knelt down before it, hoping to gain a new insight into it. It didn't make any sense for one such as this to be on Alpha Ichi. And if Back Breaker had no idea about it, hopefully the arrogant Tech Marine might shed some light on the subject. As far as he could tell, he would garner no information from the lifeless thing. Not one to hit the books much, his knowledge of the subject was limited at best. After a bit of time, Sarlock stands back up. Doesn't make any sense...
Having been snubbed by Gunter, Pax leaves off and inspects the multikey. After a simple visual inspection, he interfaces directly with it, using his helmet's internal display as a means of navigation. He seems to absorb himself in his exploration, deep enough apparently that he misses Gunter's entire speech. After several minutes, he finally speaks, his autotuned voice carrying amusement through the vox. "You guys are gonna love this." He pauses for effect before explaining. "I don't know who imprinted this key, but they do not like the status quo of this planet. It's keyed to work in Alpha Ichi and with another location. Coordinates read somewhere to the south."
A beep sounds over the vox, his HUD having given him more information. "And there it is," he says, as though he's got the final piece of a puzzle. "It's also keyed to the coordinates of the comms towers. It's difficult to make out, but it appears that the towers are a primary objective for whoever programmed this."
He allows himself a moment of silent pride before the Skitari is dragged before him. "Guilliman's name, it's not even my birthday," he exclaims, obviously delighted with the find. Almost unconsciously, he unplugs and stows the multikey while searching for a convenient and compatible method of interfacing with the Skitari. "What are you doing here?" he asks rhetorically as he works. "No reports of a Titan nearby. Where you guarding a Tech Priest, then?"
He finally finds an interface port and plugs himself in. For a few tense moments, nothing happens, but the silence is broken by the loud, screeching whine of a modem report. Pax's helmeted head twitches slightly, a sign that he's following a moving display inside. He begins to dictate as he sees. "Mechanicum. They were attacked. Yes... yes, a tech priest. They were escorting him somewhere. Expecting trouble. Ambushed. They fought back, fired thousands of energy bursts. No use. That ambushers have the high ground. They're... bolter?" Pax is silent for a moment, but his armored fists clench and his posture slowly becomes one of anger, aggression.
After a time, he removes his helmet. His face is a mask of pure rage and when he speaks again all trace of whimsy or amusement has left his voice. "Traitorus Extremis!" he exclaims, spitting viciously on the ground as though unwilling to swallow saliva used to speak those words. "Foul traitor legions. Chaos is here, brothers."
At the word traitorus, Sarlock starts his march over to the Tech Marine, ignoring all else around him. He strides all the way to the front of Pax and gets in really close. "Think very carefully before you answer me. Are you positive that is what you saw? Because on the God Emperor's name, blessed be it, you better not be telling false tales about this."
Sarlock turns and begins to pace around the others, the intricacies of his mind racing about in all manner of conclusions and summations. No clear focus could be found in the chaotic twirl of his mind, spinning him around inside. Traitorus Extremis...It's been such a long time...
He flashes back his last encounter with the Traitor Legions, some decades earlier. The feel of his bolter rounds slicing into them. His flamer extinguishing the life force of another. His boot crunching the skulls of those fallen before him. Oh yes, it was the best feeling in the word to destroy Chaos wherever it spread. To exterminate those betrayers, those false brothers. Nothing had stopped his rampaging before and nothing would stop him now. The only good Chaos Marine was a dead Chaos Marine...
After a few moments, Sarlock steadies himself from the inner turmoil inside of him. The loathing that he felt would not yield until every last traitor on this planet was dead.
With a calm and more collected attitude, Sarlock urges the others.
"We should hurry brothers. Time is of the essence."
Oblivious to the most recent turn of events, Rustin strides into view buckling his belt as he groans loudly.
"St. Celestine's gilded tits that was a much needed piss!!
Caught off guard, he stops immediately, his eyes met by the familiar faces of the men and women from Alpha Ichii. Shameless as he is, Rustin knew what these people had been through. Clearing his throat, he nods and smiles softly to the battered men and women. Catching the eyes of both Dayvon and Meoni, Rustin smirks.
"Sorry that whole rescue 'ting took so long."
Interrupted by what he sees out of the corner of his eye, Rustin's gaze snaps immediately towards the entrance of the armory. With a grin he yells over at Logan.
"Bad dog! This is the last time I pick yer arse up from the pound"
The words 'traitor legions' hits Gunter like a Mark IIb Land Raider Phobos - the stunned look on his face is obvious with his beaked helemt held under one arm. Without a word he dons the helmet and switches to the squad-only Vox. "Our primary mission objective was to contact Backbreaker. Rendezvous is still three days from now. I propose he remain with the people of Alpha Ichi while we stamp out this blasphemy. Those who directly betrayed the Emperor, who gazed upon him in the flesh, who struck him down..." Gunter's voice is quavering as he shakes with anger, "they will pay. Death is too good for them, but I will see them destroyed. Your orders, brother-seargeant?"
It is clear from the question that Gunter expects that order to include a crusade against any Chaos Space Marines on the planet.
Pax treats Sarlock to a penetrating 'fuck you' look for a moment, though it doesn't last long. His hands clench and his servo arm twitches, as though it might strike a devastator for his near-accusation. After a moment, he has mastered himself again. He spits upon the ground again with a face that suggests he still has a bad taste in his mouth. His servo arm drums once against the ground, pounding hard against the earth. "Exterminus!" he growls.
Yngvar listens intently as Pax makes his assessment of the Skitarii corpse. Upon the mention of chaos he seizes and feels an hate filled involuntary growl summoning itself from deep within his core. He knows what it is like to loose brothers to the madness of the warp. The anxiety of searching, always searching in vain for members of his own chapter who had gotten themselves lost there was washed over him anew.
With his helmet removed he gazes upon the destruction of the camp and this symbol of chaos with his own eyes.
"Those lost to the Warp are already dead. We will oblige them and further erradicate their traitorous corpses from this world and from the Imperium. The residents of Alpha-Ichi will need to be escorted back. Volunteers?"
Turning to Logan, "This has been your territory longer than ours, what do you know of the comms towers? How did you come to know the human?"
Dayvon and Meoni take their leave of the helmetless Templar before them and begin actively rounding up people and readying them for travel. It is clear they know what they are doing, for the weakest members of the group are quickly being placed in the center while the stronger, more able-bodied men and women are covering the rear, front, and flanks of the group. They have little in the way of weapons - mostly clubs, axe handles and other melee implements scavenged from the bodies of downed Orks from which there are ample to choose from. It appears that most know better than to attempt to salvage Ork ranged weaponry. In an Ork hand the guns were deadly, if inaccurate, things. In any other sentient creature's hands, they may as well be paper weights.
Pax does take notice upon a second inspection of Lead-Spitta's body that the twin-linked shoota on its right arm is actually two heavy stubbers bound together with some sort of adhesive tape and chains. From the looks of the weapons, they seem to be in semi-decent shape - perhaps liberated from some long-dead Imperial Guardsmen or PDF force this Ork outfit had conquered and not yet rusted into a heap. While it would render it inoperable for the trek back to Alpha-Ichi, Pax knows he could easily carry the weapons with Gypsy without a second thought.
As the people continue to mill about, the soft murmur of their concerns dies out and is replaced by a fervor to get back to their home and reinforce it. The desire to kill Orks seems to have overpowered the desire to grieve for the time being. At his words, Dayvon looks up at Rustin - a grin coming to his face. The grin turns into a toothy smile as he catches Rustin's recognition that Logan is alive and well as well. Feeling as though the two will have much to talk about, Dayvon goes back to readying the people for their trek back to their homes.
Logan for his part does nothing to hide his satisfaction at seeing his friend once again. Running up to Rustin, he embraces the much smaller mortal man in a bear hug of an embrace, lifting him off the ground with one arm as a father might do to a child.
"You dirty bastard! What took you so long?" he says after setting him down, a fanged smile playing across his wolfish features. "It was bad enough I had to walk away their 'prisoner,' but thanks to your pussy-footing around, I had to be locked up and listen to them go on about Emperor knows what and Feth me, do they smell!" The meeting of old friends is complete with rhetorical banter that soon turns into Logan recounting the events as they played out once the settlement was lost to his eventual recovery from the Kill-Team, asking Rustin to fill in any gray areas. But Logan's ears quite literally perk up at the mention of the traitor Marines. The mood within the ranks of the captives shifts as they read the mood change in their saviors. Apparently the only thing keeping them from being stuck and destroyed with the fear is the fact that they cannot understand High Gothic.
Knowing this, Logan motions for Rustin to follow him and approaches Pax, speaking in High Gothic at a low whisper. For a Fenrisian, Logan's High Gothic is impeccable as fitting for someone who no doubt has parlayed with planetary governors and Rogue Traders during his multitude of clandestine operations.
"Brother Ultramarine," he says using the formal title, as he does with every one in the Kill Team he has not yet met - the platitude being something of a rarity when dealing with the Sons of Russ. "You saw the arch-traitors? Were you not briefed on this? It is news to me, but to be dropped onto Serenity so recently, surely the arch traitors were your mission here, were they not? Unless..." He seemed to be talking to himself. "It was me. I could not keep the scheduled contact due to, well, whatever the Feth is happening on this planet. Waste of a Kill Team if you ask me. Who gave the orders?" He waits for a response before continuing.
"Do you have a sorc-" he stuttered, almost using the Fenrisian word for psyker, "-Librarian among your team? Your ship in Orbit needs to know about this turn of events immediately. Communications on the planet are busted for the time being, which you apparently know," he says pointing to the Vox Caster worn on Aisha's back. "But apparently the Mechanicum know it as well. That is where this one was headed after all, is it not?"
It is clear that Logan is going over everything in his mind, trying to piece together this turn of events and news to his ears. He had been on the planet the longest so far and it was clear that the situation he was briefed on prior to arriving had changed dramatically. He waits for a response from the Kill Team regarding their briefing and orders.
"I made an Oath to these people to protect them as well as I was able after they took me into their homes. For my part, I have already failed them, but I will be damned if I am to let them wander back through Ork infested forests to a defenseless home alone." As he talks, he begins attaching the extra Heavy Stubber ammo he found in the Armory to his web gear. "If what your Brother Techmarine says is true, running into what appears to be a well-tested ambush site," he says while kicking the dead Skitarii, "seems foolhardy at best. Going on foot would be unwiser yet. There is transportation at Alpha Ichi that will get you to the towers much faster. Assist me in my Oath, let us get these people secure and perhaps put some planning into your attack."
Aisha takes some time to observe the newly freed captives. With Gunter's speech all the humans seemed to rekindle themselves.
Gunter's speech rekindled her mind with love for the emperor. She was quiet in prayer.
She opens her eyes with the talk of the Skitarii. She had never met one before. It was curious and disgusting thing to her eyes.
With talk of the Chaos she stills with disgust. All those corrupt shall be burned before the eyes of The Emperor. She thinks to herself.
Although eyes lit with joy for the emperor she cannot help but see bruises, broken bones and infected wounds among the humans before her. If they left Back Breaker with them how long would be before more orks attacked while they were off fighting the scum of the earth?
Aisha breaks her silence after Yngvar and places the items she retrieved from the warehouse; two drums of heavy stubber ammunition and what appears to be a drum of refined Imperial quality promethium.
"I'm sure we can find use for these brothers."
She pauses screening Back Breaker for injuries before replying over the vox. "If we establish a secure base for our objective I will no doubt be in favor for removing the scum from this earth," she pauses, "these people have taken the Emperor into their hearts, is it not our duty now to protect? Sending them off into these woods is no doubt slaughter."