"Brother-captain. You need to see this."
Glaudian's vox lit up as the voice of one of the Paladins sliced through the tension mounting in the room between the two Astartes. The Grey Knight paused for a moment, still giving a contemptuous glare to the Marshal, before turning to speak into the device.
"I copy Brother, I will be there shortly. We've also appeared to have picked up a straggler."
Silence for a moment.
"A Black Templar?"
The Captain recoiled in surprise.
"Yes, how did you..."
"You'll know when you get here."
The two Marines looked at one another, their concern for a moment outweighing their animosity, before nodding and sprinting through the twisting corridors as fast as they're armour would allow. They kept their weapons ready at all times in case of an ambush, but none came. Unsurprising, when you consider that a squad of Grey Knight Paladins had recently been down this path.
Eventually, they reached an intersection in which Glaudian's Brothers stood, weapons similarly ready. Glaudian jogged to the closest Knight and gipped his forearm in the warrior’s handshake. The Templar hung back, and said nothing.
"It's good to see you again Brother. What is it you've found?"
The Grey Knight did not reply. He pointed. Both Feris and Glaudian turned to follow his finger, and their mouths fell agape. The Marshal's features contorted in a mask of anger. "Blood of the Emperor", whispered Glaudian. It was justified.
From the ceiling, suspended by thick cabling, was the Black Power armour of a Black Templar. Brother Stefan. His armour was rent with gaping wound down its centre, and covered in blood, but that was not the things most horrifying aspect. No, that was the bleached bone skull grinning down at them; for all the corpses' skin had been flayed cleanly from the bone.
For a moment, all the Marines stood rigidly still, unwilling to speak. Then Glaudian sighed, and turned to one of his men. "Get him down." The Knight nodded, before turning towards the corpse and flexing his hand. Psychic energy coruscated around the wiring, cutting it and letting the body fall to the ground with a crash that echoed throughout the depths of the Hulk. In an instant Feris had spun around almost 180 degrees, sword levelled at the Paladin.
"You. Never. Use that witchery near the remains of one of my Knights. NEVER."
The Paladins too had their weapons ready, but Glaudian motioned for them to lower them. Sheathing his own blade, but still glaring at the silver-armoured warrior for a moment, the Marshal turned and walked to kneel beside the corpse of the dead Templar.
"No geneseed." he mused, to no one in particular. "This is a grave insult to the Chapter."
Glaudian walked behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "The Warp Spawn will pay for this, Brother. Of that you have my word."
"This was not the doing of Chaos."
The Marshal stood slowly, and turned to look at the surprised Brother-Captain. His face was devoid of all emotion, but behind his eyes burned a need for vengeance that would have impressed even his primogenitor Dorn.
"They ambushed us earlier. Claimed the lives of two other of my Brothers. Chaos does not kill so cleanly, so efficiently. Only one enemy could have done this."
He looked around the room, making eye contact with every one of the assembled warriors, making sure they understood the gravity of what he was saying.
"Only one foe. The Necrons."
Your surprise will be in an event later on in the week. The more interesting roleplaying you do (that goes for everyone) the better your characters' rewards and fortunes will be.. whereas if your roleplay is lacking..
By the way.. the Space Hulk really isn't all about this large massive open spaces.. keep that in mind as you advance deeper into the unknown..
Until I see fit, I'm content to let you all just mindlessly slaughter each other .
"Nercons are here?" Asked Glaudian. "Yes." Replied the Marshal. Glaudian moved from the body and towards the dead guard "This is no work of any daemon!" Glaudian remarke. "He would not be alive if his squad encontered a Daemon. He would not escaped!" Glaudian stood on the dead guard and large metal crunch came from the guardsman. Glaudian reacted istantly. "Give Me a falchion now!" He demaded. A paladin passed him a falchion. Glaudian began to cut at the guardsman shirt and skin. Underneath was a metal exoskellton. The was a dying green glow coming from the chest peice. Suddenly its arm rose up and tried to attack Glaudian. He fired at its arm blowing off its large metal clawed hand. Glaudian the took off its head. The skellton iside the skin vanshied leaving just the skin. "A nercon!" Shouted Feris. "Yes and it tried to trick us into a trap!" Replied Glaudian. All eyes turned the skin casing on the floor. The situation had just got much worse.
(I REALLY want to put in a piece of RP right now but I simply don't have the time, consider this my placeholder, Scrazz, if you can have a little patience and all other RPers permitting, i'll whip up a rivetting piece of roleplay when I get on next.
"Agreed!" Glaudian awnsered. "He has more expertise with these fiends! We must keep moving!"
The group moved away from the necron. Glaudian took a shot at it again and the turned round the corner. A vox came over to Glaudian.
++ This inquistor Draco Marain of the Ordo malleus! How is the mission going.
"Slowly this place is infested with every Xenos you can think of!"
The lander touched down with a hiss of air. All around, more and more landers gently kissed the ground before coming to a halt. But things were far from gentle for Marcus and the guardsmen in the nearby landers. Thier drop zone had been designated a ork fort... if it could be called that. A ramshackle mass of metal and guns as far as the eye could see. Marcus was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to link up with Charkos.
Thousands of guardsmen charged towards the fortress. Gunfire from both sides flickered from the open ground up to the ramparts of a wall made of scrap and metal. Rockets soared from the guard lines to blow chunks from the walls and bunkers while high explosive shells rained down upon from fixed mortar positions on both sides.
Marcus ran up to take cover by a burnt out vehicle, classified as a Ork Truuk. Robur, Sallies and Domini followed by his engineers followed suit, the cyclopes loaded with supplies following. Scattered to his right and left were the members of the guard squad Marcus had requisitioned. 10 guardsmen ready for combat and by the looks of things eager.
The sergeant of the squad crawled from his cover over to Marcus, the odd shoota round bouncing off the burnt metal plating of the truuk. "Inquisitor, there's no chance of bringing those walls down from afar. We'll have to get those demo charges close to take down the wall"
"That is out of the question sergeant, we cannot risk these supplies moving over that cover less no-mans land" Robur spoke before Marcus had a chance. While it was true, setting charges was suicidal, it was necessary to reduce the lives lost in this preliminary assault.
"Sergeant, get me a vox"
"On it inquisitor." and with that he crawled off to find his vox-man. Moments later he and the vox-man crawled into the cover beside Marcus; grabbing the vox set from the vox-man's back, Marcus began to adjust dials and sliders, selecting a frequency direct to the fleet. In his youth Marcus had been intrigued by mechanical machines such as vox casters and various engines. He had lernt the skills required for vox operating as a hobby though he found that at times like these it was useful to have such an odd hobby.
Once the chancel was established, he began to send his message;
"Fleet this is Inquisitor Marcus of the Ordo Xeno's. I require an airstrike on the walls of an xenos fort just some distance from my position. I request thunderbolt and marauder support for this landing zone. How do you copy?"
Over the next few excruciating minutes Marcus had to repeat the message several times to get it clear over interference, only to find that co-ordinates were requires. He looked at Domini, someone he assumed would have a vague idea of co-ordinates and asked him. The reply he received was slightly disconcerting but usable;
"If I'm correct I'd say, X 0546, Y 5648 and Z 220ish. If I'm wrong that's our current position he'd said."
Marcus made up his mind that if he'd called down an airstrike on top of their position then he'd kill Domini, even if he, Domini or both was dead, he'd still kill him.
After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the friendly roar of planes brought them back to reality and a pair of thunderbolts roared overhead to unleash a barrage of missiles into the wall, followed by three marauders which had a deeper rumbled, passed over and dropped a huge amount of explosive ordinance on the ork positions.
"Men of the guard and of the emperor, by the immortal emperor of mankind I order you to follow me and charge into the breech!" Marcus roared as he sprung from his cover and charges towards the shattered ork positions...
Scrazza wrote:Exciting, Wizard. Who are you going in with? My Ousians? Sounds fun
Yeah, I gave though to having a different regiment but in the end I think it is simpler that my character simply hops onto the wrong lander in the heat of the rushed boarding than somehow gets mixed up with which regiment goes where you know?
The sound of the death attracted the infernal stampede. Following the screams of the dead and dying, the foul Daemons cried havoc, and followed the dogs of war. The hounds led them to a battlefield aboard the massive cruiser, littered with the bodies and still fighting warriors of Orks and Humans.
Khorne would be very pleased with the skulls he was about to receive. The hounds were released, hundreds of them screaming towards their foe. Leading the charge was the Herald, taking skulls for his dark and bloody god. Then came the screams again. The pulsating heart of the war god himself was awakening. The Unbound was on his way.
The hounds snarled, the Bloodcrushers charged, and the Herald began to carve his way into the thick of the fighting. If he was to meet the great one's favorite, he would relish every moment before it.
Warklaw and his boyz waited for the humans to be herded in as was planned, but instead, the nobz bikez came roaring back down the corridor. Warklaw snarled in anger and before the nob could defend himself, Warklaw had his head squeezed in his claw's grip.
"Wot are you doin you lowzy runt. Wat did I tell you!?!?"
The nob spluttered, Warklaw let go a fraction so it could breath.
"Da....umiez boss.....deyz too....many....wez had ta....get owt.....fore dey got all.....of uz"
Warklaw roared in anger and orky rage, he threw the nob across the room. He turned back to the ard boyz.
"Wot are you lot lookin at? Wez got owerselves a fight by Gork!"
The orks roared their approval and began beating their weapons on their armor. Warklaw turned to his number two.
"Tell Rambork and hiz sneaky gits dat dey better have dem trapz redy, wez gonna need em."
Warklaw turned and sat on the nobz vacated bike, throttling its engine, taking his hint all the other boyz around him began boarding their transports too.
"Iz gonna go make dem umiez tink twise abot messin wit me and me WAAAAAAGH!!!!"
Warklaw steamed his bike straight ahead, the others following him madly, straight towards the sounds of the human soldiers. The engine rumbled and shook the dark chambers around him, Warklaw pumped the gas, pushing his bike to extreme speeds and yelling with orky delight. He hadn't had this much fun in a while.
Right behind him was his faithful Izzy, his red tongue hanging out in the roar of wind that was streaking past him. The corridors became more and more narrow, soon the entire horde was one single line of orky vehicles, clanking along at full speed. Warklaw saw a light up ahead and figures were silhouetted in the it, He grinned madly and gunned the engine of his bike, screaming a battlecry from his enormous chest. The human soldiers looked up and froze like a deer in headlights. Warklaw laughed heartily as he opened up with the mounted cannons on the front of the bike that tore men to bloody chunks and sent rounds spanking off the walls in sparking lights. The dark corridor was lit up, flashing with strobes of fiery gunflashes as Warklaw held the trigger.
A few humans were run straight over by Warklaw's bike and his tires squealed as the blood from the crushed men slipped along the deck. The light was getting larger now in front of him. Warklaw was intent on it with nothing but pure violent bloodshed on his mind, knowing hordes of boyz followed his cries. He saw a barricade in front of him, constructed by humans and manned by a heavy weapon that began spitting rounds at him.
Warklaw laughed as the rounds went overhead and relished the look of fear on the human's faces. His bike plowed, tire first into the emplacement and crushed the two men behind it to bloody pulp. All eyes in the chamber turned to him as his bike launched into the air and landed with a massive thunk on another unsuspecting human. Warklaw gunned his engine again and began to spin his bike in circles, holding down his triggers at the same time, unleashing a flurry of rounds in all directions around him. His horde soon followed and within moments the humans were embattled in hand to hand by a swift blitzing charge of ork hand to hand specialist who were pouring out of their trukks and trakks, their blood up, ready for killing.
Warklaw saw the mess his boyz were beginning to make out of the humans he saw the looks on the faces of the other humans in front of him, scared crapless by the sight of a monster from their worst nightmares come true, riding a demon beast that killed with every roar of its engine. Warklaw towered over every single one of them. With a tusky grin, he revved the engine madly and rushed the nearest group of human soldiers, swinging his claw back and forth madly killing all in his path. Behind him Izzy happily and gleefully pummeled away with his shoota and the slaughter continued.
"Wich won ov ou umiez can take ol Warklaw?!" Warklaw shouted loudly as he killed.
Tyr watched as the ork bounced down the side of the Thunderhawk. It impacted the engine, causing a massiv explosion to rip the engine apart. Black smoke began to pour out of the gash and the craft began to list to the side.
"Power loss in right engine, compensating ... no use, we're going down, BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
The Thunderhawk's altitude dropped rapidly, it skipped off the edge of a crater soaring through the air before crashing down into some form of canyon. As it tumbled the right wing was sheared off when it hit the canyon wall. Landing on the floor in a heap of dust It skidded to a halt, lying on it's side amoungst the rubble.
I've seen that film.. it's great. But wouldn't an ork just be incinerated by the engine? You'd be better off editing it out for a piece of shrapnel/AA fire or something.
Darkvoidof40k wrote: I've seen that film.. it's great. But wouldn't an ork just be incinerated by the engine? You'd be better off editing it out for a piece of shrapnel/AA fire or something.
ork got sucked INTO the engine, like this, but an ork, not a bird
Darkvoidof40k wrote: I've seen that film.. it's great. But wouldn't an ork just be incinerated by the engine? You'd be better off editing it out for a piece of shrapnel/AA fire or something.
ork got sucked INTO the engine, like this, but an ork, not a bird
The Monochrome army was on the march.
They had pounced on the Orks without warning, no cry emerging from their still lips. Wicked Claws rose and fell as if in a sickening dance, each and every blow splittung more skulls and staining the ground with shades of Red. To their credit, the Orks fought back with all the wild abandon of their kind, crude axes striking the metal forms opposing them with unearthly clangs. The Paladis and Black templar watched, entranced by the wanton slaughter they saw before them; even with the Orks' natural skill at war, this was a massacre rather than a battle. Glaudian saw a Greenskin to his left speared from behind by a pair of blades, before being raised into the air and ripped apart in a shower of gore. But that was not the most disturbing thing; no, that was the silence in which the goulish army fought. No sound came from them, the Orks' cries of bloodlust filling the chamber with a din that only served to make their opponents even more unearthly. All Space Marines were inured to fear, the Grey Knights and Templars more than most, but all of the Astartes felt at the core of their being the sheer wrongness of what it was the were watching, and even the mighty Paladins could not supress a shudder.
And then, it was over.
In a flash of unearthly emerald light, the Necrons were gone, as if they had never been there. Ork casualties lay in piles scattered along the corridor, the skin on many eitehr fully or in the process of being flayed from their foul bodies. The Paladins instictively raised their weapons, startled at this sudden occurence. "What sorcery is this?" muttered Brotehr Morbius, one of Glaudian's most senior Paladins as he scanned the room.
"Necrons strike without warning, before dissapearing as quickly as they arrived without leaving a trace. It's one of the reasons why we know so little about them. The otehr being that they hardly ever leave anyone alive to tell the story." replied Glaudian, similarly in a state of heightened awareness. Memories of previous encounters with the Xenos welled up in his mind, and it was a herculean effort to force them back down; he was a Grey Knight though, one of the chosen of the Emperor, and no foe could give him pause.
The Orks to were confused, no doubt dissapointed by the impromptu end to what they must have considered to be the time of their lives. That wasn't the case for long though. Spotting the Imeprials at the end of the Hallway, the rabble gave a bestial roar of "WAAAAAGH!" and charged, wooping as they went.
"Fire.", said Glaudian.
Deep in the darkness of the Hulk, Old Sawbones watched the carnage from a archaic display device. And, in the right light, he seemed to be smiling.
OOC: Quite a poor offering, I know, but I haven't had a good day at all and aren't really in the mood to write much. My apologies.
"Vrek!" Mortenson cursed, firing his lasrifle madly at the approacing mobs. "Buggers just came out o' nowhere!"
Charkos could see a large ork monster on a bike, shooting in all directions. Men died all around him, it all happened so fast. suddenly, there were a horde of orks within their perimeter. The landmines they laid were exploding, alright, but it didn't seem to stop them. Wave upon wave crashed against the barricades, dozens of them being shot dead before they could even reach the lines. But some came through, and like the monstrosity on the bike, wreaked havoc on the Imperials.
Calming himself, he ordered the Flame Teams, who were recently burning dead ork bodies, to the front. When they arrived, they licked great tongues of fire towards the orks, envelopping dozens of them.
Charkos picked a genade off his webbing, and threw it in the direction of the rampaging bike. The grenade went off with a sharp crack, and the bike was wrecked as a result. The ork was simply to big to be hurt by this feeble explosion, but the monster flew off his saddle either way. The ork warboss got carried away at least three meters before smashing his head against a support strut. Dazed and confused, the warboss waggled around grogilly, meters away from his burning bike. The bike burned for a few more seconds before it exploded violently.
Happy with what he had achieved, he sent the flame troops his way to do some hurt. Charkos was convinced the flames would only madden the the thing.
Charkos was just about to take aim on the rushing hordes as a grenade struck nearby, throwing his off his feet. He flew backwards, and landed with a bang against a wooden wall, cracking the woodwork. Trying to regain his senses, he clutched his head.
Scrazza wrote:The Cult of Scrazz is taking new members! Subscribe now, and get a tasty cyber cookie!
That has definitely, really, absolutely, positively, completely, totally, utterly reliably, maximus trueness, not been poisoned by the Inquisition's infiltrators..
.. promise.. go ahead, eat it.. really, no really, I insist..
Warklaw got up, dazed but intact, he'd suffered much worse before, like that time he was stuck between a crazed (for an ork) wierdboy and that pissed off Squiggoth. Warklaw grinned as remembered the scars from that....good times, good times.
Truth be told, he'd half expected that to happen, him being thrown from his bike by something that is, he just wanted to see how long he could ride around before it happened and he had to start killin umiez the ol fashioned way.
Warklaw pulled himself up to his full height, he wasn't about to be intimidated by some squishy umiez with and attitude problem. Immediately he could see tuffnut's boyz havin at it and makin a merry racket, tying up the humans immediate frontal efforts, they were stout boyz but they'd need help soon if they were going to take on this amount of umiez, it looked like a full scale human invasion, hundreds of em scrambling around.
Warklaw smiled, their might have been a lot of humans and their even might be more coming but there were more orks thatn there would ever be humans on this hulk, Warklaw knew that, he'd heemed the human's breakout with his blitz, time to follow it up with a determined push. But first, he had more pressing concerns.....
Warklaw saw a bunch of humiez coming at him with what looked to be burnas, Warklaw frowned, nasty things those were, but not without weakness. out of the corner of his eye he spied Izzy standing beside him with barely controlled blood lust.
"You know wot ta do ol pal..." Warklaw said showing his tusk in an orky smile.
"Aim for dere tanks."
For all ork marksmanship wasn't, Izzy was probably the best shooter in the entire WAAGH. Warklaw had taken him on as his pet for just that purpose, having his own custom shoota grafted to Izzy's spine. The flamer toting humans were at first confused by the small xenos that stood before them, but their confusion turned to dread as Izzy opened up, expertly spraying left and right, mowing down most of them. The retaliation was swift, the remaining flamers washed the two down with liquid fire. The two orks disappeared in a wall of flame. The humans cheered, they had killed the beast, surely all that remained was charred husks. Somewhere in the remaining group, a voice called out for a cease fire, and black smoke billowed up from their target before clearing to reveal their worst fears realized....
The ork warlord was still there, standing, glaring, untouched, along with his pet....
What Warklaw knew and the humans didn't was that he had a special device made for him by his big mek. It was what the mek called a "Furs feeld ginirater" Warklaw didn't know all the gadgety talk that explained how the device worked but he knew the results, around him some sort of shield was provided for a few moments when the button on the device was pressed, rendering the owner nigh on invulnerable for just those few moments until the field dissipated. The trick had gotten the warboss out of a few tight spots, like that one time with the wierdboy and the squiggoth...
Warklaw smiled as the humans stood in fear, shaking, dreading this monster which was impervious to their weapons. Warklaw stepped forward, his bulk towering over them, they looked like pink grotz to him. Warklaw grinned at the apt analogy.
"Luks like iz my turn umiez" He said as he raised his axe and revved it. The first slash came down, cleaving a man in two with a welter of gore. The reverse swipe took his partner out in a neat decapitation....
that did it....
the line that had surrounded Warklaw broke and ran, screaming in terror at the sight, Warklaw killed as many as he could get his hands on and Izzy slew many more as the fled with rounds to the back. Warklaw looked around, the immediate are was clear. Not waiting, he screamed at the top of his lungs with his claw held high.
The roar echoed around the huge chamber where the umiez had begun to set up. And to this loud roar came other similar roars from side tunnels all over the chamber, orks wandered into the room in mobs and hordes, attracted by the sounds of fighting and their bosses clarion call. Warklaw grinned when he saw a particular set of orks bound from the rear of the chamber in front of the straining human line. Orks painted in black, with heavy armor and massive weapons and choppas piled out, but the one piece of gear that set them out from the rest were the huge rockets strapped to their backs. They were his nob Grimjaw's stormboyz, and they were a proud sight for any ork to see. A lot of them immediately went to hammering along with Tuffnut's boyz but most of them followed their nob leader when he yelled loudly and triggered his rocket pack, jumping over the heads of the defenders and coming down near Warklaw with resounding thuds.
"Yew kalled boss?" Grimjaw said smirking as well as an ork could. Warlaw punched him good naturedly (for an ork) and made a motion with his massive hand for the boyz to look around him.
"Welcum to da pardee, Grim, ya made it juss in tiem" Warklaw said, shouldering his massive axe. As the orks went to fighting Warklaw strode through the battling groups, for the most part unchallenged, looking for something...
His bionic eye didn't lie, he'd seen the umie who'd trashed his bike, and he was gonna find the little grot lover before the party was over.
Charkos had regained his senses and his lasgun pretty quick, and was running together with his kinsmen. HE could hear Major Mortensen yelling over the link;
"Get back! fall back to the second line!"
Charkos, and hundreds of men all around him ran for their lives. Some brave souls dared to stop, kneel and take shots at the encroaching horde. Some orks fell, but it had no real effect. One dead ork didn't make the difference. Charkos was afraid, this remembered him too well of home. The feral orks chasing him when he was still 12 years old. His father had organized a hunting party, and Charkos was found, and the orks killed. But he had been afraid either way. Running on adrenaline, and men dropping around him by stray slugs, he finally reached the second line, where the second wave of men, another company of the 31st Riverine, were waiting for the orks.
Heavy bolter emplacements, Heavy stub gun emplacements, barbed wire. The other company had seemingly did a better job then Mortensen's.
Mortensen stood atop a pile of sandbags, waving his company on. The Major held the company banner, a flag emblazoned with the heraldry of the regiment, with the company slogan underneath it. Atop the banner, on it's spike, was a gator skull, held inplace by leather straps. It was an ispiring sight, seeing the major shooting his lasgun one handedly, and holding the banner.
Charkos went faster, the men around him as well. When the Ousians reached the lines, having created a large gap between them and the orks, the suport weapons started to open up. heavy bolter rounds, stubber rounds, plasma guns, grenade launchers all lended their fire. The men pumped las beams into the horde as well. The Ousians had suffered greatly to secure this floor, and they would not stand these savages taking it again, they'd rather die.
The orks fell in droves, And Major Mortensen and the captain of the other company clapped each other on the back. It appeared they had driven the assault to a standstill. Medics were already atending to the most badly wounded, fresh ammo clips were given, but the men didn't stop firing.
Charkos looked around, and found most of his platoon allive. They had been lucky. Eighteen dead is much, but given the circomstances, the men from Charkos' platoon who had survived had been very lucky indeed.
The fire of support guns would not falter one second. Wave upon wave of orks fell dead, until their feeble minds collapsed, and all orky order there was broke down into a retreat. Charkos felt relieved, but he knew they would return sooner or later. Checking his chronometer, he let out a gratefull sigh. The Tank Company would arrive in 13 minutes.
Marcus screamed his war cry as he charged towards the dazed orks mobbing around the smashed pile of junk that had been their wall (to be fair it was a pile of junk before, but now it was just a pile of junk in a different arrangement). Behind him ran his retinue and behind them was the tide of guardsmen. Marcus had never fought alongside the Ousians but from reports he'd read and various articles written on tactics, strategy and combat that the Ousians had been mentioned in Marcus was certain that this attack would not falter.
He drew his blade from his back, thumbing the activation rune. Holy signals and beatitudes flared up in a fiery blue haze as power flowed into the ancient sword. Power shimmered around the weapon. Upon closing with the Orks the rites of Xenos Vanquishing changed their hue from blue to red as the sword sensed their presence.
He pulled his hellpistol free of its holster and raised it at the mass of aliens. The weapon vibrated and hummed as it powered up. He fired the weapon. Dazzling multicoloured light streamed from its muzzle clipping one of the orks'. The powerful energies while strong did little more than blow a chunk off his arm and spin the thing around... though it also made it mad.
The screaming tide of men was met by a similarly wild tide of orks. Despite the devastation caused by the marauders the orks were still up for the fight; like they ever would not Marcus thought to himself with a smile. He met the green wave with furious determination and an animals ferocity. As he hit the orks line he dropped his pistol to the ground; gripping his sword with two hands he ducked under the swing of a choppa and sliced clean through the ork welding it. Keeping his momentum he hacked and chopped and sliced his way into the green crowd, Felix would have been ashamed at how his student was making use of the fine sword that he'd been gifted; but Marcus reckoned this place to be no place for the practiced parries, riposts and attacks of finer swords work. Robur was beside him, his hellgun swung on his back and making use of the twin long knives he carried for close combat. He was doing his own fair share of butchering the xeno scum as he darted and dodged strikes from the orks and returned with short, swift hits from the knives. Sergeant Domini was also there, blasting his way into the sea of green with his automatic shotgun then hacking into it with a vicious bayonet attached to his weapon. A thunderbolt flew low over head and strafed the line with its twin autocannons causing huge plumes of dust, dirt, blood and body bits to fly up into the air. What enemy would resist such an onslaught! Marcus smiled...
------------
The fighting had only lasted minutes but it had seemed like hours. Marcus, Robur and Domini were drenched in sweat, dust and blood. Men from the Ousian regiments were roaming the field of battle and putting las shots through the skulls of those orks too stupid to die. It hadn't been a completely one sided battle though. Many men from the guard had died. Even Marcus had lost a man from his retinue, Sallies. To be fair it was only a matter of time until he died. He was too reckless and often lost his cool in battle. On top of that he was not to great as a student. In some ways it was probably best Sallies had died. Marcus sighed, guess this means I need a new member of the retinue he thought.
Dudes, don't start complaining . That never ends well and usually results in no event at all, or a mediocre event at best .
(Thats done it, YOU HAVE ANGERED THE GM!!! WE MUST APPEASE HIS HOLINESS WITH A VIRGIN SACRIFICE!!!.................
..............that rules out a lot of us here...... )
Needless to say, Warklaw was a little fed up. He'd searched for minutes among the crowd but to his frustration he couldn't find the little squig munch that had thrown him off his bike. And now, the humans were running, turning tail and running back to their comrades like children scared by a frightening story around the campfire. Warklaw watched his boyz run headlong at the defenses and get munched by the heavy fire. The umiez were playing it safe, running away until something tipped in their favor. Warklaw thought about what that might be...
In the meantime he called his boyz back.
"Oi ladz! Leg it! Wez regruupin!" Warklaw roared. With reluctance his boyz fell back from the line, staggering their retreat with rapid bursts of fire and waves of stikbombz to keep the umiez heads down while they fell back. Warkalw saw that Tuffnut and most of his boyz had made it back. Tuffnut was currently raving in bloodlust about how many umiez he'd killed and how many more he would.
"Wez got owerselfs a nice fight ere boss. Glad we came." Tuffnut said, blood and other gibblets dripping from his armor, none of it his own.
As Warklaw's boyz were regrouping, Warklaw heard the throaty rumble of orky vehicles coming from behind him. He turned to see his number two coming up with more boyz, all screaming orky oaths as they approached. The force brought with them huge battlewagons and even a few looted tanks. Warklaw grinned as he saw the familiar sight of Snazztoof's flash gits piling out of the back of a wagon to take up positions with their kindred. There weren't any orks who had the pure shooty power of Snazz's boyz, Warklaw knew that right and proper. He strode over to his number two, who was busy yelling at an incompetent battlewagon driver.
"Keep da boyz ere! Make shur da umiez doesn't get by ya! Spread da boyz out so nuthin gets past em!"
"Goin sumwhere again boss?"
Warklaw smiled as his idea came to the fore "Yeah, Iz gonna see if I can find any umie kanz ta krunch."
Warklaw yelled for Grimjaw and his boyz to follow, together, they went down a side corridor, leaving behind them a formidable ork force to take on the humans' main push. After a while in dark cramped corridors, Grimjaw's curiosity got the better of him.
"Where we goin boss?"
He revieced a klunk on the head from warklaw as a result. "Where I bloody well say by Gork!" Warklaw raged, but continued.
"Wez meetin up with Rambork, hiz sneeky gits and Krugg's kankrakka lootas iz gonna be rarin fer sum fun." Grimjaw grinned and pulled out a toy he had reserved for just such an occasion: a long pole with an armor piercing rocket attatched taht the orks lovingly called a "Kan hamma"
In a few minutes, the orks had travelled a little ways to the right and behind the humans main line just a several hundred yards behind them. There they found (or more accurately stumbled into) the boyz Warklaw had been talking about. Rambork's boyz were all geared up with big shoota's and demo charges, perfect supplies for a good ambush. Each ork of the mob had a unique piece of headgear to set them out. Green wool berets with red skulls painted on them, denoting them as kommandos. Along with them were Krugg's loota's, each had some sort of heavy weapon, mostly rocket launchers and zap gunz of some sort, a few were carrying mines and other orky explosives. warklaw was happy to see along with them came a little group of bombsquigs........perfect.
Rambork was first to talk, his cigar twitching in his mouth as he did so. "Wez found da umiez armor like you said boss, dyz headed dis way, guess dey wanna get dere tanks up to help dere boyz out."
At this point Krugg began to chuckle, his face painted half blue contorted in an orky snicker.
"Not anymore" he said hefting his huge dual barreled rocket tube.
"I had da boyz collapse da udder hallz so da tanks hada come dis way, derez some idden splosives up the corridur a wayz, we blow em wen da knz come dis way and den we get ta work."
Warklaw nodded his big head. He liked it, sneaky, cunning, the umiez wouldn't know what hit em. He turned to Grimjaw.
"Wen da umiez come youz take care of da squishiez and leeve da kanz ta me and Krugg, dat goez fer you too Rambork. Wez doin dis right."
The two nobz nodded and the mobs split up to hide in different side corridors of the shadowy, narrow hallway. In a few minutes the rumbling and cranking of tracks could be heard, the first tank came into view, a leeman russ, no doubt hoping to bail out the umiez on the other side. Warklaw and the others shrank into the shadows as the tanks passed. Warklaw could see a few of their officers in their cupolas, their eyes darting around looking to the shadows, oviously not liking the enclosed nature of the hulk. Warklaw saw Rambork heft the detonator for the explosives at the end of the hall. He smiled as the plunger was forced down and the explosion ruptured the peace of the coridor. Warklaw didnt see the tank at the head of the convoy get blown into the wall of the corridor, coming to a rest perpindicular to the advance.
What followed next was carnage and delight for the orks....
At once all came out of their hiding, the kommandos spraying any human in the open as the stormboyz finished them off in close combat. To the imperial's credit, a few tanks reacted quickly, beginning to spray the boyz with stubber and bolter fire felling many of his boyz but it was too little too late. Warklaw himself sprang from the shadows, going for the second tank in the convoy with his klaw and ripping into its side armor, bellowing loudly as he ripped the crew out and slaughtered them, sparks flying. Rockets spiralled, exploded, men and orks died, bombsquigs detonated eagerly against the sides of tanks, eplosions rocked the hallway violently, it seemed like enitre galaxies were errupting in that one corridor it was so bright and loud. Men screamed and died in confusion and heat and sound and fury.
In less than two minutes the ten tanks of the convoy were either dead or disabled and most of the orks sat around laughing at the slaughter. Warklaw surveyed the damage and smiled, there wouldn't be any umie tanks comin this way again any time soon.
In another minute Rambork had the orkz moving out sating that the umiez would probably send reinforcements when they heard about this but he laughed as him and his boyz set a few surprises for any umiez that came snoopin.
"Less go see if dem umiez got any bigger fights fer us boyz." Warklaw said as he moved away.
The herald was smashing into the green and tan mess like a truck into a jell-o factory. The lines of the battle were altered due to his presence, and because of this, the Orks began to run. The humans, however, were much more hesitant. At first.
When the war hounds hit Platoon 9, the screams were heard for half a click in all directions. Platoon 10 suffered the same fate, only worsened by the Commisar egging them on to fight the thrice damned dogs. His head made an excellent addition to the Skull Throne. Platoon 7 ran. This was their first mistake. With the hounds happily eating their new toys, the Bloodcrushers began the hunt. The hooves against the metal made a sound that can only be described as the sound that Khorne makes when screaming. With Platoon 7 almost into their vehicles safley, the Bloodcrushers were upon them. The Herald rode his juggernaut onto the top of a Chimera, and hopped off of his mount. Jumping down the hatch, the deamon took pleasure in painting the walls of the vehicle red.
Then the pounding again. The pounding was getting closer, and the sound of the mighty axe was more and more intense. He would find the Unbound. He would ride alongside his god's chosen. It would be glorious.
@Darko: it could be neither of us. There are more landings of the Ousians along the ship.
"Hold the line, Vrek it!" Charkos cursed, dragging a running trooper back to the line. "Shoot like you mean it!"
Charkos brought his lasgun up to his shoulder and raked the area in front of him with las. Together with the combined fire of the other Ousians, swathes of orks fell down. Trooper Kinel flew back, his head dissapeared in a red mist. Not caring about the blood on his face, not all his, he kept firing his weapon like it was the only thing he knew to do.
"That' it, lads!" Major Mortensen yelled. "Shoot those savages to pieces."
"Sir, we need reinforcements!" Charkos yelled. "I don't know how long we'll hold out."
"The tanks will be here in a minute, Charkos. Hold out at all costs."
"It could be too late in a minute!" Charkos spat.
"Have some faith boyo!" the Major reasured. "Saint Ousiana will look after us."
"Vrek it." Charkos muttered.
He guessed they could hold out, as long as they kept the orks out of close combat distance. And, reckoning how good they were doing, things appeared in the favor of the Ousians.
"Help!" He could hear a voice calling out in a strange accent.
"Please, I have important news!"
Charkos curiousity got the better of him, and rushed to support the man. The man wore a brown leather jumpsuit, and looked like he was a tanker.
"Emperor's teeth! The orks overrun our tank company!" The wounded man rasped. "They are all dead! The tanks are gone!"
Charkos couldn't believe his ears, gone he said? This would be a serious set back, not only for morale, but also for the remainder of the battle.
The tanker retched, and died in Charkos' arms.
"Vrek!" Charkos cursed. "Major, did you hear this?"
"Yes boyo," the major answered, he stood next to Charkos. "We need to call new reinforcements."
"Vox!" Charkos ordered.
A man carrying a large vox set lopped his way.
"Sir!" The opperator saluted.
"Give me HQ!" The Major ordered.
already sensing it, the operator keyed the numbers, and gave the horn to the major.
"This is the 31st Riverine. Requesting immediate aerial support on coordinates Alpha 4599 Beta, repeat, Alpha 4599 Beta. "The orks destroyed our tank support, and that means there are orks behind us. Shoot on sight, then fly over to the main line and strafe those suckers! Over." He threw the horn back and started firing his lasgun again.
Flight lieutenant McHellster banked his Lightning aircraft to the right, his airial wing behind him. Two Marauder bombers, escorted by three lightning fighters flew inside the cavernous hold of the hulk.
"I see sneaky basterds to my right." A Marauder pilot said. "Going in for the kill."
A large mob of orks, wearing crude green berets from what McHellster could see, were stealthily making their may across the rubble.
Marauder bomber One flew overhead, and unleashed his payload unto the green hatted bogies. numerous explosives went off, and, trusting Imperial Weaponry, those orks were dead. The auspex didn't read them anymore, but it could read small numbers of orks still roaming around.
"Douglass, Laughlin, you two hunt down the last of them. I'm taking tha marauders to the main line. Over" McHellster voxed through the link.
An acknowleding klick later, the two Lightnings flew off, while Mchellster's and the two Marauders kept their course.
Quickly clearing the distance, McHellster's wing reached the main lines.
"Marauder craft, focuss on the horde. The flight Lieutenant said. "I'll go after those ramshakle vehicles!"
Dropping altitude, McHellster was pressed aginst his seat. He pulled up after he fired a pair of las beams with his lascannon. A large tank, resembling a Rhino in a past life with a large cannon mounted atop, exploded in the middle of the horde, taking dozens of orks with it in a giant fireball.
The Marauders raked up an impressive killcount as well. They were unloading all their expolsives in the horde, and several moments later, large gaps were created by the explosions in the orks's midst.
"And this is just the beginning." McHellster swore.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:So do I, Wizard. And maybe you will find your new retinue member, eh?
Ooc: Don't worry darko, I've been planning what I want to do with each of my retinue members. In fact a few of the names are to remind me of their purpose in future role-play, but since my creative writing for school is often quite bloody I like to kill off characters (often in slightly comic, ironic and gruesome ways) . I mean its not like I'll run out at any point is it?
Anyway, on with the RP!
--------Bic---------
Marcus strolled up to the field command center. The place was in pandemonium. Men were shouting all over the place. Several times aides and young ensigns laden with papers, data slates and charts as well as trays carrying mugs of hot caffeine bumped into the inquisitor, only having time to mumble 'sorry' then carry on.
The center of the large tent was a wide open space with a holographic 3D map of the surrounding area. It had amazing detail down to smoke columns and craters, Marcus was sure if you looked close enough you could see individual men and even bullet holes in walls. It was surrounded by five men of holding varying ranks of senior office and various uniforms of regiment and detachment. Marcus approached the table to get a look at what was going on. None of the officers noticed him until he was beside them, each had a single man vox link in one of their ears and only two of the officers seemed to be talking to one another.
Marcus coughed "gentlemen, may I asked what is taking place at this time?"
The officers jumped as they only just noticed him then went back to their duties, leaving the nearest officer to explain. The man saluted as he spotted the inquisitorial signal on Marcus' armour then began with an introduction.
"Flight commander Zhakov of the 38th Reth Air Corps, acting officer in charge of the air borne detachment in this operation. As you can see things are a bit hectic but I've got a break for a second due to the fly boys refit and refueling. How can I help you?"
"Acting officer in charge?" Marcus asked quizzically.
"Normally I'd be in the air blasting some xenos in my thunderbolt but our OiC's lander was taken out by ork air defenses. I blame myself as I was a leader of one of the fighter teams on areal sweeps of the area looking of AA. Those orks are smarter than we give them credit for." Zhakov sighed "I've already been given quite a bit of grief by soldiers who lost friends to flak but you just have to keep going and get all the buggers next time, you know? Life goes on..."
"Charming as it is Commander I'm not interested in your grief, I want a situation update."
"Who doesn't? You see the Colonel there, the lieutenant there and that officer there; well they're all being hassled by command for a sitrep, but their all too busy trying to keep this front together!"
"I'm not asking for a detailed report of progress I just want an idea of what in the warp if happening you got it?" Marcus was getting frustrated by this guy.
"Certainly sir" Zhakov seemed to pick up on Marcus' feelings as well "well the line here is stretched thin, as of now the 21st and 23rd Ousians, 3rd Reth drop troops and 8th Perciprian Dragoons are all engaged, 9th and 10th Perciprian Dragoons are landing and moving to reinforce as of now. 13th Hikkian armoured landed and started to move to aid both this front and the front to the west, multiple columns, company strength, are moving to assist though interference is high on the vox so we have no ETA. We may have breached the orks principle line of defense but there are not only pockets of resistance but also a huge counter attack hitting our lines. If we keep getting hit from both behind and the front we'll have to fall back to here where we'll have to hold them or be whipped out. There no fall back for this one sir."
"And your men?"
"Flying sorties for both fronts at the moment; we've encountered light AA and a few fighter craft but nothing strong. The navy is moving closed to reinforce the air forces but the blasted hulk to ship fire is taking a toll and no carrier is getting close enough to allow navy craft to aid in air support." Zhakov suddenly moved to look at the map, "I'm sorry sir but my boys are back in the air and they need me."
Marcus waved his thanks before looking at the map. Areas of imperial control were shown in green while Ork held territory was in red. If the data was accurate, which was unlikely, the orks held several large pockets of land on the eastern front while pushing heavily from the north. The western front seemed to be doing better, gaining more land and having generally less trouble than the east.
Suddenly over by the vox station a commotion started. Quickly a ensign ran up to the table map and handed the man known to Marcus as the Colonel a data slate before turning to go. Marcus grabbed him on he shoulder and asked what was happening.
"Hikkian 8th armoured company sir, their gone sir, all gone..."
WARORK93 wrote: (Thats done it, YOU HAVE ANGERED THE GM!!! WE MUST APPEASE HIS HOLINESS WITH A VIRGIN SACRIFICE!!!.................
..............that rules out a lot of us here...... )
(*Looks around, sighs, stands up, and leaves room.) Sawbones watched the unfolding battles erupting throughout the Hulk on an array of different pict-screens he had over the centuries rigged up to survey the entire craft with his characteristic lack of emotion. Behind him, a green light filled the otherwise dark chamber, indicating that his Flayed ones that he had sent out to scout his enemies. He had underestimated them, and because of that his warriors had paid the price. Sawbones didn't care about them, not in the slightest, but it did mean that at least some of them were aware of the Necrons presence and he was sure that the message would be relayed through the various factions quickly. Sawbones weighed up his options. On the one hand (or claw, as it were), he didn't have the power to claim overall victory, especially not against the colossal Ork horde. On the other, stealth wasn't an option anymore, and if he acted now he would still have the element of surprise. It seemed to the Necron lord that he didn't really have much choice. Throughout the Hulk, as the battles raged up and down the corridors between the forces of the Imperium and their enemies, shadows stirred. Steel heads snapped to attention simultaneously, and claws that hadn't moved in millennia flexed in preparation for the coming slaughter. Sawbones rose to his full height, and as some Flayed ones moved in behind him as a makeshift bodyguard he stalked towards the exit of the room which he had confined himself to for countless years. Once again, the Necrons were going to war.
(Yeah, it's short, but I have to dash because I'm going to my uncles wedding. I'm getting a new half-cousin it would appear. Whether that's a good thing still remains to be seen).
Warklaw stood up, that was the second time in a day he'd been knocked over, two times too many. He surveyed the immediate area around him, next to him was his faithful Izzy, dazed but undamaged. All around him were little orky bits and craters in the floor plate. His boyz had been crossing a rather open area and had been hit from above by some umie birds. Warklaw roared in anger, those humans had pissed him off, and just the fact that he couldn't jump up and slash those birds out of the sky was enough to piss him off.
Soon, the survivors of the strike had gathered themselves, Rambork and his boyz had suffered a few casualties as had Krugg's lootas. But the real loss was that none of Grimjaw's boyz had made it out of that one. Warklaw sniffed, he didn't really care that his boyz had died, there were a hundred of em for every umie on this ship, he was just irked that his boyz had been killed without a proper fight. Warklaw put Grimjaw and hsi stormboyz from his mind and called for Krugg's radio, he found the channel his second was on with his meaty fingers and grunted into the receiver.
"You see dose umie birdz up dere?" He asked.
"Yeh boss, dey jus trew ower boyz fer a loop, me thinks dey mite try sumthin soon."
"Youz roused up da boyz yet?"
"Yeh boss, deyz comin in from all ofer da hulk now, dis is turnin out to be wun big pardee" Warklaw's second said with relish.
"Ol Gutkrunch jus brought up da big gunz and da rockets, dem birds do anuther fly by, we'll blow em away." He added.
"Dats guud, go ahead and get da flyboyz up dere, I'm sure dey'll wanna a piece of dem umie birds." Warklaw responded. There was a harsh laugh and then a response.
"You know dat Buzzdakka, he'd know a guud dogfight fer at least tree sysdems, luuk up boss, ya might be sarprised."
Warklaw dropped the radio and looked off to the south, he laughed hysterically as the shadows of nine red painted orky fighta bommaz zoomed over at breakneck speed in the cavernous airspace of the hulk.
----------------------------------
Up in the sky, Nob Buzzdakka of Warklaw's flyboyz was flying his bird "Da Red Baren" in a loose V formation with the other eight birds of his wing. Ahead he saw a group of three umie fightas and two of the bigger bombers. Buzzdakka smiled showing his tusks and tilting his flightcap back so he could see the controls. Down below he also knew the boss' boyz were slugging it out with the umiez. He laughed as he saw the explosion plumes that Gutkrunch's big kannons were beginning to stir up, if the umiez had any idea of pushing the advantage the air attack had done, it was quashed now as the huge calibre shells began raining down on their heads in an unending bombardment.
"Aight boyz, we duz dis fast and ard, me an Skaggrippa'll take dem birdz an Bork'll strafe da umie linez. LEs show dem squishies dat dis is ork air!" Buzzdakka said over the vox
Loud battlecries were exchanged as the ork fighters split up.
Buzzdakka's boyz came in fast, taking a pass at the marauders. Before the lightnings could acquire any of them, the fighterz had cut one Marauder out of the sky and wounded the other. The lightnings reacted quickly and in very short order two of Buzzdakka's birdz were blown out of the sky. Buzzdakka roared in anger, he wasn't about to have that.
He saw in his canopy below him a lightning lining up his wingman and blowing his right wing off, sending the ork into a spiral of smoke and sparks. Buzzdakka roared maniacally as he put his airframe's build to the limit with a high G turn meant to collide with the lightining. Buzzdakka grinned wildly as he saw the human pilot looke up, fear etched in his eyes. Buzzdakka's prow was made in orky fashion, heavily armored and in the spirit of orkiness, had two huge blades sticking out of it as if they were giant bayonets.
They were quickly show to be just that as Buzzdakka dove headlong and the two birds collided. In a fiery explosion filled with shrapnel and oil, "Da Red Baren" cut cleanly through the lightning and its pilot.Buzzdakka laughed throatily as he pulled his bird into a reckless spin. The charge had completely taken the imperials off guard and was not only the most insane thing any of them had ever seen but was also terrifying because it had actually worked.
Buzzdakka watched the lightnings and the wounded marauder turn and run. Oh he wasn't done, not by a long shot, while the remainder of his boyz harassed the lightnings, Buzzdakka steered his bird under the Marauder.
It was then that he pulled the most insane thing any ork or human had ever seen. Buzzdakka triggered his bird's take off rockets and with a throaty WAAAAAGH!!!! He drove his plane straight for the wounded bomber, the ball turret saw this and quickly turned his guns on Buzzdakka who felt the impacts and returned fire from his two massive autocannons attatched to his wing, Buzzdakka rammed his bird at sonic speed into the Marauder's belly...
The Marauder was cut cleanly in two as before and as the ork fighter passed through it, its wings were ripped from it and Buzzdakka jumped out of the boken canopy, bleeding and laughing heartily as he watched the maruader spiral downwards in two pieces. His parachute would certainly take him into the wrath of the enemy guns but he didn't care, he'd taken quite a few umiez with him.
He watched as the other wing he had sent strafed the umie line, anyone not in some decent cover was blown to pieces, cut down, burned alive, or a combination of the three.
Buzzdakka cheered them on, he knew his boyz would be strafing da umiez until they ran out of bullets.........and even after that they had one more good pass left in em.
-------------------
Along the orky line, the green boyz of Warklaw's WAAGH were answering the call, more and more orks from all over the hulk were poring into the fight and very soon their fire, along with the bigger guns' were bombarding the humans' positions along a kilometers long line, hemming their forces in. Charges were made, many boyz being cut down in the exchange but their commanders sdidn't care, they were madly looking for a weakness, a way into the umie line so they could close with em for some choppin. The humans had awoken a sleeping beast and now every sort of ork and grot were puring out of the depths of the hulk to welcome them with choppas held high.
From afar, Warklaw smiled as he looked out at the war he humans had brought from a balcony several floors above. His WAAGH was in full swing, it shouldn't be long before the other factions aboard the hulk answered the call, surely the chaos boyz would show, maybe the nids aboard, perhaps even the skeleton boyz would show their shadow faces.
Warklaw watched the tracers and the blooms of explosions from his position above everything else and smiled, it'd been a very long time indeed since a war on this scale had been fought here.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Oh, hello! I can not WAIT to get my teeth (or rather, literary skills) stuck into this one! No more playing, it is EVEEEEEENT TIME!
I don't think any of you will know what to expect, and quite frankly, neither do I!* That's just going to make it even more fun.. bwahaha.
*Actually, I have quite a few ideas that will be very interesting. Will we even see our first player death? Who knows..
OOC:What noo (as in player death)! BIC: The Paladin's incereator set light to the hallway under psyhic flames,the Necrons could not escape the were trapped, only one flayed one was out of the flames, it was only to get by Glaudian's wristmounted Stormbolter which ruptered it thick metal skin and leaving all its vital organs showing. It stumbled back, not in fear but ready to make its attack. It tripped over the Paladin and into the flames. It conquently burnt up in flames.
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Oh, hello! I can not WAIT to get my teeth (or rather, literary skills) stuck into this one! No more playing, it is EVEEEEEENT TIME!
I don't think any of you will know what to expect, and quite frankly, neither do I!* That's just going to make it even more fun.. bwahaha.
*Actually, I have quite a few ideas that will be very interesting. Will we even see our first player death? Who knows..
What noo!
Don't worry, I'll only kill someone if I feel evil (and they can make a new character if they really want..); usually I'm very easy on players in my roleplay.. but that needs to change . Unlike Mordoskul, however, I'll devote much more than just a paragraph to the deaths of any characters and they will go out a most epic fashion.
Scrazz, things are looking quite bad for your lot at the moment. Ye gets me?
Mwahaha, I'm already thinking of ways I can make this brutal, bloody, and thoroughly enjoyable! I think one of the most enjoyable parts of any event is when your own character gets beaten up . Because all you want to know is how badly he gets beaten up . /stops self from pointless sentence.
Anyway, I've hinted at enough. My last bit of advice: expect apocalypse! And bring your popcorn..
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Oh, hello! I can not WAIT to get my teeth (or rather, literary skills) stuck into this one! No more playing, it is EVEEEEEENT TIME!
I don't think any of you will know what to expect, and quite frankly, neither do I!* That's just going to make it even more fun.. bwahaha.
*Actually, I have quite a few ideas that will be very interesting. Will we even see our first player death? Who knows..
What noo!
Don't worry, I'll only kill someone if I feel evil (and they can make a new character if they really want..); usually I'm very easy on players in my roleplay.. but that needs to change . Unlike Mordoskul, however, I'll devote much more than just a paragraph to the deaths of any characters and they will go out a most epic fashion.
Scrazz, things are looking quite bad for your lot at the moment. Ye gets me?
Mwahaha, I'm already thinking of ways I can make this brutal, bloody, and thoroughly enjoyable! I think one of the most enjoyable parts of any event is when your own character gets beaten up . Because all you want to know is how badly he gets beaten up . /stops self from pointless sentence.
Anyway, I've hinted at enough. My last bit of advice: expect apocalypse! And bring your popcorn..
Also, Wizard, is Marcus' sword a Power sword, Force sword, or standard 'whack-em-repeatedly' sword? I must know! The fate of entire paragraphs may rest upon this!
Scrazza wrote:Hmm, one big part would relieve a lot of the tension in one go... Maybe chop it up into sizeable chunks?
As per RZ&LWC then.. but bloodier! Ol' Tomb and Patrick should've been off'd in that one.. silly me for not doing it and letting the roleplay get derailed .
Oh, by the Emperor's nutsack, I've forgotten all about PMs! Hm, Scrazza, I appoint you as my official Lietenant-Adviser of Stuff! Should I bother with PMs with this one? If so, you'll be the one that has to explain this time.. it seems it is usually a hard concept for people to get their heads around .
Edit: Internet cookie for whoever spots the thread change first.
But I still think we should try without PMing. We could always swap tp PMing later.
Yeah, PMing will be too much hassle on my Netbook (going off to stay with Technophobic Grandad, you see). Only internet access = pub wireless connection .
But I still think we should try without PMing. We could always swap tp PMing later.
Yeah, PMing will be too much hassle on my Netbook (going off to stay with Technophobic Grandad, you see). Only internet access = pub wireless connection .
Darkvoidof40k wrote:Also, Wizard, is Marcus' sword a Power sword, Force sword, or standard 'whack-em-repeatedly' sword? I must know! The fate of entire paragraphs may rest upon this!
I was thinking an ornate power sword, dressed in runes and prayers and stuff like that. I may come up with some dramatic name for it in the future.
I really should write some back story to it as I intend it to be of sentimental value to Marcus as well...
black smoke filled the hold, the flashing red light hardly visible because of the thickness. Tyr looked around, he couldn't see anything. He picked himself up off the floor, making sure his armour was undamaged.
"Anybody? are you OK?"
"Ahh, Brother, you are awake, that was a nasty hit you took, we have been waiting for you."
He felt the floor shake as the remaining two armoured forms hit the deck as they slipped out of their harnesses onto what had been the side wall.
"two of the scouts and the pilots didn't make it, the rest are outside, this craft is unrepairable, but we seem to be in soem form of hangerbay, we first thought it was a natural canyon but we discovered some shuttles still in their hanger-vault, it appears we are in the remains of an ancient craft, so old it has become one with the rock around it.
they exited the thunderhawk through a hole in the deckplate, they were at the end of a 50m furrow in the deck of the ship, bits off wing were spread about the deck and there was little pockets of light as the stormtroopers searched for a way out.
"Lord, we have found a passage out of this place. Some form off access tunnel"
I know, and I'm sorry. Event writing will more likely than not start in a few days, if we're unlucky then next week. I'm very busy at the minute, however I will try and get it done/at least partially this week, but whether or not I'll be able to get any done here - 200 miles away from home - is unknown, because I don't have the information I need on all the characters readily available.
I will try and start writing tomorrow if at all possible, but Friday/weekend seems like a more definite bet. We'll see.
Ooc: I think darko means 'duh' with the finger wag orkmoticon. If he doesn't well tough...
Bic (flashback btw):
----- 6 years before the space hulk ------
Rain...
It was raining, it was always raining, in fact it hadn't stopped raining since Marcus and Felix had arrived on Paxx X-IIV. It drizzled, it showered, it thundered and it hammered but it was pretty much always raining.
Today it was Hammering down, visibility was poor, there was a thick fog shrouding the small mountain top town of Aquillus. It was also the day that the bombs started to fall...
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Paxx was a strange world; a freak of the imperium, the bastard child of the Mechanicum and the Ecclesiarchy. Half shrine world, half forge world, tensions between the two factions were high. People from the high mountains would argue their planet was sacred and that the manufactorums and towering smoke stacks of the forges are dishonoring St. Michael. The factory workers and tech priests on the plains argued that the people in the mountains were preventing them from doing their job and that the body of a dead man was no reason to reduce the production of tanks, guns and ammo for the imperium just so the area he was laid to rest in could remain 'pure'. Teetering on the edge of civil war, Felix decided to intervene. When Marcus asked why, he only got the cryptic response of "because civil unrest causes conflict, conflict causes confusion and because confusion causes chaos" .
But during the diplomatic meetings where Felix sought to make a compromise between the two factions, something strange happened. Suddenly, after what seemed to be progress, the Mechanicum ceased contact for seemingly no reason. Marcus knew something was up but he just wasn't sure what. Without warning the AdMech attacked the strongholds of the Ecclesiarchy at the foot of the Mountain range. While the Frateris Militia and Adepta Sororitas from a nearby convent fought tooth and nail they were no match to ranks of bionicly and genetically augmented soldiers, towering armoured siege engines crushed down walls of the cities and flatten cathedrals and monstrous walkers of unknown design cause havoc among the faithful...
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There was a loud crack, Marcus assumed it was thunder, but no. Within seconds of the sound shells came screaming down, smashing the small buildings of the town into brick dust and matchwood. Fire fought away the gloomy fog and rain as the blaze tore into the grey, wet atmosphere around it. Steam rose from the burning wreckage of what had been peoples homes. Look, there was the butcher which sold a particular tasty rack of spiced grox ribs. The aroma of burning meat filled the air, Marcus hoped, no prayer, it was the butcher shop and not the countless houses that surrounded him. Felix grabbed Marcus shouting "Come on boy!" as he dragged Marcus into the relative safety of a pub. A shell struck right outside the windows, blowing the door and windows in and sending a wave of flame searing through every hole in the wall.
Then as suddenly as the shelling had started, it stopped.
"Stay low" Felix growled "and don't shoot". Marcus looked at the suppressed bull-pup pattern auto-rifle he held under the heavy camo cloak he was wearing. The mountain people had been at war with the factory people for 3 days now and were losing drastically. Already they had been pushed back to the near top of the mountain range, at least the enemy couldn't use heavy siege engines up here.
Often Marcus wondered why they were fighting at all. If this was a fight between to fractions of the imperium then surely their job would be to stay impartial of the combat and judge the survivors for what ever crime against the imperium this counted as, but every time Marcus tried to get Felix to tell him something he'd simply get "I'll explain later" and then the subject would change.
Out of the mists came soldiers of the AdMech, or were they? Marcus had never had much interaction with the AdMech before so he didn't quite know but he was sure that Skitari wore red tunics and carried hellguns. There were some, roughly a squad sized number of them, but they were being led by a small band of men who wore nothing but tattered rags over their lower body and an iron face mask. Their upper body was corded with thick mussel and their fingers were long, wicked claws or razored talons or huge scissors. Marcus looked to Felix for comfort, Felix was smiling darkly.
The Skittari went around what remained of the houses, rounding up survivors and putting them in a line, Marcus breathed a sigh of relief that the pub was missed, though later he'd look at the building and see that from the outside it looked completely obliterated. After a while, a new man came along. He too was corded with mussel, but he had humanoid hands, though more arms than was usual, and didnt wear a face mask. Marcus couldn't see the mans face in the fog but one thing that disturbed him about the man was that he seemed to be floating.
Marcus caught a few bits of the conversation between the Skittari and the new man:
"...at's all" the officer of the Skittari would say.
"...shame, their not really worth my time" Marcus heard the Man reply.
"...what shall I do with them?" the officer asked
Although Marcus could not see the man's face he felt the man smile cruelly, "kill them"
Somewhere in the distance someone was calling out for the inquisitor. Slowly the called got louder, but no one seemed to notice. Suddenly, Marcus' world trembled and shook vigorously. He called out for Felix....
I infiltrated your network of heretics and stole it. I then used it to kill your network of heretics. And if you turn around riiiight about now.. *bang*
I infiltrated your network of heretics and stole it. I then used it to kill your network of heretics. And if you turn around riiiight about now.. *bang*
Major Mortensen sighed heavily as he looked out across the massive, open battlefield that was now filled with craters, smoking vehicle wrecks and choked with the corpses of hundreds, their blood mixing together in disgusting pools. The medicae had insisted that he remain in the medical tent for a few hours, but he had declined, knowing that his men needed him and he had only suffered a flesh wound anyway - a slugga round had grazed his left side. Accepting only a heavy dose of stims, he hurried out of the tent, leaving the howls of injured men behind him. He called his vox-man, Bern, and when the man arrived he pulled the handset from the heavy radio pack, before speaking into it. "This is Major Mortensen to all Platoon commanders, sound off!" "This is Lieutenant Garl," "Lieutenant Charkos here sir," "Lieutenant Thomson, reporting sir!" Mortensen waited for a few seconds, but nothing but static greeted him. He sighed heavily. "What's the status down there? Looks like all hell's come to give us a visit out there!" "The Orks' numbers are swelling far beyond our control, we'll either all be slaughtered or all pushed back within the next hour, if that," Garl informed the Major grimly. "I'm pretty sure Lieutenant Briggs is dead sir, I saw his unit get overrun about twenty minutes ago - the Orks broke through our lines, but my unit managed to push them back. However, we're stretched thin sir! We need reinforcements!" Major Mortensen stood thoughtfully, "Charkos, what's your situation?" "Well Major, I believe I sighted the Ork brute that's in charge of this horde earlier!" Charkos reported. Now this was important. Cut off the head and the body will die - the universally accepted way of defeating an Ork horde. "Lieutenant, find that Ork and kill it! It's our only chance! I'll be with you shortly!" "Yes sir!"
Finally, a plan of action thought Kyel Charkos. He discarded the empty pack from his Lasgun, and having used up his own ammo, leaped onto a dead Guardsman, and scavenged two fresh power packs, and he loaded one into his Lasgun. He then assembled a team of eight men from nearby; including one Melta gunner, and after briefing them on their mission they set about looking for their prey. Kyel knew, however, that finding the Ork wasn't the hard part, it was killing it that was tricky. He'd heard that these monstrous aliens could withstand even a Krak missile to the face! Vrek, Krak missiles could blow through a Chimera or even a Leman Russ, but the idea that the Ork they were trying to kill could survive a hit like that? It sent a shiver down his spine.
What Charkos didn't know however, was that Warboss Warklaw Gordakka was looking for him too. His bionic eye never lied, he knew the humie that'd busted his ride, and he was gonna find 'im and tear him apart. He felt hot impacts on his back, and he spun round to see a few Guardsmen futily trying to bring him down. "Vrek you, you ugly green bastard!" One of them shouted defiantly. Warklaw laughed loudly, and ran at them. Two Guardsmen ran, but the one that had shouted at him stood his ground, firing his rifle straight into Warklaw. The humie was so incredibly outclassed, but still he stood fighting. Even as Warklaw towered over him at double the man's height, and even as Warklaw plucked him from the ground with his power klaw and eviscerated him, the man still stood defiant. He screamed as he died, "For Ousia! Brave as a Gator--" his defiant last shout was cut short by his screaming, which quickly turned into gurgling as blood filled his throat and dripped out of his mouth as he died. Warklaw discarded the messy corpse. "Dese 'umies ain't 'fraid a' nothin' - I likes dat! Shame dey can't fight fer nuffin, though," he grumbled.
The vox was filled with the voice of Lieutenant Garl. "Garl here, Thomson's down - just saw some bloody huge Ork rip through 'im! Vrek me, he must be at least twelve foot!" He exclaimed. This didn't comfort Charkos one bit, but he knew that he would have to find this Ork. He acknowledged the information with thanks, and his team began moving in the direction of where Thomson's platoon was positioned.
Warklaw bellowed a mighty Waaagh! and he was soon surrounded by a large mob of thirty Orks who took up his warcry. A Platoon of men shouted their own battle cry in reply, defiantly swearing on the honour of their homeworld that they'd see the greenskins dead. "For Ousia!" Shouted Lieutenant Garl, vowing to avenge Thomson's brave death. With his men and the battered remains of Thomson's platoon, they charged as one, and the Orks surged forward with animalistic ferocity to meet them. Garl fired his Boltgun into the mob with practiced precision, dropping two Orks before they knew what had happened. The loud cracks of Lasguns filled his ears, complimented by the loud bangs of the Ork Sluggas. Warriors from both sides dropped in the fury of the shooting, but before long the two sides met in vicious close-combat. The Orks natural brutality met by the Ousian's rage and hatred for the greenskins. The Orks had an advantage in melee, but Garl's Platoon had risen to almost double the Orks' numbers when they had met up with the remains of Thomson's men. The fighting was furious. An Ork wielding a crude axe slashed at him, and he ducked the overhead swing, firing three bolts into its chest, which detonated inside the Ork, killing it instantly. Burk dropped next to him, his face cleaved off by an Ork choppa. Garl rammed his bayonet through the Ork's skull, killing it. All around him, the bloody fury of the close-quarters fight raged. Twenty Guardsmen had already died, and thirteen Orks had fallen. Garl turned to his left, and saw the Ork Warboss chopping and hacking left and right, killing with every blow. Mike died, his head and torso crushed beyond recognition in the Ork's claw, and Paul was smashed into the ground as the Warboss slammed his giant chain-axe down on him. Then a heart-warming cry filled the Ousian's ears, driving them to fight all the harder out of fear, respect and pride. "Ousian's! Fight like there's no tomorrow damn your sorry arses! Give these green bastards hell, Emperor damn you! Fight harder!" Garl smiled at the sight of Commissar Matthew, watching in awe as his crackling power sword cleaved through Orks left and right, and his Plasma pistol melted every Ork he shot. The experienced Commissar was respected by the whole regiment, and Garl would be damned if he'd fail Matthew now. He ran to his friend's side, shouldering his boltgun in favor of his own Chainsword. "What took you so long?" Matthew asked with a grim smile as he cleaved the head of an Ork. "Oh, you know, the small matter of an Ork horde!" Garl said as he cut down a charging greenskin. "We have to kill that Warboss!" Shouted Matthewson, and Garl nodded. The two company heroes turned to face the towering greenskin, who had also focussed his attention on them. With a warcry, they charged.
However I must inform you, dear Scrazz, that this event may well go on for a few days(!). At least the rest of today! As I said, I'm fitting everybody's characters into this one, and what's more I'm going to throw in some monumentally massive.. ah, how shall I say.. events () into this event .
I think everyone will be pleased and in awe of my literary skills by the end of this one .
Also I can't think of much happening other than " they walked along a corridor for a while. A giant smelly ork jumped out, and then they flamed it. They carried on..."
Darkvoidof40k wrote:However I must inform you, dear Scrazz, that this event may well go on for a few days(!). At least the rest of today! As I said, I'm fitting everybody's characters into this one, and what's more I'm going to throw in some monumentally massive.. ah, how shall I say.. events () into this event .
(OMG epicness!!!! I cant wait to bury mah axe into sum umie gits again! Specially dis here commeessar, Imah have iz cap fer me boss pole!!!hurr hurr hurr
but we can't roleplay any more yet?
oh well, I hope you guys have enjoyed my roleplay! I quite literally put my heart into it
Devastator wrote:well there is one good side on this:
whatever we do, we aren't as screwed as that scout sergeant
The Scout Sergeant ain't screwed because he's new to roleplaying and this event is his character's introduction. He has the thickest plot armour of you all!
Devastator wrote:well there is one good side on this:
whatever we do, we aren't as screwed as that scout sergeant
The Scout Sergeant ain't screwed because he's new to roleplaying and this event is his character's introduction. He has the thickest plot armour of you all!
It watched and it waited, patiently observing as the Humans advanced cautiously down the corridor, three abreast. There were normal humans, clearly better equipped than the normal human warriors, yet more surprisingly in this unusual party whose motives were a mystery, there were many of the elite human warriors. They were all fully within the long corridor now, so none of them would have time to escape the ambush.
Nyragaz raised his hand and his force halted. Something was awry, he could feel it. "Brother, what is the purpose of our delay?" Queried Sergeant Ulrich. Nyragaz did not reply, for no reply was necessary. Something was heading towards them. Soon it had enveloped them all - an all-consuming darkness that appeared out of nowhere. "What manner of witchery is this?" Growled Brother Ascherfeld nearby. The darkness encompassed the entire corridor now, and none of them could see - not even the Adeptus Astartes with their genhanced vision and the compensators in their helmets. They were in total darkness. That was when the screaming began.
It was Brother Elmar, he screamed out as his throat was slit by a darkly metallic warrior with scythe-like claws instead of hands. They were amongst them all now. More screams. Boltguns fired, Lasguns flashed, offering glimpses of skeletal warriors from the darkest nightmares of mankind. Seven were dead before they knew it, eight, nine, ten - the Necrontyr flaying their skin from their bodies in a vicious and remorseless assault.
Nyragaz unsheathed his Power Sword, thumbing the activation rune, causing the blade to crackle with blue energy. He brought it up to block scything claws that attempted to remove his head, his ancient blade cutting through them. The return thrust went straight through the chest of the Necron, destroying it. It collapsed to the floor, before disappearing in a green glow. Sergeant Ulrich lost an arm to a stealthy attack from behind him, but he decapitated his assailent deftly with his chainsword; the grey metallic head clumping on the steel floor of the Hulk before disappearing.
The attack was over almost as quickly as it began, the darkness fading and leaving no trace of their foes. The floor was, however, littered with dead Imperials, at least twenty-three by Nyragaz's count. A serious loss to his strike force.
Ascherfeld roared in anger nearby, "We must avenge these deaths!"
Lol indeed, I've just decided what the next event is going to be about. Chowder, you silly puppet of Khorne, I'll give you two guesses as to who you're lined up with.
Khan'das roared in delight at the sheer number of skulls they had reaped and the amount of blood that now flowed freely in Khorne's name. Indeed, his hounds had killed many hundreds of the Humans and Orks fighting in this area, and Khan'das himself had dispatched a particularly large group of Greenskins known to themselves as 'Nobz'. The relentless slaughter had lasted many hours. But he had now grown bored of such simple prey; the slaughter was great and it was true that the Blood God cared not from whence the blood flows; but there was no glory in this slaughter - these deaths meant nothing in the greater scheme of things. If Khan'das was to be elevated to the hallowed ranks of the Daemon Princes', he would have to kill many more of greater standing.
Then he sensed something; a new presence that revolted him. He turned to see a giant Daemon; whose body flowed with distorted colours not of this realm; whose position Khan'das eternally coveted. That despicable Slaanesh-worshipping dog Celestus Maglovin had joined the fight.
Celestus rejoiced in the delight of slaughter, snuffing out the lives of the pitiful mortals surrounding him. His warband charged into the remaining Humans and Orks, butchering them swiftly. A roar from nearby attracted his attention, and when he turned to look, he saw Khan'das. Celestus laughed mockingly at the servant of Khorne who was no doubt enraged that Celestus' warriors had stolen the fight from him. He grinned widely as the blood-red Herald of Khorne rode over to him atop his Bloodcrusher.
"Khan'das, to what do I owe this pleasant visit?" Celestus asked mockingly.
"This was our fight! Those souls were to be slaughtered in the name of Khorne and their skulls taken for the skull throne! Not to be used to satisfy your own warped delights!" Bellowed Khan'das.
Celestus always enjoyed the conversations he had with Khan'das. They.. amused him. The very fact that he had once been a mere mortal, a Space Marine amongst many thousands of the Emperor's Children Legion, and now he was a Daemon of far greater stature than Khan'das had ever been in its impossibly ancient existence endlessly enraged the Herald, and Celestus took great delight in that.
"Calm yourself, little Herald," Celestus said, his voice filled with mischief and deceit, "for there are many more skulls for you to reap,"
"What are you up to?" Khan'das snarled in reply, his Daemonic horde gathering around him.
"The Daemonhunters of the corpse-God are here, Khan'das," Celestus explained simply. He felt Khan'das's interest peak instantly.
"Show me where they are! I will take their skulls for the skull throne!" Khan'das demanded.
A great roar that created terror in every Daemon and mortal present sounded from behind them all. The Unbound was here. The massive Bloodthirster towered over even Celestus, and many lesser Daemons scattered in his presence.
"The Grey Knights!" Hissed The Unbound. "I will claim the head of their leader myself! Yes.. I can feel their presence now! You, servant of the Dark Prince," the Bloodthirster indicated to Celestus, "You will take us to them!"
Celestus recoiled in anger, "You expect me to march into battle against the Grey Knights and die for you?"
The Unbound gave voice to a mind-shattering roar, "You dare defy my will? You will fight the Grey Knights with us, or I will destroy you here!"
Celestus was filled with rage. He knew he had no choice; The Unbound was quite possibly the most powerful being aboard the Space Hulk. "Very well," he conceded, turning to lead the massive horde of Daemons and traitorous Space Marines. The coming fight would be brutal.
The Grey Knights all felt it at once: a large warp signature that could mean only one thing: Daemons were coming. Many hundreds as far as Brother-Captain Glaudian could tell. "Brothers, ready yourselves! The Great Enemy is coming for us, and they shall not find us wanting!" He shouted. They were in a large storage bay, and his men quickly created a defensive perimeter out of the many supply crates and scraps of metal they found lying around. They had created themselves a defensible position.
"What is it?" Asked Marshal Night.
"Daemons are coming."
"How can you be sure?"
"We have felt them; the denizens of the warp have a malign psychic signature - part of being a Daemonhunter is knowing when the Daemons are coming."
"Of course," replied the Marshal.
Glaudian surveyed his force. There was Justicar Venatio's Purifiers who were reciting the Litanies of Purity in preparation for battle off to his left. Justicar Cross's Purgation squad, who were checking their weapons. But the bulk of his force were the revered Terminators of Justicars Gideon and Hiracio. But mightiest of all his warriors were the Paladins. These fabled warriors were second in skill and experience only to him, the other Brother-Captains and the Grand Masters.
It did not take long for them to come. It started as just a faint noise, coming from the dark and labyrinthine corridors and access ways that opened into the storage bay. But then they came. Hundreds of howling, snarling, blood-red Hounds of Khorne, charging madly in their blood lust. As soon as they had appeared, dozens were banished back to the warp by a hail of fire from the Grey Knights. Storm Bolters barked, Psycannons thumped and Psilencers rattled as they fired round after round of psychically-charged bolts. But soon there were too many; the Hounds' numbers swelling too large for their guns to kill them all, and then it was down to bloody close-combat. The Terminators, with the Purifiers and Purgation squad either side. The Grey Knights were unmovable. The Daemons poured forth from the depths of the Hulk, and were pushed back time and time again. Justicar Venatio and his Purifiers unleashed a great Psychic flame, incinerating large swathes of Daemons, the Purgation squad laying down point-blank fire that decimated just as many, and the Terminators fought back with unmatched ferocity. But it was not long before more opponents presented themselves - screaming Cultists sporting hideous mutations charged madly at the Grey Knights, followed by their vile masters: Chaos Space Marines. Tied down in hand-to-hand combat, the Daemonhunters could do nothing to stop the first volley of shooting from their traitorous counterparts. A storm of bolter rounds, searing plasma bolts, and from some, vicious sonic attacks, hit the Grey Knights' lines like a thunderstorm. Daemons and Cultists were cut down by their own allies' fire without a thought; their lives inconsequential. Two Terminators from Justicar Gideon's squad died, their ancient Aegis armor vulnerable to the super-heated plasma. Three Purifiers and one of Justicar Cross's Purgation squad also died.
Michael Cross shouted a curse at the Heretics and Traitors before raising his Storm Bolter and snapping off a hail of shots that killed a dozen Cultists, his remaining battle-brothers following his example. The Psycannons reaped a fearsome toll upon the Traitor Marines, killing five, whilst the Psilencer felled another two. The Terminators also fired back, killing another six. But then the Traitorous host advanced, followed by more screaming Cultists. More were cut down in the crossfire, but the two sides met in combat once again.
"Push the Heretics back, in the name of the Emperor!" Shouted Glaudian, rallying his troops as he and his retinue joined the fight, counter-attacking with a skill and fury that had so far been unprecedented in the battle. The Paladins tore into the Traitors, and between themselves, Marshal Night and their Brother-Captain they accounted for a further twenty-seven Traitor Marines, the other Grey Knights finishing off the rest. But it had been a bloody fight - only Justicar Cross remained of the Purgation squad, and as well as a Terminator from Justicar Hiracio's squad another Purifier had been killed. In the darkness, something stirred. More Daemons. a tide of Daemonettes and Bloodletters charged in, hacking and slashing madly at the Grey Knights. Justicar Cross picked up an Incinerator from the corpse of his fallen brother and emptied it into the Daemons, killing many. Even as he was surrounded and hacked apart by five Bloodletters, he smashed three of his killers asunder with his Daemon Hammer.
Glaudian knew that there was only one way to stop this great tide of Chaos. "I am the Hammer," he began intoning. His Paladin squad felt the Psychic energy building up within Glaudian and they too pooled their considerable psychic strength into him. "I am the sword in his hand," Glaudian continued, the Psychic energy welling up inside of him, "I am the gauntlet about his fist," the energy was building up to breaking point, and an aura of silver energy was forming about him, "I am the bane of his foes and the woes of the treacherous," the Daemons too now felt the great build up of Psychic energy, and attempted to scatter and flee before him. But there was no escaping his fury, for there was nowhere his mind could not reach, "I am the end!" Glaudian finished with a great shout that echoed in the warp; and the immeasurably destructive powers of the Holocaust were released; instantly destroying the Daemons around them. Glaudian dropped to one knee, the great strain it took to summon the Holocaust taking its toll on him. He was breathing deeply, his energy almost spent. But now was when he needed it most, for as they looked, two great monstrosities of Daemonkind advanced, surrounded by many terrible horrors of the warp. Glaudian saw Bloodcrushers of Khorne with devil-like Bloodletters riding them amongst the horde.
Feris recovered from his shock and anger at the great Psychic witchery enacted by his brothers as the great, towering Daemon leaders finally revealed themselves. The fight so far had been tough, and he had already suffered a wound on his chest where a Hellblade had pierced the ancient battle-plate of his armor, but he knew the battle had only just begun - for what was to come would see the deaths of many of the noble and pure men that he had been fighting alongside. For coming towards them, at the dark heart of the Daemon horde stood a Daemon Prince, and worse, a Greater Daemon of the Blood God, who emitted a palpable aura of malice and murder. Thoughts that weren't his found their way into his mind; whispering to him, telling him to turn on his brothers with promises of power beyond his wildest dreams. Enraged, he forced them out of his mind, deciding to allocate himself many hours of gruelling physical and mental punishment for his lapse in mental strength; should he survive.
As the Grey Knights charged, it was Marshal Feris Night of the Black Templars who was at the front with his sword raised high.
FM Ninja 048 wrote:Can I post more because my event didn't say part x/y?
I'd rather you wait until all events are concluded; that way there's no chance of your characters accidentally interfering with my plans.
"brother Tyr, I have found a button, it is big and glowing red. It say's 'don't touch' but I bet that's some xenos trick"
"press it brother, what's the worst that could happen"
the room glowed white as the reactor of every ship in the hulk went into a cascade overload, obliterating the hulk and sending the sun of the solar system supernova
I'm underage . There was no "proper" alcohol, though there was a certain type of drink with small amounts of alcohol in it. No, what really got me was the whole going 30 hours without sleeping or eating part. Ah, the joys of all-night parties!
Unfortunately, when we couldn't get any proper alcohol.
But if we had.. oh my that would've been one to remember!
To be honest, it already was, I mean asides from it just generally being great, two mates of ours actually are sort of "together" now because of the party [which I suggested in the first place ], although on of them already has a girlfriend so he's got a bit of explaining to do .
No alcohol for another three years? When I am 21 I will have been piss drunk countles times.
as a not important side note, when are you writing the next event, darko?
Yeah well, thats America for you, In Europe I guess they have a different view because the streets are so much smaller
But I figure the legal age over here is set so high because people keep being stupid and thinking "I'm not that drunk, I can drive home." And then they swerve into oncoming traffic and kill two innocent teenage girls, or a mom and her baby, or an old man, or some other crap.
Basically it amounts to stupid people ruining it for the res of us.
that happens here as well, but the government reckons that 16 year olds don't have cars yet. Very smart of them (Logicalism) That fact given, the youth can get drunk, act stupid, and still prove no harm.
I am the only person in my year that can say honestly that I have never had a drop of alchohol (at least, presented as alcohol). Need a clear head to plan my schemes and manipulate the others in my continuing quest for World Domination.
What lovely off-topicness. Anyway, I don't have a clue when I'll do the next event.. well, probably tomorrow actually. But damn I feel like gak right now.
Scrazza wrote:Pah, you don't know what you're missing.
Meh, it doesn't concern me. I'm not a social person. I've never been to town with anyone, nor invited to a party, and I have 3 people's phone numbers. One of whom is my Mum.
Scrazza wrote:Pah, you don't know what you're missing.
Meh, it doesn't concern me. I'm not a social person. I've never been to town with anyone, nor invited to a party, and I have 3 people's phone numbers. One of whom is my Mum.
Faunt, I am wholly embarrassed to say this to you, but.. damn I pity you . Get out dude!
Scrazza wrote:Pah, you don't know what you're missing.
Meh, it doesn't concern me. I'm not a social person. I've never been to town with anyone, nor invited to a party, and I have 3 people's phone numbers. One of whom is my Mum.
Faunt, I am wholly embarrassed to say this to you, but.. damn I pity you . Get out dude!
If I had a penny for every time someone said "I pity you"...I would have precisely three pennies.
Anyway, I've considered it, but I never do. And the reason I don't is because I know that I'm not in general wanted in the social groups, because IRL I am it has to be said a p***. I have a tendency to get wrapped up in the small details without considering the bigger picture, I'm very brutal when it comes to the expenditure of people, I don't like to talk much, my eyes are far too big for my head, and I do in general give off an aura that puts people off. Especially women . But, I'm me, and I enjoy being the antisocial kid. It makes it all the more satisfying when others need my help.
Inquisitor Marcus Profugus studied the holographic display in front of him with great interest. Things were looking bad. Though several regiments of Imperial Guard were engaged in the battle for the gargantuan, cavernous sections of the Hulk they were currently occupying, there seemed to be no end to the Ork reinforcements; their numbers swelling with every passing minute. "How many men do we have engaged?" Marcus asked one of the officers next to him. "Almost twenty-thousand foot soldiers; though estimates suggest that we may have already lost as many as four thousand," the man replied darkly. The Inquisitor, despite his stereotypical unshakable mindset, raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had fought Xenos countless times before.. but he had never seen anything of this insane magnitude. The fighting had only been going on for five hours, and if they continued to lose troops at the current rate their forces would be spent by the morning. "And what of the Orks? How numerous are their accursed forces?" "Projections show that we're facing a horde of at least thirty thousand, perhaps more," the Officer replied, a shiver running down his spine as if it was painful to say the words. It almost was. Marcus nodded contemplatively. Looking across the holographic display once more, he noticed their western-most line was held by the woefully outnumbered Ousian 23rd. Three-thousand men. Only three-thousand against almost triple their own number. The odds were not good. That wasn't even factoring in casualties; according to the display they had lost close on a third of their men already. Multiple requests for armored support from desperate and angry Ousian commanders flashed on the display, but they were all unanswered and all at least two hours old. Marcus wasn't surprised. Firstly, armored support had already been sent to their positions, but it had been entirely destroyed. Secondly, the Orks were well and truly amongst the Guardsmen in many places, so he was certain that the commanders were now too busy trying to hold their battle lines to be demanding support anymore.
He looked at their other forces - there were the Ousian 21st who were defending their current location - the strategic command of the Imperial forces itself - and they weren't doing too badly. However the Orks continued to charge at them madly and wrack their lines with dozens of crude artillery positions. For the most part, however, this was their most stable front. But Marcus knew that if the others fell, this position would be quickly overrun.
Their eastern forces were composed of the 8th Perciprian Dragoons heavy infantry and the 3rd Reth drop-troopers, who were currently doubling up as an airborne hit-and-run surgical strike force, swiftly elimination small, vulnerable Ork targets before moving on. The 9th and 10th Perciprian regiments were going to be landing soon, which was definitely good news - a further eight-thousand heavy infantry was to be a very welcome sight. But where was the bloody armor? They needed tanks, Emperor damn it, and the Orks were taking full advantage of the Imperial's lack of armored support. "When are we going to get armor reinforcements, Lord-General?" He addressed the overall commander of the Imperial Guard forces directly. "Inquisitor," Lord-General Allanus turned to reply, "The Hikkian 17th are en route, eager to avenge their fallen company I might add." "Excellent, but when they arrive have the Perciprian reinforcements accompany them; we can't allow the Orks to eliminate our armor before it even reaches the battlefront this time." "Agreed, I was just thinking the same," replied the venerable tactician. "What time can we expect them to arrive?" Marcus asked. "Unfortunately, they are due to arrive tomorrow morning." Marcus cursed quietly under his breath. "That means we'll have to hold out overnight. As I'm sure you're well aware, our eastern forces - the Ousian 23rd - are set to crumble within the next eight or so hours; by the evening that front will be lost unless we reinforce them." The Lord-General nodded in agreement, "True, but I have decided upon a plan of action. When the 9th and 10th Perciprian Dragoons arrive in two hours, we will lead a mass counter-attack, combining their strengths with the Ousian 21st, in an attempt to destroy the Orks attacking our position. Once we have accomplished that, we can set our goals to relieving the embattled Ousian 23rd." "A risky strategem, Lord-General, which will be both costly in time and life. Do you really believe we can accomplish this before the west falls?" "Inquisitor, we have little choice but to hope we can and have faith in victory. The Emperor protects." All officers within earshot repeated the phrase, simultaneously speaking and making the sign of the Aquila over their chests. "Indeed he does, but it's men that win wars at the cost of their own blood," the Inquisitor said, the grim truth of the statement not lost upon any of the officers. "If this gamble doesn't pay off, then we may as well just consign our souls to the Emperor now and put a Las bolt through our brains. It'd save time," moaned a junior liaison officer from one of the various regiments stuck in this meat-grinder. A single shot rang out from across the hologram display board, hitting the liaison officer square in the eyes, taking his head off messily. All eyes in the room turned to the intimidating form of Lord Commissar Praxuss, who holstered his smoking Bolt pistol without a word. "Carry on," he said quietly. Slowly, the command centre regained its chaotic atmosphere; everyone working all the harder after the execution that had just occurred. A small Servitor appeared quickly to clean up the mess. "Well gentlemen, there you have it. I think that-" "Lord-General!" Came an anxious shout from across the room. "What is it?" Allanus spun on the spot to look at the speaker, angry at being interrupted. The whelp had better have a good reason for his rudeness, or else he'd have Praxuss expend another round. The communications officer stood to attention and offered a curt salute. "Sirs," he glanced nervously around at the mighty Imperial heroes that gazed back at him with mild interest, "We just received a transmission, Emperor bless us, reinforcements have just arrived!" The interest of the commanders peaked instantly. Lord-General Allanus was the first to speak, "Is it the Perciprian Dragoons? They're not scheduled to arrive for another two hours!" "No sir, even better!" The excited communique officer exclaimed. "Well have out with it boy, who is it?" Marcus ordered. The officer handed him the data-slate that recorded the message, explaining vaguely as he did so, "Angels sir! The Emperor has sent his Angels to save us!"
Inquisitor Marcus Profugus smiled. "I think this war just turned in our favor."
Scrazza wrote:Scrazz ignores gravity, and jumps up, fists raised in defiance. He slams his Aegis armored boots in Darko's groin, shattering his...'plot armor'.
Are you trying to kill your character?
Enough spamming in my thread, damn your souls to the warp!
Death From Above - PART 1 Major Mortensen sighed heavily as he looked out across the massive, open battlefield that was now filled with craters, smoking vehicle wrecks and choked with the corpses of hundreds, their blood mixing together in disgusting pools. The medicae had insisted that he remain in the medical tent for a few hours, but he had declined, knowing that his men needed him and he had only suffered a flesh wound anyway - a slugga round had grazed his left side. Accepting only a heavy dose of stims, he hurried out of the tent, leaving the howls of injured men behind him. He called his vox-man, Bern, and when the man arrived he pulled the handset from the heavy radio pack, before speaking into it. "This is Major Mortensen to all Platoon commanders, sound off!" "This is Lieutenant Garl," "Lieutenant Charkos here sir," "Lieutenant Thomson, reporting sir!" Mortensen waited for a few seconds, but nothing but static greeted him. He sighed heavily. "What's the status down there? Looks like all hell's come to give us a visit out there!" "The Orks' numbers are swelling far beyond our control, we'll either all be slaughtered or all pushed back within the next hour, if that," Garl informed the Major grimly. "I'm pretty sure Lieutenant Briggs is dead sir, I saw his unit get overrun about twenty minutes ago - the Orks broke through our lines, but my unit managed to push them back. However, we're stretched thin sir! We need reinforcements!" Major Mortensen stood thoughtfully, "Charkos, what's your situation?" "Well Major, I believe I sighted the Ork brute that's in charge of this horde earlier!" Charkos reported. Now this was important. Cut off the head and the body will die - the universally accepted way of defeating an Ork horde. "Lieutenant, find that Ork and kill it! It's our only chance! I'll be with you shortly!" "Yes sir!"
Finally, a plan of action thought Kyel Charkos. He discarded the empty pack from his Lasgun, and having used up his own ammo, leaped onto a dead Guardsman, and scavenged two fresh power packs, and he loaded one into his Lasgun. He then assembled a team of eight men from nearby; including one Melta gunner, and after briefing them on their mission they set about looking for their prey. Kyel knew, however, that finding the Ork wasn't the hard part, it was killing it that was tricky. He'd heard that these monstrous aliens could withstand even a Krak missile to the face! Vrek, Krak missiles could blow through a Chimera or even a Leman Russ, but the idea that the Ork they were trying to kill could survive a hit like that? It sent a shiver down his spine.
What Charkos didn't know however, was that Warboss Warklaw Gordakka was looking for him too. His bionic eye never lied, he knew the humie that'd busted his ride, and he was gonna find 'im and tear him apart. He felt hot impacts on his back, and he spun round to see a few Guardsmen futily trying to bring him down. "Vrek you, you ugly green bastard!" One of them shouted defiantly. Warklaw laughed loudly, and ran at them. Two Guardsmen ran, but the one that had shouted at him stood his ground, firing his rifle straight into Warklaw. The humie was so incredibly outclassed, but still he stood fighting. Even as Warklaw towered over him at double the man's height, and even as Warklaw plucked him from the ground with his power klaw and eviscerated him, the man still stood defiant. He screamed as he died, "For Ousia! Brave as a Gator--" his defiant last shout was cut short by his screaming, which quickly turned into gurgling as blood filled his throat and dripped out of his mouth as he died. Warklaw discarded the messy corpse. "Dese 'umies ain't 'fraid a' nothin' - I likes dat! Shame dey can't fight fer nuffin, though," he grumbled.
The vox was filled with the voice of Lieutenant Garl. "Garl here, Thomson's down - just saw some bloody huge Ork rip through 'im! Vrek me, he must be at least twelve foot!" He exclaimed. This didn't comfort Charkos one bit, but he knew that he would have to find this Ork. He acknowledged the information with thanks, and his team began moving in the direction of where Thomson's platoon was positioned.
Warklaw bellowed a mighty Waaagh! and he was soon surrounded by a large mob of thirty Orks who took up his warcry. A Platoon of men shouted their own battle cry in reply, defiantly swearing on the honour of their homeworld that they'd see the greenskins dead. "For Ousia!" Shouted Lieutenant Garl, vowing to avenge Thomson's brave death. With his men and the battered remains of Thomson's platoon, they charged as one, and the Orks surged forward with animalistic ferocity to meet them. Garl fired his Boltgun into the mob with practiced precision, dropping two Orks before they knew what had happened. The loud cracks of Lasguns filled his ears, complimented by the loud bangs of the Ork Sluggas. Warriors from both sides dropped in the fury of the shooting, but before long the two sides met in vicious close-combat. The Orks natural brutality met by the Ousian's rage and hatred for the greenskins. The Orks had an advantage in melee, but Garl's Platoon had risen to almost double the Orks' numbers when they had met up with the remains of Thomson's men. The fighting was furious. An Ork wielding a crude axe slashed at him, and he ducked the overhead swing, firing three bolts into its chest, which detonated inside the Ork, killing it instantly. Burk dropped next to him, his face cleaved off by an Ork choppa. Garl rammed his bayonet through the Ork's skull, killing it. All around him, the bloody fury of the close-quarters fight raged. Twenty Guardsmen had already died, and thirteen Orks had fallen. Garl turned to his left, and saw the Ork Warboss chopping and hacking left and right, killing with every blow. Mike died, his head and torso crushed beyond recognition in the Ork's claw, and Paul was smashed into the ground as the Warboss slammed his giant chain-axe down on him. Then a heart-warming cry filled the Ousian's ears, driving them to fight all the harder out of fear, respect and pride. "Ousian's! Fight like there's no tomorrow damn your sorry arses! Give these green bastards hell, Emperor damn you! Fight harder!" Garl smiled at the sight of Commissar Matthew, watching in awe as his crackling power sword cleaved through Orks left and right, and his Plasma pistol melted every Ork he shot. The experienced Commissar was respected by the whole regiment, and Garl would be damned if he'd fail Matthew now. He ran to his friend's side, shouldering his boltgun in favor of his own Chainsword. "What took you so long?" Matthew asked with a grim smile as he cleaved the head of an Ork. "Oh, you know, the small matter of an Ork horde!" Garl said as he cut down a charging greenskin. "We have to kill that Warboss!" Shouted Matthewson, and Garl nodded. The two company heroes turned to face the towering greenskin, who had also focussed his attention on them. With a warcry, they charged.
Shadow Fiends It watched and it waited, patiently observing as the Humans advanced cautiously down the corridor, three abreast. There were normal humans, clearly better equipped than the normal human warriors, yet more surprisingly in this unusual party whose motives were a mystery, there were many of the elite human warriors. They were all fully within the long corridor now, so none of them would have time to escape the ambush.
Nyragaz raised his hand and his force halted. Something was awry, he could feel it. "Brother, what is the purpose of our delay?" Queried Sergeant Ulrich. Nyragaz did not reply, for no reply was necessary. Something was heading towards them. Soon it had enveloped them all - an all-consuming darkness that appeared out of nowhere. "What manner of witchery is this?" Growled Brother Ascherfeld nearby. The darkness encompassed the entire corridor now, and none of them could see - not even the Adeptus Astartes with their genhanced vision and the compensators in their helmets. They were in total darkness. That was when the screaming began.
It was Brother Elmar, he screamed out as his throat was slit by a darkly metallic warrior with scythe-like claws instead of hands. They were amongst them all now. More screams. Boltguns fired, Lasguns flashed, offering glimpses of skeletal warriors from the darkest nightmares of mankind. Seven were dead before they knew it, eight, nine, ten - the Necrontyr flaying their skin from their bodies in a vicious and remorseless assault.
Nyragaz unsheathed his Power Sword, thumbing the activation rune, causing the blade to crackle with blue energy. He brought it up to block scything claws that attempted to remove his head, his ancient blade cutting through them. The return thrust went straight through the chest of the Necron, destroying it. It collapsed to the floor, before disappearing in a green glow. Sergeant Ulrich lost an arm to a stealthy attack from behind him, but he decapitated his assailent deftly with his chainsword; the grey metallic head clumping on the steel floor of the Hulk before disappearing.
The attack was over almost as quickly as it began, the darkness fading and leaving no trace of their foes. The floor was, however, littered with dead Imperials, at least twenty-three by Nyragaz's count. A serious loss to his strike force.
Ascherfeld roared in anger nearby, "We must avenge these deaths!"
Knights and Daemons - Part 1 Khan'das roared in delight at the sheer number of skulls they had reaped and the amount of blood that now flowed freely in Khorne's name. Indeed, his hounds had killed many hundreds of the Humans and Orks fighting in this area, and Khan'das himself had dispatched a particularly large group of Greenskins known to themselves as 'Nobz'. The relentless slaughter had lasted many hours. But he had now grown bored of such simple prey; the slaughter was great and it was true that the Blood God cared not from whence the blood flows; but there was no glory in this slaughter - these deaths meant nothing in the greater scheme of things. If Khan'das was to be elevated to the hallowed ranks of the Daemon Princes', he would have to kill many more of greater standing.
Then he sensed something; a new presence that revolted him. He turned to see a giant Daemon; whose body flowed with distorted colours not of this realm; whose position Khan'das eternally coveted. That despicable Slaanesh-worshipping dog Celestus Maglovin had joined the fight.
Celestus rejoiced in the delight of slaughter, snuffing out the lives of the pitiful mortals surrounding him. His warband charged into the remaining Humans and Orks, butchering them swiftly. A roar from nearby attracted his attention, and when he turned to look, he saw Khan'das. Celestus laughed mockingly at the servant of Khorne who was no doubt enraged that Celestus' warriors had stolen the fight from him. He grinned widely as the blood-red Herald of Khorne rode over to him atop his Bloodcrusher.
"Khan'das, to what do I owe this pleasant visit?" Celestus asked mockingly. "This was our fight! Those souls were to be slaughtered in the name of Khorne and their skulls taken for the skull throne! Not to be used to satisfy your own warped delights!" Bellowed Khan'das. Celestus always enjoyed the conversations he had with Khan'das. They.. amused him. The very fact that he had once been a mere mortal, a Space Marine amongst many thousands of the Emperor's Children Legion, and now he was a Daemon of far greater stature than Khan'das had ever been in its impossibly ancient existence endlessly enraged the Herald, and Celestus took great delight in that. "Calm yourself, little Herald," Celestus said, his voice filled with mischief and deceit, "for there are many more skulls for you to reap," "What are you up to?" Khan'das snarled in reply, his Daemonic horde gathering around him. "The Daemonhunters of the corpse-God are here, Khan'das," Celestus explained simply. He felt Khan'das's interest peak instantly. "Show me where they are! I will take their skulls for the skull throne!" Khan'das demanded.
A great roar that created terror in every Daemon and mortal present sounded from behind them all. The Unbound was here. The massive Bloodthirster towered over even Celestus, and many lesser Daemons scattered in his presence. "The Grey Knights!" Hissed The Unbound. "I will claim the head of their leader myself! Yes.. I can feel their presence now! You, servant of the Dark Prince," the Bloodthirster indicated to Celestus, "You will take us to them!" Celestus recoiled in anger, "You expect me to march into battle against the Grey Knights and die for you?" The Unbound gave voice to a mind-shattering roar, "You dare defy my will? You will fight the Grey Knights with us, or I will destroy you here!" Celestus was filled with rage. He knew he had no choice; The Unbound was quite possibly the most powerful being aboard the Space Hulk. "Very well," he conceded, turning to lead the massive horde of Daemons and traitorous Space Marines. The coming fight would be brutal.
The Grey Knights all felt it at once: a large warp signature that could mean only one thing: Daemons were coming. Many hundreds as far as Brother-Captain Glaudian could tell. "Brothers, ready yourselves! The Great Enemy is coming for us, and they shall not find us wanting!" He shouted. They were in a large storage bay, and his men quickly created a defensive perimeter out of the many supply crates and scraps of metal they found lying around. They had created themselves a defensible position. "What is it?" Asked Marshal Night. "Daemons are coming." "How can you be sure?" "We have felt them; the denizens of the warp have a malign psychic signature - part of being a Daemonhunter is knowing when the Daemons are coming." "Of course," replied the Marshal.
Glaudian surveyed his force. There was Justicar Venatio's Purifiers who were reciting the Litanies of Purity in preparation for battle off to his left. Justicar Cross's Purgation squad, who were checking their weapons. But the bulk of his force were the revered Terminators of Justicars Gideon and Hiracio. But mightiest of all his warriors were the Paladins. These fabled warriors were second in skill and experience only to him, the other Brother-Captains and the Grand Masters.
It did not take long for them to come. It started as just a faint noise, coming from the dark and labyrinthine corridors and access ways that opened into the storage bay. But then they came. Hundreds of howling, snarling, blood-red Hounds of Khorne, charging madly in their blood lust. As soon as they had appeared, dozens were banished back to the warp by a hail of fire from the Grey Knights. Storm Bolters barked, Psycannons thumped and Psilencers rattled as they fired round after round of psychically-charged bolts. But soon there were too many; the Hounds' numbers swelling too large for their guns to kill them all, and then it was down to bloody close-combat. The Terminators, with the Purifiers and Purgation squad either side. The Grey Knights were unmovable. The Daemons poured forth from the depths of the Hulk, and were pushed back time and time again. Justicar Venatio and his Purifiers unleashed a great Psychic flame, incinerating large swathes of Daemons, the Purgation squad laying down point-blank fire that decimated just as many, and the Terminators fought back with unmatched ferocity. But it was not long before more opponents presented themselves - screaming Cultists sporting hideous mutations charged madly at the Grey Knights, followed by their vile masters: Chaos Space Marines. Tied down in hand-to-hand combat, the Daemonhunters could do nothing to stop the first volley of shooting from their traitorous counterparts. A storm of bolter rounds, searing plasma bolts, and from some, vicious sonic attacks, hit the Grey Knights' lines like a thunderstorm. Daemons and Cultists were cut down by their own allies' fire without a thought; their lives inconsequential. Two Terminators from Justicar Gideon's squad died, their ancient Aegis armor vulnerable to the super-heated plasma. Three Purifiers and one of Justicar Cross's Purgation squad also died.
Michael Cross shouted a curse at the Heretics and Traitors before raising his Storm Bolter and snapping off a hail of shots that killed a dozen Cultists, his remaining battle-brothers following his example. The Psycannons reaped a fearsome toll upon the Traitor Marines, killing five, whilst the Psilencer felled another two. The Terminators also fired back, killing another six. But then the Traitorous host advanced, followed by more screaming Cultists. More were cut down in the crossfire, but the two sides met in combat once again.
"Push the Heretics back, in the name of the Emperor!" Shouted Glaudian, rallying his troops as he and his retinue joined the fight, counter-attacking with a skill and fury that had so far been unprecedented in the battle. The Paladins tore into the Traitors, and between themselves, Marshal Night and their Brother-Captain they accounted for a further twenty-seven Traitor Marines, the other Grey Knights finishing off the rest. But it had been a bloody fight - only Justicar Cross remained of the Purgation squad, and as well as a Terminator from Justicar Hiracio's squad another Purifier had been killed. In the darkness, something stirred. More Daemons. a tide of Daemonettes and Bloodletters charged in, hacking and slashing madly at the Grey Knights. Justicar Cross picked up an Incinerator from the corpse of his fallen brother and emptied it into the Daemons, killing many. Even as he was surrounded and hacked apart by five Bloodletters, he smashed three of his killers asunder with his Daemon Hammer.
Glaudian knew that there was only one way to stop this great tide of Chaos. "I am the Hammer," he began intoning. His Paladin squad felt the Psychic energy building up within Glaudian and they too pooled their considerable psychic strength into him. "I am the sword in his hand," Glaudian continued, the Psychic energy welling up inside of him, "I am the gauntlet about his fist," the energy was building up to breaking point, and an aura of silver energy was forming about him, "I am the bane of his foes and the woes of the treacherous," the Daemons too now felt the great build up of Psychic energy, and attempted to scatter and flee before him. But there was no escaping his fury, for there was nowhere his mind could not reach, "I am the end!" Glaudian finished with a great shout that echoed in the warp; and the immeasurably destructive powers of the Holocaust were released; instantly destroying the Daemons around them. Glaudian dropped to one knee, the great strain it took to summon the Holocaust taking its toll on him. He was breathing deeply, his energy almost spent. But now was when he needed it most, for as they looked, two great monstrosities of Daemonkind advanced, surrounded by many terrible horrors of the warp. Glaudian saw Bloodcrushers of Khorne with devil-like Bloodletters riding them amongst the horde.
Feris recovered from his shock and anger at the great Psychic witchery enacted by his brothers as the great, towering Daemon leaders finally revealed themselves. The fight so far had been tough, and he had already suffered a wound on his chest where a Hellblade had pierced the ancient battle-plate of his armor, but he knew the battle had only just begun - for what was to come would see the deaths of many of the noble and pure men that he had been fighting alongside. For coming towards them, at the dark heart of the Daemon horde stood a Daemon Prince, and worse, a Greater Daemon of the Blood God, who emitted a palpable aura of malice and murder. Thoughts that weren't his found their way into his mind; whispering to him, telling him to turn on his brothers with promises of power beyond his wildest dreams. Enraged, he forced them out of his mind, deciding to allocate himself many hours of gruelling physical and mental punishment for his lapse in mental strength; should he survive.
As the Grey Knights charged, it was Marshal Feris Night of the Black Templars who was at the front with his sword raised high.
The Emperor Protects - Part 1 Inquisitor Marcus Profugus studied the holographic display in front of him with great interest. Things were looking bad. Though several regiments of Imperial Guard were engaged in the battle for the gargantuan, cavernous sections of the Hulk they were currently occupying, there seemed to be no end to the Ork reinforcements; their numbers swelling with every passing minute. "How many men do we have engaged?" Marcus asked one of the officers next to him. "Almost twenty-thousand foot soldiers; though estimates suggest that we may have already lost as many as four thousand," the man replied darkly. The Inquisitor, despite his stereotypical unshakable mindset, raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had fought Xenos countless times before.. but he had never seen anything of this insane magnitude. The fighting had only been going on for five hours, and if they continued to lose troops at the current rate their forces would be spent by the morning. "And what of the Orks? How numerous are their accursed forces?" "Projections show that we're facing a horde of at least thirty thousand, perhaps more," the Officer replied, a shiver running down his spine as if it was painful to say the words. It almost was. Marcus nodded contemplatively. Looking across the holographic display once more, he noticed their western-most line was held by the woefully outnumbered Ousian 23rd. Three-thousand men. Only three-thousand against almost triple their own number. The odds were not good. That wasn't even factoring in casualties; according to the display they had lost close on a third of their men already. Multiple requests for armored support from desperate and angry Ousian commanders flashed on the display, but they were all unanswered and all at least two hours old. Marcus wasn't surprised. Firstly, armored support had already been sent to their positions, but it had been entirely destroyed. Secondly, the Orks were well and truly amongst the Guardsmen in many places, so he was certain that the commanders were now too busy trying to hold their battle lines to be demanding support anymore.
He looked at their other forces - there were the Ousian 21st who were defending their current location - the strategic command of the Imperial forces itself - and they weren't doing too badly. However the Orks continued to charge at them madly and wrack their lines with dozens of crude artillery positions. For the most part, however, this was their most stable front. But Marcus knew that if the others fell, this position would be quickly overrun.
Their eastern forces were composed of the 8th Perciprian Dragoons heavy infantry and the 3rd Reth drop-troopers, who were currently doubling up as an airborne hit-and-run surgical strike force, swiftly eliminating small, vulnerable Ork targets before moving on. The 9th and 10th Perciprian regiments were going to be landing soon, which was definitely good news - a further eight-thousand heavy infantry was to be a very welcome sight. But where was the bloody armor? They needed tanks, Emperor damn it, and the Orks were taking full advantage of the Imperial's lack of armored support. "When are we going to get armor reinforcements, Lord-General?" He addressed the overall commander of the Imperial Guard forces directly. "Inquisitor," Lord-General Allanus turned to reply, "The Hikkian 17th are en route, eager to avenge their fallen company I might add." "Excellent, but when they arrive have the Perciprian reinforcements accompany them; we can't allow the Orks to eliminate our armor before it even reaches the battlefront this time." "Agreed, I was just thinking the same," replied the venerable tactician. "What time can we expect them to arrive?" Marcus asked. "Unfortunately, they are due to arrive tomorrow morning." Marcus cursed quietly under his breath. "That means we'll have to hold out overnight. As I'm sure you're well aware, our eastern forces - the Ousian 23rd - are set to crumble within the next eight or so hours; by the evening that front will be lost unless we reinforce them." The Lord-General nodded in agreement, "True, but I have decided upon a plan of action. When the 9th and 10th Perciprian Dragoons arrive in two hours, we will lead a mass counter-attack, combining their strengths with the Ousian 21st, in an attempt to destroy the Orks attacking our position. Once we have accomplished that, we can set our goals to relieving the embattled Ousian 23rd." "A risky strategem, Lord-General, which will be both costly in time and life. Do you really believe we can accomplish this before the west falls?" "Inquisitor, we have little choice but to hope we can and have faith in victory. The Emperor protects." All officers within earshot repeated the phrase, simultaneously speaking and making the sign of the Aquila over their chests. "Indeed he does, but it's men that win wars at the cost of their own blood," the Inquisitor said, the grim truth of the statement not lost upon any of the officers. "If this gamble doesn't pay off, then we may as well just consign our souls to the Emperor now and put a Las bolt through our brains. It'd save time," moaned a junior liaison officer from one of the various regiments stuck in this meat-grinder. A single shot rang out from across the hologram display board, hitting the liaison officer square in the eyes, taking his head off messily. All eyes in the room turned to the intimidating form of Lord Commissar Praxuss, who holstered his smoking Bolt pistol without a word. "Carry on," he said quietly. Slowly, the command centre regained its chaotic atmosphere; everyone working all the harder after the execution that had just occurred. A small Servitor appeared quickly to clean up the mess. "Well gentlemen, there you have it. I think that-" "Lord-General!" Came an anxious shout from across the room. "What is it?" Allanus spun on the spot to look at the speaker, angry at being interrupted. The whelp had better have a good reason for his rudeness, or else he'd have Praxuss expend another round. The communications officer stood to attention and offered a curt salute. "Sirs," he glanced nervously around at the mighty Imperial heroes that gazed back at him with mild interest, "We just received a transmission, Emperor bless us, reinforcements have just arrived!" The interest of the commanders peaked instantly. Lord-General Allanus was the first to speak, "Is it the Perciprian Dragoons? They're not scheduled to arrive for another two hours!" "No sir, even better!" The excited communique officer exclaimed. "Well have out with it boy, who is it?" Marcus ordered. The officer handed him the data-slate that recorded the message, explaining vaguely as he did so, "Angels sir! The Emperor has sent his Angels to save us!"
Inquisitor Marcus Profugus smiled. "I think this war just turned in our favor."
Scrazza wrote:so, when can we RP again? can we just have a go between events? maybe just do some battle 'scenes'? I do feel RPish today.
Alas, dear Scrazz, you must wait for the events to complete. Not long now, perhaps by the end of tomorrow. If I feel up to it, maybe even by the end of today. We'll see.
*innocent*
.
o then.
