"Against the Savages," an Only War Adventure (Inactive)

Game Master CrusaderWolf

As the Spinward Front warzone becomes increasingly unstable, the 304th Teutonian Crusaders are posted to the heavily forested frontier world of Skrynne. The planet's population is a shambles, its communities are in ruins, and the Imperial defense teeters on the brink of total collapse, but it is the Guardsman's lot in life to give his life for the Emperor, wherever He may choose to send them.

Standard Kit:

M36 Lasgun + 8 charge packs
Bayonet attachment
Exterminator underslung attachment (one-time only, counts as Hand Flamer)
Laspistol Sidearm + 4 charge packs
3 Fragmentation Grenades
3 Photon Grenades
2 Smoke Grendes
1 Knife
Good-Craftsmanship Flak Armor
Micro-bead
Entrenching Tool
4 empty sandbags
Respirator
1 Uniform + poor-weather gear
Basic tool set
Mess kit + water canteen
Blanket + sleeping bag
Rechargeable lamp pack
Grooming kit
ID tags
Training handbook
4 weeks’ ration packs
Rusksack

304th Organization:

Total Combat Troops: 5,000
Regimental Commander: Col. Heinrich Plötzke
Squad: 10 troopers
Platoon: 5 squads commanded by a Lieutenant (50 troopers)
Company: four platoons commanded by a Captain (200 troopers)
Battalion: five Companies commanded by Major (1,000 troops)


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Silver Crusade

Steel walls. Steel floors. Steel ceilings. For six months since you left the mustering ports on Sinophia you’ve been barracked in the narrow metal halls and chambers of the Radiant Throng, a converted mass-haul conveyor commandeered by the Imperial Navy and converted into a troop transport. By the standards of Imperial vessels she’s not big, but she comfortably holds the 5,000 fighting troops of the 304th Teutonian Crusaders, including support staff, though perhaps “comfortably” isn’t the best choice of words. Each day goes much like the rest; roused at 0600 by your sergeants, marched to ship’s central loading bay where the sergeants put you through your paces. The food is bland, the accommodations spartan and uncomfortable, and you barely even see the crew—just servitors, moving through their programmed duties without seeming to even recognize your presence. Most of the troopers give them a wide berth, and try to fill the long hours of down-time as best they can.

But now, at last, you’re nearly to your destination—regimental scuttlebutt has it that you’re reinforcing some half-civilized hellhole out on the fringes of Imperial-held space, but nobody at your pay grade knows exactly who, where, or what. As your platoon embarks upon its designated lander, Lieutenant Konrad Bremen shouts orders up and down the line, consulting his data-slate as he speaks.

Lt. Bremen:
”All right, troopers, final gear check then strap in before this tub gets moving. Our pilot informs me that we should be making landfall in about forty-five minutes. This planet is called Skrynne, and it’s classified as a frontier world. Lots of thick vegetation, low population density, above-average incidence of aggressive predators. Imperial defense line is made up of a string of fortified fire bases, each projecting force sufficient to pacify the surrounding environs. Company D has been directed to Supply Depot Gamma-29, where we will reinforce the current garrison. Further orders when we hit planet side. Strap in!”

The lander’s loading ramp rumbles closed, and you feel the deck beneath your feet vibrate slightly as the engine powers up. There are no windows, no pict-feeds, no way to see anything going on outside the ship. The interior is dimly lit by dull red lights lining the floor, and all around you are the sounds of clacking buckles, lasrifles being racked, and the low mutter of your comrades.


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

"Alright lads, remember, we are heading for a warzone, so stay frosty, stay awake, and always be prepared for everything to go to hell from the start."

The grizzled face of Sergeant MacCammon is not suited for smiles, and the grim reminded is delivered without any hint of such.

Before strapping in, he makes sure to double check his loud out.
A pair of laspistols, his chainsword/badge of command, the trusty m36 lasgun and a brace of grenades.
Satisfied that all is in readiness, he sits down and prepares for a slow and boring journey.

"Aw Sarge, ya always say the nicest things! I feel all inspired and shit over here."
The joking tone of Carno Tarvish, the Sergeant's batsman pipes in with a wry smile.


Female Medic | WS 28; BS 37; S 30; T 33; Ag 36; Int 43; Per 33; Wil 41; Fel 34; W 10/10; Fate 5/5

Adahlia nods at the sergeant. She may have a reputation for a biting tongue, but she doesn't snark those higher up the chain.

She checks over her gear, though with little else to do over the last few days she's confident that it's all in order.


"See you at the end of the day," Ingrid tells Titania, as the heavy-stubber crew swiftly secure their gear and strap in as the lander prepares for drop...


Male Heavy Gunner
Status:
HP:13/15, FP: 4/4, Pack Load: 36/60, Laspacks (Basic) 8/8, (Pistol) 4/4, Frag-Missiles 7/7, Exterminator 1/1, Grenades: Frag 3/3, Flash 3/3, Smoke 2/2

Sam groans as he rises to his feet from the 'comfortable' nap as the shouting starts. During the voyage he was mostly seen sleeping, drinking, running laps or laughing with the others - all according to the first degree of every guardsmen since the earliest days of mankind: "Sleep, eat, drink, laugh and f#%% as much as you can, when you can - for you never know when or if you can again."
As Lt. Bremen and Sarge finished their respective orders and shoutings the tall and broad man cannot withstand a grinning remark.
"So we go there to kill their oversized pets and hold hands with some cute PDF Ladies in their bunkers, eh?"
Some laughter from those men around him and a elbow hit to the rips and a sterne gaze from Zora are the immediate response to this remark.
"Alright, then lets go. Long time since I last shoot something with Big Bertha. She had become quite uneasy in the meantime!" With that he carefully takes up the heavy rocket launcher his head had rested on some moments before like he was taking up a newborn child and follows the others to the lander - packing more than most of them.

-- In the lander: --
Sam straps himself between two green guardsmen on their first mission. As they start he starts to rumble to himself and starts counting something with his fingers. As he reaches five he stops, starts again until he reaches five again. Then he starts to look around as if he had lost something. The younger of the two then asks him what he is searching for and he replies with a weird grin: "Ahhh, I could have sworn that I had six missiles in my backpack this morning and I rechecked it after we boarded this tin can. But now ... I can just find five. Ahh, never mind I guess I just had miscounted this mourning. But if you see a rocket rolling around on the floor - just give me a heads up, yeah?"
As the two new guardsmen become green and start looking around in fear, Zora throws a ration pack at the huge man and swears at him. "Dammit, Heavy. Stop bullshitting all the newcomers, already! Don't fear boys, this big, dumb clown can't be serious even if he tries to. He was just kidding you - he is in fact really careful when it comes to his ammo and weapons, so this at least is a trait you may copy from him - but do me and all around us a favor and leave it by that trait, ok?! Ahrgh, Stop laughing you jackass!"


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Having made sure to secure a seat close to the door, with the rest of his squad nearby, Cormaeg grunted a little at the talking going on around him.
It was tempting to tell them to pipe down, since soon it would be loud enough to drown out any talking anyway.
But to be honest, at the moment he wasn't in the mood to snap.

Sighing with annoyance, he looked around for a moment.
"Everyone stowed their gear properly? If you end up clubbed on the head with your own rifle, you will be on latrine duty for a month."

For some reason he found himself going on to speak a few words of advice.
His own troopers already knew the rules well, but if someone else listened in then so be it.
"Make sure you have a fresh charge pack slotted, and keep a second one at hand for easy reload.
Keep your weapon handy in case we come in hot, and always keep a close eye on the rest of your squad.
The commissars don't accept "We got separated in the chaos" as an explanation."

Leaning back and slowly pushing his helmet down enough over his eyes to offer some shade, he grunts.
"It'll be loud soon enough, so catch some sleep now if you can."

Silver Crusade

You didn't think the roar of the engines could possibly be any louder, but as your lander enters atmosphere the low thunder is joined by a heavy vibrating rattle of everyone's gear and the steel bulkheads. Conversation becomes nearly impossible even at a shout, and several of your fellows look a little green around the gills.

A sudden lurch jostles you about in your seats, then a second, then a third. Lt. Bremen seems largely unconcerned, until a forth lurch sees part of the bulkhead across from your squad dent inwards--as though from an impact! Several rivets bounce around the room, and you can barely hear the screaming of your comrades as some of them are hit. Lieutuenant Bremen is shouting from the doorway leading to the cockpit, but you cannot hear him above the noise, as he frantically motions for the troopers to switch on their micro-beads.

Lt. Bremen:

"We're taking fire! We're taking fire! The depot is under attack by enemy forces, we're making a hot drop! Everyone be ready to--gah!"

The lander gives another violent lurch, and the roar of the engines becomes a coughing whine and the world seems to tilt. Unsecured objects and several troopers' lunch tumble to the front of the lander as the ships' rattling grows more violent. After a mere handful of seconds that feel like a lifetime, you are thrown about in your seats as the vessel ploughs into the earth with the sound of shrieking metal.

You each take 1d5 points of Impact damage (modified by Armor & Toughness) as the landers hits the ground.

As the lander scrapes to a halt, the red lighting is enough to show you that your platoons are in disarray--troops vomiting or sobbing out prayers to the Emperor, while the landing ramp signal light switches from red to green. Lt. Bremen's voice and presence are conspicuously absent amid the chaos.


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Impact Damage: 1d5 ⇒ 2
No damage.

Cormaeg begins to unbuckle himself quickly, as he does, he shouts into the microbead.
"Squad, this is Sergeant MacCammon, form up on me and move to the landing ramp on the double, weapons hot and arses ready for further orders!"

Silver Crusade

Heavy weapons are disassembled and stowed in the abovehead compartment, they will need 5 minutes of assembly before they are ready to use. All non-heavy weapons can be used immediately.


Male Heavy Gunner
Status:
HP:13/15, FP: 4/4, Pack Load: 36/60, Laspacks (Basic) 8/8, (Pistol) 4/4, Frag-Missiles 7/7, Exterminator 1/1, Grenades: Frag 3/3, Flash 3/3, Smoke 2/2

'Heavy' Impact: 1d5 ⇒ 4
Zora Impact: 1d5 ⇒ 4 Don't forget to roll for your comrade too! But this most likely will not harm anybody severlt. With the improved armor we got 5Ap + at least a toughness of 2, so ...
As the ship starts to buckle and the word "under attack" goes round, Sam curses under his breath. "Is one easy landing too much to ask? Gosh, its always the same! Dammit!"
Then there is only cursing and holding fast as the Lander goes down. Something heavy slams against his side but the large man doesn't even flinch at the impact. Mere moments after the crash landing he is at his feet throwing his backpack on and collects the grate were the pieces of 'Bertha' are stowed from the upper compartment - accompanied by more cursing. "Heavy weapons always have to be disassembled for long range travel. It's saver that way. My ass saver! The writer didn't heard of hot crash landings or ambushes before, did he?!
Sarge! I need at least five quiet minutes to ready Big Bertha for action! Otherwise I am fine."

He shoulder the grate with Berthas components on top of his large backpack, unslings his Lasgun and heads for the exit ramp. Halfway Zora appears at his side, weapon at the ready and with a fierce expression on her face.


Ingrid 1d5 ⇒ 3
Titania 1d5 ⇒ 1

"Shit, looks like we're starting early today," Ingrid says, catching the grab-bag of ammunition Titania tosses her from the racks, shouldering her lasgun as Titania almost staggers under their heavy-stubber's weight. The pair practically throw themselves down the ramp, eager to be away from as tempting a target as the lander...


Female Medic | WS 28; BS 37; S 30; T 33; Ag 36; Int 43; Per 33; Wil 41; Fel 34; W 10/10; Fate 5/5

Adahlia: 1d5 ⇒ 4
Isaaya: 1d5 ⇒ 2

"Count yourselves lucky, only 43% of hot landings make the drop." Adahlia chants, almost to herself as she grabs her gear.


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Cormaege manages a momentary twitch of his lips, something that MIGHT have been a smile flickering across his face.
"Can't promise you five minutes, once this ramp opens we'll see.
You are alive, that might be all the favours the universe is willing to give you right now."

Comrade damage: 1d5 ⇒ 4

Silver Crusade

As Sgt. MacCammon hauls on the ramp level a prolonged hiss and a series of clangs indicate that the exit, at least, is functioning. As the ridged steel platform slowly descends you're able to get your first look at Skrynne.

By some miracle the lander appears to have made it inside the compound--peering out, you can see ferrocrete walls thirty meters high, topped in places with flak towers. The four-barreled Hydra autocannon turrets are blasting away at several dozen noisy, smoke-belching contraptions darting about the sky with dizzying speed. All along the wall you can make out the forms of soldiers running back and forth, firing down on the unseen enemy below.

Closer to yourselves, the lander did manage to hit the LZ--a huge concrete square some four hundred meters to a side--but left a deep furrow over ten meters wide and two deep in some places, filled with shattered stone and churned earth. Worse still, it seems that your transport clipped the wall on its way in, and it now appears as though a huge bite has been taken out of the wall, which has lost as much as a third of its height in places. The fighting there seems to be the most furious, with several large, dark humanoid shapes having gained the walls, where a vicious melee can be seen. To your left is the wall of a large warehouse, perhaps four stories high, whose thick outer wall appears to have finally arrested the lander's slide.

Supply Depot Gamma-29

To your right, a sudden commotion draws your attention. The ground crews, who had been hustling towards your downed ship from across the tarmac, are shouting and scrambling, abandoning tools and vehicles in their haste as they sprint back the other way. They leave behind three small vehicles, each pulling a small flatbed trailer loaded with equipment.

I would like a Perception check from each of you please


Male Heavy Gunner
Status:
HP:13/15, FP: 4/4, Pack Load: 36/60, Laspacks (Basic) 8/8, (Pistol) 4/4, Frag-Missiles 7/7, Exterminator 1/1, Grenades: Frag 3/3, Flash 3/3, Smoke 2/2

Perception 32: 1d100 ⇒ 90
"Ehh, nope. I cannot see five quiet minutes anywhere in this place of dirt. Lasgun it is then!"
He quickly straps the box with his heavy weapon on his backpack with some green duck tape he always has in his large cargo pockets and shoulders the completely overloaded rucksack with a groan.
"Orks it is! At least its not gonna get boring garrison duty."


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Awareness (Per 29/2): 1d100 ⇒ 39

"Standing here on the ramp is suicidal, we need to spot some good cover fast!
Everyone, rifles out and get ready to move as soon as we have a destination!"


Female Medic | WS 28; BS 37; S 30; T 33; Ag 36; Int 43; Per 33; Wil 41; Fel 34; W 10/10; Fate 5/5

Perception(33): 1d100 ⇒ 72
Adahlia looks around, rifle readied, taking what cover she can from the lander. She can't see what spooked the crew, but it can't be good.


Perception 34, 1d100 ⇒ 63

I duck out of the lander, Titania a heartbeat behind me - but we're more interested in getting into cover than sightseeing...

Silver Crusade

Thomas Locke Awareness vs 33 1d100 ⇒ 32

Bringing up the rear, the heavily armored veteran never takes his eyes off the wall and is the only one to see the approaching danger. From behind you comes his voice, muffled by the enclosed helmet but sharp and clear over the micro-beads: "Contact! We have contact!"

Indeed--creeping through the debris of the lander's furrow are a number of green-skinned xenos. Two are large, muscled creatures, wielding crude unwieldy pistols and some sort of bizarre club crackling with electricity. Before them is a gaggle of five small, wiry creatures no larger than human children. At Locke's shout the smaller Ork-kin known as Gretchin stand from their crouch to fire upon you with an array of bizarre-looking weapons, looking more like cobbled-together children's toys more than true weapons of war. Unfortunately, the slugs whizzing towards you are all too real. The closest of the creatures stands only 80m away from Sgt. MacCammon.

Surprise Round Initiative:

Pvt. Locke: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Grots: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Runtherds: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Surprised this Turn:
Sgt. MacCammon: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Jankins: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Movano: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Ingorsen: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

Pointing their spark-spraying clubs at the group of you, still clustered on the ramp, the two Orks bellow something in their gutteral tongue and wave their wide-barreled pistols menacingly at their smaller kin.
Command Tests to the Grots vs 46
1d100 ⇒ 97
1d100 ⇒ 77

Having given his warning, Locke brings to bear his M36 Lasgun--no sense wasting hellgun bolts on barely-armored foes--and squeezes off a round at the rightmost Ork. Unfortunately, the power pack was jarred loose during the landing, and the lasgun misfires with a loud crackle.

half-action Single Shot, half-action Ready Weapon
BS vs 54: 1d100 ⇒ 100 Weapon Jam!

The smaller creatures, wincing at the evident threats of their larger kin, take aim at the closest member of your squad--the redoubtable but distracted Sergeant--and fire off a chattering volley of solid rounds.

BS Tests vs 54 (BS34 +10 single shot -10 long range +20 Unaware target)
1d100 ⇒ 54 Hit Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Pen0
1d100 ⇒ 20 Hit Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Pen0
1d100 ⇒ 52 Hit Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 Pen0
1d100 ⇒ 44 Hit Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 Pen0 Righteous on Even: 1d10 ⇒ 4 Critical Damage: 1d5 ⇒ 4
1d100 ⇒ 20 Hit Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 Pen0 Righteous on Even: 1d10 ⇒ 5

Sergeant MacCammon receives 4 Critical Damage; he suffers a cracked rib from the impact, suffering Toughness Damage: 1d10 ⇒ 8 and must Test vs Agility or be knocked Prone.. No regular damage.

Turn One begins.

Initiative Order:

1. Runtherds
2. Thomas Locke
3. Movano
4. Grots
5. MacCammon
6. Jankins
7. Ingorsen

Silver Crusade

Hooting and stamping their feet as one of the gretchins' rounds strikes home against Sgt. MacCammon, the two Orks bellow further exhortations to their charges, demanding blood.
Command Tests vs 46
1d100 ⇒ 26 Success
1d100 ⇒ 45 Success

Muttering a curse, Locke works to remove the misaligned power pack and load another. Full Action BS Test vs44: 1d100 ⇒ 27 Success


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Agility test (32): 1d100 ⇒ 20

"Gnnngh!"
Grunting and taking a step back, Cormaeg growls, straightens and eyeballs the xeno filth.
"Well? What are you waiting for, a written invitation from the emperor? Slaughter the filthy xeno!"


Male Heavy Gunner
Status:
HP:13/15, FP: 4/4, Pack Load: 36/60, Laspacks (Basic) 8/8, (Pistol) 4/4, Frag-Missiles 7/7, Exterminator 1/1, Grenades: Frag 3/3, Flash 3/3, Smoke 2/2

"What a f%&!ing hearty welcome they give us here! Oh Big Bertha would have loved this! Dammit!"
The large man drops to the ground like a stone, spraying some suppression fire against the orks even before hitting the ground. Zora at his side mimes his movements and adds her fire to his own. Ranged Volley, +5BS
Some Stray hits? 46 -20supFire +5comrade +10 short range=41: 1d100 ⇒ 27
Most of their shots are close misses but one hits a greenskin square on the left leg. Which one is hit is determined randomly by the gm
Lasgun hit: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11 Pen 0, E

45 degree kill zone centered on the two orks. Every enemy inside the kill zone must make a pinning test +-0 or becomes pinned. Also Sam and Zora are prone now, -10BS to hit them but penalties to dodge or if attacked in melee.

Laspack: 57/60


Female Medic | WS 28; BS 37; S 30; T 33; Ag 36; Int 43; Per 33; Wil 41; Fel 34; W 10/10; Fate 5/5

Adahlia spares a glance for Tavish, but he's not on the floor bleeding out, so she decides to deal with the more present threat.
Don't think Medicae actually helps wounded comrades on the battlefield
Not sure of layout, if there's any cover Adahlia/isaaya will move towards it as their first action, if not they will just drop to the ground
No sense shooting the small ones, hopefully they'll flee if the orcs are taken out.
Orcs are renowned for their toughness so she flicks up to Overcharge and opens fire (single shot targeting orc) Attack(37+10): 1d100 ⇒ 45 dmg: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12 (58/60 shots remaining)


I throw myself flat, slamming the heavy-stubber's tripod into the ground as Titania snaps the weapon into place atop, diving forward to pin the base with her weight whilst I grab the trigger and swing it around towards the greenskins...

40 -20supFire +10 short range - 10 full auto + 10 comrade brace - 10 awkward weapon(?) 20]1d100 ⇒ 64

I'm not sure if I'm interpreting the stat-block correctly...
Heavy Stubber Heavy 100m –/–/8 1d10+4 I 3 75 2 Full Ogryn-Proof 30kg Rare

But our fire sprays wildly over the greenskin's heads...


So the above is impossible, due to weapon disassembly rules I wasn't aware of. No problem, instead we'll shoot with our lasguns

"Busy day!" I snap, throwing myself down, drawing a bead on one of the larger greenskins, and squeezing the trigger...

40 +5comrade +10 short range=55: 1d100 ⇒ 97, 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5 Pen 0, E

..."Crap, how'd we miss? They're big enough..."

PS, how do you do the green text before dice rolls?

Silver Crusade

The closest cover would be falling back to the lander doorway, or dropping down to hide *under* the ramp. Alternatively, the closest ground-crew vehicle is about 40m to your right.

On a coin flip, the rightmost Runtherd was hit by Adahlia. After TB & armor he loses 3 Wounds. The Grots act before Jankins & Ingorsen so I'll have them take their turns, then factor in the Gunners' efforts.

Ingrid Ingorsen:

I believe a 97 is a Weapon Jam, even with the Reliable rule on lasguns. Also for future reference, there's not an "awkward weapon" penalty for Heavy Stubbers. If you comrade has the advance that lets him help you brace, you get the +10 bonus and the weapon counts as braced.

With shrill shrieks--though more in fear of the Orks at their backs than any martial enthusiasm--the Grots fire off another round of slugs at Sgt. MacCammon. His flak armor proves equal to the task, however, and he is unharmed by the impacting rounds.

Grot Attacks:

BS Tests vs 44 (34+10 single, +10 inspired, -10 long range)
1d100 ⇒ 93 Miss
1d100 ⇒ 34 Hit Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
1d100 ⇒ 10 Hit Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
1d100 ⇒ 59 Miss
1d100 ⇒ 68 Miss

Jankin's Hit: 1 or 2 is Runtherd, 3-5 Grots (left to right)
1d7 ⇒ 2 Right Runtherd loses another 4 Wounds (total -7 so far)

Runtherd Pinning Tests vs 81 (21 + 60 Mob Rule)
Left: 1d100 ⇒ 84 Pinned!
Right: 1d100 ⇒ 62

Grot Pinning Tests vs 84
1d100 ⇒ 79
1d100 ⇒ 5
1d100 ⇒ 68
1d100 ⇒ 65
1d100 ⇒ 32


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

"If all you are good for is to collect scars to impress the ladies with, then get back in there!"

Cormaeg grabs Cornos shoulder and shoves him back inside the lander.
Move order

He then slowly levels the rifle and takes a good aim at the wounded Orc.
Aim half action

He then Switches to semi auto fire on the overcharge setting.
Attack (BS 37 +10 for aim, no bonus for semi auto or range): 1d100 ⇒ 11
Two hits to the right arm.
Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10


Male Heavy Gunner
Status:
HP:13/15, FP: 4/4, Pack Load: 36/60, Laspacks (Basic) 8/8, (Pistol) 4/4, Frag-Missiles 7/7, Exterminator 1/1, Grenades: Frag 3/3, Flash 3/3, Smoke 2/2

That was the first combat round already, so keep shooting and "Hold the Line!" :-)
Heavy notices that they are two many of them on one place to easily break - yet - and switches to a more concentrated fire on the larger one he hit before and aims carefully this time.
Zora shifts her aim along to keep up a steady barrage of lasfire.
Semi Auto at wounded ork 46+5+10aim=61: 1d100 ⇒ 54
"Damn you Grox-Suckers! Stop shooting at Sarge with your pathetic weapons! Get some of this instead! Well proven lasfire for you - for free! Come and get some!"
One hit on wounded: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Silver Crusade

Jankin's actions are noted, but I won't apply the effect until later in Turn 2, which starts now :p

The wounded Ork Runtherd is now totaling -14 Wounds, not yet taking Critical Damage though. I have messaged Thomas Locke and would like to give him some time to post himself, so I'll check back in the morning and bot him if necessary.

Despite its wounds, the rightmost Ork seems undaunted by Jankins' spray of fire, and it laughs mockingly as its companion dives to the ground in panic. Waving its spark-stick at the gretchin it bellows more commands. Command vs 46: 1d100 ⇒ 38 Success!


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Hmmph, still not down are you, filthy Xeno? But one more blast like that will fix you, and while your comrade covers, he can't prod the smaller ones on.

Silver Crusade

Locke takes aim at the wounded Runtherd before calmly squeezing off another round. Half Action Aim, Single Shot, Overload

BS vs 64: 1d100 ⇒ 48 Damage: 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12 Pen2 3 Critical Wounds

The lasbolt lances into the Ork's upper thigh, and with a bellow of pain the xeno topples to the shattered ground.

Movano, then Grots, then Everyone Else Who Isn't Jankins Because Jankins Went Already


Storm Trooper

After Locke takes down the Runtherd he yells to his squad If you ladies care about living I suggest you find cover as he remains in place, seemingly having a death wish and displaying his general lack of concern for his own well being. He believed his time and place of death had already been written and who was he to deny destiny. It's always a good day to die!

Lock has a nihilistic demeanor which you either already know or will come too know.


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Cormaeg merely makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.
Not without his own prejudices, he was not much fond of Storm troopers in general, considering them glory hounds at best.
Locke's comment was thus misconstrued as an attempt to take all the "glory" of the fight for himself rather than the real reason.

Still, taking these xenos down would mean we could move to the vehicles in safety.


Female Medic | WS 28; BS 37; S 30; T 33; Ag 36; Int 43; Per 33; Wil 41; Fel 34; W 10/10; Fate 5/5

Adahlia fires a burst at the other herder, keeping close to sergeant MacCammon, but her spray of shots goes wild.

Attack(42): 1d100 ⇒ 61 37+5from comrade

Silver Crusade

As the Runtherd still standing is dropped by Locke's lasbolt to the leg, the Grots shuffle uncertainly, but still sight down their weapons and unleash another volley.

BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 28 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 3 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 Righteous on Even: 1d10 ⇒ 10
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 87 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 25 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 100 Missed

Another round of shells batters Sgt. MacCammon's armor, and this time a piece of shrapnel gets through, inflicting 1 Wound.


"Hi-tech piece of junk," Ingrid snaps, shoving her lasgun aside in frustration as she begins to break out the pieces of her trusty heavy-stubber and assemble the heavy weapon...


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Dodge (32): 1d100 ⇒ 77

"Dammit soldier, if you are going to start assemble your weapon, at least get to cover first!
For Throne's sake, even just stepping back in the lander is safer!"

Grunting a little Cormaeg looks down, noticing a small amount of blood leaking out through his chestplate.
Winged me did they?

Realizing that the little xenos are unlikely to do much damage, Cormaeg begins to move forward, challenging them to stop him.
I just need to get closer, then I'll grenade the lot of them

"Cover me! I'm advancing!"

Run toward nearest cover.


Male Heavy Gunner
Status:
HP:13/15, FP: 4/4, Pack Load: 36/60, Laspacks (Basic) 8/8, (Pistol) 4/4, Frag-Missiles 7/7, Exterminator 1/1, Grenades: Frag 3/3, Flash 3/3, Smoke 2/2

"Ya heard the Sarge! Give'em Hell!"
Suppressive Fire 56+5comrade-20suppressive=41: 1d100 ⇒ 52
Sam and Zora are sqeazing out shots as fast as possible to cover the advance of the Sargent. The shots go over the heads of the greenskins this time - but close enough to intimidate.
All orks must do a pinning test +-0 again.

Silver Crusade

Would that be dropping down to hide behind the ramp, or flanking right to the ground-crew vehicles? The closest is 40m away so it'll take you 2+ Run actions to get there.


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Hmmm, I think a Flanking manoeuvre would be the most tactical.
Of course, I'm not aiming to get ALL the way to them, just throwing distance.

Silver Crusade

That's fine. Remember that going prone gives enemies a penalty to hit you. FTR, remember that the wounded Runtherd was knocked Prone, and that your ranged attacks will suffer a -10BS penalty because of it. He's also in the torn-up trough so there's light cover there also.

Silver Crusade

Looks like Cormaeg & Ingrid have gone, and Sam's shot got soaked up by Toughness

TURN 3

Initiative Order:

1. Runtherds
2. Thomas Locke
3. Movano
4. Grots
5. MacCammon
6. Jankins
7. Ingorsen

Pinned Runtherd WP Test vs 81
Unpinned?: 1d100 ⇒ 6 Success!

Climbing to its feat, the leftmost Runtherd aims a half-hearted kick at its wounded companion, then bellows at the Grots, underlining its point with a vicious swing from its spark-spitting weapon. WS37 +10 single -10 Grot size] Attack vs 37: 1d100 ⇒ 47

The other, wounded but hardly dampened in enthusiasm, struggles to its feet. Clearly favoring one leg, it points its crude revolver at the sprinting Sergeant and squeezes off a round. Fortunately for the sergeant, the weapon is beyond its effective range.

[ooc]Locke & Movano up next!


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

It's getting up again!? That's it, after this fight I'm ordering the troops to mist them!


Storm Trooper

Locke takes his time and aims for the head of the Leftmost Runtherd that isn't wounded. Full Action Aim, Next action Called shot.


Female Medic | WS 28; BS 37; S 30; T 33; Ag 36; Int 43; Per 33; Wil 41; Fel 34; W 10/10; Fate 5/5

"Wounded one first, less of them shooting at us the better" she speaks quietly and calmly to Isaaya and they co-ordinate fire

3-shot-burst(42): 1d100 ⇒ 85 +5from comrade

Adahlia curses quietly as her shots fly all over, but not remotely near the target.

Silver Crusade

The unwounded Ork misses his swing at the backmost Grot, but the scrawny xenos get the message and reluctantly shuffly forward. With the sergeant no longer in view from their position in the trough, the xenos pour their fire onto the next-nearest Guardsman.

Since Sam Jankins was the first to post after MacCammon, I'll treat him as next-closest, followed by Ingrid -> Adahlia -> Locke respectively

Grot Shots vs 34:

1d100 ⇒ 70
1d100 ⇒ 66
1d100 ⇒ 79
1d100 ⇒ 75
1d100 ⇒ 86

The small xenos put on a fireworks display that is all noise and no fury, as not a single round manages to land against the heavy gunner. A nervous chatter breaks out amongst the Grots.


Male Brawler WS 47, BS 34, S 41, T 52, Ag 32, Int 30, Per 26, WP 38, Fel 39, Wounds 16/16, FP 2/4

Almost there...looks like they are too blood mad to realize what is coming.
Come on, just keep your eyes averted a little longer..."

Cormaeg hurries forward, looking to find a spot to put his back against so he can lob an egg to the Xeno scum.

Silver Crusade

Sgt. MacCammon has run 36m, leaving him 41m from the nearest Grots. Apologies to Jankins, whose Pinning Tests I forgot to roll.

Runtherd WP vs 86:

Left: 1d100 ⇒ 76
Right: 1d100 ⇒ 42

Grot WP vs 82:

1d100 ⇒ 7
1d100 ⇒ 54
1d100 ⇒ 65
1d100 ⇒ 31
1d100 ⇒ 60

The xenos seem strangely immune to concepts like self-preservation--the Orks hardly flinch at the flurry of lasbolts, and even the Grots don't seem overly bothered.

Ingrid's turn, unless she intends to continue assembling her weapon, in which case we'll jump to Turn 4


I'm not sure - how many rounds does it take to assemble fully? Alternatively, what are my options for clearing my lasgun jam?

Silver Crusade

The full assembly would be 5 minutes' work, or 50 rounds (49 now). Clearing a jam is a full-round action that requires a successful Ballistic Skill Test, and that current charge cell w/any remaining shots is lost. The weapon also needs to be reloaded but otherwise functions normally.

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