Medic Zane sits mostly prone with his back to the furrow as he rips away part of his shirt to fully expose his wound. Zees Zorzi pads over on all fours and rips open a bag of powdered hemostatic agent, pouring it onto the nasty gash in the medic's arm. Working together they are able to patch up the wound and Doc Zane is ready to go again.
Anselm Tartare turns back towards Mire's postition, a bit confused at first. His countenance turns to one of glee as the realization of the sergeant's orders sink in. He and his comrade head out at a sprint for the shuttle.
Ork fire is largely ineffectual, allowing the guardsmen to focus their attack on the few remaining foe in the immediate vicinity. Commissar Vex fires his bolt pistol again.
"Damn you greenskin!" the commissar yells, "The Emperor will have your hide yet!"
Waiting for the sodding plasma gun to cool down at his feet, Hathin ignores the threat of fire and stands his ground. Shucking his back-up las carbine off his shoulder he lines up the xenos cowering in the building before him. Spitting on the ground he grimaces and squeezes the trigger...
...grunting as the weapon seems to function properly "Bout feckin time something worked."
Although the weapons specialist sees his las-round strike the ork inside the structure, it apparently continues to fire unabated.
Book, who kneels in the grass, yells out, "Let's find some cover, Lark! Those orks seem dug in pretty good!"
Seeing his hellgun will be nothing more than a glorified club until he has the time for a detailed field strip, Edwin draws his blade and runs headlong into the ramshackle dwelling where his enemy cowers.
Trooper Drususon creates a shower of broken plank-board and glass as he crashes through a partial side-wall opening in the building. The ork inside is startled but nonetheless able to side-step the soldier. Drususon rolls to a stop and crouches with his blade at the ready.
Anselm continues to race towards the shuttle and his beloved Sentinel Walker.
Seeing how all of my remaining potential targets are in cover. I will take the time to retrieve my sniper rifle and take the time to remove the jam from my weapon using the ditch as cover.
The sniper grabs his rifle and attempts to clear the chamber.
I look around to see if there is anyone I can help either with medicae or shooting.
I will aim at ork #7.
Inside the dilapidated structure, dust and trash flies about as the ork roars forth and takes a swipe at the storm trooper with his bolt gun. Although the beast hits Drususon in the leg, the blow does no damage.
Dodge (TN:37):
Though he's bleeding his reactions are still fierce and De'Lark weaves out of the way of the incoming fire. Grinning with a cruel leer he barks at Book "More than one way to skin a feckin xenos." hands going to his belt to unclip a krak grenade. Pin pulled, pause given... then Hathin hurls the missive straight at the ork that tried to shoot him...
His side aching with the sting of his injured ribs, Sgt. Mire waves Murjoff on and the pair continue to run along the shuttle-carved furrow before heaving themselves out of the trench and dashing through open ground toward a tangle of brush to the north of Hathin's position.
Dropping prone, Mire watches with tacit approval as De'Lark lobs a grenade toward the building where the orks are dug in.
That's the right idea, wish I had some of my own.
Crawling with his elbows and knees, the sergeant creeps forward, trying to lift his head above the level of the thick brush enough to see if there is any way to flank around the ork position without being noticed or cut down by their fire or Dol's suppressive onslaught.
Going prone and using the sparse foliage for cover, Sgt. Mire surveys the scene.
The building in which the orks are entrenched have numerous openings and plank-boards missing. From his vantage point Sarge cannot detect any blind spots that may exist. The heavy gunner's stubber continues to burp a steady amount of lead, keeping the ork's heads down. Mire is unsure if he can safely cross Dol's field of fire.
Sarge hears Murjoff next to him in the brush swear as he gets a face full of brambles. The vox-operator grumbles, "I hate this place already."
Commissar Vex fires another shot into the building.
A bolt-round hits the xeno in the leg, resulting in deep bruising and what normally would be teeth-clenching pain.
"Gerr this will be the last bit of suppressive fire. Get ready to move in and take out that orc near us or if he is finally dead head to the other 2."
Dol continues to unload his second canister of the engagement, raking the building with stubber fire which creates a blizzard of rock-crete dust, splintered wood, and plaster shards.
Edwin stabs at the ork in a furious melee, but is unable to score a telling blow through the ork's tough flesh and ramshackle armor.
The heavy gunner checks his fire after a few brief bursts, unsure if his hail of bullets was effective or not. A few seconds later an ork bursts through some plank-board, clutching his bleeding belly and stumbles into the grass. Dol takes measure and pulls the trigger. Stubber rounds stitch the earth in front of the ork and the gunner is able to walk his fusillade directly into the xeno creature. Several rounds strike true, bursting the torso into a red mist of blood and viscera. The ork topples over and is motionless.
Inside the old abandoned structure, Storm Trooper Drususon finds the footing to be poor and the quarters cramped. The slavering beast bellows and looms over the Progenium-trained soldier who remains undaunted.
Though he's bleeding his reactions are still fierce and De'Lark weaves out of the way of the incoming fire. Grinning with a cruel leer he barks at Book "More than one way to skin a feckin xenos." hands going to his belt to unclip a krak grenade. Pin pulled, pause given... then Hathin hurls the missive straight at the ork that tried to shoot him...
Scatter: and
With malice the weapons specialist lobs a krak grenade towards the building and upon release his aim looks true with the explosive falling towards an open window. It barely clips a partially closed shutter, however, and the device rebounds. It then slows to a stop in the grass right next to the ork shot by the unit's stubber-gunner. The ensuing explosion leaves as recognizable only the the mid-section and legs of the ork.
In the furrow, Scope wrestles with his coveted sniper rifle and attempts to clear a jam. His spotter clambers over and says, "The ejector assembly looks too tight," then takes out a small knife and pries a release mechanism. Scope is then able to open the magazine with ease.
.
Anselm 14/14 wounds
Scope 14/14 wounds
Doc 11/11 wounds, has received First Aid
Sarge 12/14 wounds, has received First Aid
Dol 7/12 wounds, has received First Aid
Vex 14/14 wounds
Drususon 17/17 wounds
Lark 3/13 wounds
"Thanks Dot"
I take advantage of the squad mopping up the two remaining Orks to reload my sniper rifle.
The doctor's well-aimed shot buries into the structure directly where the ork lays in cover. Xeno shell-fire continues to return, however.
Over the tumult Zees yells, "Lot o' fecking good these worthless las-guns are against these things!"
The thunderous detonation of the krak grenade draws the attention of the ork to the weapons specialist. Shifting position slightly, it takes aim through a gap and fires.
The no-holds barred hand-to-hand struggle continues between the ork and storm trooper. Drususon spots that the monster has decorated its torso with hair, ears, and teeth of victims, human and ork alike. The greenskin leaps forward and attempts to bear hug the Imperial soldier.
Dodge (TN=37):
Yet again the elusive and bloodied sporchi weaves his way out of the path of a shot that should have seen him put down to the mud.
Sergeant Mire lowers his head as the ork opens up on the sporchi again, cursing at how well dug in their adversary is. Noting that Dol's fire is focused in the front of the building now, he squints his eyes, measuring the distance to the ramshackle structure.
A twinge in his leg makes him rethink the idea he was formulating for a moment, but in the end he recognizes that Larks won't last much longer stuck in the open like that.
Gimpy leg or no, we have to drop that fecker...
Motioning to Murjoff, he stands to a crouch.
"Cover me Enzo, keep his head down for a bit!"
With that Mire breaks into a loping run, carbine in hand, for the northern edge of the ruined building.
Between bursts of stubber fire, the Sarge scampers to the far end of the building, skidding to a stop against its decaying wall. Glancing inside he can see the greenskin firing towards Specialist De'Lark. Rockcrete dust and plank-board splinters shower down as the building is peppered with fire, including that of Murjoff who hopes to keep the ork busy.
Glancing across the field, Mire is seized with fear by what he sees next. The commissar is following the NCO's example and also charges the entrenched xeno. Gunner Dol is shocked, just managing to check his weapon as the political officer crosses his fire area.
I sling the stubber onto my back and then state "Come on Gerr lets help out the Stormtrooper, the Sarge has the other one in hand."
I them draw my Mono-edged Chit-Sickle and head to the melee. Seeing if I can set myself to charge the ork.
Sidestepping the ork's clumsy blow, Edwin plunges his blade into the creature's chest cavity.
Lark picks up his malfunctioning plasma gun again and rather than testing his luck further retreats to the safety of the nearby gouge through the earth.
The close-quarter melee continues with the stormtrooper leaping inside the guard of the ork and driving his blade into the greenskin's chest. The creature falls back and rolls with the blow, however. Any damage is soaked by the ork's tough hide and make-shift armor. Drususon catapults himself over the xeno and lands and turns, ready to defend himself for a return attack.
The small engagement of Squad Mire is now just a drop in the bucket to what is occurring north of their position. The Oremor 4th is in full deployment, engaged with ork forces. From their parapets and battlements the Brontian Longknives fight to keep the aliens from overrunning their station.
Finally! I get back into a prone position and sweep the battlefield. See if we have any other surprises coming our way, or if I can focus on the immediate threat.
"Eye's down range. What's my windage?"
What do I see?
Rifle readied, the sniper takes station. Through the magnoculors Spot mutters, "Westerly, two-point-oh."
The guardsman first surveys the building immediately to the east. Through a gap he sees an ork readying his over-sized bolt-pistol. The sniper lines up the cross-hairs on the greenskin's face but then his vision is obscured. Looking up from his gun, Scope sees with chagrin that the commissar now blocks his line of sight. Turning to the southeast the sniper has trouble distinguishing friend from foe as the storm trooper melees with another xeno.
I take a deep sigh, and readjust for another target. I play with the idea of shooting him in the arse to get him out of the way, and the medal he is trying to earn. Sadly I would be hung for the attempt. Maybe the Ork will do us all the favor...
With no immediate targets, Scope scans the area for other foes. Other windows, doorways, and roof-tops appear clear. No orks appear between buildings either.
Dot chuckles, "Wonderful. So glad the Commissariat is here to help us do our job better."
After a quick glance to the north, the sniper is unsure whether or not the tide of battle has turned. That the fire-fight is vicious is all he can tell.
I will delay.
The ork inside the northern structure, no longer under suppressive fire, stands and shoots at the commissar.
A huge chunk of plank-board siding blows outward just above the commissar's head.
Opposite Drususon, the greenskin bellows and attacks.
The ork's heavy swing connects the butt of his bolt pistol squarely to the head of the storm trooper. Yet somehow Drususon manages to avoid harm thanks to his superior armor and perhaps to his hard, ageing skull.
Checking his charge pack, back pressed firmly against the wall at the corner of the crumbling building, Sgt. Mire glances quickly over his shoulder through the wide gap in the flaking flakboard covering one of the windows on his side.
Spying his target through the haze of cordite emitted from the ork's chattering weapon, he holds his breath and swings around, pushing the barrel of his weapon through the opening, while unleashing a burst of fire at the preoccupied xenos.
The sarge lets loose with a volley, las-fire ripping holes in the wood floor. The ork, whose attention was riveted on the commissar, attempts to roll out of the way but is hit in the torso. Energy ripples over the body temporarily, scorching skin and igniting its sparse clothing.
The ork lurches forward, patting down its body in an attempt to salve its cooked flesh. Instead it collapses to the woodern floor unconscious.
The commissar enters the room, thumbs the toggle-switch of his chain-sword, and in one fell swoop he beheads the inert ork. A misting spray of blood envelops the political officer. Turning to Mire, the now gore-soaked commissar grins, lifts his weapon and shouts, "Well done, sergeant!"
Mire watches without emotion as the commissar ruthlessly dispatches the ork, saying nothing at the political officer's well-intentioned commendation, a comment that contrasts so bizarrely with his savage appearance, spattered with greenskin gore, that it borders on the darkly comic.
I still have no idea of what to make of this fecker---he carries himself with a such a good-natured bonhomie that it makes you forget that beneath it all he is a borderline psychopath. Perhaps that means he'll fit in better than I first though...
"CLEAR!"
After announcing to his squad that the collapsed building is secure, and unable to muster anything except for an awkward nod for Vex, Mire draws his chainsword and storms out of the south side of the structure through a half-collapsed cellar bulkhead, rushing toward the sounds of battle where the storm trooper squares off against another ork.
"Come on Gerr lets get this Orc out of the way."