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

Game Master CrusaderWolf

Ah! In that case I will try and clear the Jam

"Sodding thing!" I snarl, snapping the powerpack from my lasgun, and fumbling in the replacement...

1d100 ⇒ 12

"That's got it!" I snap.

TURN 4

The wounded Runtherd bellows wordlessly as he snaps off three shots at the rapidly approaching sergeant, while its companion exhorts to Grots to improve on their miserable performance from a moment ago.

Semi-Auto Burst vs BS9: 1d100 ⇒ 86

Command vs 46: 1d100 ⇒ 33

While the slugs headed MacCammon's way are wildly off target, the grots do get a more determined look about them.

Locke & Movano

Frack! But just because you see me now won't be enough to stop me!

Adahlia continues to fire on the runtherd, mostly to keep them from paying too much attention to the captain. Though she slows her rate of fire.
singleshot(52): 1d100 ⇒ 28 dmg: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 E

Bleh, sorry, Jonahken is me. Apologies.

While Adahlia's las-shot strikes true, burning a dime-sized hole right though the arm of the Ork, the creature barely seems to take note. Unnatural Toughness ate the damage

1d100 ⇒ 95
Thomas' aim waivers as he unleashed a single shot at the ork but misses wildly. Damn standard issue weapons he curses loudly after missing what should have been a sure shot.

With a nervous eagerness to avoid a worse beating later, the Grots lob another volley at Jankins.

BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 33 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 Righteous on Even: 1d10 ⇒ 8
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 19 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 1 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 Righteous on Even: 1d10 ⇒ 4
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 27 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 51 Miss

As the slugs slam into Jankins he is grateful for the armor, but even so he knows that he's going to be covered in bruises tomorrow. 2 points of damage

Almost...almost...

Sergeant MacCammon continues his dead sprint towards the herd of xenos, one hand reaching for the grenades in his bandoleer.

Let's just hope the squad can keep them pinned a little longer.

As he is hit again and again he roars like a wounded boar and then suddenly gets calm and quiet.
With a hand signal he diverts Zoras focus to the small fries and takes careful aim at them.
A flip of thumb changes the setting of the weapon to the red-marked 'overcharge' position...
Aimed Single overcharged Shot at one of the Grots 46+10+10+5=71: 1d100 ⇒ 63 a hit
... and a sun-bright las-bolt hits one of the Grots square on the chest.
Overcharged Damage: 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8E, Pen 2 Meh, those dmg dice really hate us!

54m run by MacCammon, now 23m from the closest Grot

40 +5comrade=45:: 1d100 ⇒ 39damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

"Okay, I love you after all!" I kiss the lasgun's butt as the shot strikes home against the Runtherd.

Jankins: After Toughness, 6 Wounds stripped away
With a high-pitched shriek, the Grot clutches at its chest in a posture of agony, but the creatures must share their larger brethren's unnatural physiology for after a moment removes its hands to examine its own chest. Pointing excitedly to the large black hole scorched in its chest it chitters in its primitive language while its fellows ooh! over the injury.

Ingorsen:
Left Leg hit! After Toughness & Grit, 1 Critical Damage inflicted

As the lasbolt strike home, the ork's other leg gives a sudden jerk, causing the creature to wobble and roar in pain, though it does not topple.

TURN 5

The injured Runtherd wheels on the sergeant, screaming nonsense as it fires its wide-barreled pistol with abandon. It's fellow continues trying to bully some sort of improved effort out the Grots, swatting the hand of one who tries to poke his finger through the lead gretchin's chest-wound.

Semi-Auto Shots vs 29: 1d100 ⇒ 3 Three hits to Left Arm!

Command vs 46: 1d100 ⇒ 68 Fail!

At such close range, even an Ork could hit its mark--three heavy slugs slam into Sgt. MacCammon's left arm, splinter flak-plates and nearly spinning him from his feet.

Dodge (Ag 32+10): 1d100 ⇒ 17

"Gnngah!"

After the storm of bullets strikes into Cormaegs arm, he roars and then suddenly stops.
While scorched, it seems that by instinct, he had managed to avoid most of the burst by turning his body just right.
Well, I...uh...have to think it was the Emperor protecting me here...

BS 44+10aim+10 Attack vs 1d100 ⇒ 69
Locke takes a quick aim and fires a single shot with the lasgun, but it barely misses its mark. He once again curses the weapon but doesn't think to change weapons, not wanting to waste the "good ammo."

"Whooa, that was a close one! See how Sarge sidestepped those bullets! Sleak bastard, our old geezer, isn't he?! I would have been done for! He's in range now! Keep up the fire!
And you ... little, ugly bugger. Love that hole in your chest, do you?! Ready for some more?!

40 +5comrade=45:: 1d100 ⇒ 48damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

"C'mon baby, you've got one more in you, right?" I say, as I level the lasgun and squeeze the trigger...

Realising the sergeant is distracting everything anyway, Movano abandons the pretence of trying to find cover and advances, firing.

single(52): 1d100 ⇒ 31 dmg(E): 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Will take the Grots' actions before Ingrid. I will assume that Adahlia & Ingrid fired at the same target as last turn, the wounded Ork.

As Adahlia's shot strikes home the creature shrieks as a mass of its flesh sloughs off with a grisly sizzle, exposing the bloody muscle and bone beneath. Toughness vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 87 Stunned for __ Turns: 1d5 ⇒ 2 The creature stares slack-jawed at its ruined appendage.

With a few nervous glances at the Ork firing at some unseen enemy on their flank, the Grots level their weapons for another volley at Jankins.

BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 17 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 1 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 33 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 32 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
BS vs 44: 1d100 ⇒ 28 Damage: 1d5 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Once again the tough gunners' armor serves them well, as Sam and Zora are battered by shells but emerge unscathed.

As the xeno sways in apparent shock at its wounds, Ingrig's lasbolt lashes into it's already injured leg; the focused red beam ignites green flesh and in a moment the creature is consumed, collapsing to the ground as a charred husk.

Sarge can chuck his grenade and Sam can fire whenever he's ready, and we'll move to Turn 6

My turn is after Sarge's. I aim at the wounded gretchin but if he's blasted away by Sarge I will take aim at any survivor.
"Those buggers really are dumber than rotten bread! Happy about getting hit... Takes away most of the fun if they love to getting shot, don't you think Zora?"
He gets nothing but a icy glare from the guardswoman. With a shrug of the large shoulders he lines up another shot at the greenskins.
Aimed, Single overcharged shot 71: 1d100 ⇒ 80
This time the Las bolt misses closely.

I'm beginning to doubt the sanity of this plan, but it's a little late for that now!

"Here! Play with this! It's real fun and REALLY loud!"
Withdrawing the frag grenade he was fingering before, Cormaeg lobs it over the edge of the ditch and then covers on the other side.

Throw (BS 37):1d100 ⇒ 16
Damage: 2d10 ⇒ (4, 1) = 5
...
You bastard....

The grenade lands in a deeper-than-average gouge in the dirt, much of its impact lost and the Orks entirely unharmed. However, the Grots are closer to the blast, and several are hit by shrapnel.

Dodge vs 36: 1d100 ⇒ 31 Success
Dodge vs 36: 1d100 ⇒ 14 Success
Dodge vs 36: 1d100 ⇒ 90 Fail
Dodge vs 36: 1d100 ⇒ 49 Fail
Dodge vs 36: 1d100 ⇒ 55 Fail

While two of the Grots are able to duck behind shards of concrete, the others are not so lucky. Indeed, the xeno injured by Sam takes several hits to its torso... Toughness vs 19: 1d100 ⇒ 52 ...and a confused look comes over its face as it slowly reaches up to touch the bloody wound where its neck meets its shoulder. Stunned for 1 Turn

Turn 6

The Runtherds are enraged at Cormaeg's audacity, but also excited at the nearness of a human. The uninjured xeno scrambles out the trough waving his spark-spitting club at the sergeant with menacing glee. Double Move, now only 3m from MacCammon. The other bellows more nonsense words as he fires off still more shots, but the xenos' reputation for lousy aim is well-deserved. is dead.

Semi-Auto vs 29: 1d100 ⇒ 35

Half Action Aim +10, Half Action Semi Auto, 54 vs 1d100 ⇒ 33 2DOS=2 Hits

1d10 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9 E Pen 0
1d10 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5 E Pen 0

Locke takes aim at the remaining Runtherd and switches his fire to Semi after watching the Runtherd he had been aiming at finally die.

Adahlia Movano, realizing the Sergeant might be in trouble as the ork--half a head taller than the squad leader--lumbers towards him. Flicking her lasgun to Overload, she takes careful aim and squeezes the trigger three times as Isaaya joins in. Semi-Auto BS vs 52: 1d100 ⇒ 30 3DoS, 2 Hits
Hit1: 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14
Hit2: 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 RIGHTEOUS: 1d5 ⇒ 4

Two las-bolts catch the xeno in the side of its head, burning away what little hair it had. With an agonized roar the creature clutches at its face, where the skin is blackened and peeling already. Wow, good botting CW! *pats self on back* The Ork has lost 15 Wounds, 2 Fatigue, and is Blinded for 2 Turns.

On a apparent whim, one of the Grots checks his magazine, only to find it empty. Spurred by this discovery, all the others apparently learn that their weapons, too, have run dry. With sudden looks of horror that turn quickly to panic, they take in the humans continuing to pour fire into them, and the sorry state of their "leaders"...with a mad scramble they clamber out of the trough, throwing aside their weapons in the haste to escape. Double Move, next Turn they will Run along it back towards the wall.

The M36 standard Issue lasgun is the typical toll of the imperial guard and symbolises the typical mentality of the guard, from the top to the bottom.
It is a sturdy and dependable piece of wargear, simple to make, simple to use.
It comes with variable power settings to take on foes of different toughness, and it seldom needs more than the most basic of care to function perfectly for years and years.

Another perk that is unofficially acknowledged is that because of it's very basic construction makes it simple to modify it to better suit a wielder.
Custom stocks, easier trigger, scopes, extended power packs and more can all be found in individual regiments.

The 304th is one of the rare regiments that has been assigned standard gear to suit their foremost capabilities.
As a siege regiment, they are often tasked to hold trenches, which can involve brutal close range combat.
As such, every lasgun is equipped with a bayonet for close quarter combat.
And as the trenches tends to be cramped, fire is highly useful, which is why each lasgun is also equipped with a singe use under-slung flamer.

Xenos maybe be xenos first and foremost, but they are certainly heretics as well, and the empire has a very strict policy on how to deal with them.
...
Burn the heretic.

With a vindictive smirk, Sargeant MacCammon slowly levels the M36 lasgun, flicks the pilot light to the "on" setting, takes a slow breath, and sends a fiery stream of promethium washing over the blined xeno.

I'm not 100% sure if I need to roll to hit or not, The flame quality seems to indicate yes, but the Spray quality no.
Should I roll to see if it jams maybe?

Spray rule overrides the Flame rule, no attack roll is needed. Because Blind, no Dodge attempt. Feel free to roll damage!

huh, I know I posted yesterday...
Flaming promethium of death: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
D'oh! Well, at least he is on fire...

Sam Jankins & Ingrid Ingorsen, y'all're up!

"Ah! Yeah! Run you little shit! Making it easier to hit your coward backside!"
Aimed, Overloaded Shot at damaged grot 71: 1d100 ⇒ 58
Damage: 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11E, Pen: 2

Huh, I could have sworn I posted on Friday. Not sure if it's my memory or the site at fault there - anyhow sorry! And thanks for rolling better than I ever do!

Ingrid Siting down the barrel of her lasgun, the heavy gunner targets the Grot wounded by Sam. Half Action Aim, Single Shot, Comrade Volley =BS65. Weapon Firing on Overcharge BS vs 65: 1d100 ⇒ 53 Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 The small green creature, struck twice in quick succession, sprawls out on the concrete and after a few spastic twitches lies still.

TURN 7

Runtherd Agility: 1d100 ⇒ 95 nope! On Fire: 1d10 ⇒ 6 The xeno frantically attempts to slap out the flames to no avail, the sergeant entirely forgotten. Bizarrely, the creature does not seem to be a great deal of pain...

Sam stands up, rotating his hit arm, while aiming at the fleeing Xeno.
"Haha, I love the smell of burning promethium and torched Xeno in the morning!"

Half action stand up, Half action aim ... will be full aim next round.

Adahlia keeps firing, while continuing to advance towards the sergeant's position.
Though she calls back "Maybe you ought to get your big guns ready, looks like there's plenty more around."
semi-auto(52): 1d100 ⇒ 76

"Haha, hell no, thanks! Not here in the open, were we fought Orks before. We should retreat to the base for that! Mop them up and then move your pretty ass, Adahlia!"
On the last sentence Zora will throw a glance like a mono-dagger at Sam and makes an ominous Tststs sound.

"Cut the chatter troops! This battle can still be a long way from being finished."

"Jankins, look behind you, are any other squad FINALLY getting ready to join us, or do we have to win this fight singled bloody handedly?"

"Movano, have a quick look towards the lander, are there enemies coming from any other direction?"

As Sargent MacCammon pulls the bayonet free from the eye of the burning Ork corpse at his feet, he looks back at the lander.
The pilot might be sealed in the cockpit, might as well move to the front and see how it look s there while there is a moment of stillness to this fight.

As he moves, he snaps a fresh powerpack into his lasgun and puts the spent one in the reserve pouch to be handed in for recharging later.
"Clear the ramp and begin to assemble your weapons, if they come back, we need to be ready."

Adahlia spares a scowl at Jankins, "Only time I see your ass ahead of me is when I'm pulling bullets out of it"

Movano scouts out around the Lander, if there's nothing coming from that side, she'll try and have a peek inside, see if the crew's still breathing.

"Hahaha! Heard that Zora! Adahlia understands my humor. I think one day you will be too!"
Looking around he searches the battlefield for obvious allied movement. Untrained Awareness 12: 1d100 ⇒ 24
"Not really, Sarge. Shall we prepare here or move out before preparing the heavies?"

Locke moves back to the lander and clear as ordered. Loved that welcome party, I sure am glad to be here. he says to no one particular, just thinking aloud. At the Lander he yells loudly You can come out now, its safe!mildly sarcastically.

"It will take some time to offload the whole company, and I for one refuse to advance further without heavy support unless ordered to.
Set up and assemble Jankings, you will have your five minutes."

As he glances about, Sam does notice some significant movements: while the fight at the wall to contain the breach is ongoing, he sees several troopers in Teutonian uniforms underneath the lander--it seems that Lt. Goswin Dansig has moved his platoon out via a small access door in the lander's belly, and the troops quickly vanish around the corner of the warehouse the lander is bumped up against.

Within, Locke sees a scene of organized chaos. Three troopers have been stripped out of their flak-jackets, bloodstains visible through the bandages from the impact of popped rivets during the rough landing. Lt. Bremen is leaned against the wall, where his squad medic is busy setting a splint to a leg that looks badly broken. On the opposite side, near the door to the pilot's cockpit, two bodies lie on the floor covered by blankets. Through the open door Locke can see that the cockpit has been torn to shreds, and slamming into the warehouse wall hadn't helped matters.

Seeing the storm trooper standing at the top of the ramp, Lt. Bremen shouts over at him, "Trooper! Where's Sgt. MacCammon, I need a report stat! Private Tavish didn't unrack his damned vox, what in Terra's name is going on out there?"

One of the troopers, himself manning another vox, looks up and calls over "Sir! Other lander was forced to peel off the approach, they'll be making another attempt once the Lightnings have cleared out those buzzards. ETA twenty minutes at least, sir!"

"Ahh, slight correction Sarge. Seems like Lt. Goswin found an exit. He's moving out from under the Lander with is man at the moment and the fight at the breach is continuing. Just give me those five minutes, eh? Come here Zora, lend me those beautiful hand of yours..."
With that the large man sits down in the middle of the field and starts to assemble the tube-like rocket rocket launcher of his.

"Roger that Jankins, but my order stands, we won't move from the LZ without heavy support unless I get over-ridden by someone higher up in command."

Cormaeg begins to move towards the ramp to see what the holdup is.

Hey Sarge, Lt. Bremen is asking for you!...Looks like the other Lander is at least 20 minutes out... Then turning back to the Lt, he says We've bought some time, but you'll still have your turn to dance.

Then again talking to himself loudly more than to anyone in particular, Locke says enthusiastically, We have survive another landing, WE are the chosen ones!

Hnnh, officers do not like to be kept waiting, no sense in risking someone's ire at this stage.

Marching up the ramp, Cormaeg looks around until he spots the Liutenant, he then snaps to attention and gives a crisp salute.

"Sargent MacCammon reporting sir.
We have engaged the xeno's in a brief skirmish where we drove off or killed the enemy.
The support personnel sent to meet us has abandoned the vehicles close to the ramp.
We are currently holding the LZ, but without a few more squads our situation is tenuous."

Purposely, Cormaeg has not wiped the gore from his bayonet, so when he stands to attention, it can still be seen glistening on the blade.

Lt. Bremen acknowledges the report with a nod, then glances down at the data-slate in his hand. "Captain Dobrzyń was delayed by xeno aircraft, his lander will make another approach shortly. Given the state of my leg, I'm going to keep my squad here with the wounded and the platoon supplies." As he speaks, several troopers from other squads are busily dragging the heavy plasteel supply crates into a makeshift barricade at the top of ramp, while other crates are moved down to repeat the trick at the base of the ramp.

"I'm sending three squads to secure the LZ, but your team needs to move along the wall to Flak-Tower Seven, it got hit pretty hard as we were approaching and the loss of that Hydra turret was why those buzzards could swarm us in the first place. I'm sure the local boys have a team on it, but be neighborly and lend a hand."

Wincing as the medic at his leg tightens the splint, Bremen grits his teeth and lets out a slow breath. "Last item, Sergeant: Baern took a rivet between the ribs when we landed, so I'm down a heavy. I'm going to keep Private Ingorsen and the stubber here. Good hunting, MacCammon, dismissed."

"Yes sir!" For a moment Cormaeg debates whether or not to mention the assmebly of heavy weapons or not.
If he does mention, there is the risk of the LT ordering them ot advance now, but if he doesn't and they are still here five minutes later it might be seen as refusing an order...

"We will move out as soon as trooper Jankins has assembled his heavy weapon."
In the end, the second alternative was a lot more dangerous than the first, and they could always stop out of sight if necessary.

Giving Lieutenant Bremen another crisp salute, Cormaeg walks down the ramp.

"Squad, gather on me, we have new orders."

"We're ordered to march along the wall and find Flak tower seven, there we are to assist in either it's recapture or it's fortification until we receive new orders."

"Jankins, give us a shout when you have your launcher ready.
Locke, switch to your hotshot and be ready to hunt high value targets.
Movano, you'll stick by me for now.
Ingorsen, you have orders to remain here for the time being, set up your weapon and join the squads holding the LZ."

"As soon as the target is in our hands, we should set up a temporary fire post, so be ready with entrenching tools and sandbags."

"Yes sir." Adahlia snaps to attention, she checks the power in her lasgun charge pack, little over half a clip left, no point switching it out just yet (31 standard shots remaining by my count).

Taking up position beside the sergeant Adahlia remains alert.

Copy that Sarge! Locke replies with a neutral tone, the rush of the previous fight leaving him, his nerves calmed in anticipation of the next conflict. He then switches to his trusty StormTrooper Hell gun, higher powered and a backpack supply feed. Hefting his weapon of choice he smiles and checks to make sure the feed is working and supplying energy. Afterwards, he stands ready head out with his squad, always insisting on being in front and keeping the lesser armored behind him.