Simmins challenge is nearly immediately answered with a squeaky retort.
"In HIS name we stand defiant, yes-yes!
Are you with HIS messanger?"
No friendly fire this time it seems.
What a nice change of pace...
An in-depth triage later, you are pretty sure the ratlings has a serious concussion but probably no fracture.
You stop the (already slowing) bleeding and with the help of Cecil, you bring the wounded into a more comfortable position.
After telling Cecil to keep the head fixed and static, you reach for a small bottle of smelling salt at the very bottom of your medkit and push it under the unconcious' form.
One, two then three seconds pass, then his (?) eyes flap open, arms and feet jerking along. The eyes still have a blank expression and you notice a rising panic in them, as they try and fail to take in and understand the current situation...
The return fire, after getting weaker for a few seconds following yhe unmistakable sound of heavy bolter fire from.somewhere above, is picking up fury once again, forcing everyone back into cover briefly.
"Everyone be ready to repell close-quarter attackers!
First enemy wave closes in.
30 meter to the slope.
Trooper Ulric, ready your flamer.
That should keep them at bay if they try to scale the slope.
Rifleman, pick your targets. FireFire for effect!"
Whatever each of you is doing, all of you suddenly and unexpectedly receive a loud burst of scrambled, monotone words over your vox beads.
"Test ... one-hundred-thr.... rency alpha-gamma-ep....
eply...."
"Calm yourself!" Liam raises both hands up to show that they are empty.
"We are the imperial guard, here to fight the heretics.
Listen up soldier, I need information. We're taking fire, and I need to reach a good spot where I can mow the heretics down to help our comrades.
Can you help us?"
You get an affirmative shout and moments later another cloaked figure appears through a night invisible gap between all that twisted metal to wave you in.
You are greeted by a trio of ratlings, all in the mix-matched, dark-hued cloaks and bulky firearms. One is actually carrying what looks like a front-loaded, matchlock rifle longer than.himself...
They beckon you in, covering your backs though, so there's that. They also make a slighlty odd aquilla gesture with their hands and one mutters something that spunds like "Praitz pe the Emps". The other replies to Simmins question in a difficult to understand low gothic. From what you gather, he wordily excuses himself, but they do not have a medic here. They don't have many and none were found after the upheavals and the subsequent attack. Proof of that claim are several blood-cobvered ratlings you encounter in the strange metal ... cube.
Within the pile of scrap, darkness reigns and you are thankful for your goggles, or you certainly would have hit your heads and feet several times within the first few meters alone. Its that twisted and uneven in there.
Two of the ratlings lead you though a veritable maze up and in.
Finally, you reach something vaguely resembling a balcony made of a girded metal, with several bent and snapped iron bars partially obstructing the view down on the bbattleground, some five meters below. The lumping shapes of three combat servitors are easy to spot, being less than 30 meters away by now. Them.being bigger than most rubble piles making the entire area so troublesome to navigate on foot does its part as well.
On the balcony you also find the old ratlings lady you encountered right at the start of the mission. She seems deep in prayer a metallic something clutched in her hands witch such force, that the old knobbly knuckles shine bone-white through the thin skin.
It takes the wounded ratling a few more seconds to understand what is going on and stop struggling.
A shaking hand goes to his (now bandaged) head, causing a wince, then flops down.
With a barely audible, weak squeaky voice, he tries to reply - obviously still struggling to focus and remember stuff.
"Veeh, ugh, Empsi with us at last.
Veeh and Zefi ... good position...
One level up ... third door ... hidden upsy-tunnel ... in cog-box-thingy.
Veeh help Empsi, yes-ye*ourg*", and he violently vomits without warning.
It is sticky, brown and with traces of bright red in it.
The enemy fire is coming down in thick swathes by now, as if the newly arrived fireteam is considered the greatest threat by the enemy.
In turn, the return fire from the team is down to a couple hasty snap-shots.
You also only get a quick glance before having to duck back down to keep your preaching tool attached to the rest of your body.
It seems the enemy has indeed picked up speed and attempt a stalemate breaking charge under cover of increased volume of suppressive fire.
They groups of enemy you can make out also seem to converge against your position.
There is also a third group of enemy infantry in the open now, having left their cover in the right slope.
Probably out for a flanking attempt, but still quite a long way out.
Closest to your position is a squad of infantry rushing through the convoluted debris field at a reckless rush, with the slower moving but still firing form of a combat servitor falling behind.
And another one even further behind.
From the left side, another squad of infantry is trying to catch up on the first one, but they have to the more difficult terrain of the center.
There is also a small group of ratlings rushing downhill towards the left of you.
From the direction, they seem to head in roughly the same direction Simmins and MacGyver were heading.
"Well, no time to waste then, we have to get into position."
Gently lowering the Ratling down to rest easier he gives his head a tentative pat.
"Rest now, you've done your duty."
Then he administers a sedative and gets up.
"Let's go Cecil..."
The blood in the vomit didn't give Liam a lot of hope for the Ratling surviving long, but there was no time...
The old female leader looks up and you struggle to not take a step back in shock.
She is grievously injured - one might even say mutilated. The left side of her face is scorched, her old, wrinkled featured eradicated into a mess of heat-fused flesh with a black hole where the eye should have been. The right side is a mess of cuts and bruises.
Despite all this - and it must hurt like a b*!$# - she manages a grimace which takes you a few moments to recognize at a weak smile.
"Praize peh HIS name," and she makes the sign of the Aquila.
Her speech has gotten even more difficult to understand than before.
Maybe some of her vocal cords have been damaged at some point.
"for hiz merzy of revealing HIZ hand by zending his chozen word bearerz and zoldierz.
You azk for the plan, righteouz one?", her blind gaze turns to look Simmins directly in the eye at that.
"We fight and kill and die. For HIM.
We aided your comradez in their tazk of zabotaging the power network.
I knew what their objective waz.
And I accepted it.
For the Emperor demandz victory.
Even if it deztroyz our homez.
Even if it deztroyz our bodiez.
You azk for the plan?
Kill them all and die trying then rezt by HIS zide."
The ratling's eyes go wide as you inject the pain killer, then his body go limb.
The combat dose was probably a little bit much for a ratling's smaller body, but he is still breathing, so there's that.
Following the instruction of the ratling, you quickly find the upwards tunnel hidden behind a dissembled cogitator hull.
Its squeezing time and a bit of tricky manoeuvring of the heavy weapon but with Cecil's help you manage it.
Your first impression of the gun nest you end up in, is that of your climbing hand splotching into something fluid and sticky.
As you heave up your body, you find yourself level with the corpse of a ratling, an ugly bullet wound where her right eye once was.
Well, that explains the sticky fluid on the ground.
Beside the rather silent comrade-in-arms, the position is quite nice.
A natural firing position made from chest-sized, twisted metal beams offers nice protection and a solid bracing surface.
The ceiling goes on for another one and a half meter, compared to the floor, which means you are quite well protected against any snipers from even higher up than you (but also blocks your sight to the higher levels of the opposite side of course).
*** Everyone ***
Suddenly, the monotonous, mechanical sounding noice from your combeads turn into (mostly) eligible words - albeit still monotone and mechanical sounding.
After a second, you realise it is Anatoly speaking, so there's that.
<< Test-539-a: Repl.. on re..ption.
Test-539-b: Reply on reception.
Test-539... Rep... n...ception.
Te...-c ... ply ... tion.
.......>>
Simmins blinks at the speech, inspired more by it then most sermons based on the level of sacrifice exhibited. Praise be his name. he responds making the sign of the Aquila. Well.. let's aim for the kill them all option though yeah? he peeks over at the enhanced view of the battlefield. This is a real nice bottleneck... probably should hold it... but we've got to get their heavies out of the picture. Should also create a nice distraction so some of your buddies can sneak up behind 'em....
Liam gives the nest a quick look before nodding.
"This will do, this will do indeed."
Begining to set up his trusted heavy weapon, Liam motions for Cecil to take a spot next to him.
"Ok Cecil, you spot me a good target so we can begin."
Meanwhile he taps his combead and tries to respond to the call.
"Receiving, still some disturbance, only about half coming through, repeat, only about half coming through."
You notice a sidelong glance of Cecil at the "this will do" part, but she does not speak up - instead trying to navigate around the pool of blood of the previous occupant to get to the firing position.
She hunkers down and carefully peeks over the edge and down.
"Alright, things are moving.
Looks like an all out charge against our guys.
I see two big servitors and a bunch of infantry advancing on them.
The squad has practically reached the slope, the mechs are a little bit further behind.
I wonder how they managed to draw that much attention to themselves...
Oh, and there are a bunch of locals on the move too.
Seems like they head to that weird heap of scrap metal in the middle of it all.
Maybe they try to flank the push...?"
*** Earpiece talk ***
<< Ackno... ich test number ... est? >>
From your vantage point, it seems the enemy is pushing hard against the position of the main group, changing direction from a more or less straight approach to a converging path.
Two of the servitors will thus likely stay out of your immediate reach (unless they change course again). They may come into the very end of your melta's range, but whether the stopping power of the short range weapon will be enough to threaten the servitors at that range is everyone's guess.
But one of the large servitors, along a squad of infantry, will pass by your position more or less directly if they keep their current heading.
Either they are completely oblivious of this hard point or they want to hit it. Or they know about it and don't care - difficult to tell whether these particular branch of traitors act with a semblance of sense and tactics or not...
Turning back to Cecil, Liam nods at her description of the situation.
"We started out trying to peel away the top level shooters, but I guess we don't have time for more of the small fry now.
We'd better take out those servitors, that will help the most at this point.
Point them out for me."
Thumbing the fire selector to full auto, Liam waits until Cecil helps him spot the servitors, preparing to give them a little surprise.
"The enemy is coming! This is the moment to feel his majesty in your heart and at your back!"
Kenneth then starts to sing the hymn of hate and retribution, causing the heart of everyone nearby to surge in hate for the filthy heretics coming at them
*** Everyone ***
After some heavy static interference and a flurry of machine beeps, everyone receives the following transmission.
<<This is MacGuyver, we have the yellow smoke secure and have the left flank covered. Hit everything to the far right of the Yellow smoke! Repeat, focus to the right of the Yellow Smoke!>>
Zulu ducks down as a sudden surge of wild autogun fire peppers and chips against your cover.
"Here they come!"
*FWOOOSH*
Ulric sends a long burst of flame in an arc of the cover and downhill.
One of the walking wounded from Probe-1 lobs a frag grenade blindly downhill as well.
No one really daring to get into a firing position due to the substantial storm of lead coming your way.
As an aside, Anatoly unfreezes moments after MacGyver's message came through.
He then announces: "Praise the Omnissiah! For HE restores Order where Chaos reigned."
"Hooboy, our lads are under some serious fire."
Cecil remarks.
"Looks like the servitors are keeping them down while the traitor infantry pushes up.
Let's change that equation a bit...
Take the first one, Li.
I'd say your target distance is... somewhere between 150 and 200 meter.
No cover for that big boy, hehe..."
In hushed voices your commands and passed around and a few seconds later a handful of ratlings appear on the "balcony" and pile up a few metal pipes further obstructing the elevated position.
Soon enough, the first shapes of infantry appear over a rubble pile, carefully approaching in two's and three's.
They move like proper infantry - much different than the crazy cultist you witnessed before.
Then the towering shape of the servitor is oer the pile as well and draws closer.
Judging from the relative speed, the infantry will be pretty much at your doorstep when the servitor enters the ten meter mark.
Nervousness settles over the area as both sides (one somewhat unaware of the other) wait for the inevitable...
Low mumbling tell you that the rats around you pray under their breaths to keep their nerves... which seem to work.
No one fires early...
And then the servitor finally crosses the imaginary mark!
Liam nods, licks a thumb and rubs it along his sight, he then takes aim at the first servitor, exhales slowly and fires a concentrated burst against it.
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As they prepare, Simmins makes sure all his weapons have fresh clips and then finds the most sturdy looking looking ratling to hand off his combat shotgun too. Brace it in the direction and fire it at a target same time I fire at the metal man, yeah? Surprise Attack! Aim to kill When clip is empty use your first weapon! Also I want it back
He also takes out his grenades and leaves them by him, 2 frags and 2 kraks. Everyone else Pick different groups, and fire to suppress, then... lob grenades at 'em. Remember Plan B is dying for the Emperor, Plan A is killing for 'im. Now get your revenge on these bastards for what they did to your planet and people.
Then he braces the Stubber on a bipod brace in the direction of the infantry and finally braces the Melta and tracks the oncoming monster with a full aim right at it's ugly head. Weirdly he doesn't feel afraid. As he presses the trigger he shouts.
FOOOORRR THE EMPERAAAAAAAA!
IF this is a miss then Fate point reroll
Then he holsters the Melta and rolls to the Stubber...
"Mhhhh, a woman could get jealous, watching you caress that gun like that, you know...", Cecil comments your treating of the gun.
Then laughs somewhat madly at the cacophony of the heavy bolter ripping loose, cheering as the first bolts impact the heretical murder machine.
Despite the range, the Servitor is a big enough target so that the entire burst of mass-reactive shells hit home.
Even over this distance you can see bits of metal flying from the series of exploding impacts.
As you take the finger from the firing stud to realign your aim, the thing definitely looks worse for wear but it keeps on going.
For now.
Into the roar of incoming fire, the unmistakable sound of heavy bolter fire suddenly intermingles.
A steady, tightly controlled burst of blazing shells is coming from somewhere above and smacking down somewhere beyond your cover.
"Finally... I already wondered what took them so long...
Heads up everyone, our fire support is coming online and - oh, thanks Anatoly."
*** Everyone ***
<< This is Sergeant Seth. Report in when you receive.
I take it to be you Liam, sending down those bolts? >>
But if you think it'll help, why don't you scoot a little closer and I'll see if your aim improves if I touch your nub..."
Chuckling a little, Liam adjusts the aim and let's another burst fire rip at the Servitor.
He then taps his combead to report back.
"MacGregor Receiving, for the emperor, Sergeant."
The ratling getting trusted with the shotgun looks absolutely flabbergasted for a moment (and also staggers a bit from the weight at first), then drops to his (?) knees and mutters a thankful prayer before hustling off to the side and heaving the gun onto a makeshift firing position to aim it towards the approaching enemy.
Two more ratlings come and collect the grenades with expressions of ... religious fervour and awe on their faces as if the Emperor himself came by and handed out Sanguinala-day presents.
As the time comes, the twisted ball of metal erupts in gunfire and nearly equally loud shouts of "Fur da Emprah!", hitting the approaching enemy with the force and suddenness of a lighting strike.
Spearheading the salvo is Simmins' actinic melta blast, burning a solid thigh sized hole into the thick metal of the Servitor's main frontal armour, causing several adjacent armor plates to melt off or loose connection and fall off!
It is not the utter annihilation everyone hoped for, but it does not look like it would be able to take many more hits like that either...
The ratling with Simmins' silenced shotgun lays into a group of two troopers closest to the balcony with hideous result. The two troopers are splattered over considerable area of ground.
MacGyver also hits his target square in the chest, right in the middle of a painful-to-look-at eight-pointed star symbol. The stub round punches through the man's flak armor, draws blood and sends the target stumbling back a step before he keels over to the left and crashes to the ground.
Several more ratlings open up fire with their blocky, old-fashioned stub guns as well, resulting in several hits on the exposed infantry.
The shots are accompanied by a couple of thrown explosives, two of Simmins' pouch and a couple other, much more primitive and ramshackle devices of local origin.
One of the grenades land close to the trooper MacGyver put down, the other bounces off a metal pile and scatters away from a group of two lightly wounded troopers to the left.
A fire-bomb - likely made from some crude alcoholic - sets another approaching enemy on fire.
[spoiler=yellow death]MacGuyver holds his brace and fires off another shot at the group he targeted. Hopefully it'll make them hesitate enough to let the grenade do it's work. He then recognizes that the vox is back up!
[spoiler]
<<MacGuyver and Simmins receiving, sir! We are in the pile of yellow-smoking scrap metal at the center with a group of loyalists and things just go hot!>>
Target 78
[ooc]3 DOS!
Kenneth continues to intone the litany of hatred but in between the high gothic words so well known to each and every one of you you suddenly find low gothic words woven in as a refrain, blending into the high gothic incantation not by their sound but in their meaning
"Here before us is the heretic, you shall be its executioner!
Here before us is the traitor, you shall be its retribution!
Here before us is the vile, you shall be the flame that cleanses it!"
The imperial onslaught continues.
Another perfectly aimed burst of heavy bolter shells hit home on the already damaged servitor assaulting the main group's position. Chain explosions rip apart the last remnants of its main armour, opening the way for the last couple bolts to.mulch the important matter within. A moment after the last bolt hit and detonated deep within, the construct shutters, falls then detonates violently as chain reactions of damaged components cook off its huge supply of ammunition and fuel.
At the ratling's last stand, Simmins' stubber opens up in.earnest, filling the area to the right with a hail of solid projectiles. Hitting several of the exposed troops and causing most of them to duck low. Which does them.little good as the frag grenade thrown by one of the ratlings go off, ripping the closest two traitors to shreds. The damaged combat servitor meanwhile has regained balance and tries to find the source of the dangerous attack. Several red dots of targeting lasers track over the twisted metal object. It then opens up return fire from its dual linked heavy stubbers, causing a torrent of bullets to hammer against the metal surface, creating innumerable ricochets to zip around everywhere. Nearly everyone on and around the balcony is hit once or twice by deformed bullets, which luckily have spent a good deal of their power in the initial impacts. The old ratlings lady goes down as does the ratlings with the shotgun but MacGyver miraculous is not hit at all.
At the main group, the roar of charging infantry can be heard even over the sound of battle. And then, the previously rain-like suppressive fire suddenly stops.
"There they come!", Sgt. Seth shouts somewhat superfluous.
"Up! Up! Everyone assume firing positions NOW!
Repell!
HOLD THE LINE!"
Looking over a piece of cover and downhill, you can see at least ten enemy troopers in dark.brown and grey uniform charging up towards you. The leading speartip, a group of four particularly well armwd and armored enemies, is less than ten meters out! The rest is around twenty meters behind but closing rapidly.
Traitorous machine...
Now, where is the other one, there were two I think?"
He returns his attention to the damned servitor he had hit once, quick draws his melta, braces it hastily and fires, just as it cools down from the last shot.
Reroll if still active
Fire and grenades on the big thing! Let's bring it down! Simmins shouts if the servitor isn't destroyed hoping that the armor on the thing at least has been reduced to nothing.
- 1 success
But it doesn't work immediately. He starts to panic a little inside, his heart racing for what she's to be the thousandth time that day. He starts using bandages to clean up the wound. Hopefully that would help
But the bleeding wont stop! One thing dominates his mind for a moment, What would Mama Leni Do?
Emperor damnit, don't you die on me! he commands and dives in with another bandage and even a few clamps. What follows probably can't be rightfully called medicine. It looks like a man trying to assemble a piece of furniture without directions, but it is passionate and mysteriously effective.
We've got to end that one as well.
Here we go..."
Even thought the Vox now works Kenneth switches it off for a moment while he once more intones into the Magos' voice stealer. Amplifying the litany of hatred for all to hear, not just the squad.
And once more he slips into low gothic for the chorus of the litany
"Here before us is the heretic, you shall be its executioner!
Here before us is the traitor, you shall be its retribution!
Here before us is the vile, you shall be the flame that cleanses it!"
The second meltablast hits the looming target again and this time, huge parts of its chassis run molten down the front and the already visible hole widens to thigh size.
The construct shudders then sacks in on itself and stops moving.
Flames start licking out of the cavity.
Then a series of impacts clatter against the no longer existing armor of the servitor, ripping into the exposed inside and ricocheting around as they meat the still somewhat intact back armor for another pass of destruction.
Was the kill unconfirmed before, it now becomes certainty, as the servitor breaks apart and falls in three large pieces to the rubble littered ground!
Squeaky cheering erupts from the metal retreat.
MacGyver meanwhile has a franatic fight for Kira's life.
He thought he is loosing badly after injecting her with a dose of blood-clot from his medikit, which sent the old ratling into horrible spasms.
But in the end, his efforts still seem to have at least momentarily stabilized her, although she remains in a bad shape and unconscious.
As his gaze finally leaves her mutilated form, he meets gazes with two very young looking ratlings. The two stare at him wide-eyed and confused. One has a shiv in his hairy hands, the other one a glass vial filled with some dark fluid and a bit of cloth sticking out of the opening.
"What doing you to mamsy Kira, word bringer?
Momsy's with light-Empror now, yes-nono?"
Liam smiles grimly as the second servitor goes down.
"Done and dusted, I'd wipe my hands if I wasn't busy using them.
Well, nothing for it but to move on to the smaller targets, the more squishy ones.
Come on Cecil, let's end this, so we can pack it in and get out of here."
Readjusting his aim, Liam hones in on the heretics, thumbs the fire selector to full auto, and let's 'er rip!
As the first servitor goes down in the second volley, Cecil cheers audibly.
Well, considering the ridiculous noise of a heavy bolter fired in from a small, only half open room, you probably don't hear much of anything right now, but it is pretty obvious anyhow.
After changing target, you first struggle to maintain the same precision and send a good half of your burst into the ground in front of the mechanized weapon platform. A trio of bolts impact against heavy armor plating and start pockmarking it.
The heavy impacts actually cause the servitor to take one then two steps back and one knee buckles to catch the man-machine from falling.
Despite not having the full weight of the salvo, that seems to have hurt it quite a bit!
Cecil shakes her head in mock disappointment at the stray rounds, shouting to be heard over your shared near-deafness.
"Nonono, you nearly had me, back then.
Deeeeply impressed I mean."
Which seems to work its magic, considering the next burst is full on target again.
And is actually enough to put the machine out of its misery. In a quite spectacular way, as the last bolt seems to have found some internal ammo container or power core resulting in a quite big explosion.
Eliciting a quite pleasant reaction from your fellow trooper.
"Oh, yeaaaaaah!"
Lasgun fire is searching for the heavy weapon position (and thus Simmins), coming from the two (only) remaining enemies on the right side.
But both salvoes are way off target and no danger to him!
Shouts and the sound of metal on metal can be heard from somewhere inside the block
sounds like down, behind and a bit to your left.
Maybe the attackers on the left side broke through and are now trying their luck storming the position?
Propelled by the priest in their midst preaching hatred and resistance (and the fact that the suppressing fire lessened stopped) the guardsman rise up behind their various pieces of cover and start pouring lasfire into the incoming heavy traitor guard.
But it takes the tightly focused, intense beam from Anatoly's integrated weaponry to take one down, the others just seem to shrug off the worst of the attacks.
In the background, you see heavy bolter fire hammering down the second combat servitor following in the wake of the attack, destroying it eventually in a sizable explosion.
Then Ulric opens up with his flamer, catching and engulfing another of the enemy.
And then everything goes to hell.
Having hit his target, Ulric was going to back down again to not present himself as a primary target.
Its a fluid motion any trained soldier recognizes and is able to pull off in his sleep. Pop up, shoot, hunker back down.
But his weapon just does not stop firing as he releases the firing stud!
When Ulric realizes the most untimely malfunction, it is already too late.
An arc of burning flame washes over the nearby defenses, catching Sgt. Henner and Zulu (the second Scout).
Worse still, some of the burning liquid rebounds and sets Ulric himself on fire!
In an act of remarkable willpower, the jinxed special weapon trooper does not let go of his weapon to try and put himself out - as surely all his instinct scream at him to do.
Instead he hauls himself over the junk of fallen rockcrete with an inhuman scream of pain and rage at his own fate.
On fire, flesh bubbling, he advances towards the enemy advance, flamer still spewing an unstopping torrent of promethium.
The remaining heavy troopers immediately open fire on him. One hits the burning Ulric and he is flung back a step against a pile of rubble and slides down, hands still clutched around the still firing weapon.
Kenneths litany of hatred takes on a different tone, preaching hatred in the face of the foe and to channel your fears into rage against the unclean. But the improvisation upon the well worn litany of hatred somewhat misses its inspiring edge.
Lugging this stuff, climbing like a Jokaero, running, constant battle, even I have my limits...
...
...
Besides, I am almost out of ammo..."
Kenneth wants to go to the aid of the burning sergeant and scout but he cannot drop the litany or stop helping the other troopers overcome their fear and so he feels keenly that trying to help them now is not something he has the ability to do.
Simmins aims at one of the targets and unleashes a short range burst at one of them.
Reroll
Taking 3 and 10, finally.. a RF!
"Let's hope that breaks their backs because I only have enough ammo for one more volley like that.
Well, I guess it's up to Simmins now...I thought I heard his heavy stubber opening up."
"We sure did our duty today.
Now it is really time to go back and fragg anyone calling on us for another mission before I got a good day of R&R!"
*snap-crack*
Cecil has rebraced and aimed her gun and firs at the rear part of the enemy advance, dropping one of the tiny figures.
Sgt. Scorch-Seth is bellowing at the troopers together with Kenneth in an attempt to keep the reduced unit from breaking in the face of disaster and the enemy's push.
"Stand your ground, soldiers!
The emperor is watching!
Flee now and you will not only certainly die but also disappoint HIM on Terra.
Stand and Fight!"
The combined effort actually seems to (mostly) work.
At least for those not set on fire.
Zulu (the scout) is actually rolling on the ground by now, trying his best to put out the flames but promethium isn't easily put out and his agonized screaming continues.
Sgt. Heller, also ablaze, runs out, towards the enemy, screaming inhumanly in total lost of his senses as it seems.
From Ulric the flame trooper no screaming can be heard anymore and he is out of view, slumbed down against the cover from the "outside" as he is.
Into all this chaos a hail of bolt shells rain from above, blasting the ground all around the enemy's heavy assault troops.
One hit the already wounded trooper, putting him out of his misery. Another hits the foot of the enemy which is also on fire, ripping it off and sending the man howling to the ground.
This leaves a single enemy heavy trooper standing, which now draws a lot lasgun fire on him from the remaining loyalists. Lasbolts hit the disfigured, blood red carapace armor. One actually finds a weak spot and penetrates, staggering him.
Growling a deep, inhuman hiss the traitor deftly pulls a spiked stick grenade and throws it towards the command group!
The grenades bounces against Kenneth's over and ... rebounds!
With a clatter, the grenade scatters downhill towards the thrower, landing barely a couple of meters before him!
From further back, the rush of enemy infantry continues.
The enemy fires from the hip while running.
What a total waste of ammo this is, is proven by the amount of stray rounds peppering against the surface of the general surrounding.
Not even the madly running Sergeant-on-fire is hit!
Simmins continue the firefight with the few remaining enemies, which are by now well dug in behind a junk of rockrete.
He finds it hard to hit the small target silhouette of the infantrymen in cover after dealing with huge targets for a while now and his first salvo clatters against their cover, leaving a line of bullet holes in it. A small bit of it actually breaks off, revealing the shoulder pad of the man behind.
They return fire. One is wildly off target, the other gets pretty close to hitting, but the good cover provided by the twisted balcony shields Simmins.
Suddenly, there is commotion coming from behind. Pained, shrill squeaking followed by the sound of sharp metal slicing into flesh.
Then there is an eery moment of silence and ...
... for a split second an arm can be seen tossing something around the corner and into the room-balcony you stand in.
Something fist-sized and metallic judging by the sounds of it clattering over the ground towards you.
One of the ratlings standing guard over their wounded leader squeals a warning:
"Boomey!"
For thos that can spare a moment to look:
In the distance, on the other side of the battleground, a thin whisp of yellow smoke is starting to billow out from a second level floor.
"Hmmph, looks like one of the big guys is still up and giving them trouble. If we take him out, the others should be able to deal with the trash."
Liam takes a breath, aims at the still standing big guy and fires a burst, holding back half the mag for another burst at the trash if necessary.