Notch, to his credit, doesn't even flinch. He just calmly raises his heavy flamer and, while calmly reciting a Psalm of Holy Purification, douses the charging ork's face in a bath of the Emperor's Holy Flame.
Thud'dr: Falls upon a charging Ork, knocking both of them down. Unable to use the massive Eviscerator effectively in such close confines, the Ogryn tries to strangle the Ork with the back of the weapon! The surprised Ork struggles to match the Ogryns strength with raw power of his own - and underestimates the dire situation he is in by a lot. The Ogryn overpowers him easily and starts to squeeze the life out of the beast!
Leni: Starts to treat the badly wounded Lucky. The cut is nasty and is not helped by the Ork-Cleava-piece left behind.
Simmins: Unknowingly saves his Loader from a painful experience by swinging around hard and slamming the Stubber down to spray a close-by Ork with gunfire. His aim is quite off the mark though.
Krish: UP
Lucky: While Leni is working on him - faster than any nedic he had the somewhat ambivalent pleasure to meet before - goes into an awkward half-lying position to get the Kammando Orks into view...
Cormaeg: Aims at the gunner Ork high above.
Ashora: Chambers another massive round into her gun.
Notch: Praying hard (and loud), the fresh priest fires his flamer at point-blank range at the looming Ork. There is an expression of actual surprise on the face of the Ork as the flames envelop both of them in a wooosh of flame and heat! Despite the horrible heat errupting around them, neither combatant asks nor gives any ground.
Captain Martins: Stares at Notch's action with incredulity, then switches aim to the Ork rushing to the backline and sends a few shots from her combat Shotgun flying. Her aim is good, but the Ork is very fast indeed and she struggles to keep the heavy gun track his movements. Only one bullet hits the Ork, which is not enough to stop the beast...
Fireteam #1:
Fireteam #2:
Fireteam #4:
Gunner-Kommandos:
Kommandos #1:
Kommandos #2:
Kommandos #3:
Simmins is. Cort is unharmed.
Krish looks around at his battered squad, if ever there was a good time, then it was now. Krish reaches extends his psychic senses, probing the injuries of his squad members. Trickles of warp power flows into them twisting the reality of those injuries and causing them to be less severe.
Endurance: Extending his will over his allies, the psyker reaches into their bodies to mend their flesh and reinvigorate their will to fight by ridding their bodies of fatigue. Psykers trained in this power have been known to turn the tides of entire battles.
A number of allies in range equal to the psyker’s Psy Rating, plus the psyker himself, recover Wounds equal to half the psyker’s Psy Rating, rounded up. They also may immediately overcome the effects of Pinning.
This power is incredibly taxing and requires at least 12 hours of recovery before it may be used again.
Right on the heels of the wave of power, Krish whirls and stabs the end of his staff out at the ork wrestling with Thudd.
As he continues to aim at the ork fighting Notch, Adge flicks the switch, pushing the lasgun into overcharge mode.
Pen 2
Deciding on a last minute adjustment, his shot strikes true, instead of hitting the flamer tank.
As cormaeg slowly tracks his target he notices a sudden drop in temperature around him.
The furniture surrounding him acquires a coating of frost, and he can hear something seemingly chuckling in the background, something hungry...
Recognizing the effects of psychic powers being used nearby, Cormaeg shudders a little at the unnatural touch of the warp.
The feeling quickly fades, and he notices that some of his aches and pains seems to fade along with it, though the feeling of unnatural does remain for a bit.
Funny how Monia seemed quite fiery in comparison...one fire and one ice huh?
Thud takes the unnatural healing sensation as a sign from the Emprah and continues to brutalize the ork underneath him.
Thud'dr: Falls upon a charging Ork, knocking both of them down. Unable to use the massive Eviscerator effectively in such close confines, the Ogryn tries to strangle the Ork with the back of the weapon! The surprised Ork struggles to match the Ogryns strength with raw power of his own - and underestimates the dire situation he is in by a lot. The Ogryn overpowers him easily and starts to squeeze the life out of the beast!
Leni: Starts to treat the badly wounded Lucky. The cut is nasty and is not helped by the Ork-Cleava-piece left behind.
Simmins: Unknowingly saves his Loader from a painful experience by swinging around hard and slamming the Stubber down to spray a close-by Ork with gunfire. His aim is quite off the mark though.
Krish: Wielding the power of the warp to suck away the injuries of the group, then brings down his staff hard on the choking ork.
Lucky: While Leni is working on him - faster than any nedic he had the somewhat ambivalent pleasure to meet before - goes into an awkward half-lying position to get the Kammando Orks into view...
Cormaeg: Aims at the gunner Ork high above.
Ashora: Chambers another massive round into her gun.
Notch: Praying hard (and loud), the fresh priest fires his flamer at point-blank range at the looming Ork. There is an expression of actual surprise on the face of the Ork as the flames envelop both of them in a wooosh of flame and heat! Despite the horrible heat errupting around them, neither combatant asks nor gives any ground.
Captain Martins: Stares at Notch's action with incredulity, then switches aim to the Ork rushing to the backline and sends a few shots from her combat Shotgun flying. Her aim is good, but the Ork is very fast indeed and she struggles to keep the heavy gun track his movements. Only one bullet hits the Ork, which is not enough to stop the beast...
Fireteam #1: Fire off another salvo against the gunners above but only manage to hit the solid cover the Ork is finding shelter behind.
Fireteam #2: Hopes to prevent the Ork to reach their line by bringing all their guns to bear on the ork and blast away with several bursts of automatic fire. This team fares better against the brutal rush of the Ork and nail the beast with more than half a dozen hits, slowing its advance considerably and leaving the beast bleeding badly - but still standing and moving sluggishly towards the Imperials.
Fireteam #4: Fire on the Ork that managed to reach their fireline, with the closest member dropping into a fetal ball – praying to the Emperor that he is neither hit by any stray shell nor that the Ork survives the salvo long enough to deliver a death strike with its massive cleaver... The shooting of his comrades is not up to the task though. In fact, their aim is even worse than that of the remaining Ork gunners and only a single bullet pierces the chest of the Ork.
Gunner-Kommandos: Scrapping sounds from above mark the orks taking aim on a new targets, immediately followed by the heavy *thuk*thuk*thuk* of the guns and the rain of spent shell casings. Different from the times before, this salvo is deadly on-target. The better part of team #1 dies screaming as their bodies are nailed against the shelter that offered such good protection from the falling debris before - but was horribly open to the gunners.
Kommandos #1: Still burning, tries to cleave Notch apart - the source of all this burning pain! He succeeds. Kind of at least. His swing was on target - horribly accurate in fact. The long cleaver piercing armour, flesh, bone, organs ... and finally, the solid metal hull of Notch' fuel tank. With a whooosh of exploding promethium, both combatants vanish behind a blooming fireball of dangerous proportions. From the midst of the flame, a final, screamed word can be heard, product of excruciating pain - but calm and well pronounced. "Emprah!!!"
Kommandos #2: Not stopped by the single hit, kills the cowering soldier before him with ease.
Kommandos #3: Staggers forward towards team #2, much slowed by the loss of blood and massed fire.
There are some things in life that don't require massive amounts of smarts to know. The cry of a baby is instinctively recognizable in a crowded room. The cheers of a party are attractive even to two or three year olds.
The death of a friend can be heard even by the deaf.
Thud hears Notch's passing in his soul. If anyone thought he was angry before, they are proven so staggeringly wrong. Thud's pain and grief tear out of him like a savage animal in a bone-chilling moan that grows to an echoing roar! He sees Red. A ringing rises in his ears. The orks aren't just enemies now, they are Targets.
Thud's evicerator becomes more than just a fancy metal force multiplier. It is now an extension of his unending Wrath, and he uses it to try to pop the head off this ork like the cork off a champagne bottle.
Leni bites her tongue at the scream and keeps working at getting Luckies leg back into a single piece
Thud'dr: Howls in pain and loss of his dear friend and handler. As his rage intensifies, his is suddenly no longer the loudest roar in the library. The Eviscerator comes alive with sudden and ferocious life, ending the Ork ones suddenly and finally. Not satisfied with such an easy kills the sword fairs and bucks on, trying the Ogryns grip and skill in the process.
Leni: Finishes emergency treatment on Lucky's leg. The skillfull composition of synth-skin, painkillers, desinfects, shrapnel-removal and tight bandages brings him back up to full fighting capacity.
Simmins: Up
Krish: Up
Lucky: Up
Cormaeg: Up
Ashora: -
Notch: With the Emperor.
Captain Martins: -
Fireteam #1: -
Fireteam #2:
-
Fireteam #4:
-
Gunner-Kommandos: -
Kommandos #1: Well done.
Kommandos #2: -
Kommandos #3: -
Thud is Firmly in control now, and yet is now also completely out of control. Nothing will stop him.
Emperor preserve us. Bastards got Notch! Simmins chokes out as he keeps firing at the gunner. Two of his shots manage to make it at the hateful xenos!
The old Sergeant was nagry, in fact he was absolutely furious to a degree that could possibly match even Thud at this point.
The difference was that it was a cold, hard anger, easily focused and controlled, but perhaps all the more frightening for it.
Half of the recruits already gone, and the possibility that more would die at any time.
Had it not been tempered by the fact that without them, the Ork numbers would have been overwhelming, he would have considered it almost pitiful.
It was clear that they would be of little further help after this, probably far too shaken.
Any survivors would be sent back with the Captain, to allow the trained professionals to move faster on their own.
Notch demise hurt, he had been very reliable so far, and his flamer would be a great loss.
Grit, anger, pride and determination to see the task given through kept Cormaeg going, but after this, a long rest would be needed...
Continuing to track the Ork gunner, Cormaeg pressed the trigger to extract vengeance for the fallen.
35+5(custom)+20(full aim)+?(brace)-20(in melee)+10(hulking?): 1d100 ⇒ 97
Time to spend that last fate point for a reroll!Reroll: 1d100 ⇒ 40
Damage: 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 Pen 2
Taking careful aim Adge squeezes the trigger moments after the large flash of flame of Notch's tank exploding. Having aimed cautiously, the explosion causes him to snatch at the trigger, pulling the shot and hitting the ork hard in the body, instead of missing wildly.
Krish coolly moves out slightly until he can fire at one of the ork on the shelf above, then lets loose a an aimed burst of las fire at the creature.
Moving too hastily, Krish's shots pepper the edge of the shelf and the railing instead of the ork.
Finally, the last Kommandos are put down.
One gunner, looses its head in the crossfire from Simmins and Cormaeg.
The second one finds out the hard way, that old bockshelves provide no adequate cover from a heavy sniper round.
The remaining two Orks on the ground soak up another volley of las-bolts and solid projectiles and even then one remains standing. It even takes a swing against a trooper, but the beasts many wounds start to tell and it misses.
That was the last affront against HIS armies this particular specimen would ever perform, as moments later, the full might of the PDF and milita comes crashing down on him, leaving only it scattered over several square meters of ground and shelves.
Then...
... drumming silence.
The archive is yours.
What little remains of it at this point at least.
Several shelves are aflame and with lots of burning books spraying sparks into the air, it seems likely that soon enough large parts of the archives will be consumed by fire.
Cormaeg shakes his head, quite disappointed in how it all went down.
This was not an auspicious start at all.
"Volunteer squads, your duty is done.
Collect your dead and wounded and return to base camp, we will see this mission done the rest of the way."
These sort of causalities would most likely have crushed their morale, and their skills...aside from additional targets they would be of little help.
We might even move easier without them.
Inwardly, Cormaeg tries to convince himself it is NOT some misguided mercy but simple pragmatism guiding him.
He is only partially convinced.
Simmins and Cort reporting in Simmins reports in. Lighter on ammo but alright otherwise. Cort grumbles loudly about how alright they are, both completely unaware that it was only the Emperor's grace that have kept Cort's brains in his head.
Simmins glances at Notch and makes the sign of the aqualia and then looks anxiously at Thud. Orders, sir?
"Do a shell count and reload, As soon as everyone is sorted, we'll continue the mission.
We do this, we might all get some well deserved rest."
After finishing up Lucky Leni spits out a bit of blood, having bitten her tounge a bit too hard to keep concentrating on her work when Notch went up inflames. Must be a painful bite because tears are glittering in the corners of her eyes.
"Weapon shtill freshh but I have more guysh to look after Sharge."
She hurries over to Simmins to patch him back up, pulling off clothes without so much as a notice of what she's planning to do, applying disinfectant and some skin grade glue to close up the myriad of small lacerations from the data crystal shards
Looking at the mess of blood and muscle that is currently rampaging in probably not yet satisfied rage for ork blood Leni winces and gets out the big guns - that is the field hospital. Careful of course not to damage it with the lying around data crystals.
"SHUDD!!! PATSH UP TIME!!!"
"shomeone calm down Shudd pleash. He'sh a tough big'un but I don't shink he'sh going to do mush more ork murdering if the doeshn't let me get him back into one pieshe. Or maybe a few pieshes but fewer than he ish in now."
Leni really takes off the kiddy gloves with the big guy - heaving muscle and bone back into place with as much force as she can muster before disinfecting the wound and stapling them - not quite shut but holding the iron muscles of the Orgryin in place despite the crazy power extorted on them when he moves. Of course also bandaging it up as not to let the wound get infected.
She's not too picky with her supplies here, robbing quite a lot from the second medkit carried by Thudd himself.
For some odd reason she's shoo-ing at Thudd that things will return to normal as she begins, despite the rough handling, but she stops herself after she had to re-clean the wound twice to get the blood from her tounge back out.
"Aye Sarge, I got me a sore leg an' a full charge in my rifle, give or take. But I've been patched up good and proper." Adge tails off as he ponders his next statement, settling his mind he speaks again." Also Sarge, I know you want to protect the vox, but I'm volunteering for point. Ash an' I been doing a fair bit of sneaking about, an' i got the 'spex. I ain't being brave, an' i don't be wanting another knife fight with an ork, but I don't want tha' sort of surprise, neither."
After waiting for a reply from the sarge, Adge moves from body to body (ork included) looking to salvage grenades, explosives and ammo.
Thug gets done bashing his current Ork target into a bloody paste and then rages over to another corpse to vent his Fury. His sword roars and sputters in rhythm with his pain.
After some time and a few stiff commands he finally comes out of the fog of rage. He staggers over to what little remains of his charred friend and starts frantically searching for something, anything, that might have survived.
Only after finding some trinket does he finally submit to Lennie's treatment. He doesn't flinch as she treats his wounds, in spite of the fact that many of them are large enough to have killed most men instantly. He stares straight ahead and obeys orders without muxh reaction. Slowly, a completely different kind of fog settles over his simple mind. He absent-mindedly strokes the spine of his Picture Scripture without really realizing that he's doing it while clutching his Trinket in the other hand.
*** The Aftermath ***
Once the surviving militiamen start to process the fact that the combat is indeed over - Thud'drs furious hacking apart of Orks does delay this for quite some time - the reactions are quite different, ranging from silent prayers over numb, disbelieving starring at the corpses of their fellows to uncontrolled trembling and tears.
At Cormaeg's words, some of the remaining men look relieved, a some appear ashamed but grateful and a handful seem actually furious. One of the latter ones steps forth and speaks up.
"Allowance to speak up, Sir?" The mans ragged uniform name field reads Pvt. Ovis. You remember him being the leader of fireteam 3, the only team to suffer neither loss nor major injury during the fight.
Leni notices the Ogryn to hold fast to a small piece of rounded and burned scrap metal. It takes a few moments to draw the mental match. You are quite certain that he is holding a part of Notchs Promethium tank in his large hands. Following the strokes of his big thumb over the blackened surface, you can make out the Aquila-stamp as well as part of a serial number beneath it, as can be found on most of the larger pieces of equipment in the arsenal of the guard.
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Cormaeg fixes Pvt. Ovis with a stare.
"I am fairly certain what you are about to say. And yes, it IS your hive, and yes, ideally it WOULD fall to you to defend it yourself and take it back in the name of the emperor."
Then his eyes narrow and he takes a step closer.
"But then tell me, if you come along, will it help? Will it?
The emperor gives us each a task, to me it is to be a professional soldier. I signed away my life on that piece of paper and meant it."
Taking yet another step closer, enough so their noses nearly meet, Cormaeg's voice takes on a dangerous edge.
"The emperor doesn't ask us to die, he asks us to live, he asks us to SUCCEED. Dying in battle is an atonement for FAILURE."
Taking a step back, Cormaeg's face softens a bit, and he crosses his arms over his chest.
Having said his piece he nods.
"Permission granted Pvt. Orvis."
The PDF man gulps at Cormaeg's words and his eyes are cast downward. To his credit though, he rallies quickly and speaks up.
"Aye, Sergeant.
This was bad business alright, but not the first one we had over the last three years.
How high do you estimate your chances of success if let alone?
If all we can do is to buy you more time or distract the enemy... Then I am more than willing to do so. You are the single best chance of a meaningful counter-strike we had since.. forever.
I ... I can't just stand by and do not even attempt aiding you."
A brief pause in which the man looks Cormaeg Square in the eyes, then he salutes sharply.
"Sir."
Cormaeg nods, pleased at seeing some steel displayed.
As far as he was concerned, this was weeding out the weak and sending them back.
"Very well, Take the ammunition of the dead, and then line up.
Those wishing to return, take the wounded and go now before we attract more attention."
"Also, I need a volunteer to take over vox duties as trooper Cutler will not take point while thus weighed down."
Eyes widen with understanding and a sense of pride that comes from overcoming an unbeknown test.
"Aye, Sergeant."
He turns and addresses his men:
"You heard the man.
If you want to live and fancy a return to your loved ones to die of old age - turn around and get the wounded and dead back to camp.
If you fancy a quick, painful, glorious end in the great undertaking of throwing the damned greenskin's out - follow me and the guardsmen."
Two men of his group step forward immediately, the other two seems torn for a moment, but then drop their heads and turn away. The last member of fireteam one joins the group around Pvt. Ovis, who is talking with Captain Martins at this point.
You don't get much of what is said between the two, but in the end, the Captain hands her large shotgun over to the younger man. He takes it with a nod that could have also been a slight bow. Turning back to the assembled group of stragglers and the squad he nods with determination in his eyes and stance.
"Ready to move out on your command, Sergeant."
At Cormaeg's request, a burly man in the blue work suit of a manual steps forth. "I take it, Sir. Ain't that hievy. But ain't ask mey to change frequies or somsuch. Ain't no techy, no."
Thud seems impatient to get going. After being patched up he starts pacing around the room and gathering all the servicable-looking weapons and ammo from the dead, both Imperial and Ork.
"Well? Everyone ready? Reloaded and patched up?
We have to get going as quickly as possible before the commotion draws in more of the foul xeno."
Thud'dr returns from his savaging run with loads of cleavas a handful of shootas, five stick-grenades, as well as four frag grenades, five half-spend charge packs and three clips of small-calibre are rounds from fallen militias.
As the considerably smaller attack group is about to split off, Captain Martins, who has no other option but to stay behind with a thoroughly broken leg, adresses Cormeag.
"Kill that bastard dead, Sergeant.
That's as much an order as a heartfelt wish, alright."
With a wink she adds, pointing a finger at herself:
"A hug from this old hag for anyone coming back to tell the tale."
***
The remaining way through the archives is over in a matter of minutes. Soon you find yourself in front of a demolished looking elevator. The cog'n'skull of the omnissiah over the central cogitator control panel is desecrated with Xeno filth and the crudely-sprayed grimace of an ork. Every last status lamp and screen has been cracked and split.
The elevator platform is large enough to allow the entirety of the remaining soldiers onto it alongside you, with some room to spare. It drops a tiny bit as Thud'dr steps into it, but otherwise makes a solid impression. It is not a closed room like most elevators, but a simple platform. At the other end of the platform, two huge cogs sprout out of the platform. Looking up, you can see equidistant-spaced holes in the wall, allowing the cogs of the wheel to latch into.
"Right, Trooper Cutler, step up and see what you can do.
Everyone else, spread out, take as much cover as you can while covering the area with your guns."
"I want a wall of death waiting for any xeno stupid enough to approach us."
Krish readies his las carbine and takes his place on the perimeter with the others. The previous fight and the aftermath of patching up his squadmates .. and trying not to think too much about the missing member .. left him in a quiet, melancholy mood.
Thud takes the clumsy stick grenades and leaves rest for the others.
These orders are a rude awakening to a new reality for Thud. Without Notch he screws up his face in an effort to understand.
Spread out. Cover. Guns. Wall of death. Shoot wall? no no no. Wall is nice wall. Pretty mechy things. Not break Mechy things. Cog bois get mad. hmmm... Cover. Gun. Ohhhh!
It takes a full ten seconds, but he gets it and looks around for anything that might qualify as cover to someone as big as him while bringing his trusty Ripper to hand.
Simmins swaps out the nearly depleted first clip of his Stubber and puts in a fresh one before getting into a position of cover near the center that'll allow him to cover a large area in his cone of fire.
The Orks did a horrible job on this elevator. You are amazed that it still holds all of your combined weight - probably has something to do with its sturdy construction and movement mechanism.
3+DoS:
Jup, this thing is beyond anything you can do for it.
It needs a complete reconstruction of its cogitator banks and generally, any electric component. The Orks must have used high-voltage spanners on them. Every single circuit is fried.
You notice a double slid in the engine-cogitator assembly.
Both slide run in parallel, vertically. They are about one and a half handswidth apart and are nearly a meter in length.
To your eyes, the equidistan spaced, metal-reinforced holes in the walls (where the elevators cogs are meant to find solid hold) look like perfect foot- and handholds.
Thud is focusing a little too hard on his orders.
Simmins focuses only on what's in the line of fire of his stubber!
Still on guard, Krish takes a moment to look around, almost idly. "I don't know what it gets us, but those two slides look like they could be used somehow, and the holes the cog runs in look pretty much like easy handholds."
"Hmmph, if the controlling machinery does not work, we might be able to use those for climbing.
Considering how Orks normally operate, we may have to go that route...
The emperor provides..."
Adge hands over the vox with reluctance, clearly he would rather bear the burden than give it over to this manual labourer who looks like he struggles with operating technology as complicated to use as a lasgun. "You best be not changing them frequencies. I know just where I left 'em so don't touch."
Pulling up the hood on his chamoleoline cloak, and checking his lasgun once more, Adge moves out at the front, his eyes peeled for traps or more ambushes. Once they all reach the lift Adge scrambles all over it as ordered.
"Sarge, this is good an' fried, every single damn circuit. It would be easier to build one from scratch, than repair this, I would need to build the electronics from scratch anyway. Anyone would think they had used high voltage spanners, the stupid fethers."
5dos
5dof
simple fail
The manual with the vox nods at Lucky's words.
"Ain't doin' nuffing stupid like 'at.
Old MacStibbin would 'ave had me wipped if I ever played with the chambers vox' settin'."
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Thud looks over once the handholds are mentioned and nods. Me can do dat.