Thud reloads a fresh clip, completely forgets about the old one, remembers, bends down with audible pained noises, and retrieves it. Good to go, Sarge!
Krish looks up in surprise at Cormaeg's command, then controls himself better and goes to find a place he can get a good vantage of the surrounding rubble. There is no way that the best use of manpower in our squad is to put me on watch. Well, I will do my best to notice what there may be to see...
As he takes a position, he verifies the working status of his weapons and checks the charge packs.
"Good, once we're all set, me and Thud will take first watch.
The rest of you rest up. And yes, you may look at the angels...from a respectful distance."
As Mommy-Leni's description sinks in about these being angels of the Emprah sinks in Thud spends more and more time glancing at them and almost comically (but very sincerely) trying to imitate them. He stands straighter, holds still when not moving, and keeps twisting his face to imitate the Marine's stoic demeaner. He doesn't do this while they're looking, of course.
He has also completely forgotten that there is a marine on overwatch who can definitely see everything.
When time for first watch comes Thud does his best to stand at the ready with his Ripper like a Marine.
Simmins just wants to see what their guns are able to do and isn't really too aware of anything else. That and the bone crushing fatigue. It had been a very very long day.
"Some of you may not know it, but our company has encountered this Screwdriva before.
According to after reports, he was at Junathan 3, where he was driven off by a few squads from our regiment.
That was the mission which saw the sacrifice of gunner Pete, so when the warboss is dead, Pete will no doubt rest easier, being avenged and all."
Checking the ammo count on his own lasgun, Cormaeg braces it against the makeshift barricade and sights down the barrel.
"Not to mention all the remaining inhabitants of this spire, and probably a large percentage of this whole planet to be honest."
Your impromptu reinforced position is mostly done at this point and Leni's patient has been carried in by the very eager-to-help Thud'dr and you just have started to 'settle down' as purposeful movement comes into the red-armored angels of death. Ku'Raast is clearly talking into a vox-bead no one can see and Missile-Marine is turning dials and flips switches on his heavy weapon until a tiny green light blinks three time at the targeter attached to the launcher.
The voice of talkative marine echoes over to your ears with ease and you think to spot a tiny amount of apprehension in his voice.
"Scout-Team Tertius: Standing ready.
Field of fire: clear.
Weapon status: armed and ready."
Nearly simultaneous with the end of his transmission, two distant flashes of light rip through the dust-filled pre-darkness that settled over Hive Spire following the massed barrage right into its heart, allowing each and everyone if you to make out the towering, swaying form of the arbites-spire-turned-scrap-titan. In the fee second of exploding light, you can see a wave of thick black smoke rushing out of the gaping artillery barrel that was once a gateway. You can also see that the towering spire has three ... There is no better word ... bullet wounds in its superstructure. Two in its mid-section the third close to the top. From this distance it really looks like a massive, looming Ork (minus visible legs and feet) with two bullet wounds in the chest and one in the throat. Smoke is billowing out of those 'wounds' as well.
"That were it's generators! Strike teams Baal and Chalice have done it!
The captain will confront SkruwDriva using the detonations as a distraction. Oh mighty Emperor, watch over your warriors and guide their hands in the destruction of the alien!"
Now there can be no doubt, the Marine is excited.
A few strained second later and two things happen near simultaneously. The first is Ku'Raast roaring as if in barely controlled anger before grasping for the advanced monoculars at his hip. "Steady your aim, Brother Thorus. It may be your skill that brings down the scapegoat Xeno. He fled too many times from righteous wrath already, we know his tricks by know!"
So far for the good new. As for the bad, you can very clearly hear the sound of a small stampede making the dust stir and the high-pitched screaming of Gretchins. A lot of Gretchins. One gaze at Overwatch-Marine is enough to show the marine firing his gun at was must be full-auto in a steep angle downwards. It is very strange to see a bolter firing without hearing it's remarkable unique double-report. In the few seconds you are watching him, the Space Marine goes through two full clips, reloading with a speed eclipsing your ability to follow. Ku'Raast is momentarily turning towards you, calling: "We have incoming, Sergeant. Get your men ready and hold your position. Let not a single Xeno past you. We must not be distracted by them or the Waaagh-Boss might escape us again!"
You have exactly enough time to get up and into a stable firing position before a horde of Gretchins, entirely unarmed and unarmoured but for scrap-clubs and glass-shards, rush around one of the debris-canyons directly in front of you, barely a score meters away! There is no end to them in sight, despite the fact that a steady stream of bolt shells rain down on them, each and every single shell blasting exactly one Xeno to gorey bits.
Thudd's Ripper is meant for close up work and some thudd is certainly close for a lasgun, Thud still has some time. Time enough to completely empty his belt of grenades into the back of the horde!
He goes for his captured Ork 'nades first, tossing five sticks of ultra-violence into the far distance. He does those up with two standard frags tossed just short of the first. It wouldn't do to waste good 'nades on corpses, after all.
"Wide angle fields, maximum force! Full auto, but first, grenades spread out.
Once we're out of grenades, Thud and me will counter charge and hold the center while the rest of you spread your fire to the flanks!"
Cormage himself lobs his two frag grenades towards the middle of the horde, hoping to cause some chaos, like shredding some bodies to create hazardous terrain for the ones in the back, and forcing some grots to charge over their wounded comrades.
He then readies his chainsword for some nasty close quarter work.
"Tivnan, use my las gun, I won't be needing it for a bit!
And remember the extra clips the administratum supplied us with, don't spare the ammo!"
At first Krish is surprised, had he not proven himself in melee? But then he remembers his training and the other skills available to him and his face flames in embarassment. The Sergeant knows well how to use his squad; trust him.
"For what we are about to receive, Oh my Emperor, let us be truly worthy!"
Krish lets the borrowed strength and endurance that had sustained him for so long fade. Working swiftly, he reached for the warp again. Grasping at the threads of probability, he stirs and bends them, folding probability to favor the remainder of his squad. For a heartbeat, Krish considers stirring the probability of the attacks of the Astartes, but his insanity vanishes as quickly as it appeared.
Krish then carefully lobs his remaining frag and krak grenades, one of each, into the tide of greenskins. He coordinates them and times them to hit fresh sections of the gretchin horde and maximise the effectiveness of the grenades.
Once the grenades are gone, Krish levels his lasgun and adds his fire to that of the others.
Leni is still wading through the rubble as the command from Sarge comes. Instead of putting down the piece of smashed furniture she is holding she takes it with her as she sprints over to Sarge.
Seeing the avalanche of small greenskins come into view as she sprints over almost takes her breath away but in moments reality realligns as she remembers back to the big accident with the cattle stampede which ran down whole farms back at home. And so she lets her mouth run once more to keep everyone from thinking too much about it:
"Aye Sarge. I wish I could use my own tool when things get steamy but might as well borrow from the old guy who's not using his. Right?"
First thing as she arrives is placing down the... is that a piece of one of the oversized tables? Maybe, or maybe just a chair. Either way she places it down close to Sarges feet before taking his Lasgun. She checks the ammo count and sight alignment before lying down and resting the gun on her makeshift bracing.
One more thing to do: she draws her combat blade and places it close to her bracing. Ready to be taken up in a hurry if worse comes to worst.
And with this her world shrinks down to her lasgun and the greenskin in her sight. No use thinking about anything else - Sarge is there if they get too close. Just one more thing to think about: Sarge ordered maximum force. That'd be overload. But she experience just how FAST that drains the pack only what feels like minutes before. So she sticks with high power - around 6 bursts per pack is so much better compared to barely two of them. And it's not like the small frakkers are wearing armor.
As she starts firing and things heat up she starts cursing under her breath. The unfamiliar gun just doesn't seem to fire where she expects it to fire. Good thing there are plenty of gretchins to hit. Not hitting the one you want doesn't mean hitting none.
Still, she's getting more and more pissed about the las-sight that's now lost somewhere under the rubble. And probably smashed to small pieces. She had to trade 2 googles for the damn thing and even had to call in favors to have it attached. Whatever did she do wrong to have that small piece of indulgance taken away from her?
Thudd's Ripper is meant for close up work and some thudd is certainly close for a lasgun, Thud still has some time.
Thudd's Ripper is meant for close up work and though this is certainly...
Cormaeg stars reeving his chainsword, preparing for a counter charge, with his free hand, he draws one of his las pistols and throws it to the militiaman.
"Here you go Green, better than nothing!"
He then looks at Thud and nods.
"Get ready to charge!"
Thud chucks his last 'nade and brings his Evicerator up from behind him. The beast of a machine roars to life, hungry for Ork blood yet again. Their puny weapons don't scare Thud in the slightest and there were none of the bigger greenies in sight.
This be fun! He laughs as the adrenaline hits his system once again, but not with joy. Very many little greenies were about to die a very gruesome death.
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Simmins and Cort take one of the flanks and the two scrounge up a pretty bracing point with the rubble at hand. It's good enough for a Stubber so it's overkill for lasguns. Simmins places the Stock of the old stubber into one of the most protected pouches of his armor as a good luck charm.
The old Stubber would have mowed through all of em in half a round Sarge. Simmins sighs as he flips the lasgun to semiauto. If there really is a spirit in 'em like the TechPriests say then it killed enough greenskins to ascend to the right hand of the Emperor itself. Let's see if this flashlight can live up to that.
He fires at range until it comes time to toss the nades in coordination with eveyrone else. He tosses his last frag first then his two kraks as the green wave comes close then just starts firing at will. Not having to compensate for the recoil throws him at first but then it's absurd how easy it is. It's like he just has to point at the horde to see bits of it fall over.
The opening phase of this battle is pure carnage from the get-go, with an unsettling, chilling wind blowing for emphasis.
The wind seems to contain whispers of madness - but those are entirely drowned out by the sheer stakkato of gunfire, grenade explosions and the still-present ringing in everyones ears.
Sometimes, out of the corner of your eyes, you have the fleeting expression of incorporeal soldiers standing beside you on the makeshift barricade, adding their shar eto the volume of fire sent against the greenskins -but they are quickly gone the moment you look directly at them.
Las-Salvo after las-salvo burns neat holes into the tightly pressed mass of gretchins and everyone feels like a true veteran as their lasbolts hit home with a precision surprising yourself.
Leni finds that she only needs a single shot per Xeno, while everyone else seems to be needing a double-tab to put them down. On the other hand, she has to reload twice as much, running through two entire pack in the time Thud'dr needs to unloads his hoarded explosives. And yet, despite roughly a dozen kill-shots
Grenade after grenade is tossed into the tightly packed Xenos, in groups of three with slightly overlapping blast zones for maximized effect. They leave clearly visible holes in the ranks of the greenskins, where entire rows are ripped apart. You feel that you could hold the tide indefinitely if your reserves of grenades would have been even larger - but they are not and eventually you are down to the second-to-last. Then the last. And then they are out and still more gretchins rush forwards.
Right as Cormaeg and Thud'dr step over the barricade to face down the Xenos in direct hand-to-hand combat, the voice of Ku'Raast can be heard from behind your position.
"Keep it up, serfs!
The enemy warlord is fleeing towards our position but we will not let him get away this time!"
With a *swoosh* and a short spike of heat, Missile-Marine underlines these words and speaks for the first time.
His voice steel-cold and cut short to the bare minimum.
"Marker-Missile fired. Reloading. Seeker-Warhead next!"
Ku'Raast response follows nearly immediately.
"Uplink established.
Taking over flight control...
Target acquired...
Trajectory promising...
Target starts evasive maneuvers...
Adjusting flight path..."
Out of explosive (Plan-A) options, Cormaeg and the squads big'un charge into the packed masses, chain-weapons swinging, connecting and reaping a horrible harvest of frail, bisected creatures.
As predicted by your Sergeant, the sudden counter attack slows down the charge as the middle part is stopped by the melee and the left and right need to edge around.
The left portion is a bit larger than the right, probably something to do with the fact that Thud'drs greater swing-range make the righter horde run a longer detour to stay out of his radius of death.
Fighting the masses of greenskins in melee is far from easy and is tiring in the extreme. The small creatures cling to arms and legs, trying to bite and claw through gaps in your armor or widen old wounds. In addition to the semi-regular pain of those primitive attacks, they slow you down, making every step feel like traversing quicksand and ever swing of your blades like fighting under water. Despite the odds, the two of them rack up kill counts by the dozen, with every swing easily dispatching several of the small Orks.
Those of you that stay put at the barricade redirect your fire to stem the two smaller tides trying to crash down on you. The front of the dying greenskins dying ever closer to your position. The right flank, held by Leni and Krish is holding up well, but for the few moments it takes you to reload.
The left flank is holding the creatures at bay barely ten meters from knife-range by now and all three of them fear the moment they have to reload next, when Corts fire suddenly cuts out replaced by downright heretical cursing of Simmins side-kick loader. Mid-rant you get the fact that the powerpack he just reloaded has snuffed out after the first volley. Cort is cursing half the Ad-Mech for lax production control and starts reloading, promptly dropping the pack with a yelp of pain. A short arc of lightning stabbed him into the hand as he ripped out the faulty cell. As the cell hits the ground it starts burning, emitting a foul yellow smoke that burns in the lungs. Being temporarily one gunner down, the green tide on the left flank really starts to make ground!
In parallel to all of this, the muttering behind you reaches a first climax.
"Target locked.
Engaging final thrusters...
Activating sub-munition...
Fetching marker status: Miss. Miss. Hit. Miss. Miss. Miss. Miss. Hit.
Assigne Seeker-Warhead one to channels Tertius.
Warhead two to Octo."
Thudd's strength and toughness are already well established, and both are on full display as most of the Gretchen's attacks are simply ignored. Nothing makes it to him in one piece, so their aggressive scratching and nibbling is purely their dying act. What's new in Thudd's seemingly unending endurance. Every swing as just as strong as the last. He doesn't flag or slow. His increased breathing (if you can notice it) is the only sign he's not just swinging it around for fun.
Speaking of, both Thudd and the weapon itself seem to be having a blast! He roars and even Laughs a few times when a gretchin is turned to bloody bits in a funny way. The evicerator bites through the weakling orks like a lance turret through a Senior Citizen habblock. Ork blood constantly gushes though the "exhaust" port near the hilt in a torrent of party ground viscera suspended in a literal fountain's worth of blood.
On the plus side, Thud isn't dusty anymore! And neither is Sarge for that matter! On the other hand, they were probably going to have to be thoroughly disinfected after this, and that meant a not-so-gentle scrubbing from some creepy Biologis adpets. Eww. They always go all cirpity-chirp when they see me. *RAWWWWEEEERRRRREEEEE!* Why they do *chunky splashing* dat? Maybe they not *EEEEERRRRRRRRRAWWWW* have words? Maybe. Maybe *gretchin screams and is kicked in the mouth for it* words are metal? Lots of them metal. ... and so on.
Cormaeg felt his body fill with fatigue, but he refused to slow down, tirelessly continue his threshing of the enemy chaff.
But as fast as his sword worked, his mind was working faster still.
"The Charge packs! Someone with a free hand, grab a few, chuck them out and then shoot them!
If they explode they might kills someone, if they catch fire it's an obstacle.
Every grott that falls slow down the ones behind them!"
"Thud, fighting retreat, fall two steps back!"
As Cormaeg falls in with Thud, he draws his second last pistol.
Sure, he wasn't trained in using two weapons at once, but with the press of enemies, he couldn't really miss.
Thudd hears, Thudd obeys. He is careful to maintain the line with Sarge and not let any of the slippery greenies through as he does so. He wishes he could get just a little distance to use his Ripper some, but he was really enjoying himself too much to be overly disappointed.
He catches sight of the weakening left flank. That was not good. But what could he do about it? He couldn't be everywhere at once!... and then, for the second time that day, something went *click* in Thud's head and he decides to do something unthinkable. In a single, fluid motion he rips both his Ripper fully automatic, oversized shotgun and his extra clips off of him by their bandoleer and tosses it all to the left flank!
It clatters to the ground hard, but the orc brains on the end of the stock erase all doubts as to its ability to take a hit.
Krish mentally shrugs, It might work. Have to be timed well, and Leni is the best shot right now. Left side needs the most help...
Grabbing one of the half full charge packs, he calls to Leni, "Leni! Airborne target on the left. Hit it just over their heads!"
As soon as Leni shows that she understands, Krish shouts, "Charge pack away!" With an effort, he throws the charge pack over to the left horde of gretchin trying to get it more or less in the middle of the breakthrough. Gotta try and not hit the Sergeant...
That is when Krish notices the ripper and its massive ammunition bandolier arcing through the air into the left side as well! It looks like the two will end up pretty close together! "Sergeant! Explosion coming on the left!"
Leni doesn't even have to look towards Krish to understand. She already imagined something like this when the pack went off among them. Except...
"Oi, I'm not Ashora. I'm not a damn sniper!"
Yeah, she didn't think SHE would be the one to fire at the damn thing!
But her complaints are late and she knows it. Sarge ordered this. And if there is one thing she didn't sign up for in this then it's getting whooped for disregarding a direct order. Well, that and losing more people(possibly including herself) but that's not something she wants to think about at that point.
She swings her gun around and takes a heartbeat to anticipate where the pack should pass.
Stop swearing and start tossing Cort! Starting with that smoker.
Simmins nudges Cort and prepares to shoot. Burnt hand better'n getting stabbed yeah?
The warrior angels sounded they needed a bit more time and there was nothing to do but try and give it to them.
The packs keep comming, despite Leni not even having time to check properly whether she got the first one. And so the medic fires away, at targets waaaay too small for her paygrade. With an unfamiliar gun.
Continuing their bloody handiwork, Cormaeg and Thud'dr let themselves be pushed back by the onslaught two steps, now barely a dozen steps from the barricade. Wave after wave of tiny green creatures end their lives before their whirring chianswords - and by the occasional hit of Cormaegs pistol until its charge pack runs dry. Just in that moment of miniscule surprise, a trio of the gretchins slip past his trusty guard and throw themselves against his left leg chucking, biting and pulling to bring him down...
... but the Sergeants remains his footing and dispatched the creatures with his next two swings! At that stage, Thud'dr is practically crawling with gretchins which have attached themselves to the Ogryn, trying to get through his thick hide with their teeth, nail and occasional glass shard. All they achieve is to (barely noticeable) slow him down, reopen some old wounds causing him to add his own blood to that of his foes - and to destroy his already pretty shredded uniform.
Back at the barricade, inspired by Corts encounter with the faulty charge pack, the squads try their hands at shooting clay pigeons and find that is pretty darn hard to do so if faced with an onrushing tide of little monsters.
Leni misses once ... then twice. At that point the green wave is barely ten steps off when she finally manages to hit the third pack dead center, causing it to catch fire and detonate violently as it impacts on the front-ranks of the greenies, setting those further back off in a respectable chain reaction that momentarily throws back the entire right wing of the attack. Looking over the carnage, Krish spots two of the little buggers in the process of climbing over that massive pillar that smashed flat Simmins beloved stubber, clearly trying to sneak past you by doing so!
At the left flank, were things are even more pressing, Simmins misses his first chance badly causing all three soldiers on the left to get a minor heart attack, as the gretchins are nearly upon them at that point. But like Leni a few seconds later, Simmins finds the otherworldly calm deep inside him the moment it matters most and scored a very good hit on the second pack lobbed by his swearing loader. The resulting explosion eliminates the first two rows entirely and sends those further back to the ground, forming a short-lived roadblock for the assault. Just as Cort is about to lob another pack, he suddenly yells in pain. Looking sideways, you see the massive shotgun Thud'dr is using whenever he could not simply charge into melee instead, has come flying from somewhere and hit Cort into the side, sending him to the ground with a grimace. Long enough for the two drum magazines to arrive, one hitting him in the chest, the other barely missing his head.
Meanwhile, another SWOOOOSH tells of a second missile being started, followed by the sounds of rapid reloading, accompanied by the monotonous sound of Ku'Raasts voice.
"Warhead one started...
Targeting cogitator synchronized...
Starting detour protocol...
Stand-by for Warhead two..."
SWOOOOSH
"Keep it up dammit! It's almost over, we just have to hold them back a few more moment!
I KNOW you can do it squad, FOR THE EMPEROR!"
Not having any use for an empty gun, and not intending to try and reload in this situation, Cormaeg chucks it over his should, back at the others, and then grabs the chainsword in both hands, pouring all his anger into continue his threshing with renewed vigor and purpose.
"Two more steps Thud, then we retreat no more!"
"Come greenskins! Try to redden your weapons on me! I am a rock, the waves of chaos break upon me!!!"
He's watchin' over us. He's guidin' the shots. THE EMPEROR BRINGS GLORY TO THE FAITHFUL Simmins is almost hysterical at the reprieve as the lasgun battery paks explode with wrathful fury.
Cort's sudden yelp causes Simmins to look back at Thudr's .. giant.. Shotgun.
THE EMPRER PROVIDES! The rush of andrenalin that comes from cheating death gives Simmins a moment of almost Ogryn level strength and he bends down and heaves it onto the barricade. Then aiming it straight at the center mass of the left flank hoard, he braces as best as he can and stats to fire. Hoping his Stubber training will help him deal with whatever Ogryn level kickback the Ripper is going to inflict. Cort, get up from yer nap and get ready to reload!
Leni grits her teeth and switches back to firing directly. The gun is slowly starting to grow on her and its heat slowly rising from continous fire almost feels like it starts melting into her hands - the good way. Still, it doesn't change that the situation looks grim. Her neck hairs are prickyling - lying down for better shots was the right call, no doubt about it. But the prospect of lying on the ground when the stampede arrives with feet, claws and glass shards is not a pleasant one.
Not wanting to think about THAT she turns to more useful prospects:
"Use high power! Two shots per target does not save ammo! Only wastes time!"
Doing a quick calculation on ammo count she concludes: Frak this! and switches to full auto. There's no way to miss anymore. And they desperatly need some breathing room.
On the other hand she won't be able to keep that up unless they _somehow_ increase the efficience:
She arcs her full auto firing to leave out one or two gretchins on the very edge of the stampede on her first salvo lets see how well their courage holds up when not around their frakking little green friends
But she's more than ready to include them in her next salvo if they don't decide they want to get the frak out of there.
Krish was about to come up out of his firing crouch to make a second melee line, when lasbolts finally cound the charge packs that had been thrown. Settling back into his position, Krish follows Leni's advice and switches the lasgun to high power; she was right, and he was using just as much ammo and taking twice the time to do it.
A couple of well placed shots take down a pair of gretching trying to sneak around the edges, and he goes back to controlled bursts of las-fire into the teeth of the horde.
The sound of Thudd's Ripper opening up on the left flank brings a smile to Krish's face; a smile that has little to do with humor, but one that a wolf would understand all too well...
Thudd steps back again even with Sarge and keeps butchering. When Sarge shouts praise to the Emprah, Thudd's voice isn't more than a second behind. He had two krak grenades left, but no time to use them. The report of his Ripper sounds over the din of battle and the screams of dismembered orks. It is GLORIOUS! The evicerator is alive in his hands. The massive hunk of steel and chain-driven death and blood darts left and right in broad swings reaping a terrible toll on the incoming enemy with every second. The unbalanced nature of the blade itself seems to aid Thudd every once in awhile in getting that last Gretchen or recovering just in time to bisect the next wave. It would almost seem like the chainsword itself was enjoying this.
The right flank is holding well after the apocalyptic chain reaction followed by several broadsides from Leni's lasgun. With Krish picking off lone stragglers at the borders the two of them reap a rich harvest. The only really worrying thing is the heat warning going off at Leni's rifle after she burnt through the third pack in less than thirty seconds. But the well maintained gun of the squads Sergeant keeps together despite the staggering rate of fire.
On the left, Simmins manages a feat of strength he would later find impossible to replicate as he lifts the humongous shotgun off the ground and slams it onto the solid rockrete slab he is using as cover and bracing point. Utter carnage ensures. Each of the fist-sized projectiles blasts through two files of Gretchins before actually starting to spread its pellets. Simmins can feel each bone in his arm shudder under the recoil and Cort has to lean the better part of his weight onto the gun to keep it from bucking off the bracing. And that is with the Ogryn fire-limiter in place. Within half a minute, the left flank is pushed pack several meters and counting, when the first drum runs dry and the gunnery team scrambles to reload a gun they never thought about using before...
In the middle, Cormaeg and Thud'dr bring two-handed death by the dozen and are truly drenched in Ork blood and gore at this point. Only a fraction of the viscera origins from themselves, but it slowly starts to wear them down. Sure, the Ogryns swings are wide as before, but the frequency has dropped. And Cormaeg find that he had no longer the strength to keep up his defensive patterns, they simple get to tiring by now, and resorts to utter violent offense instead. But they still stand and through the red mist of spraying blood and flying limbs, Thud'dr - standing in the middle of the fight like a siege tower - can actually see the end of the swarm turning the corner at last!
In the rear...
"Warhead two in the air too...
Synchronize flight paths...
Synchronization complete...
Engage final thrusters...
Now die, foul beast.
In the name of Sanguinius, the Lion and righteous wrath:
DIE!"
Then...
A short-lived distant double thunderclaps.
"Scout team Tertio:
Mission Accomplished.
Mission Accomplished.
Standing by for exfiltration."
Ku'Raast must have spoken those last words mid-charge as only a split-second later he and Missile-Marine (now with bolt-pistol and combat knife) are impacting into the left, respectively right gretchin hosts. What follows can best be described as exquisite slaughter. In the first few seconds it took you to realize what is happening and reflexively stop shooting to not hit friendlies, the Emperor's Chosen have already broken the back of the remaining assault, while side-stepping every single shot that may have been friendly fire, making room for it to hit an Ork instead.. Their movements too fast to follow, their strength at least on par with Thud'drs and their martial skill far eclipsing that of every one of you - probably combined.
The remaining fight is over in slightly more than thirty seconds, every single one of them awe inspiring and nightmarishly cruel and bloody. The last greenskins dying between hammer and anvil, with Thud'dr and Cormaeg making their best anvil expression while the marines strike the hammer home.
And then it is over.
The fight.
The mission.
And some twenty minutes later, your time in the Administratum spire.
A massive, bulky, red-and-white painted gunship appears without warning from below your visual horizon in two blazing rocket engines and settles down awkwardly atop the rubble field a few hundred feet from where you made your stand. Ku'Raast is shortly talking to the pilot then waves you into the well armored, dully-lit passenger compartment of the 'Thunderhawk', as Ku'Raast is calling it. Whether that is the name of the vehicles type or a unique identifier for this exemplar remains a mystery for you. The seats are clearly made with the exception of Space Marines as passengers and everyone but Thud'dr find the seats awkwardly large and the strappings way too long to be of any use. Thus the flight is far from comfortable, if only for the ridiculous engine noise and the many sudden jerks which send your stomach to the average region of your brain, causing a very pronounced motion-sickness, reinforced by the fact that the compartment has no windows of any kind.
Following this hellish ride, you find yourself unceremoniously dumped at a landing pad inside the now well-established Imperial forward base of operations in close proximity to the breached east-gate of Hive Spire. Where you are greeted by an obviously hastily assembled group consisting of a wounded Captain Knutr, your Battalions CO, three Munitorum scribes and a female PDF Major - that has some remote resemblance of that older woman leading the militia. Captain Knutr steps forth and shakes hand with everyone, given approving nods before leading you off towards a prefab bunker close-by, where the debriefing starts.
Which takes nearly six hours (with only minor breaks) and three repetitions before all branches of Imperial Authority are (somewhat) satisfied...
Rating: Critical Success.
Earned XP: 1000
As he realizes the battle is well and truly over, Cormaeg takes a deep breath and wipes his forehead.
With all the blood on his arms, it doesn't really help much, but it's a reflex that cannot be stopped.
Never to flagg, fail or fall...well, at least the last two one...
Even tireless, stubborn and proud old MacCammon had hit his limit and needed some rest, and so he walked back to the "barricades" and had a seat.
"Screwdriva is no more..." He mutters, somewhat redundantly.
So, we're going to technically have a space marine escort back to base? That'll raise a few eyebrows I bet, good for the morale and our reputation.
I wonder what nickname they'll give me? If I hear something silly I'll have to take some time to spread a better one myself.
Glancing over at Leni, Cormaeg smirks inwardly, considering the idea of getting a little "revenge" on her for all her lip by spreading Thud's name for her.
Looking over his squad, he further considers what to do for them, as it WOULD be up to him to cash their credits for them.
We all get medals, but I'm going to push for a few specific ones myself, like the crimson ones for...well everyone but myself really.
Tivnan gets a promotion, should be NO problem swinging that, not after this mission and her previous temporary command of a squad in the trenches.
Thud...maybe recommend him for Bone'ead? He would do well with a little more mental strength to match his physical might.
Krish...well, recommend a better leg, that's an easy one really.
What about Olways though? He lost his weapon, maybe get him a new and better gun at the very least...
For the longest time, it seemed to Krish that there would be no end to the gretchin. He refused to think the hated thought that at the very end, they would fall to the unending tide of gretchin.
Then the scouts annouce the completion of the mission and splatter the remnants of the gretchin horde. Krish's last lasgun charge pack clicks dry and he starts to rise with his force staff to help the mopping up, but even as he raises the weapon, a combat blade decapitates the last of the gretchin right in front of him. He never even saw the approach of the Space Marine.
Sitting on a piece of rubble, Krish lets the power that helped shape his squad's attacks slip from him. He thinks through the last few seconds of the fight over and over, replaying the motions and actions of the Emperor's chosen warriors. Angels of Death, indeed. That he had played even a small role in the success of their mission, he knows, will be enough to keep the warmth of pride stoked in him for a long time to come.
As he compares this new memory to his last memory of Space Marines, he comes to realize that there are different kids of armor and weapons that they use, as well as vastly different fighting styles. Perhaps there is more variation in them than he thought.
Just as the fight with the Ork boss, Thudd doesn't really feel his fatigue until the battle is over. Sure, his swings slow and he's bleeding again from a number of minor cuts and re-opened wounds (especially in his core from the strain of wielding the Evicerator), but they're just not Present in his limited cognitive bandwidth.
Then the Space Marines arrive and simply remove all the targets. Just like that. The gretchins are just... gone. Reduced to so many body parts. It was awe-inspiring. And, if Thudd's being honest, really, really scary.
With the threat gone and Sarge actually sitting, Thudd's mind finally calms down. He's been running on overdrive for so long. Had it been days? Just one?
Then it hits him. All of it. Like a ton of bricks. He wanders over behind the very slap-dash fortifications of the squad, literally dripping gretchin bits along the way, and collapses onto the ground. The evicerator finally sputters to a stop. His thick skin is torn and marked with glass cuts. He's even amassed a sizeable number of Ork teeth embedded in his legs and arms. He lays there for a moment. Then decides to keep laying there
The arrival of the Under-flok is more than enough to rouse him. The roar of the engines and jetwash of it's arrival probably would have made boarding such a dim, enclosed space a daunting prospect at any other time, but this time Thudd is just too tired to be overly afraid.
Then the pilot hits the first evasive maneuver. Thud grabs the nearest bulkhead and stares wide-eyed toward the pilot the entire time they're in the air after that. He almost looses his lunch on several occasions, but there's nothing there to give. How long had it been since he ate?...
As the Thunderhawk lands, Cormaeg steps to the front and leads the remains of the squad out.
He was secretly very pleased, though his stoic face did not give anything away.
Not only was the mission over, not only was he safely back in the bosom of the regiment with plenty of accolades to claim, but his damn stomach could now get a chance to settle after that damn ride.
I cannot read their faces, but I am SURE I saw just the tiniest hint of a smirk on Ku'Raast's face. I think he KNEW how horrible it'd be for us, and he found it amusing, the bastard...
Then again, the mere fact that I've been ribbed by a space marine...yeah, that's going into the autobiography...
Seeing the captain and the others, Cormaeg forces his tired, battered and worn body into readiness and bellows out as loudly an authoritatively as he can.
"SQUAD, CO PRESENT! SALUTE!"
Leni starts mowing down Gretchins with abandon and the comfortable heat of the lasgun in her hand ever so slowly starts becoming uncomfortable. Still, the discomfort keeps to the very edge of her awareness as she has split seconds to find new targets while the gun is firing on full auto. She doesn't register much more than that but it is absolutly impossible to not register when there are suddenly armored giants in your line of fire.
She switches down to single shots for maximum don't-hit-the-emperors-angels but there's almost no need for it. She only gets a few more bolts off before it's all over anyway.
She stays braced for a moment more and just breathes to calm down. Then she gets up and examines the mess. First things first: She walks over to Simmins and wacks him over the head with a flat hand. Not that it does much while he's wearing a helmet. But it's the gesture you see.
"Sure. Heave and fire the big'un sized gun with that arm THAT WAS DISLOCATED UNTIL JUST NOW AND HAS BROKEN BONES." the last part is getting a bit shrill but she knows as well as he does that he did not have a choice. And it's not like something was broken beyond repair. Can't have that seem like a good idea for the future tho. So she pokes his arm. Just once. But also just at the right point to remind his adrenaline filled body that a bone in the arm is broken and that the ligaments which were overstreched from being dislocated were just used to lift and fire a gun they were not ment to heave in perfect condition.
So she takes out the pain supressant while an unimaginably sharp pain stabs Simmins arm. She fills it into the injector and applies it directly to his arm. "This will get you back to base. You'll have to have some fun with the medical team there for a while tho if you want that arm back to 100%."
Shaking her head she trots over to Thud. Looking at the very definite end of the mission she goes for broke, pretty much hosing him down with the rest of the disinfectant to get the bits and bobs of gretchin off of him. Then sits down to get the other pieces out of him. Be it glass or ork teeth. Sure he's the toughest piece of soldier short of the emperors angels but a human - or subhuman - body does not react well to foreign objects in wounds it tries to heal.
She keeps doing that until the flyer arives. Honestly she doesn't care much whether it's A thunderhawk or THE thunderhawk but the name sounds so much cooler than anything the guard usually rides in so she marks down the name in her memories.
As she gets on and the ride starts getting bumpy and grabs for support she notices something about what she's been doing since the battle: She's been doing them one handed. Her other hand still holds the lasgun. And it feels very much like it belongs there now. Still, the ride doesn't allow for the luxury of holding herself with only one hand. So she throws the sling around her and starts grabbing onto the seat for dear life. While thinking I fired this gun in the presence of the emperors angels. Not just that. We even got led into the battle by them. Somewhat. My own gun is gone so I'll probably get issued a clean and pristine one with perfect aim. I'll have to talk Sarge into swapping then. Shouldn't be a bad deal for him but I want to keep this one.
She keeps mulling over how to convicce the old man to trade despite the munitorums stance on soldiers swapping equipment without their approval and so as the ride and ends and the shuffle out she snaps to a full parade ground salute at Sarges order as it comes out of his mouth - her attention is on him anyway. And it's not like the command is unexpected.
Cormaeg was...aware that Leni was watching him and not being a mind reader, not sure why exactly.
The thing was though, that being watched by a woman made him painfully aware that he was either STILL (which would be impressive for a man his age) or again affected by post near death..."excitement".
THAT is not going into the autobiography...
The thing was, Cormaeg had sowed a few wild oats in his youth, but not many, and he had married young.
He had practically no experience talking with women as...women.
Before, Leni had been medic Tivnan, just another member of the squad, who happened to be female.
Now he was made aware of the fact that...well, she was a woman, a young woman, and pretty attractive as well.
How the hell do you deal with that? Especially the possibility of there being attraction that could be either one way or not?
Also, he was OLD, not dead but still hardly in the prime of his life.
sure, he was tough, MUCH tougher than a lot of men half his age, but still...
oh, the Captain was talking, thank the emperor for a distraction!
Thudd only result registers the order a half second after everyone else is already saluting. He proceeds to hit himself upside the head with the side of his hand, just as he was taught, and wait for sarge to say something he understands.
Riding in Space Marine flyer was an ordeal. Krish tries to discreetly watch the Marines and though he is absolutely sure they all knew it, perhaps the effort at discretion would be enough. The fact that they are not tossed back and forth and seem to take this flight as nothing short of routine leaves Krish almost breathless with awe once again. The constant reminder of their strength, skill, and just plain toughness is humbling in a way that having his life saved by Space Marines had never been.
Five minutes into the flight, he has to resort to a minor use of psychic power to strengthen himself enough to hold onto the harness and stabilise himself a small amount. When he does, the one named Ku'Raast turns his face fully toward Krish with not a wary look, but a ready one that Krish remembers all too well from his early days in the Scholastica Psykana. Oh, Emperor! He is ready to kill me! I will not lose control! Sure enough, Ku'Raast's hand rests on the butt of his massive bolt pistol. The fear nearly makes Krish lose control of the trickle of Warp power he is using. But after a few seconds, Ku'Raast's attention drifts somewhere else and Krish's fear starts to ebb.
The flyer thumps down and Krish eagerly lets the psychic power fade. It was only then that he noticed the Marine that had the missile launcher let go of his bolt pistol. A spike of fear lances through him once more and only his considerable will gets him to his feet and off the flyer with the rest of the squad.
Krish braces to attention with the others and snaps a smart salute trying not to think about the bolt pistols behind him.
Leni is blissfully unaware what her scrutiny caused for poor Cormaeg. But she also can't go and talk Sarge out of his lasgun while their captain is adressing them. Wait. Is he actually? He just had one of his squads returned to him via Space-Marine-Express. He should be going even more stupid than the squad was when the Angels first turned up. She breaks off from thinking about how to get Sarge to give her the gun so she won't miss that juicly little moment.
For now she notes the current plan: Go to him and straight up hit him with: "Hey Sarge. I'm getting a factory new, adeptus mechanicus maintained and approved lasgun which shoots straighter than the stick up a Commissars' ass. HOWEVER: what I wan't is the gun I shot in the presence of the emperors angels. So trade me yours. Pretty please?"
Cormaeg crosses his arms over his chest and raises one bushy eyebrow at Leni.
So that's what that was...
Relief certainly, but mixed with a bit of regret.
Had he actually hoped? It would seem so, then again things might not be hopeless yet.
Heh, perhaps one could make the argument that a man of experience could be attractive?
Shaking those thoughts off for now, filing them away for a more suitable situation, Cormaeg considers Lenis offer.
It was not exactly hard to understand.
"You hold on to that gun for now Tivnan, whether I let you keep it, well, after we're done with the debrief I am going to command the squad to the mess hall and then to the armory, we can talk about it there."
*** The landing Pad ***
Having collected the salutes of the squad, Cpt. Knutr shakes hand with Cormaeg, beaming a grin missing several teeth.
"Gut job, MacCommon, gut job indeet."
Before he leads you off into bunker for the proper AAR, Ku'Raast is making a final appearance handing a dataslate to the slack-jawed Captain who dropped to a knee before the Astartes. Wordless but with a last nod at Cormaeg, he re-boards the Thunderhawk and moments later the roaring engines lift the gunship off ground and propels it nearly vertically into the air.
*** The Reporting ***
After you got all of thirty minutes to tidy up and catch a breath - and get a full-body decontamination shower (that one hurt like a b***) in the case of Cormaeg and Thud'dr - you find yourself in a rather large conference room. Present are: Cpt. Knutr, Col. Hui Daan of the Serenus 1st, a PDF Major by the name of Fritz-Gerald, another Col. from the 136. Wostok Artillery Regiment with a name like a transmission-error, a Tech-Adept of unknown rank or name, a gruntled-looking General you have a pretty sure feeling you know from the vox and two priests of the local Incineration cult, one of which Thud'dr finds vaguely familiar. Plus the small swarm of adjutants and scribes that happen to follow the higher-ups around wherever they go.
At the end of the first repetition, excited chatter brakes out between the different branches. Knutr is smiling with more than a hint of awe in his expression, Hui Daan is leaning back the fingertips of both hand resting against each other with a deeply thoughtful gaze. The artillery-Colonel is laughing for some reason and the PDF officers appear speechless. The priests are eying Thud'dr with unveiled interest and the General snorts, clearly unhappy about something.
Surprisingly, Col. Daan is the first to speak.
"Well, it really seems like foresight set you up on a path to arrive at the right place at exactly the right time and with just enough resources at hand to facilitate the first and probably final decisive blow against the Ork infestation in this long war. In my experience, removing the acting warlord of a Waaagh! from the board will cause havoc in the remaining greenskins. The effect can be increased by removing a sizable portion of his bosses in the same go thus preventing a clean succession. Unless there is a powerful boss remaining and in a position to quickly mark his absolute authority, I'd estimate that the events of this day will end the war in short order."
At this, the PDF officials stand up from their seats, gaping at your CO. Hui Daan lifts his hands in a gesture of defense, calmly continuing.
"I am not saying that the fighting will end right now. But that the war might already be won as we are speaking. It will need some time for the news to spread and for the infighting to begin. But all available information point to the fact that it will happen. And when it happens, total victory is only a matter of mopping up the disrupted, disorganized warbands, instead of fighting a united Waaagh! with the single-minded purpose of our destruction."
He turns back to you.
"I have several in-depth questions about the displayed tactics and equipment of the Orks you encountered as well as a detailed transcript of your communication with the Space Marines and ..."
The minute questioning starts at this point, lasting for several more exhausting hours. Then you are finally dismissed.
*** Honors and Promotions ***
On the next day, all if you are summoned to an underground hall that looks as if it once have been some kind of storage chamber but was recently turned into a mustering and P.E. hall. A small stage has been created in the middle, with Col. Daan and the Captain's of all five Brigades standing atop it. In the hall, around a hundred of your fellow guardsman of the Serenus 1st have been assembled, standing at ease but snapping to attention the moment you enter.
You are mentioned to step onto the stage and stand in a row facing your comrades-in-arms, which assume the 'rest' position after you took position.
Colonel Hui Daan is standing up from his seat, stepping in front of everyone of you in turn, gets handed a small bare-metal box with the stamp of the Munitorum on it and reads out from a data-slate.
"Private Simmins Olways. For outstanding fulfillment of duty and contribution in taking down an enemy warlord: the Green Skull." He pins a small medal to Simmins chest, depicting a leering Ork visage overlaid by a golden skull. He reaches for a second box, producing another medal, topped with a golden skull and a purple cloth. "And the Medallion Crimson to recognize the grievous wounds you took while doing so." He pins the second medal as well, then steps back. "Well done, Corporal Simmins." He salutes you, mirrored by the attending guardsmen in front of you. This procedure repeats for each one of you.
"Private Cort Nathin. For commendable fulfillment of duty and contribution in taking down an enemy warlord: the Green Skull. Well done."
"Sanctioned-Psyker Krish Exeter Stammatis. For outstanding fulfillment of duty and contribution in taking down an enemy warlord: the Green Skull." "Well done. Promotion of your kind is not in my purview to give. Instead, you are cleared to receive a replacement prosthetic leg as a reward from this regiment. Report to Primaris Deltarus Vi." He salutes you.
"Medical Specialist Leni Tivnan. For outstanding fulfillment of duty and contribution in taking down an enemy warlord: the Green Skull." He pins the medal and continues: "Further, for repetitive signs of command potential during battle and the recommendation of your Commanding Officer: Promotion to the rank of Sergeant. Well done, Sergeant Tivnan." He salutes you.
"Ogryn Thud'dr. For outstanding fulfillment of duty and contribution in taking down an enemy warlord: the Green Skull. And the Medallion Crimson to recognize the grievous wounds you took while doing so." He pins both medals to the hip - the highest points the small Colonel can reach. "Further, following several distinct commendation, you are to receive mental augmentation surgery, known as Bon'ead by your kind, following this ceremony. Report to Primaris Deltarus Vi." He steps back and salutes you.
"Sergeant Cormaeg MacCommon. For outstanding fulfillment of duty and contribution in taking down an enemy warlord: the Green Skull." He pins the medal. "In recognition of remarkable Leadership and decisions made under enemy fire, you are awarded with the Winged Skull and your document of commission to the formal rank of Lieutenant." He pins a silver medal depicting a skull with to stylized wings and hands you the formal paper of commission, then steps back and salutes you.
After that, Colonel Hui Daan turns to the assembled guardsmen.
"Attention!"
All assembled troopers snap to attention one more and salute you.
"Dismissed."