Asbjörn Elofsson's page

Naturally, coming from an agri-world, many members of the regiment were ill suited for the cramped and claustrophobic feel of an admech facility complex like this.
However, there were few soldiers of the Serenus 1st regiment that had a harder time adjusting to this than Asbjörn.
Already a bundle of energy at the best of times, frustration from being coped up was making things worse.
He had taken to constantly bouncing on his feet, heel to to and back again.
Fingers itching, longing for something to do, repairs, maintaining a hightech weapon, driving a tank, setting up explosives, ANYTHING!

And the fact that he had gone from such a high adrenaline situation as taking a bunker and then holding it, to being coped up like this, ESPECIALLY since he had spent some time bed bound due to his broken rib...
This was literal hell for someone like him.
"Gnnngh! Grrrrr....Gnargh!"

Glancing over at Hella, Asbjörn grimaces.
"Let's hope the emperor grants a swift victory to the push, the sooner they win this one, the sooner we can get a medivac here.
Most of us could use it at this point."

"Yes, but with a redundancy trigger just in case.
If we are going to be trapped inside, I want to make sure we don't get messed up because we were stupid like they were, eh?"

Grinning savagely, Asbjörn points upwards.
"Let's prove we won't fall for the same trick they did eh?"

"Closing!"

Asbjörn does as ordered.

"Normally yes, though the arc of the grenades can create issues when combined with the less than perfect visuals from the inferno, sir."

"Still, we DO have a lot of grenades..."

"You know short stuff, an open door in a bunker, it just BEGGING for a missile isn't it?"

"Hol'uuuhh"? Terrible last words mate!"

Quickly drawing his lasgun, Asbjörn makes a show of attacking the trooper while he is still confused.

Attack (Ws + ?): 1d100 ⇒ 57
Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Righteous Fury: 1d5 ⇒ 5

"Eh, not an issue.
Shaped charges, using wired krak grenades to improve the blast, wire up a missile...
Improvise, easiest thing in the world.
Besides, we got an enginseer who already checked the system and is confident he can hack it open if need be."

Asbjörn, seeing the glorious flames burning, decides that "Hey, more is always better."

Cone fire: 1d100 ⇒ 35

"Don't you worry about that enginseer, we came well prepared, hehe."

"Just...just help me get to my feet and I'll be up for it Sarge."

As soon as Asbjörn is on his feet, he grabs a demo charge, remote detonator and combi tool, ready to get to work.

Tech use (Int + 30 + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 23

"Good to get back into the technical side of things, always did enjoy the tinkering with high explosives me.
You know, finding the proper spot, using just the right amount of equipment for the job.
It's like a clockwork piece, just like dad liked to tinker with on long winter nights.
Probably how me and my brother started getting interested in these things."

Trying to rise, Asbjörn gasps and falls back against the wall.
"Grokk! Sergey! You have to take point on this. Give her a doze of painkilers, then tranq her, apply disinfectant to the wounds and then bandage her face.
Hmmm, probably will take some time before we get support, better make it two dozes of tranq.
All we can do for now."

"Aw Grokk! We got to put her under! She needs serious medical help far beyond field medicine."

"Oh, sealed...well, that scuppers that plan."
Asbjörn manages to look just a bit disappointed at that.

"Remember though, we do have two Breachers, opening sealed doors is what we do!"

"Broken...broken rib, felt it snap."

Panting a bit, Asbjörn remains on the floor, having little problem playing up the injury for effect.

"Good time for some tactics right Sergeant? If someone peeks around the corner and make sure there are no obstructions, my brother can just send a missile down the corridor, that'd clear up some chaff down there no doubt."

Frowning for a moment, Asbjörn takes another deep breath.
"As long as we are just meant to stop the bunker from obstructing our regiments advance.
Does it matter if we take the bunker undamaged or not?"

Asbjörn, not having been willing to advance on his own had turned towards the others, waiting for a chance to do a little preening or even gloating if given a chance.
He HAD after all done something almost as brave as he was handsome, witty and skilled after all, surely SOMEONE would say something?

What he had not expected was an explosive retort, the air being forced from his lungs, and feeling something snap inside his chest.

Staggering backward, he felt his back collide with the wall, and then found himself sliding down it, wheezing and finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

Oh man, is my first medal really going to be a purple one?

"Ouch..."

Common Lore (War) (Int + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 76

I...no, no idea what that is...damn.

"Sarge, I hear more enemies further in. Orders?"

Dodge (Ag + 10 + 30): 1d100 ⇒ 80
Singed my eyebrows on that one.

Asbjörn leaps out of the path of the flaming idiot, hopefully allowing the massive enginseer to club him to death or something.
A crazy plan enters Asbjörn's head, and before he has time to try and talk some sense into himself he is off running.

Untrained Acrobatics (Ag - 20): 1d100 ⇒ 12

Ducking and weaving like some sort of professional athlete, he manages to dive under and past the viciously weaving chainswords and powerfist and make it through the rapidly closing door to the bunker.

Being familiar with the makeup of bunkers, he reaches out and slams his palm against the rune to stop the door closing further, and then taps the open rune instead.

Huffing and wheezing, he manages a maniacal grin as he turns back towards the opening.

"Doors open Sergeant, are you guys waiting for an invitation?"

Eeep! NOT fun!

It's obvious what will happen next, the commissar will be charging the big man, and thus be in Asbjörns way, so the only thing to do is to make sure to get a good hit in as fast as possible.

Said and done, Asbjörn moves to the best position available and lets loose with a nice cone of flaming fuel.

Cone fire: 1d100 ⇒ 39

Ohohoh! feel the BURN of my reply!

Asbjörn, not quite aware of the drama unfolding with his brother scrambles forward, leaping into cover close enough that he will be able to unleash flaming death on the enemy in a moment.

Aiming for the area where the range lines intersects with the hil lines.

Oh for the love of...

"Someone grab the father and get him into cover! Can't bandage him under fire!"

Asbjörn is less interested in immediately firing back and more about finding the best possible cover.
So he quickly beat feet to throw himself in the best cover he can spot.
Besides, he wasn't about to waste a shot of plasma on these mooks,
If he got close enough though, they would get a taste of fire...

Double move or run to good cover. Getting prone if needed.

Athletics (S + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 58
Awareness (Per + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 27
Acrobatics (Ag + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 48
Random stuff: 1d100 ⇒ 53

The day had been stressful, and Asbjörn just couldn't dig deep enough to keep up with the pace, though he wasn't alone in that.
Luckily, his eyes were still keen and he paid enough attention to avoid the treachery of the rough terrain.

"None comes to mind sarge, but...
We were surprised by those heretics before, so they must have some trick that allowed them to get that close without us spotting them.
I mean, they might do that again, so we can't remain in one place for very long whatever we do."

"Easy there sir, you're...ah stable for now.
Bleeding stopped and you're in cover."

Wiping his hands before picking up the plasma gun again, Asbjörn shakes his head.

"Aside from the father and Sergey, nobody has escaped wounds so far. and I have to say, I'm keen to pay the heretics back for that.
About time THEY ended up on the wrong end of some shooting."

"Ok sir, let's see what we can do here...
Holy molly! Lookit all that metal, I'm halfway wondering if I can find enough meat to treat here...
Gimme a hand over here, yah?"

Medicae with assistance (Int + 20 + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 3

"Clamp that artery! For the emperors sake, THAT artery!
No... that's not...flesh, dammit!
Over there, hold that cable, I'll reroute it in a second.
Yes! There, no THERE!
I think...yes, more bandages, there is as secondary bleeding here..."

Wiping his brow, Asbjörn exhales, arms covered with blood and...other fluids.

Asbjörn sends one of his biggest grins towards Sizzle.
"Should have given me a medi kit from the start, eh? Not that I'm complaining too much, I got a plasma gun AND a Flamer out of the deal after all."

Asbjörn begins to look around and count the heads of those present.
"We're still missing...the commissar and Sergey."

Having not seen the commissar being hit due to being behind him, Asbjörns first port of call is to see to his brother's wound.

Medicae (Int + 20): 1d100 ⇒ 20

"Oh, nasty wound, but it's nothing to bad. Relax short stuff, just another nice scar to show off to the ladies.
Oh? What's that!"

As soon as Sizzle is distracted, Asbjörn yanks the shard of metal out of his brother's shoulder, and before he can complain, begins to bandage the wound up.

Pinning (Will + 60): 1d100 ⇒ 9

Well, he seems up to it. Good show and all.

Asbjörn slots his goggles and follows behind Anatoly, not completely disliking the idea of having a sturdy enginseer between him and further unfriendly fire.

"Let's see if we can't breach the walls of the heretics eh? Time to set their world on fire!"

"Well enginseer, we're under mortar bombardment, our chimera was infected with chaos energy, and we have to approach our current goal, that bunker over there on foot while still being shot at."

Turning back to father Bolus, Asbjörn assumes a pensive expression.
"Back home, some priests said that the emperor helps those that help themselves.
Is there truth in that?"

"Easy enginseer, I managed to restart most of your sub routines, but the vocal one seems to be on the fritz still.
You MIGHT want to reroute it through a secondary circuit.
Either way, we have to move!"

so no chance of assistance then, pity:
Medicae (Int + 20): 1d100 ⇒ 51
Probably not good enough, that was most likely a criticial wound or something.
Reroll Medicae (Int + 20): 1d100 ⇒ 37

"Hey, HEY! Stay with me Sergeant, look at my fingers, holding up two of them right? You can see two, yes?
Don't worry, it feels a LOT worse than it is, bolt went trhough, missed both lungs and heart, just knocked the wind out of you.
Good thing is, las cauterizes the wound as it makes it, so you won't be bleeding to death.
Come on, to your feet, you'll be able to move, feeling out of breath because of the pressure of the wound, but you won't actually have a harder time breathing than normal."

Tech use Enginseer (Int + 30 + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 53

"Let's see if we can reboot the system here..."

"Thanks short stuff, I can always rely on you."

"Sir, permission to attempt field medicine on the sergeant, and possibly Hella as well?"

"Hey short stuff, Gustav had a medikit, bring that to me and I can see to Sarge, maybe Hella too."

"Thanks father, the emperor protects the righteous, does he not?"

"Sir! We won't be able to get the Chimera working again anytime soon, and if we stay here we'll be picked off eventually.
We need orders, sir!"

"Then step back sir, gives us a little room!"

As soon as the commissar gives Asbjörn some room, he levels his flamer at the hole and fires a ray into the Chimera.

Misfire?: 1d100 ⇒ 5

"I don't know, but I don't think they are "nice" at all."

Retrieving his flamer once again, Asbjörn makes ready to use it with extreme prejudice.

Asbjörn grabs his head and groans, he then stumbles over to the father.
"Father, I think they are materializing now, inside the Chimera!"

"With the Chimera back online, we should be able to get the hatches open so we can give it a quick once over father."

Leaning a little closer to the father, Asbjörn speaks more quietly.
"Grokking voices are still there father, sounds like whatever it is, it's trying to emerge now."

With slight reluctance, Asbjörn moves over to help the Commissar back on his feet.

"Let's get you back into it sir, We still got a battle to win and all, for the emperor sir."

"The enginseer is connected to the Chimera, and unresponsive.
If the Chimera is getting compromised, what about him?"

"If they come from the filth, and the air filters are oozing..."

"Father! Sir!"

Rushing over to the others, Asbjörn quickly gets the father up to his feet.
"Nobody else seems to hear it, but I hear some otherworldly singing coming closer."

"I don't know, but I think there is some warp shenanigans going on, and we might have more fiends incoming!"

Asbjörn points to the Chimera.
"Look! The ground wasn't swampy like that when we came here!"

Asbjörn, safely in cover quickly retrieves his plasma gun, switches it to maximal mode, and fires at the now mostly clear target.

Maximal shot: 1d100 ⇒ 5
Damage: 1d10 + 20 ⇒ (3) + 20 = 23
Penetration 11 hit to body.

"Sarge, sir, I think we may have more incoming!"

"Well, grokk...
ENGINSEER!"

Ah, wonderfull...

"Commissar, the Chimera is out of it, and so is the enginseer. I don't think either will be going anywhere until this big 'un is toast!"

Yeah, I see where this is going. And I'm still hurt from before, no way am I going to stay in melee with this.

Fortunately, the demon was big now, more than big enough to tower over the others, which meant that it was also a nice big target.

Disengaging, from the fight, Asbjörn quickly huffs around the corner of the Chimera, planing on lighting the demon up with a little plasma.
As he finds shelter, he taps his combead.
"Oi! You in there, can't you draw a bead on it with the multi lasers?"

Shaking his head to clear away the last vestiges of fear, Asbjörn lets the fathers word echo in his skull for a moment.

That...that actually sounds like a pretty good idea. I quite like my soul as it is, thank you very much.

Fear (+10): 1d100 ⇒ 53
Resistance to fear(+10): 1d100 ⇒ 79
Shock: 1d100 ⇒ 43
insanity: 1d5 ⇒ 3

Asbjörn, overwhelmed with shock at seeing the unnatural warpspawn in front of him, freezes in terror, unable to act beyond simply staring at the horrid creature.

Emperor dammit! And we may still have incoming or something.

Angry at just how callous the mutant treated the death of Gustav, Asbjörn quickly repeats his previous action and charges once again.

Charge (Ws + 20 + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 47
Damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

"He wants blood!? He can have yours!"

Those voices...nobody else seems to hear them.
Got to finish this fight quick so I can mention it to the father and commissar!

The only one who seemed in real need at the moment was the Sergeant, and since Asbjörn had a nice unobstructed view of the enemy, he decided to charge him.

Charge (Ws + 20 + 10): 1d100 ⇒ 47
Damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

"Looks like a confirmed kill to me sir. Power first might lack subtlety, but not efficiency."