Krish nods to the two Guardsmen as he goes to the door, "Sadly, you are correct. But we will do our duty until duty's end, neh? Thank you."
As he goes through the door, Krish does his best to ignore the insult that the soldier probably doesn't even realize he is using. He has long since grown accustomed to the way that most of the Guard viewed his kind. Given the risks of his power, Krish understood why, but sometimes it was still quite vexing.
His irritation fades quickly as he sees Vi's smile, and smiles in return, "Thank you. I am glad to be here." As Krish recognizes the weight of brass at the table, his spine stiffens in an almost involuntary motion as his movements become a walking version of the poition of attention. He quietly moves to a chair and waits for the officers to sit before seating himself somewhat stiffly.
*** Social-Economic Studies ***
Krish looks the veteran over briefly before offering a small, haunted smile, "Yes, that is I." He taps his augmetic hand against his augmetic leg with meaning, "My knowledge of them cost me an arm and a leg, you might say. If I can help another Guardsman avoid paying the same price, or worse, it is the least I can do, neh?"
*** Psyker on a Throne ***
Krish absolutely hates this. After so long being a near-cripple with that rusting, wheezing, excuse for a prosthetic leg he had before, Krish quite enjoys his newfound freedom and ability. The Commissar stripped this from him, and has made a spectacle of the Psyker. But he can do nothing about it, so Krish does his best to endure it stoically. The emperor blast all Commissars...
Instead, Krish throws himself into new lessons as the Commissar has ordered, knowing that his only out of this situation is a score of passing marks on the next exam.
Krish notifies LT MacCammon of his absence, and makes his way to the prescribed room, an unexpected anticipation pulsing through his veins.
The day after the test:
Krish sat on his bunk looking over the training materials and preparing for his next class on Tyranids and their capabilities. There were even a few things that he had either forgotten or had blocked out. A few of the company had not managed to pass the exam, though in a company-sized unit there were bound to be a few, and Krish was preparing to get them up to speed when the order to attend the Commissar arrived in the form of an out of breath Guardsman.
Setting his materials aside, Krish followed the younger soldier to the Commissar's desk. Desk, for His sake! When he noticed that every single Guardsman that had failed the exam stood braced to attention, Krish knew it was not going to be a fun day. Wherever they dug this Commissar Hard-Ass up from, he needs to go back there.
Following the non-verbal order, Krish stands slightly behind the Commissar, appalled at the thought of being toted around by other troopers for three days. His distates for the order does not touch his face, however, as it would be unwise for a psyker to be thought to disagree with any Commissar.
As the company is coming together to participate in Cormaeg's "fun run", Krish seems to be looking forward to it. Having shed his anchor he is actually capable of joining the group for such activities. Further, he knows how important such activities are for building the shared sense of camaraderie that is the life's blood for military units.
Sure, the troopers might grumble, but that, too, is part of the sense of belonging that is so essential.
They will need every bit of this to face the coming nightmare, Krish knows all too well.
Krish pauses near Lt Cormaeg and speaks very softly with a wink, "That is the stick, sir. Now give them a carrot."
For Krish, the appendix is something of a nightmare walk down memory lane. With every new section, horrific scenes of his last regiment flash through his head. It is made somewhat easier when Thudd finds him and asks desperately for help; the distraction of having to teach the materiel to even such a smart ogryn as Thudd has become keeps the memories at bay and even helps him to learn the material much more thoroughly than he could through study on his own. Krish soon finds himself surrounded by a several of the guardsmen who have started sitting in on his tutoring sessions with Thudd, and embraces the task.
Teaching these younger guardsmen, though unlikely to save their lives, may allow a lucky one or two to escape somewhat intact.
*** Farewell, Decimus Vi ***
Krish nods to the Enginseer, "If duty allows, I would be happy to assist." Krish waves with a smile before departing with Thudd.
*** Back at the squad barracks ***
Krish leads the way into the barracks. He seems to be moving much more easily than before, and where he used to be always accompannied by clunking, hissing, groaning, and a whole uncomfortable symphony of noise, now there is nothing. He seems to be trying to restrain it, but a smile keeps spreading across his face and threatening to break into a full blown grin.
Krish comes to a halt in front of the serge-, No, he is a Lieutenant now. Krish snaps a crisp salute only slightly spoiled by the smile that is even now tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Sir. Primaris Psyker Stammatis and Trooper Thudd reporting for duty."
Krish shrugs at Thudd, "Probably has to do with the Bon'ead implant. Come on, we should let Enginseer Decimus Vi get on with her day. We should get back to the squad."
The smile that spreads over Krish's face as his new leg mates with the socket and comes online, as the leg responds to his wishes even better than his natural leg, and as he explores the hidden capabilities that Vi built into it, well, Vi will have no trouble whatsoever interpreting the pleasure and gratitude Krish is feeling at the new limb.
He looks up at the tech-priest as he lowers his feet over the side of the bed and gets ready to stand. For a few moments his eyes are near tears, "There are no words that I know to adequately convey my appreciation. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask."
When he stands it is clear he is instinctively expecting to have to learn how to use the leg, as he had done with the first prosthetic, but this time the leg is as natural an extension of him as his flesh leg is. If anything, the new leg is even more responsive than his other!
Grinning like a boy after his first kiss, Krish follows Vi over to Thudd and watches with rapt attention as she finishes the surgery, wincing involuntarily as he watches the incisions in Thudd's brain. Even though he knows that Thudd normally does not even use that whole hemisphere of his brain, Krish has seen too many guardsmen suffer catastrophic brain injury to observe such a procedure with no reaction, "His brain would just shut back down? What if he suffers an injury that disables this augmetic? How long will he have before it starts to atrophy?"
As Thudd wakes, Krish is completely floored by the massive change in the Ogryn. He is an entirely new abhuman. Krish had never had Ogryn in his lat unit, and he therefore had no experience with them outside of Thudd. This Bon'ead augmentation was even more miraculous than his new leg! "I will ensure that he is kept on light duty for the prescribed two days. Thudd, reading and calculus are things that nearly every standard guardsman can do, and now you will be able to do them also. They will make you an even better Guardsman. We will practice. And since you will be on light duty for two days, it is the perfect time for that kind of brain-practice."
When Thudd stumbles, Krish reaches up to help steady him, and almsot draws on the warp again for more strength, but with a flicker of his eyes in Vi's direction he just uses the natural muscle with which the Empreror saw fit to bless him.
"Technomat is not a..." Krish pales slightly in ways that he did not while watching his own leg severed and discarded. "Him on the Throne had me in his thoughts that day! It is a good thing for that Technomat that I am not in his unit any longer."
Krish winces in apology, "My apologies, Enginseer. You caught me off guard when you removed the socket and it was a reflex to brace myself." As he speaks he ceases concentrating on the strength and durability of steel, and the power fades as abruptly as it came.
Krish looks down at the hip connector and nods, "Enginseer, I apologize for every time I called that sorry excuse for a one-armed, deficient, narcotic-addicted baboon's sorry excuse of your art a cybernetic leg. There is no comparison."
And that is when she plugs in the cable, and the anasthetic begins to wear off.
They say that memories are stored in the body as well as in the mind. And only one other time in his life has Krish felt this kind of pain. For a short time, he hears little that Vi says and sees only the ghosts of the past. The Tyranid towering over him, holding him up by his one remaining arm. A gaping wound where his right arm used to be. The horrible tearing pain as the creature seems to enjoy slowly pulling his leg out of its socket...
Willpower vs 50: 1d100 ⇒ 22.
For a moment, Krish teeters on the edge of madness, and only the fact that the anesthetic wore off gradually allowed him to stave off the encroaching horror in his memory. His jaws clamp down on a scream, and only a high pitched groan ascapes his lips. Through the pain, he can finally hear her instructions. This is unlike his previous experiences with augmetics, but he tries to do as she asks as she walks away to deal with the priests.
Awareness vs 48: 1d100 ⇒ 12.
Krish latches onto the words being exchanged as a way to distract himself from the constant spikes of pain. Sermons? For Thudd? I mean, he is devout, but sermons? Is he a priest now? An Ogryn priest?
The pain begins to ebb and he looks up at Vi as she returns.
Krish tries to keep up the casual conversation, but it is increasingly difficult when he is the patient. As she starts to cut through the augmetic, Krish feels an irrational sense of loss once more as the leg that had been his for many years is sliced off in a fit of professional pique.
He feels an strange and heady mix of relief, loss, and fear, as if he would be left with only one leg. Though he knows better, it is hard to fight irrational emotions.
Finally, about the time his old leg is severed and falls to the floor, he finds that he needs to talk to distract himself as much as to help Vi focus. He props himself up on his elbows, being very careful not to change at all the way his hips were laying on the table, "I do not know who built the leg, but the one who installed it was not a Tech-Priest. She referred to herself as a Technomat. Is that an actual rank among the Mechanicum?"
When she almost pulls Krish off the bed, he draws on a tiny bit of the warp to strengthen himself, causing his skin to take on a bit of that metallic sheen, and lays back down to brace himself better so that she can work, "It always felt like the leg was reacting a fraction of a second or so after I tried to make it move..."
And then .. the leg comes hopping over ..
Krish is not totally comfortable with this, though he can recognise that it must be well made to be able to move under its own power by hopping. He tries to speak twice before swallowing hard and simply staying quiet.
Krish chuckles with a painful memory, "We had several mobile engagements in our last mission, and more than one pitched battle. I lost count of how many times I fell because this .. this .. sorry excuse for a paperweight could not keep up with my remaining natural leg. I am certain that more than one of my squad took a hit because I was slow getting into position." If the Vi is skilled at reading the body language of the .. relatively .. unaugmented, she will have no trouble recognizing guilt and a towering frustration. The two threaten to actually spill over into tears for a few seconds until the anasthetic floods in.
Krish lays patiently, waiting for Vi to be done, "Will you have to replace the entire prosthetic, or will you leave the socket and pelvic portions there?"
Krish nods respectfully, and a wry smile toys with thei corners of his mouth, "Oh, most certainly this is far removed from field treatment. It is clean for one. And as good as Medic Tivnan is, she is not a Mechanicus trained surgeon." His voice goes kinda distant, "She did keep a lot of us alive, though. We would probably all have died without her."
His attention snaps back to Vi as she finishes excising the skull and he automatically reaches out to take it from her.
WP vs 50: 1d100 ⇒ 23.
Watching her perform surgery was one thing, but holding a piece of the Ogryn's skull in his hand is another entirely. For just a moment, Krish's stomach begins organizing a revolt, but his will clamps down on his rebellious stomach and he turns to set the skull fragment on a side table, "I think I would like to keep it. I think I know someone that might consider it a good luck charm..." When he turns back, she is holding the implant device and he watches with fascination as she applies it to Thudd's exposed brain, "Fascinating. This makes him smarter?"
Krish turns to the other bed and eagerly lays upon it, "Yes, please. I very much look forward to a leg that serves me well. And, Enginseer Primaris, Thank you for tending to my squadmate and I."
"Then I shall attempt to engage you suffieciently in converstation to help you achieve peak efficiency." Krish smiles a little at her obvious disdain for his augmetic leg, "I do not know the words to clearly express how much of a relief it will be to have this anchor replaced. Will my new leg be from one of the forge-worlds, or was it made by one of the adepts here?"
Krish places one hand on Thudd's shoulder before the tech-priest begins working, "Be at ease, Thudd. All the extra metal bits let you know that this person is highly skilled, and I will be here the whole time."
Krish slips the mask over his nose and mouth with a casual motion, clearly practiced, "To be honest, he suffered enough damage in our last mission to kill an entire platoon of human guardsmen. I am not sure what kept him alive this long." Krish applies a disinfectant to his hands and steps up to the other side of Thudd's operating table, standing where he will not interfere with any of Vi's motions and close enough to easily assist if needed, "I have never witnessed surgery, so I do not know if it will cause me undue distress. But I am the Medicae Auxiliary for my squad's medic so I can be of assistance if another pair of flesh hands would help."
Krish pats Thudd on the shoulder, having to reach up a considerable way to do so, and just a heartbeat after Thudd moves forward to one of the beds, Krish moves to the other, "Greetings, Engineseer Primaris. We are, indeed, your leg and brain appointments. Given that each Engineseer I have met is unique in their own way, I will ask this question: do you prefer to keep communication confined to that which is necessary, or do you still appreciate small talk?"
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.
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.
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...
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!"
Forgot to mention: 3.5 full magazines for lasgun. Krish will be firing on regular power, so 52.5 full bursts. Like the others, he reloads in a half-action.
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.
Using Prescience to boost the WS and BS of the squad by 12%. Do you want me to roll for Psychic Phenomena, or pick one for fun dramatic flavor?
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.
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.
Krish heads over to Leni, "I was here, Simmins there, pretty sure that was you, that big hole was Thud." He points out the places where the survivors of this mission were found and dug out.
Krish snaps out of it as Leni takes over treating Simmins. His cheeks flame with the knowledge that he let awe overshadow his duty, and in full sight of Space Marines.
Once Simmins is treated, Krish busies himself checking over his gear. And trying to look at least a little competent, for His sake...
Krish finds himself struggling to focus on the arm he is supposed to be splinting, which is not helped by Simmins' sudden prayer. Krish realizes abruptly that he had joined Simmins in kneeling while the other man spoke his fervent prayer.
Will vs 50: 1d100 ⇒ 95.
Normally a pious man at the best of times, Krish is wholly overwhelmed by the presence of these Angels of Death. Unlike his last experience, he is not in the process of bleeding to death and finds that try though he might, the best he can manage right now is to kneel with his hands in the sign of the Aquila.
About to treat Simmins' broken hand and arm, Krish is startled by the call of alarm from Cormaeg. He drops into some cover, dragging Simmins down with him. Then the voice over the combead and as he watches for any sign of threat, this beautiful, hulking human shimmers into existence a scant handful of meters away.
Krish has seen the Emperor's Angels of Death before. Three of them saved his own life what seems like a lifetime ago. This one is no less awe-inspiring than the others were.
As he did before in that long ago place, Krish forces himself to a position of readiness, to be perhaps not found wanting by the chosen warriors of the God-Emperor of Man.
As Simmins gestures at the limply hanging arm, Krish kneels beside him with a couple thin strips of metal taken from the rubble and some lengths of wire, "Brace yourself, Simmins, I have to set the bones before I splint you up and sling your arm. Do you want Thudd to help you hold still?"
Following his own advice, Krish digs where a person should be. Warp-enhanced strength letting the psyker shift bits of rubble far larger than he should be able to do unaided. Some are big enough that Thudd might have needed to use a second hand.
Finally, just as Simmins announces finding one of their missing, Krish sees a twitching boot poking out of a pile of braced pieces of rockcrete. "Here is the other! We found them!"
Krish pats Simmins shoulder reassuringly, the ringing in his own ears and the weirdly muffled and distorted sounds letting him know that talking is probably not very useful. Turning back to the pile of rubble, Krish tries a methodical search.
Awareness vs 8: 1d100 ⇒ 83.
Krish had never been the most observant person, and now he curses silently at his own inablility to find either of their three missing people. Simmins hand looks bad enough that Krish needs to find Leni.
Logic vs 32: 1d100 ⇒ 38. Random Chance vs 10: 1d100 ⇒ 58.
EDIT: Spending a FP to pass the logic test.
Though he does not find anyone, Krish thinks that he can identify some pattern to the places where those who have been found (or extricated themselves) were buried. "Thudd, come lift these pieces. Sergeant, I think Cort might be over in that area."
Krish grips Thudd's arm as their prayer ends and the world vanishes into nothing.
********
Krish's senses finally stop reeling and, like Cormaeg, for a heartbeat or two he wonders if he is dead. Then the multitude of bruises, contusions, and other minor injuries register. Only life would hurt this much...
Buried? 1d2 ⇒ 2.
Experimentally flexing his muscles, Krish is able to shift the rubble leaning on him, and he rises slowly to his feet. Seeing the assorted shapes of his squad and piles of rubble where some of them should be, Krish starts digging, trying to account for all of his squadmates.
Starting in the few seconds before the rocket strike, and continuing into the few gaps in the thunder, the miniscule less-loud moments, Krish's voice can be heard among the guardsmen huddled close. Quiet at first, and growing in volume until he is almost shouting into the deafening roar of the unleashed fury of the Imperium of Man.
"A spiritu dominatus,
Domine, libra nos,
From the lightning and the tempest,
Our Emperor, deliver us."
"From plague, deceit, temptation and war,
Our Emperor, deliver us.
From the scourge of the Kraken,
Our Emperor, deliver us.
From the blasphemy of the Fallen,
Our Emperor, deliver us."
"From the begetting of daemons,
Our Emperor, deliver us.
From the curse of the mutant,
Our Emperor, deliver us.
A morte perpetua,
Domine, libra nos."
"That thou wouldst bring them only death,
That thou shouldst spare none,
That thou shouldst pardon none,
We beseech thee, destroy them."
Krish surveys the scene outside with grim stoicism. It is bad, but the uncounted billions of humanity will drown these invaders in a tide of Imperial blood if that was what it took to put them down.
As the whistling of incoming artillery fills the air, Krish allows himself to be herded into a safer position. How does one argue with an Ogryn, anyway. He looks around at these who he has known for such a short time. As always, the fires of war have forged the bonds of kinship in far less time than could have been done in any other situation. Krish's voice is a little deeper when he speaks quietly, barely audible of the whine of incoming destruction, "I have not been with you all for long, but it has been my absolute honor to serve with you. The Emperor willing, we will have many more days to serve together, but I wanted that to be known in case my duty to Him ends this day."
Agri-World Mechanized Line Infantry, Phlegmatic Commander, Iron discipline
Boni&Mali:
+3 to two of {Fel, T, S}
+3 to S, -3 to Int
+3 to Int, -3 Per
+2 Wounds
Additional Aptitude: Willpower
Starting Talent: Rapid Reload
Starting Skills: Athletics, Low Gothic, Operate (Surface) trained (+10), Schol. Lore (Beasts), Common Lore (War, Imperial Guard)
One with the land: (+10 Knowledge/Trade/Survival to interactions/identify potentially domesticated beasts & to harvest, cultivate, identify crops)
Naive: (-10 on opposed Scrutiny tests vs deceive,
first time to gain insanity, gain double the number)
Favored Weapons: Heavy Stubber and Basic flamer. +10 to acquisition tests to acquire those weapons or the appropriate ammo.
Krish stands from Lucky's body and looks back up the stairs to Cormaeg, "No targeting device that I could find, Sergeant." Krish hurries back up the stairs to the top level where he takes the dataslate from Cormaeg and starts trying to orient himself to the dataslate and the terrain outside.
"Thanks, Thudd." With a deep breath to brace himself for the task, Krish kneels beside Lucky's corpse once more and begins looking through the dead soldier's equipment.
"Sergeant! If I remember correctly, Lucky was orginally a spotter! Perhaps he has a marking device." Krish wheels and begins running back down the stairs to where Lucky lay in death, his augmetic leg puffing, hissing, and whining the whole way.
Agility vs 41: 1d100 ⇒ 38.
With the semi-narrative time we are in, is one check for running sufficient to get Krish all the way to Lucky?
"Aye, Sergeant." Krish is two steps toward Lucky's position when the Sergeant changes his orders. Surely there would be time to patch Thudd up and still get the vox before the shells were launched? The fight could not have taken as long as it felt like...
Krish hurries to assist the medic, lending his warp-borne strength to helping her muscle the huge ogryn around. Krish takes over cutting the empty medkit case into metal strips, handing them off to her to disinfect.
As they work on the Ogryn, Krish tries to keep him distracted by reciting some of the minor Litanies to the Emperor.
*****
If Cormaeg still does not have the vox:
Once they finish with Thudd, Krish wipes his hands once more, "I have to get that vox to the Sarge." He ducks out of the portable hospital and hurries over to the twisted remains of the desk where Lucky last was. After seeing what lay partially covered in the rubble, Krish knows there is no need to check for any heartbeat. "Your luck held out to the very end, Lucky. Even in death you still served Him well."
Krish tips the wreck of the table aside in such a way as to shield his actions from full view of the rest of the squad. Grateful for the warp-borne strength that lets him quickly extract the vox unit from Lucky's dead clutches, Krish locks the tiny, screaming voice away where it cannot get out. The quiet sounds as Krish works are enough to keep the rest of the squad from looking too closely.
Once finished, he rises to his feet. With one bloody hand he retrieves his staff while holding the vox in the other. As his puffing and wheezing augmetic limits his speed, Krish calls up the stairs, "Vox is here, sergeant. Intact as far as I can tell." There is a slight catch in his voice, "Lucky did his duty well."
Hearing the warning about the grenade, and like his sergeant wanting to leave nothing to chance, Krish rushes to the right (left side of the room) to get clear of the blast of the grenade and closer to the remaining fighting.
Agility vs 41: 1d100 ⇒ 19.
He takes cover near Thudd and can be heard muttering a short prayer of thanks to the Emperor for his leg working correctly this time.
The psy-reactive circuits in his staff flare as Krish channels the power of the warp into the Ork's body through them, and purple lightning crackles over the ork.
Focus Power vs 80: 1d100 ⇒ 46, 4 DoS. Sneaky Git needs to make an opposed WP rest and will suffer 1d10 unsoakable damage for each of Krish's net successes.
Psychic Phenomena:
1d100 + 10 ⇒ (98) + 10 = 108: Perils of the Warp. Hell no. 1d100 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29: Veil of Darkness.
For a brief moment (effectively the remainder of the Round), the area within 3d10 ⇒ (4, 6, 10) = 20 metres is plunged into immediate darkness.
The flaring of power flashing inside the smoke cloud is folowed by stygian, impenetrable blackness washing over nearly the entire room for a few fleeting seconds.
Krish places a hand on Leni's shoulder and gives a squeeze, a gesture mostly symbolic through the armor the medic wears. His head spas to the left as motion catches his eye. He rises to his feet, making a sweeping gesture with his staff and a line of rippling green rushes out toward the ork.
Enfeeble (Unfettered):
Focus Power vs 65: 1d100 ⇒ 27, 4 DoS.
The ork must make a willpower test with 4 DoS or be stunned for 1 round.
"We have one of the filth trying to flank on the left!" Krish moves with a purpose a few meters in that direction, staff held at the ready.
Though the fight raged on still, the primary threat was down. Krish knelt beside Leni, gently taking the bandage from her to attempt what she could not do with one hand.
Not sure what Leni's Medicae skill is. QAuxiliary Medic vs 32 + Leni's Medicae: 1d100 ⇒ 19, at least 2 DoS.
Krish smiles slightly as she corrects his technique even as he staunches the bleeding in her own arm. Hopefully, Emperor willing, they would all survive this attack and even prevent their own forces from shelling them into dust. And if they did, one irascible medic would survive if Krish had aught to say about it.
[dice=BS 48 +10 brace +10 short range +10 height advantage]1d100
3 DOS
Simmins doesn't really need to be told twice as all visible targets remained in the cone of his vengeance.
He had no idea what was happening behind him but Thudd's shout and the Sarge's clipped orders had him feeling light headed with relief. Still, there was work to do.
He grimly spent freely of the Emperor's ammunition. The blood loss was getting to him though as the Stubber wobbled a bit and a few bullets missed the target of his Suppressive Fire.
