Search Posts
The days labors, and the heat take a toll on my health. I hope my endurance holds out until we are relieved.
Building the Imperium one sandbag at a time. Or bodybag... I follow Sarge quietly. I expect to get an ear full from Dot once we are in the quiet. Looking at things here that's going to be awhile.
I am lost in my own thoughts and nightmares until the jolt of the truck stopping brings me back to Skrynne. I stare into the pile of burning bodies, and watch as there faces melt away as I jump off the truck. The smell of burnt flesh barely registering. Stacks of thousands of bodies high still crisp in my mind. "When I did...make sure they burn me. I want nothing left." While my words drift in the air, they were meant for Dot. Dot knows, Dot understands.
When the Brontian asks about Oremor my gaze becomes distant, and I loose track of the present. As images of that hell resurface in my mind. These guardsmen have no fragging clue what a death world is. I do my best to quell the memories and nightmares of that time before they consume me.
I take note of the envious eyes as I put my blade away. Hopefully none of them are stupid enough to try and steal it from one of us. Throne knows there are enough Oremorites who would trade there's for the right price. Hearing our orders, it means those who are grunts, grunt. Anyone with range and sharp eyes cover. Both jobs are equally as important. We don't fix the shuttle pad the harder it will be to resupply. Seeing how tough the green skins are. We will need lots of supplies, men, and body bags before this rock is won.
Figure I will find out what the word means soon enough. I pull my blade, and turn it so he can have a sight. But keep it firmly in my grip. "It's a Chit-sickle. Brush or man it cuts through it about the same."
To make light of what could quickly be a bad situation. I decide to make light of Hathin's attitude. Rather have to watch my back being knifed by one that I know than a squad of strangers. As much as I disdain being social. I rather the Brontian's as friendlys and pass on what knowledge they have gained so we can survive and hopefully leave this death world. "Pay no attention to him. We don't let him out much. Even the spider died after it bit him. We had to shoot it to put it out of its misery."
Annoyed that we are being immediately called out again. Rather have had the time to field strip my rifle, and find what caused the jam with it and my side arm. Just hope it holds up. Seeing all the knives I hope we are in a support role. I have no desire to get into melee range with Orks. If my gun can't kill it, I don't have much of a prayer of killing one in melee. I hop down off the building. Looking toward "So what's worse the locals?"
"or the Orks?" No need to ask what the mission is. The mission is always the same for my skill set. Kill.
"Acknowledged." Eyes back down range, and scanning.
"Hey Sarge, figure we throw a charge down that hole just in case that crawler has any relatives?" I let Dot's question fall. Some answers are best not pondered.
I roll my eyes as Hathin buries his knife into the spider again and again. It's already dead you feckin' moron. All your doing is getting your blood pumping and moving the poison quicker through your system. Good thing I usually don't say what I think. Live longer that way. "Eyes back down range."
"I don't know what the fegargo I just killed, but the spider looks more appealing."
"Spider's eh?" "Nothing like worrying about being dragged off in your sleep and sucked dry like a Oremorian passion fruit." "They got it? Or do we need to redirect fire?" As I await Dot's answer; I continue scanning down range.
Not aware of the danger below me I keep focused on the Orks making for the treeline. "Sarge Orks breaking into the treeline. Nixed two, not sure how many got though safely before I got my cross hairs on them. At least one who got through is motorized."
"Give me mark's on the tree line." Seeing survivors making there way toward the tree line. I snap off a few rounds. Better to kill a green skin today rather than it come back and kill ya tomorrow.
Using the advantage of height, and my scope I scan down range.
"Taking my perch." I start climbing up the ladder to set up my kill zone on the roof. Thinking about Dol's words it was an aweful coincidence that so many of our weapons jammed. If the enemy would have chosen to assault instead of giving us time to get our weapons clear a good number of us would be have our tags kicked between our teeth and left for orderlies to pick us up after. "Hey Sarge, who issued us our equipment?" Might have to pay a visit to that Shtako later.
"Lets move and set up a new perch." Me and Dot move to the sturdiest building of the lot to set up on, and give us the best vision down range. I avoid the bone picker. Don't want to get shot by association with someone picking up a Xeno souvenir. No telling how trigger happy Vex is. Best to just focus on my job. Maybe if we are very lucky we will live long enough to be pardoned and allowed to settle a planet some day. Nice pipe dream, but I'll take it.
I take a deep sigh, and readjust for another target. I play with the idea of shooting him in the arse to get him out of the way, and the medal he is trying to earn. Sadly I would be hung for the attempt. Maybe the Ork will do us all the favor...
Finally! I get back into a prone position and sweep the battlefield. See if we have any other surprises coming our way, or if I can focus on the immediate threat. "Eye's down range. What's my windage?" What do I see?
"Thanks Dot" I take advantage of the squad mopping up the two remaining Orks to reload my sniper rifle.
Seeing how all of my remaining potential targets are in cover. I will take the time to retrieve my sniper rifle and take the time to remove the jam from my weapon using the ditch as cover.
I keep pumping round after round into the Green skin.I examine as each hit impacts into its skin seeing what effect I have on it. There has to be more than one way to kill an Ork. Nothing else being up close and personal I get to learn how much punishment there bodies can take. And pray to the Throne that I never square off against one of these in hand to hand. I am certain down to my bones they would make short work of me.
As I continue to put round after round into Sarge's Ork. "We don't scavenge better gear soon. We will end up the hunted."
"Dot on my target!" Seeing the Sarge is in serious trouble. I focus fire on the Ork that he is engaged in melee with. Competent NCO's are hard to find. Last thing any of us want is Vex leading the squad.
I squeeze off a short burst as I get a feel for the rifle. At best I hope I make the green skin bastage bleed. At worst I hope to keep its head down as the squad slowly advances.
I catch the las rifle. "Thanks." I adjust my grip to the feel of the rifle, and start lining up targets.
I draw my las pistol and aim at the Ork who fired upon me. Have to clear the area of immediate threats before I attempt to clear the chamber of my sniper rifle. Until things look like we secure our immediate position. I won't take my eyes off the Green skinned threat in front of me. Hearing a whine and a pffttt from my pistol as it does nothing. I am beside myself. "Who the frak is the piece of Churraptus excrement of a Quarter Master who issued this piece of $&@*." First day of the campaign and I already have to consider throwing rocks at the enemy.
The Ork freezes long enough for me to line up the perfect head shot. I squeeze the trigger, and I feel the bullet lodge in the chamber. The words that fly out of my mouth could make a grizzled drill sergeant blush. I drop my rifle as I slide back further into the ditch and pull my side arm. Knowing Dot's twisted humor... "Not a word." I start lining up on the next Ork.
I continue my over watch, as opportunities for clean shots will get trickier and trickier. If needed and one of my Squad is in dire straits in the melee I will shoot the they are in melee with.
Hearing Dot whisper out the vector I adjust and fire on reflex and instinct. A game, a skill we honed over countless hours. Calling out phantom targets during our quiet times pays off when things aren't so quiet...
Warmater Spoiler:
No worries. "If your nice, I'll even let share in the glory, and carve in that kill." I would laugh, but don't have the luxury until all the Xeno's are dead. I look down my sights and set up for Overwatch again. Looking for another Ork in my field of vision. Looking for one who is trying close the distance, or gets careless enough to stick its rear out from behind cover for me to squeeze off another shot.
Warmaster Spoiler: Okay cool. Guess both of us failed on the communication part. What I considered as a break in Overwatch is an Ork covering ground toward our position, or an Ork slipping up and opening himself up to my sniper fire.
Warmaster
Spoiler:
Considering how close the Orks are to melee range. Even an unarmed Ork is a dangerous enough of a foe to over run mine and Dot's position. So I would widen my firing range to cripple any Ork trying to close the distance. Dot covering me with pistol fire so I don't get clubbed like a baby seal. I pop off a round at any Ork foolish enough to step away from its cover.
I stay on Over Watch waiting for the first Ork to make its move on us. "After this shot draw your pistol and back up. Kneecap them if you can." One shot, and then they will be on us...
I follow an old prison yard saying when outnumbered. Shut up the loudest and the rest become quiet. I take aim at the one with the most bravado.
I go on over watch as the squad readjusts its position along the trench. Knowing full well the Orks can easily cover ground and engage us in melee at this distance. I care less about the fine kill, and look for the maim. Any shot to slow down or cripple an advance. I will buy us time. Let the weight of fire from the rest of the squad to do the killing. If we fail we will learn real quick how handy Sarge is with a blade.
Me and Dot move down the gully a bit more and set up a new firing position. At least until we can clear out those buildings. Want to spread the firing line out a bit, and force the Green Skins to split there focus and fire.
"Lets set up here until we can clear out our new perch."
"Well we heard the man. Lets move!" Will follow the trench till we need to cross open ground and set up our next perch at the ruined buildings. Hopefully we will get there before the Green Skins. I have no desire for close combat.
As the bottom feeders start to trot off. "Good thing your sergeant is kicking you ladies back in line. Between putting on your make up, and clucking like upper spire hen's. You all would miss the war." Seeing where squad's from the shuttle advance. I look for my next vantage point to set up. Just waiting for the Sarge's orders. Glancing at Dot. "Ready to move?"
Concentration is the greatest skill a sniper can hone, and I ignore the discomfort of the water lapping up into my clothes. Glad its not razorpedes, or fire ants. "Three-point-five, affirmative." I take a shot at one of the Orks trying for a neck shot.
I continue my over watch staring down my scope, as Dot calls out targets and vectors.
|