Archibald walks by the third rising cultist and places a shot from his stub pistol into him without much more than a glance.
Keep going! Cut them down as they rise! Lugga a go-go!
Give me a sec 'fore I fire at the sniper sir... Lyn, watch where I hit in case I miss!
Without turning back, Ludicus calls over his shoulder to the troopers.
"Any enemy that falls, put a las round in it's head as we pass them by, I do not want anyone to rise and attack us from behind."
Confident that there are plenty of troopers free to double tap the fallen foes, Ludicus presses on.
The rising threats are quickly dispatched with concentrated fire from the squad - as is the marksman further back by a marvelous shot from Felix!
More targets are rising at the obstacles, where you already expected them and start firing at the massive target in front, peppering the Ogryns shield with small arms fire that is slowly chipping away the thick plasteel barrier.
A quick headcount makes for an estimated five targets huddled closely together and firing from the improvised cover.
Thankfully, they don't seem to possess heavy weapons.
Then there is a dull clatter of something metallic falling onto the hard ground and rolling about: one of the enemies at the barricade has tossed a grenade over the head of Lobba, right into the midst of the forward team!
Lugga reacts quickly.
He grabs the grenade and chucks it so hard you hear it whistle as it leaves!
Satisfied with her shot Felix moves out of cover and follows the forward team, swapping her longlas out for the pumpgun as she carries out a full combat movement.
As Lugga gets rid of the offending grenade, Ludicus calls out to the enemy troopers.
"Much obliged, but we have our own, you can have this one back."
Lynn is completly in her element now, quitly humming to herself
"Bang bang red stuff out! Bang bang Honey bang!"
Seeing how her targets are huddled behind a barricade she goes for the headshot this time around
35-20+10+10+10-20=25
Pen:1, Bleed
In a desperate attempt to stop the Ogryn, the traitors try to hit the Ogryns feet.
A single bullet does actually hit, all the rest hitting the ground or the shield.
But a single shell is far from enough to stop an angry Ogryn!
Lugga comes barreling through the various bodies and debris toward the enemy cover like a manifestation of fate itself. He gets into reach of one of the men and his crude warhammer makes its debut!
- probably not
The hammer barely misses the man and instead obliterates the ground inches from his feet!
Archibald is directly behind his companion and his deadly knife flickers out of its sheath as he approaches.
While the soldier's attention is firmly on the very large warhammer, they get a nasty surprise from a very shiney mono-knife!
-
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The shot goes wide and Lynn chokes.
"Hoooneeey! How dare you! You know you're not supposed to buck that way! Look at that mess! NO RED STUFF!"
She sniffles and a tiny tear escapes her right eye but the show must go - and so she get to work reloading honey
Not trusting his footing in the mud, Ludicus, rather than charge instead shifts his chainsword fron one hand to the other, so he is able to draw his bolt pistol.
Raising the gun, he takes careful aim, allowing his eyes to do their magic.
Felix moves into a crouch position in range of the pumpgun and with as much cover as possible and fires 3 shots at an open target, preferably one wounded in order to finish it off.
The forward team takes the traitors on in close quarters!
With the Ogryn toppling crates and sandbags the way to do so is free and quickly the first blood is spilled - by the Lieutenant no less!
The knife thrust bites deep and leaves a bleeding wound.
Which does not matter much as only a few seconds later Felix comes rushing, slides into the questionable cover of a half-standing wooden ammo crate (straining her ankle while doing so) and blasts the leg of the wounded traitor apart.
His death roar is terrible but the gun in Felix hand rejoices and twitches around, all too eager for the next kill!
The remaining four soldiers seem quite shaken by the assault but one of them eagerly pulls a combat knife from a corpse on the ground and takes a swing at the Lt. - which in turns seem to convince the others to stay and fight as well.
Two pull autopistols and shoot at the large target of the Ogryn with a third throwing himself against the towering Ogryn with an insane scream - and a knife.
The knife finds a hole in the improvised armor and leaves a small nick in the thick hide of the Ogryn.
The two autopistols send out a hail of lead against the big target at point blank range, scoring no less then eight hits - out of which only two actually leave any kind of impression with Lugga.
Lugga keeps his shield in place, but glares at the guy who stabbed him
and forces him to dodge a massive warhammer strike!
Archibald engages the knife wielding man with Lugga, stabbing as he dodges,
Ludicus continues to aim, his eyes locking on target, or perhaps more clearly, on the small red dot appearing on one of the traitor trying to gun down the ogryn.
Driven by an impulse she doesn't quite understand Felix closes to point blank range and fires again. She does have enough presence of mind to keep to one side of the trench though.
If she can she will redirect her fire to next closest target if the first falls.
Lynn continues to grumble as she puts the 2nd bullet into Honey but gets back down to business, picking one of the enemies who is not currently getting murdered and aiming at them.
The fight ends right there.
One enemy gets smashed to a pulp by the Ogryn (and stabbed in the ribs for good measure by Archibald).
Another, trying to get away from the recently de-legged trooper runs right into the path of the Commissars bolter round - which would have missed him otherwise.
He is now missing the better part of his left leg below the hip and is bleeding out under horrible screams.
Another one is blasted to bits of meat by a point blank salvo from Felix' hungry shotgun, which distributes the traitor evenly over m of now very red trench.
The single remaining traitor is terror-struck and turns to flee - only to be cut down by several intersecting lasbolts coming from the rest of the squad, turning the man into an overheated marshmallow in seconds.
As the adrenaline of the fight slowly starts to wear off, your combeads crackle, but only some of you actually receive the message sent on the command channel.
++ This is Sgt. Gruber.
Major push-back coming in from the second line along the interconnection trench.
We cannot hold them back without immediate support, Over. ++
It is quickly followed by the familiar voice of Lt. Harker.
++ Damn it, they try to take us in the rear.
Mortar teams: immediate fire support.
I repeat:
Mortar teams are ordered for final protective fire on trench intersection Charlie.
Gruber: get out of there, now!
Set-up defenses at intersection Phi. ++
Lynn sighs and puts Honey back down. She eyes 'him' with a sad look - now she'll have to wait a "long" time for the red stuff...
Either way she gets up on her knees, hefts Honey closer on his strap and drapes the camo cloak properly over herself. Then she moves after the others, hopefully without giving someone left around here an easy target
Team advance! We need to take his Lascannon now! Lugga, Gogo!
The Lt. falls to the rear and gets on his comm bead as he follows the assault forward. He closes his eyes for a moment and pictures the maps he studied with Harker. Numbers fly in his head and he catches himself in a slight but possibly costly error at the last minute. With friendlies so close, he has to get this right.
Jeeves! Coordinates: base+2.24 / base-17.55 progression line 000
Three rounds rapid!
Zero spread! Danger close!
Once complete, fall back to FCP!
He rapidly switches to the command channel, Rounds incoming, Danger close! Mortars ordered to fall back to FCP after rounds complete.
Lugga nods and continues toward the lascannon shield first.
As Ludicus strides past the Lieutenant on his way towards the front, he leans close enough to whisper a short sentence.
Unsure if they will be fighting long or short range, Felix opts to hang on to the pumpgun. She stays behind Lugga though her sprain means she wouldn't be doing any running anytime soon anyway.
A shiver falls down Archibald's spine at the Commissar's words, but he doesn't respond and just keeps hoping against hope that he stays on his feet.
The dull thump-thump-thump of a mortar firing in rapid succession reverberates through the trench network, seconds before the ground shakes under the impact of the salvo.
Even over this distance you can hear shrill shrieking and wailing.
Over the shaking ground and through the messy trench you power forward, with the Ogryn removing most obstacles with a frightening ease.
Soon enough you reach (and pass) the place where the sniper was taken out.
The sniper has crouched right at the edge of another trench crossing:
The main trench goes onward straight ahead and deep, deep into enemy territory, the other one is a side-trench leading straight north.
From the directions you are pretty sure it will link up with the other side-trench you passed earlier.
++ Charlie-One for Papa-Two.
Fire mission successful.
One direct hit, one indirect-close, one miss straight south friendly-close.
We see their advance staggering and slowing!
Ove-
Wait!
Target of opportunity: enemy Commissar spotted.
Require permission to use our heavy ordnance to take him out! ++
++Papa-2 for Charlie-1.
Permission granted. Repeat. Permission Granted. What is target location, over?++
Archibald signals the squad forward west, then north east at the following intersection. They should hit the lascannon from the opposite side they're expecting this way.
Unlike some of his brethren, Ludicus wasn't a fanatic, but the news of heretic Commissar was enough to freeze him in place in shock and outrage.
Considering how tall and eye catching he already is, the effect is probably quite spectacular.
On some level he had most likely denied the possibility of heresy in his fellow Schola graduates, preferring to imagining them going down as heroes standing against a tide of corruption.
The idea that some would embrace that very heresy was...unpalatable.
Despite the Lieutenant having already given permission, he still tags his microbead, and when he talks, his voice is thick with barely suppressed rage.
"That permission is backed by the will and authority of the Commissariat.
Purge that...animal, with extreme prejudice."
++ Copy that Charlie-1.
Target is north of your position and moving towards the big crossing.
Just look where the missile strikes...
Here it comes! ++
Sure enough, the white exhaust trail of a missile leaves the bunker and rushes towards the first trenchline in a downward course.
Actually, it feels like it is directly coming towards you...
... but it thankfully is not.
With a powerful, ground shaking detonation the missile strike the side trench you just passed by, some thirty meter or so north.
++ Target area hit. That should b-woah! *crackle* ++
The transmission is cut short mid-sentence as the blindingly bright, thigh-thick beam of a lascannon clips the bunker in retaliation.
++ *coughing*
Dammit, everyone still alive?
Crap.
Charlie-1: our bunker just got a new entrance we have to worry about.
We'll be busy for a while.
Take that lascannon out or we'll be frakked up here. ++
Spurred on by the events you hurry onwards, meeting little resistance for the next minute.
You nearly begin to hope that all the foes have been drawn away by the distraction, when all of a sudden...
... the world ends.
The first thought your confused mind produces is a resigned:
Well, that's that - we're dead.
But then you notice that you can still feel your body.
There is solid ground beneath your feet and a gun in your hands.
You can see nothing.
You can smell nothing.
You can hear nothing.
By the Throne! Archibald lays still until he can feel something... Anything.
Igor paws about, trying to get some kind of hold on reality.
There's a gun in my hand. There's MY gun in my hand. Honey's here with me. I'll be fine as long as I find Honey something to red-dead-en.
Lynn cuddles her gun lovingly, then pouts to herself
Now someone just needs to turn the damn light back on so I can see something to shoot. Damnit!
Felix hunkers down with her pumpgun in hand and calls out Sir! Commissar! Anyone?
She scrambles towards what she remembers where the closest cover was.
You crawl over the ground until your hand finally touches something other than hard, scorched rock.
It is ... cold and soft and gives way under your touch... then gets wet?
Snow?
*snap*
You are crouched high atop a spire of a bombed out city.
Wind is whooshing and pulling hard on your uniform.
Your limbs are ice cold and stiff as if you hadn't moved them for ages.
Your longlas is braced on a solid bipod atop what must have once been a window - before half of it got blasted off by some cataclysmic event.
You overlook the deserted ruins of the city with baited breath - just knowing that down there, somewhere, an enemy sniper is waiting for you to make a wrong move...
Standing stock-still, you try to remain the calm and in-control appearance even if everything else is going to (potentially literal) hell.
*snap*
There are six troopers in front of you, all unarmed and looking apprehensive and slightly shaking from the cold of the snow-ladden wind whistling through this damned ruined city.
And there is your bolt pistol in your iron grip.
You know that one of them is a foul traitor in his heart and has caused incomprehensible losses to the regiment in small and the Imperium itself at large.
One is a hulking brute, known for nothing but supreme strength and the willingness to strangle his foes with his bare hands if necessary.
One is a remarkable shot in the field and an immense pain in the ass off-field, with a history of domestic violence, disobedience and multiple recorded infractions against military-civil law.
One is a promising young Sergeant with a literally perfect record. Medals, recommendations, honors - everything.
One is your very own, young Commissar-Cadet. A clever fellow who is taking well to your reasonable approach to the role of the red cap on the field of war.
One is a young fellow who has recently shown incredible prowess in clearing an entire enemy-held bunker on his own, using nothing but an old and battered shotgun he took from an enemy he killed with his combat knife after his lasgun was destroyed.
The last one is a cultivated Gunnery Chief known throughout the regiment for his good manors and high standard of living.
As you look around searching for targets in the nothingness...
*snap*
You find yourself prone one the ground, cradled against your favorite gun and looking out over a blasted ruin of a city.
Snow covers the scenery and you feel sudden cold biting your entire body from below.
The hard rockrete of the half destroyed vehicle shed you lie on is freezing cold.
A harsh wind is ripping on the camo-cloak, which is draped over your entire body.
You just know it is the only thing shielding you from the deadly eyes of the other sniper who is hunting for you.
Waiting for you to make a wrong move and give away your position...
*snap*
Roaring thunder of heavy field guns is all around.
Nearly drowned out by it, is the shouted, scrambled voices coming from the vox hauler beside your field table with the dataslate of the battlefield.
Three different high priority fire missions and only a single battery of basilisks.
The first comes from a scout team having spotted a large number of enemy infantry advancing rapidly through a gap in the imperial defenses, clearly trying to break the line and hit the rearward elements - and that might very well mean you.
The second is from a Sergeant screaming at you to fire onto his current position with everything you have, as they are being overrun by what he insists, are traitorous Space Marines.
The final one comes with Commissary priority attached, asking for wide area bombardment of a city district to route out enemy snipers pinning him and his men down.
I's dark in 'ere!
*snap*
I's not dark in 'ere!
But cold.
Good cold.
And nice white-stuff.
white-stuff is on everything in broken small-people-big-place.
Your handler is all red and messy from that monster.
You need to hunt it down!
The Commissar freezes in place again, unsure of what is going on, and quite frankly he would be scared if not for the simple fact that he is QUITE annoyed.
Not a flashbang, it wouldn't block scent. And there are plenty of scents I SHOULD be all but overwhelmed with.
This must be some kind of warp trickery, especially since we know they are heretics.
Closing his eyes for a moment, The Commissar tries to focus on the feel of his chainsword, trying to hear the reeving of the engine as he squeezes his finger together.
Then suddenly he CAN see again, and he sees the troopers before him.
He slowly lifts his bolt pistol up, preparing to render judgement, and then he pauses.
Ridiculous! This was in no way believable, the troopers were not the same as before, the setting was not as before, he KNEW there was warp tricky about...
This was a mere illusion, and he was quite insulted that someone thought THIS could ensnare him.
Narrowing his eyes, he began to tell himself what he KNEW to be there.
Mud, not snow! Trenches! Not these soldiers but His fellow soldiers!
How could he possibly have lost an Ogryn? Idiotic!
"My mind is my own!"
He runs through the choices. The commissar was right out. He was pinned, sure, but he was in cover, clearly, so he could wait his turn. The Sergeant could stand his ground and die trying. This was the life, and everyone knew it.
The scout team was priority. A break in the lines was unacceptable and a threat to the rearward posts could roll up the forward positions dangerously fast if not contained.
He turns to his Vox man and starts barking orders for a strike on the charging infantry.
This is witch stuff. This is witch stuff. This is witch stuff. Felix mutters to herself over and over. Which makes matters worse. With stuff got you killed or worse Everyone knew that.
Was she supposed to go along with this... dream... illusion.. or whatever... or was she supposed to fight it. She remembered the altar she saw right before everything went black.
Maybe...
on noticing anything off.
Lynn drapes the cloak around herself more thoroughly before she takes a peek and
attempts to locate the 'other' sniper
At first everything seems to match up and you are getting really nervous, but then ...
... you start to wonder about the feeling of your gun.
It feels off somehow.
Is this really the smooth stock of your longlas?
Or rather the heavy and worn stock of the pumpgun?
*snap*
The illusion rents and you are thrown back into the trench and immediately have to fight a primordial urge to vomit.
The entire trench is filled with corpses.
Blasted apart, bloated, headless, rotting corpses.
A dozen or so meters further on is a hideously looking altar.
Skulls are pilled high atop the altar and the area around it is a literal sea of blood.
A horned creatures with red, scaly skin and bulging muscles stands before the altar and places ever more skulls atop it, while talking in a tongue that rents at your sanity.
There - movement!
High atop a destroyed building.
A shadow is moving around, searching for something ... or someone.
A quick estimate puts the target at about 700m distance and being in partial cover of a destroyed window frame - overlooking the entire hab block.
It is a marvelous position for a sniper.
The heavy guns fire at your command and send hundreds of kilos of ordnance at the distant target.
A tiny, mocking voice in the very edge of your mind whispers in an alien tongue - but the meaning bleeds into your consciousness nevertheless.
"Are you sure you made the objectively right decision there, Soldier of the Carrion-God?
Did you really have the greater picture in mind ...
... or did you rather took the option that would save your own sorry life?
That Sergeant is overrun by the Legionaires and now these most skilled killers are free to assault and murder the next position.
And then the next one after that. And so on for the eternity of the Long War.
You could have ended them, right there.
But you decided to safe yourself instead.
And that Commissar...
Don't you know that this fool is accompanying an Inquisitor on an oh-so important mission?
Did you think he would just use his Commissarial Codes [i]in addition to the highest possible fire support priority for a non-pressing measure?
Do not lie to yourself, you are just a selfish little man like everyone else.
That is nothing to be ashamed of, really.
Without selfishness your species would have never left the trees on your despicable homeworld all those millennia ago.
Without it you would die before aging.
Just accept this fact and you will survive this war.
And the one after.
And who knows ...
Maybe you will find ways to make your service even more entertaining and pleasant..."[/i]
You sniff the air.
Metallic-red-stuff smell!
And is close.
You hunt it down with the rage of your kin boiling already.
Turning a corner, you step out onto a wide open area surrounded by small-people-big-houses and covered in red-life-stuff.
In the midst of the area, is the killer of your friend.
It is ...
... an Ogryn as well?
At least it is as big and bulky as one.
But its eyes are coal-glowy red and he has bone-spiky-things coming out of his head and back.
Other than that (and the dark-dark axe it is wearing) it looks just ... like ... you!
While it is tempting to shout his defiance, Ludicus is more concerned with effect and he does not even bother with the creature at all.
Instead, he raises his bolt pistol, aims at the altar and fires a burst at the target, hoping that the fact that he is shooting at a literally stationary target will allow him to not have to worry about his less than stellar ranged skills.
Surely the altar is key to whatever this warp trickery is...I hope...
With that he gives orders to target the commissar's position.
Felix is unable to shake the dream logic surrounding her. At least there was no immediate danger so she crouches to gain full cover from whatever threat was out there in the dead city. But her questions persist. Where was her squad? What were her orders? Where was her guidance?
And that answered her question. Of course she knew where guidance came from.. She crouched and started to sing to herself the litany of protecvtion.
He who dwells in the shelter of
the Emperor
Will abide in the shadow of
the God of Mankind.
I will say to the Emperor, "My
refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!"...