Malekor watched Genidius die and howled with rage. They had fought in countless battles together, all the way back to the glorious crusade of Warmaster Horus against the Corpse God. And now this man-meat killed his brother of all these millennia. Another Legionaire turned to attack Hethor and Malekor smashed his skull with a blow from his power fist, shattering helmet and bone as effortlessly as effortly as a man would crush an insect.
"THIS ONE IS MINE!" he bellowed, charging toward Hethor.
40K/Inquisitor RPG. The Line of Damnation.
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Imperial Overlord
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Hethor saw the insanely swift mountain of black steel kill one of its battle brothers in order to get to him. Hethor leveled his archaeotech plasma pistol and fired at the left side as he swung his power sword to the right. If the traitor marine tried to escape the plasma burst, Hethor might be able to slice him open.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
There were very few tricks and feints that Malekor had not seen during his career. The meat-thing's moves betrayed themselves as they formed before his veteran eyes.
He sidestepped with blinding speed, and the crackling powerfist snapped across his body to intercept the blade of the power sword, curling around it as the energy fields warred against each other, while the plasma shot sizzled past him. With his other hand he grabbed Hethor's gun hand at the wrist, clamping down with irresistable force. Arms crossed, he began to lift up. Hethor could either release his sword or be pulled into the air before him.
It was not enough to merely kill this insect; he would suffer before he died.
He sidestepped with blinding speed, and the crackling powerfist snapped across his body to intercept the blade of the power sword, curling around it as the energy fields warred against each other, while the plasma shot sizzled past him. With his other hand he grabbed Hethor's gun hand at the wrist, clamping down with irresistable force. Arms crossed, he began to lift up. Hethor could either release his sword or be pulled into the air before him.
It was not enough to merely kill this insect; he would suffer before he died.
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Imperial Overlord
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Hethor had seconds before Gix arrived. His gun hand was pinned and the monster held his power sword by its field. Brute strength would not avail him against this one. He let go of the power blade, leaving it to occupy the traitor's hands. Which meant Hethor was the only one with a free arm.
Ancient and practiced reflexes had him speed drawing his bolt pistol and as its muzzle rose towards the legionaire's face, deadly Kraken penetrator rounds began to spew forth.
Ancient and practiced reflexes had him speed drawing his bolt pistol and as its muzzle rose towards the legionaire's face, deadly Kraken penetrator rounds began to spew forth.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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GeneralTacticus
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"-enemy sighted! I repeat, enemy-" The vox-message was cut short by a hail of bolter fire and the inhuman shrieking of the foe, and Adivan grimaced. That had been the last defensive area between the enym and the enginarium itself, barely a corridor away. If the Traitors had breached it, they would be arriving any time now. His grim face hidden behind his helmet, he swung to face the assortment of troops he had at his disposal. Twenty Stormtroopers, At least sixty naval armsmen - most of whom had exchanged their standard weapons for archaeotech lasguns - and a collection of trembling technicans given guns and pressed into service. Oh, and Mekhatan - it should not have been possible to miss the massive alien warrior, but sometimes
Outside, he could feel the foul presence of the Chaos Marines drawing closer, eager to tear and rend and destroy. In the final seconds before they arrived, he murmured a prayer to the Emperor, and ignited his energy blade in his right hand; in his left, he hefted his combi-weapon, scanning the future in search of a target.
There.
From outside, he could hear the dull clanks of melta-bombs being attached to the doors and walls of the enginarium, and gazing into the Warp, he could see the entry points of the fallen Marines. He picked one, switched to melta-only, aimed, and waited. Around him, the others were performing last-minute checks, muttering prayers, or simply scanning the walls looking for the first breach. They did not have long to wait before the charges detonated and sections of wall and door simply dissolved in white-hot blasts.
Outside, he could feel the foul presence of the Chaos Marines drawing closer, eager to tear and rend and destroy. In the final seconds before they arrived, he murmured a prayer to the Emperor, and ignited his energy blade in his right hand; in his left, he hefted his combi-weapon, scanning the future in search of a target.
There.
From outside, he could hear the dull clanks of melta-bombs being attached to the doors and walls of the enginarium, and gazing into the Warp, he could see the entry points of the fallen Marines. He picked one, switched to melta-only, aimed, and waited. Around him, the others were performing last-minute checks, muttering prayers, or simply scanning the walls looking for the first breach. They did not have long to wait before the charges detonated and sections of wall and door simply dissolved in white-hot blasts.
"The bird let out a slow chicken cackle. It sounded like a chicken, but in her heart she knew it wasn't. In that instant, she completely understood the concept of a chicken that was not a chicken. This looked like a chicken, like most of the Mud People's chickens. But this was no chicken.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
Hethor got two rounds into Malekor's torso before his inhuman reflexes led him to swing Hethor roughly by the wrist, slamming him into the wall.
The rounds penetrated, one blasting through his lung, the other exploding his secondary heart. He threw the sword aside swung again, lashing Hethor over his head and into the floor as if cracking a whip.
Deep in his remaining heart, he recognized that he faced an exceptional warrior, one worthy of respect.
But the darker side of his nature screamed for him to crush the life out of this insect NOW.
The rounds penetrated, one blasting through his lung, the other exploding his secondary heart. He threw the sword aside swung again, lashing Hethor over his head and into the floor as if cracking a whip.
Deep in his remaining heart, he recognized that he faced an exceptional warrior, one worthy of respect.
But the darker side of his nature screamed for him to crush the life out of this insect NOW.
With a roar the Legionaires stormed through the newly melted openings. The reports had not been entirely true... mixed in amidst the regular Traitors were a few clad in ghastly, perverted Terminator armor, the deadliest members of the Legion.
A storm of las-fire greeted them, knocking over more than one of their number, but deadly-accurate counterfire swept the bay, kraken rounds and regular bolter shells wreaking havoc on the defenders. Over their external speakers, the Traitor Marines chanted litanies to their foul gods, perverted words of heresy that would turn the stomach of any who professed faith in the God-Emperor.
A storm of las-fire greeted them, knocking over more than one of their number, but deadly-accurate counterfire swept the bay, kraken rounds and regular bolter shells wreaking havoc on the defenders. Over their external speakers, the Traitor Marines chanted litanies to their foul gods, perverted words of heresy that would turn the stomach of any who professed faith in the God-Emperor.
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Imperial Overlord
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Too late. Jolan Gix had hit a traitor legionaire with a pyrokinetic blast powerful enough to blast through his armour and kill him instantly. The one that hit Malekor was even stronger. Hellgun bolts and plasma beams from the surviving stormtroopers smashed into the other legionaires. "For the Emperor!" shouted Severa as she fired plasma bolts and Kraken rounds at the traitors.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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GeneralTacticus
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Adivan sucked in his breath as he caught sight of the Terminators. Well, no wonder they felt so threatening... An absent pull of the melta's trigger sent a Traitor Marine reeling back with his upper torso turned to char, and he followed up with a hail of Kraken rounds that sprayed across the armour of a second. He barely noticed, though; his attention was entirely on the four hulking montrosities that were now marching relentlessly forward, literally ignoring the storm of las-fire that engulfed them.
As he rose from his barricade and took aim at the closest of the Terminators, a sudden, dire threat intruded into his consciousness, and time seemed to slow. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the Traitors had identified him as a priority target and was charging towards him with a blazing bolter in hand. There was no time to turn or dodge, but it occurred to him that he didn't have to. His hand and mind twitched as one, sending out threads of psychic force, and the stream of bolter shells found themselves encountering what appeared to be solid walls. In accordance with their construction, they detonated, showering the area with shrapnel but doing little else. The Marine howled with rage and went for the ornate knife at his belt, but even as his fingers touched it, his chest seemed to dissolve as a blazing lascannon beam sliced through ceramite, skin, flesh and bone as though they weren't there. A brief glance at the shot's source confirmed what the Inquisitor had suspected; Mekhatan had commandeered a lascannon from somewhere and now hefting it in place of his assault cannon, which was now laying down a deafening hail of shells under the guidance of three Stormtroopers. Adivan gave a brief murmur of appreciation and swung his weapon back toward the closest Terminator.
As he rose from his barricade and took aim at the closest of the Terminators, a sudden, dire threat intruded into his consciousness, and time seemed to slow. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the Traitors had identified him as a priority target and was charging towards him with a blazing bolter in hand. There was no time to turn or dodge, but it occurred to him that he didn't have to. His hand and mind twitched as one, sending out threads of psychic force, and the stream of bolter shells found themselves encountering what appeared to be solid walls. In accordance with their construction, they detonated, showering the area with shrapnel but doing little else. The Marine howled with rage and went for the ornate knife at his belt, but even as his fingers touched it, his chest seemed to dissolve as a blazing lascannon beam sliced through ceramite, skin, flesh and bone as though they weren't there. A brief glance at the shot's source confirmed what the Inquisitor had suspected; Mekhatan had commandeered a lascannon from somewhere and now hefting it in place of his assault cannon, which was now laying down a deafening hail of shells under the guidance of three Stormtroopers. Adivan gave a brief murmur of appreciation and swung his weapon back toward the closest Terminator.
"The bird let out a slow chicken cackle. It sounded like a chicken, but in her heart she knew it wasn't. In that instant, she completely understood the concept of a chicken that was not a chicken. This looked like a chicken, like most of the Mud People's chickens. But this was no chicken.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
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Imperial Overlord
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Severa dropped her empty weapons rather than try to reload them. Her power cutlass found its way into her right hand, the archaeotech powersword to her left. The best duelist in her academy was less than a second away from engaging a superhuman killing machine with untold years of experience at close quarters. Beside her Gix stood with his force rod and power sword ready. He was good, but not as good as she was. What chance did he have against the Black Legion?
Hethor's armour and refractor field had shielded him from part of the impact. The veteran forced himself up and leveled his plasma pistol at the back of one of the traitors and fired.
Hethor's armour and refractor field had shielded him from part of the impact. The veteran forced himself up and leveled his plasma pistol at the back of one of the traitors and fired.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
Realizing his situation, Fliridor issued a quick command across his commbead. Terminators deal with the resistance, regular Marines disengage and proceed to inflict as much collateral damage upon the enginarium as possible.
And with that, the hulking warrior in his terminator armor leveled his storm-bolter at Adivan, only to barely miss as the accursed inquisitor dived just to the side of his shot. Another terminator rained a hail of kraken shells at Mekhatan.
Switching to krak grenades, the remaining regular marines sprinted around and through the resistance as best they could, raining hard fire down upon precious components in the enginarium...
And with that, the hulking warrior in his terminator armor leveled his storm-bolter at Adivan, only to barely miss as the accursed inquisitor dived just to the side of his shot. Another terminator rained a hail of kraken shells at Mekhatan.
Switching to krak grenades, the remaining regular marines sprinted around and through the resistance as best they could, raining hard fire down upon precious components in the enginarium...
Hethor's blast took off the arm and shoulder of one traitor marine, his charred gauntlet falling to the floor. Wounded but not disabled, he whirled, determined to finish off the wounded soldier.
A screaming marine swung his chainaxe at Severa, only to see her duck under the blow at the last second. His companion slammed his chainsword into Gix's force rod with all his might, trying to smash the weapon out of his grip. Around them screams and howls of pain and victory filled the air as chain weapons cut through armor, and power weapons answered in kind. In many ways, the close quarters battle favored the heretics, and with ruthless guile and centuries of experience, they began carving into Gix's forces.
A screaming marine swung his chainaxe at Severa, only to see her duck under the blow at the last second. His companion slammed his chainsword into Gix's force rod with all his might, trying to smash the weapon out of his grip. Around them screams and howls of pain and victory filled the air as chain weapons cut through armor, and power weapons answered in kind. In many ways, the close quarters battle favored the heretics, and with ruthless guile and centuries of experience, they began carving into Gix's forces.
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The Yosemite Bear
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The boarding torpedoes had breached multipal decks, Lillith had been ordered to stay with her new master, part of her was curious as to how Celeste and her battle was going. moving fast the beastmen fell before her bolt pistol, and her spear, one of the anchient traitor warriors saw the small figure, moving as fast as a battle brother, looking like something out of another time entirely, all that would be missing would be a round shield...
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
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Imperial Overlord
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The legionaire's wild swing left him completely wide open. Severa took off the traitor's hand with her cutlass and his left foot with the archaeotech blade. She knew it wasn't enough to kill him, but it bought her time. Time to save Gix.
The traitor has driving him back and it was taking all of Gix's strength to hold him off. Even with power armour, it was clear that the traitor was stronger. Severa aimed a slicing blow at the traitor's left shoulder.
Hethor knew that his plasma pistol would never recharge in time. His power blade was gripped in the remains of the power glove. One option. Orks had tought Hethor the value of headshots. He raised the bolt pistol and fired.
The traitor has driving him back and it was taking all of Gix's strength to hold him off. Even with power armour, it was clear that the traitor was stronger. Severa aimed a slicing blow at the traitor's left shoulder.
Hethor knew that his plasma pistol would never recharge in time. His power blade was gripped in the remains of the power glove. One option. Orks had tought Hethor the value of headshots. He raised the bolt pistol and fired.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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GeneralTacticus
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Coming to his feet behind a knot of dead armsmen, Adivan noted the change in the foe's strategy and barked orders to his own troops.
"Engage the Marines! Repeat, engage the Marines! Do NOT allow them to harm the enginarium!"
As the words left his mouth and the remaining defenders turned to obey them, he leveled his own weapon at the Chaos Terminator that had just fired at him. His melta spat a ravening blast of heat and light at the enemy's face, while he reached out telekinetically into the thing's armour seeking something that might slow it - a mechanism to jam, a power coupling to break, anything.
On the other side of the bay, a hail of bolter rounds sliced towards Mekhatan, pulverising the barricade behind which he had been reloading his lascannon. The alien himself, however, was not harmed, as the displacer field built into his armour yanked him into the Warp at the last possible second and spat him out several metres to the right of the murderous fusillade. Hissing with rage, he tossed aside the spent lascannon and plucked krak grenades from his combat webbing, hurling them at the the Terminator attacking him with all his inhuman strength as he sought new cover.
"Engage the Marines! Repeat, engage the Marines! Do NOT allow them to harm the enginarium!"
As the words left his mouth and the remaining defenders turned to obey them, he leveled his own weapon at the Chaos Terminator that had just fired at him. His melta spat a ravening blast of heat and light at the enemy's face, while he reached out telekinetically into the thing's armour seeking something that might slow it - a mechanism to jam, a power coupling to break, anything.
On the other side of the bay, a hail of bolter rounds sliced towards Mekhatan, pulverising the barricade behind which he had been reloading his lascannon. The alien himself, however, was not harmed, as the displacer field built into his armour yanked him into the Warp at the last possible second and spat him out several metres to the right of the murderous fusillade. Hissing with rage, he tossed aside the spent lascannon and plucked krak grenades from his combat webbing, hurling them at the the Terminator attacking him with all his inhuman strength as he sought new cover.
"The bird let out a slow chicken cackle. It sounded like a chicken, but in her heart she knew it wasn't. In that instant, she completely understood the concept of a chicken that was not a chicken. This looked like a chicken, like most of the Mud People's chickens. But this was no chicken.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
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Imperial Overlord
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The thrall psykers trembled as Lillith approached. Her blankness disrupted their powers. But she was fighting the prized fighting slaves of the Black Legion. Half of them had terrible chain weapons or electroflails. Some carried bolters, flamers, and plasma guns. That one lone warrior would die was not in question. How many would she take with her before she fell? The cruel warriors of the Black Legion decided to watch the show.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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The Yosemite Bear
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Celeste and the sisters, switched their bolt pistols to Proximaty Prefragmented*, not needing to worry about penetrating the heavier armour of powersuits just yet, the bolter charge was instead designed to burst before contact each round becoming a hail of adamantite slivers, shreading fleash and bone, and still effective against flack armour. the assembled bolter fire turned the hallway into a charnel house, as the shot cannons could not match the volley of fire that the sister's were laying down. From under the coverfire the surviving Retributer and dominion squads that had arrived with Celeste, used the coverfire to bring up their heavy weapons, soon the corridores were filled with superheated gas, as flamer and melta's began their cleansing.
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
Munitions storage
Severa's first target did not go down. Hitting the wall, he rebounded into her from behind, knocking her strike slightly astray. Instead of cleanly slicing through the marine's shoulder and into his chest, the blade struck the outside edge of his shoulder, slicing away a large chunk of meat and some bone, rendering the arm useless.
The marine attacking Severa snarled as a blade snapped from a recessed socket on his wrist, jamming it into her back.
Gix was faced with a wounded marine in front of him, blade still in hand, and to his side a marine who had just pinned Severa to the wall, withdrawing his blood-slicked blade and readying for another strike...
Hethor's shot was not quite on center, but it was one that would have stood him in good stead with any Guard marksmanship instructor in the Imperium. Blood sprayed from the punctured helmet of the marine, who fell to the floor, his momentum carrying him forward far enough that he landed on Hethor's arm.
Enginarium
Hellish energy washed over Fliridor's armor, but failed to breach it. The wards inscribed upon the armor flared to life as Adivan probed it telekinetically, their force pitting themselves against the power of the inquisitor's mind. He adjusted his storm bolter, and all the precognition in the world would not be able to outrun the next shot if he fired...
A grenade detonated squarely at the shoulder joint of the terminator Mekhatan had targeted, shattering ancient machinery beyond repair. The terminator's arm dropped to his side, and he responded with a gout of flame from the flamer mounted on his other arm...
The Stormtroopers and armsmen fought bravely as the marines darted into the maze of machinery that sat at the heart of the Retribution. For every marine killed, six to ten of their own number fell in exchange. And despite their best efforts, explosions rang out among the machines.
Severa's first target did not go down. Hitting the wall, he rebounded into her from behind, knocking her strike slightly astray. Instead of cleanly slicing through the marine's shoulder and into his chest, the blade struck the outside edge of his shoulder, slicing away a large chunk of meat and some bone, rendering the arm useless.
The marine attacking Severa snarled as a blade snapped from a recessed socket on his wrist, jamming it into her back.
Gix was faced with a wounded marine in front of him, blade still in hand, and to his side a marine who had just pinned Severa to the wall, withdrawing his blood-slicked blade and readying for another strike...
Hethor's shot was not quite on center, but it was one that would have stood him in good stead with any Guard marksmanship instructor in the Imperium. Blood sprayed from the punctured helmet of the marine, who fell to the floor, his momentum carrying him forward far enough that he landed on Hethor's arm.
Enginarium
Hellish energy washed over Fliridor's armor, but failed to breach it. The wards inscribed upon the armor flared to life as Adivan probed it telekinetically, their force pitting themselves against the power of the inquisitor's mind. He adjusted his storm bolter, and all the precognition in the world would not be able to outrun the next shot if he fired...
A grenade detonated squarely at the shoulder joint of the terminator Mekhatan had targeted, shattering ancient machinery beyond repair. The terminator's arm dropped to his side, and he responded with a gout of flame from the flamer mounted on his other arm...
The Stormtroopers and armsmen fought bravely as the marines darted into the maze of machinery that sat at the heart of the Retribution. For every marine killed, six to ten of their own number fell in exchange. And despite their best efforts, explosions rang out among the machines.
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The Yosemite Bear
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STill the beastmen were more then capable of putting up a strong defense, even powered armour fails when assulted enough, or when shotgun pellets hit a joint piece. having already lost all but one Repenta squad, Sister Superior Celeste found herself with just A squad of Retributers, a squad of domini, the aforementioned Repenta. The armoured cowls and powered armour of the sisters was a strong force, as the Repenta leveled their halberds and volley fired their bolt carbines at the approching beastmen, a few falling down, mostly from the force of the enemy's weapons impacting on their armour, others from lucky hit's that scored the joints.
Sister Hermione fell bleeding as an autogun pierced her groin joint severing her femoral arterery.
Sister Hermione fell bleeding as an autogun pierced her groin joint severing her femoral arterery.
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
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Imperial Overlord
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Drevak turned as more sisters of battle arrived. Impudent worms. He obliterated one sister with a metal blast and sprayed another with Kraken rounds. He lead his Terminator squad foreward and they unleashed their combi weapons and Reaper autocannon on the Sisters of Battle. Their chain axes and power fists waited for those who managed to close.
The arrival of additional sisters spurred the other legionaires into action. Their beastmen, as fierce as they were, were outmatched. Bolters came out as did the flamers, melta, and plasma weapons that both fireteams had in abundance. They began to kill.
Their thrall psykers now had targets beside the pariah. They struck out with blasts of crippling ecstacy.
-----------------------------------------------
Severa knew she was dead. The carapace armour and refractor field hadn't saved her. Not too suprising. Force fields weren't too reliable at close quarters. Even terribly wounded, the marine pinned her easily, despite her frantic struggles. The blade would enter her flesh again and again again.
Gix's instinctive move was to turn and strike down Severa's attacker. It was suicide. It could cost him the fight, his life, and the ship. Severa would be dead anyway. He didn't hesitate.
A pulse of telekinetic force threw the marine off Severa and smashed him to the floor. Steel and ceramate buckled under the force of the impact. It cost him a moment of time, redirected his attention for a little more than a second.
Hethor slammed into the traitor from behind, throwing off his stroke. The veteran knew that as surely as Gix saved him, he would save Severa. And it was the right move, for Jolan Gix might have left himself open, by Hethor D'eckor was there to cover him.
The arrival of additional sisters spurred the other legionaires into action. Their beastmen, as fierce as they were, were outmatched. Bolters came out as did the flamers, melta, and plasma weapons that both fireteams had in abundance. They began to kill.
Their thrall psykers now had targets beside the pariah. They struck out with blasts of crippling ecstacy.
-----------------------------------------------
Severa knew she was dead. The carapace armour and refractor field hadn't saved her. Not too suprising. Force fields weren't too reliable at close quarters. Even terribly wounded, the marine pinned her easily, despite her frantic struggles. The blade would enter her flesh again and again again.
Gix's instinctive move was to turn and strike down Severa's attacker. It was suicide. It could cost him the fight, his life, and the ship. Severa would be dead anyway. He didn't hesitate.
A pulse of telekinetic force threw the marine off Severa and smashed him to the floor. Steel and ceramate buckled under the force of the impact. It cost him a moment of time, redirected his attention for a little more than a second.
Hethor slammed into the traitor from behind, throwing off his stroke. The veteran knew that as surely as Gix saved him, he would save Severa. And it was the right move, for Jolan Gix might have left himself open, by Hethor D'eckor was there to cover him.
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
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GeneralTacticus
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Adivan grimaced as he saw his melta shot fail to pierce the Traitor Marine's massive armour. Why do I always get the invulnerable ones? Well, no ttime to wonder about that... Thw twitch of a finger switched the combi-weapon to bolter mode, and it spat a hail of Kraken rounds at the Traitor's weapon - with any luck, it would prove somewhat less resilient than his armour. As he did so, he extended his will once again, and primed krak grenades leapt from his belt and shot across the distance between the two warriors, aimed at the (relatively) vulnerable joints in the Traitor's armour.
Meanwhile, Mekhatan was scrambling away from the stream of fire jetting from the Terminator's remaining arm. His displacer field was temporarily off - he didn't trust it not to hurl him directly into the stream of blazing liquid. As it was, it washed over his lower left arm and fused the servos, rendering it more or less useless. Fortunately, he still had three left; two were continuing to hurl krak grenades in the hope of distracting his enemy, while the last held a bolt pistol which he was firing in the general direction of the enemy. He didn't expect to do any damage; all he could really hope for was to distract the Traitor Marine until he could find-
There.
Lying a little over five metres away, half-hidden under the bodies of the two naval armsmen who had been firing it lay a still-loaded rocket launcher. They had made a single - missed - shot as the Marines stormed in, and lived just long enough to load a second before a hail of bolter shells had exploded their heads. Hoping fervently that no-one else would start shooting at him right this minute, he dived for it, hit the ground and skidded past it, snatching it on the way by. Coming to his knees behind the remains of an instrument panel, he raised the targetting scope to eye level, centred the injured Terminator in it, and fired. He didn't hang around the observe the result, instead dropping to his stomach again and slamming another missile into the tube.
Meanwhile, Mekhatan was scrambling away from the stream of fire jetting from the Terminator's remaining arm. His displacer field was temporarily off - he didn't trust it not to hurl him directly into the stream of blazing liquid. As it was, it washed over his lower left arm and fused the servos, rendering it more or less useless. Fortunately, he still had three left; two were continuing to hurl krak grenades in the hope of distracting his enemy, while the last held a bolt pistol which he was firing in the general direction of the enemy. He didn't expect to do any damage; all he could really hope for was to distract the Traitor Marine until he could find-
There.
Lying a little over five metres away, half-hidden under the bodies of the two naval armsmen who had been firing it lay a still-loaded rocket launcher. They had made a single - missed - shot as the Marines stormed in, and lived just long enough to load a second before a hail of bolter shells had exploded their heads. Hoping fervently that no-one else would start shooting at him right this minute, he dived for it, hit the ground and skidded past it, snatching it on the way by. Coming to his knees behind the remains of an instrument panel, he raised the targetting scope to eye level, centred the injured Terminator in it, and fired. He didn't hang around the observe the result, instead dropping to his stomach again and slamming another missile into the tube.
"The bird let out a slow chicken cackle. It sounded like a chicken, but in her heart she knew it wasn't. In that instant, she completely understood the concept of a chicken that was not a chicken. This looked like a chicken, like most of the Mud People's chickens. But this was no chicken.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
"This was evil manifest."
- Terry "Not a fantasy author, honest" Goodkind, bringing unintentional comedy to a bookshop near you since 1994.
Munitions Storage
Around them, the weight of numbers battered down the marines. It had been a near-won thing, and hardly a soldier would walk out of the room unwounded, but these were no ordinary armsmen such as the marines had been expecting. They fought with valor and dedication, often seeing one accept his fate at the end of a snarling blade if it tied up the weapon long enough for one of his comrades to land a strike.
In their own little personal war, the marine hammered by Jolan flopped on the floor, battered but not dead. The other staggered and swept behind himself without looking, his whirring blade cutting a deadly arc through the air.
Around them, the weight of numbers battered down the marines. It had been a near-won thing, and hardly a soldier would walk out of the room unwounded, but these were no ordinary armsmen such as the marines had been expecting. They fought with valor and dedication, often seeing one accept his fate at the end of a snarling blade if it tied up the weapon long enough for one of his comrades to land a strike.
In their own little personal war, the marine hammered by Jolan flopped on the floor, battered but not dead. The other staggered and swept behind himself without looking, his whirring blade cutting a deadly arc through the air.
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The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
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The small dervish moved and struck, her power weapon had longer reach then the beasts chain blades, and it's field was stronger. She demonstrated this with the tip of her blade cutting through the chainaxe. freeded from it's housing the chain went flying, a threat to anyone caught in it's path of flight, The beast only had a moment to stare at it's ruined weapon as the path her spear had taken, made it's self evident in black and crimson blood erupted where his chest and ribs had been.
the next one was taken aback when the leathal monostrands of adamantine came returning to the forces of gravity. her thoughts were we're the others, there were too many for her to face by herself. Then as if answering her question, a group of ratlings with lasers, lead by a snakeman, came to the fore. now beast clashed beast with deadly results.
The Ratlings exploded while the goatmen advanced, the snakeman's guns were overkill, with a shot he could easily kill an enemy, but it took too long to recharge, however fangs and spitting poison did not take long, nor did his formal officer's laspistol. The Reptillian beastman, backed away as he lost an arm, and some of his tail, with a thought *the'll grow back, just so long as I survive this...*
the next one was taken aback when the leathal monostrands of adamantine came returning to the forces of gravity. her thoughts were we're the others, there were too many for her to face by herself. Then as if answering her question, a group of ratlings with lasers, lead by a snakeman, came to the fore. now beast clashed beast with deadly results.
The Ratlings exploded while the goatmen advanced, the snakeman's guns were overkill, with a shot he could easily kill an enemy, but it took too long to recharge, however fangs and spitting poison did not take long, nor did his formal officer's laspistol. The Reptillian beastman, backed away as he lost an arm, and some of his tail, with a thought *the'll grow back, just so long as I survive this...*
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
Enginarium
And sometimes the Emperor smiles upon the brave, and in His beneficence, He smiled down upon Adivan, as a one in a million shot impacted into the barrel of Fliridor's storm bolter.
Or was it his uncanny marksmanship?
He would likely never know.
In any event, the weapon detonated, shattering the terminator's arm. For the first time in centuries, Fliridor stood stunned, as he was wounded as no man had ever wounded him before...
The rocket impacted low center on the terminator, smashing against the insanely hardened armor with a thunderous explosion. Crumpling to his knees, the terminator directed another stream of fire, just missing the alien with a gout of burning promethium.
Around them, the other two terminators methodically wiped out the rest of the resistance... behind them, men screamed and died battling the marines amongst the engines and power cells. A massive explosion tore through the room, the shockwave sufficient to knock over a normal man. One of the mighty power cells had been breached, and its loss would be telling upon the vessel.
And sometimes the Emperor smiles upon the brave, and in His beneficence, He smiled down upon Adivan, as a one in a million shot impacted into the barrel of Fliridor's storm bolter.
Or was it his uncanny marksmanship?
He would likely never know.
In any event, the weapon detonated, shattering the terminator's arm. For the first time in centuries, Fliridor stood stunned, as he was wounded as no man had ever wounded him before...
The rocket impacted low center on the terminator, smashing against the insanely hardened armor with a thunderous explosion. Crumpling to his knees, the terminator directed another stream of fire, just missing the alien with a gout of burning promethium.
Around them, the other two terminators methodically wiped out the rest of the resistance... behind them, men screamed and died battling the marines amongst the engines and power cells. A massive explosion tore through the room, the shockwave sufficient to knock over a normal man. One of the mighty power cells had been breached, and its loss would be telling upon the vessel.