Nathan slid forward deeper into the complex . A traitor dispatch runner ran past him only to drop as he tried to vainly reestablish the air flow through his recently crushed trachea .
He was tired,dirty and a bit pisssed at not getting any recently.
'Oooo I`ll use the web way....I`ll sneak in all smart like....I`ll get as lost as a bleeding third lieutenatnt with a map and compass........'
He spotted a sniper aiming at someone below .asimple push and the fellow tumbled out of his cover down to the street below.His spotter turned and raised her las rifle only to be shot in the face by Nathans plasma pistol .He looked down and spoted Prius and smirked.
'Well Kommisar .We meet again'
40K/Inquisitor RPG. The Line of Damnation.
Moderator: Thanas
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Typhonis 1
- Rabid Monkey Scientist
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
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- Location: The Tower at Charm
Executioner rounds tore through heretic troopers, severing limbs and blasting holes in their chests. Grenades burst around them as the strove for cover, their armour giving them some protection. They wounded and the dying flopped on the ground in pools of blood as Varian's troopers poured it on.
The Golden Dawn were not paralyzed by the attack, despite its ferocity. Their long barrelled lasguns hit hard and they fired back as they headed for cover. Their accuracy was respectable, although the circumstances did not favor it. More bolts came Varian's way as they fought back. A trooper next to Varian fell with his throat blown open.
Specialist troopers moved up. The lasguns used by the Golden Dawn were long ranged and hard hitting, but had a low cyclic rate. Not ideal close combat weapons. The troopers moving up with flamers and plasma weapons were another story.
The Golden Dawn were not paralyzed by the attack, despite its ferocity. Their long barrelled lasguns hit hard and they fired back as they headed for cover. Their accuracy was respectable, although the circumstances did not favor it. More bolts came Varian's way as they fought back. A trooper next to Varian fell with his throat blown open.
Specialist troopers moved up. The lasguns used by the Golden Dawn were long ranged and hard hitting, but had a low cyclic rate. Not ideal close combat weapons. The troopers moving up with flamers and plasma weapons were another story.
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.
He was in tune with his senses, whirling and darting, supremely alive. His Emperor-gifted anticipation let him whirl and dart, not avoiding all the las blasts, but managing to take the ones that did strike home on his armor. He darted into the midst of the Golden Dawn warriors, lashing out left and right with his chainsword. The blade sang, ever-lighter in his hands.
He was unstoppable, invincible, until...
Nathan?
What was he doing here?
The lasgun butt skipped off his armor and into the side of his head, sending him spinning, dazed. As he whirled, the blade seemingly guided itself into the neck of the man who struck him.
---------------------------------------
"Flamers!" Mayhew yelled. "Hose it!"
"They'll catch our own?" Layne yelled.
"Frak 'em! They're already dead!" Mayhew snarled back, turning to point his lasgun at the platoon's flamer troops. "Do it or I'll frakking shoot you myself!"
Moving forward, the flamer troops poured streams of promethium into the fierce close combat being fought in the rubble...
---------------------------------------
"Looks like they're building for another rush," the Swordsman commented to Shaithis. The cadet crouched and peered around the corner, then pulled back as a few shots popped off in his general direction. The building they'd taken up residence in had already been damaged in the previous fighting. Now it was shot all to bloody hell. Shaithis clicked his vox.
"Yerz? The loudmouth rallying them up."
"I got 'em."
The long-las snapped a hissing shot from the second floor. A barrage of counterfire struck the building.
"Yerz?"
"Got 'em. Got me too..." The voice was pained, fading.
Shaithis spit furiously on the ground. He turned to the small group around him. "Celler, take over on the long las."
Shaithis hazarded another glance. Good. Without anybody driving them into the guns, they were content to sit for a while longer.
======================
The surviving pair of marines switched to suppressive fire as they began falling back. To further complicate matters, as Gix's force pressed forward a pair of automatic heavy stubbers rose and added their fire to that of the traitors.
He was unstoppable, invincible, until...
Nathan?
What was he doing here?
The lasgun butt skipped off his armor and into the side of his head, sending him spinning, dazed. As he whirled, the blade seemingly guided itself into the neck of the man who struck him.
---------------------------------------
"Flamers!" Mayhew yelled. "Hose it!"
"They'll catch our own?" Layne yelled.
"Frak 'em! They're already dead!" Mayhew snarled back, turning to point his lasgun at the platoon's flamer troops. "Do it or I'll frakking shoot you myself!"
Moving forward, the flamer troops poured streams of promethium into the fierce close combat being fought in the rubble...
---------------------------------------
"Looks like they're building for another rush," the Swordsman commented to Shaithis. The cadet crouched and peered around the corner, then pulled back as a few shots popped off in his general direction. The building they'd taken up residence in had already been damaged in the previous fighting. Now it was shot all to bloody hell. Shaithis clicked his vox.
"Yerz? The loudmouth rallying them up."
"I got 'em."
The long-las snapped a hissing shot from the second floor. A barrage of counterfire struck the building.
"Yerz?"
"Got 'em. Got me too..." The voice was pained, fading.
Shaithis spit furiously on the ground. He turned to the small group around him. "Celler, take over on the long las."
Shaithis hazarded another glance. Good. Without anybody driving them into the guns, they were content to sit for a while longer.
======================
The surviving pair of marines switched to suppressive fire as they began falling back. To further complicate matters, as Gix's force pressed forward a pair of automatic heavy stubbers rose and added their fire to that of the traitors.
-
The Yosemite Bear
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"The Mon-kiegh called Nathan has used a webway key to reach the surface of the planet infested with the forces of the Anchient Enemy."
"Good the prey has broken surface, no longer protected by their ships, we can capture him alive for the seer. Remember, the Mon-kiegh named "Nathan" must be brought back to the Library intact, all others may be ignored unless they interfer with your mission, in which case kill the animals."
Soon the mimes, Harliquins, jet bikes, Reapers, Harliquin Wraiths, and even a solitiare were in action. and the laughing god had seen fit to place a number of the Anchient Enemy's forces between them, and their prey.
"Good the prey has broken surface, no longer protected by their ships, we can capture him alive for the seer. Remember, the Mon-kiegh named "Nathan" must be brought back to the Library intact, all others may be ignored unless they interfer with your mission, in which case kill the animals."
Soon the mimes, Harliquins, jet bikes, Reapers, Harliquin Wraiths, and even a solitiare were in action. and the laughing god had seen fit to place a number of the Anchient Enemy's forces between them, and their prey.
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
- Emperor's Hand
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- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Supressive fire kept the troopers down, but not Jolan Gix. With a loud screech, the inner mechanisms of the automatic guns were torn apart by a wave of telekinetic force. A trooper behind the inquisitor jerked and screamed as a bolter round cracked his armour and a second round penetrated. It blew the organs in the left side of his chest to pulp and shredded every major blood vessel in the area. He slumped for a moment and then fell.
He wasn't the only one. Hellgun fire snapped back at the chaos marines. Most shots missed, but enough hit. Most of those hits landed on armour tough enough to take it with only minor damage. But not all. One of the traitor's took a round in the helmet's eyepiece. It burned through, but did not stop him.
It did stun him for several critical seconds. Hellguns converged on him. He took bolts in the arms, chest, shoulder, and head. Several hit him in the joints, or in areas already damaged from previous hits. He fell, wounded or dead.
--------------------------------------------------------
"Bring up the guns."
No one said anything for a moment. Then a nervous lieutenant stepped forward. "Sir, many of the nearby pieces were damaged in the recent fighting. And in the fighting and the, ah, explosion, the gun crews took heavy casualties."
Warchief Vrek turned on the under officer. Faster than the eye could follow, his hand snatched up a cleaving blade from his belt and struck. A jet of blood arced up and the headless body toppled. "Wrong. First you say, "Your will." Then you explain why you can't do it fast enough. Captain?"
"Your Will, warchief."
"Good. Get the guns. In the meantime, get snipers into position and supression fire on that building. Gathor is pissed, and I'll take all your heads for the Skull Throne before I go to him and explain my failure."
The hard faced captain swallowed. "As you command."
"And captain, bring me every survivor from a disgraced unit."
A look of puzzlement crossed the middle aged officer's face. He didn't understand, but he had learned not to question. Nothing really made sense since the uprising began anyway. Since he had made the decision to live rather than die. He no longer feared hell. He lived in it.
He wasn't the only one. Hellgun fire snapped back at the chaos marines. Most shots missed, but enough hit. Most of those hits landed on armour tough enough to take it with only minor damage. But not all. One of the traitor's took a round in the helmet's eyepiece. It burned through, but did not stop him.
It did stun him for several critical seconds. Hellguns converged on him. He took bolts in the arms, chest, shoulder, and head. Several hit him in the joints, or in areas already damaged from previous hits. He fell, wounded or dead.
--------------------------------------------------------
"Bring up the guns."
No one said anything for a moment. Then a nervous lieutenant stepped forward. "Sir, many of the nearby pieces were damaged in the recent fighting. And in the fighting and the, ah, explosion, the gun crews took heavy casualties."
Warchief Vrek turned on the under officer. Faster than the eye could follow, his hand snatched up a cleaving blade from his belt and struck. A jet of blood arced up and the headless body toppled. "Wrong. First you say, "Your will." Then you explain why you can't do it fast enough. Captain?"
"Your Will, warchief."
"Good. Get the guns. In the meantime, get snipers into position and supression fire on that building. Gathor is pissed, and I'll take all your heads for the Skull Throne before I go to him and explain my failure."
The hard faced captain swallowed. "As you command."
"And captain, bring me every survivor from a disgraced unit."
A look of puzzlement crossed the middle aged officer's face. He didn't understand, but he had learned not to question. Nothing really made sense since the uprising began anyway. Since he had made the decision to live rather than die. He no longer feared hell. He lived in it.
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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Typhonis 1
- Rabid Monkey Scientist
- Posts: 5791
- Joined: 2002-07-06 12:07am
- Location: deep within a secret cloning lab hidden in the brotherhood of the monkey thread
Nathan looked arouind tyhe room and spoted something of use .A pair of old glass jars. He picked them up and placed a frag grenade in each after pulling the pin.
He looked out of the window carefully and sppoted a heavy bolter emplacement raking some of Prius`s troops. Using TK he droped the jar into the position andnodded as it went off killing or injuring the crew .He repeated the trick with a second emplacement .
The positions weakened the Imperial forces used the lessend fire to recover wounded and fortify therte positions in the factory.
He looked out of the window carefully and sppoted a heavy bolter emplacement raking some of Prius`s troops. Using TK he droped the jar into the position andnodded as it went off killing or injuring the crew .He repeated the trick with a second emplacement .
The positions weakened the Imperial forces used the lessend fire to recover wounded and fortify therte positions in the factory.
Last edited by Typhonis 1 on 2005-04-01 11:08pm, edited 1 time in total.
Brotherhood of the Bear Monkey Clonemaster , Anti Care Bears League,
Bureaucrat and BOFH of the HAB,
Skunk Works director of the Mecha Maniacs,
Black Mage,
I AM BACK! let the SCIENCE commence!
Bureaucrat and BOFH of the HAB,
Skunk Works director of the Mecha Maniacs,
Black Mage,
I AM BACK! let the SCIENCE commence!
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
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Noticing a slight slackening of the fire the arbites knew what was coming. The enemy was preparing something nasty, probably crew served heavy weapons. That couldn't be allowed. The chastener in command turned to one of the irregulars.Imperial Overlord wrote:Executioner rounds tore through heretic troopers, severing limbs and blasting holes in their chests. Grenades burst around them as the strove for cover, their armour giving them some protection. They wounded and the dying flopped on the ground in pools of blood as Varian's troopers poured it on.
The Golden Dawn were not paralyzed by the attack, despite its ferocity. Their long barrelled lasguns hit hard and they fired back as they headed for cover. Their accuracy was respectable, although the circumstances did not favor it. More bolts came Varian's way as they fought back. A trooper next to Varian fell with his throat blown open.
Specialist troopers moved up. The lasguns used by the Golden Dawn were long ranged and hard hitting, but had a low cyclic rate. Not ideal close combat weapons. The troopers moving up with flamers and plasma weapons were another story.
"Son, it's time to be an army of one. For the God-Emperor, you will be remembered." And with that encouragement.... and a satchel of grenades the man was sent forward to glory. Numbed in a haze of pious blindness he charged forward through the tunnels, against the enemy position, detonating himself and the load of grenades in a furious blast.
Seeing him charge, the rest took cover and waited for the results.
The world spun around him in a daze of pain and blood. Prius lashed out with his sword and his mind, striking any who came into reach. The blade lept eagerly at his foes, truly glowing with a radiant inner light. Lost in his fugue, he was utterly unaware of where he was, or even what he was doing.
---------------------------------
"This is it," Shaithis said. They were down to a dozen, and some real troops had showed up to augment the dregs they had been facing. Outside, the chants were building in intensity.
He lifted the aquila from the chain around his neck and pressed his dry, cracked lips to it.
"Not gonna die in this hole," he told the others, rising to his feet. Lifting his chainsword. "We're the Emperor's Sword. We die moving forward."
Battered, bloodied, the ones who could still walk readied their weapons.
"Drag Holz and Ransten over to the windows. They can cover us."
He drew his plasma pistol and handed it to Holz. "For when they come through the door."
He looked at the others.
"Ready?"
-------------------------------
Bursts of hellgun fire poured from the shattered windows, followed by a cry of 'For the Emperor', as the Swordsmen came charging out. The commander was cut down before he made ten steps. The others carried forward, a few actually reaching the hasty barricade thrown up by the chaos troopers.
And there they died, screaming and cursing, swinging their weapons until their battered bodies could carry them no further.
Holz never got to use the plasma pistol; a grenade launcher put a shot right through the window, the explosive charge detonating two meters away from him. Ransten rolled onto his own grenade, taking two of the hastily drafted troopers with him when they were herded through the door and turned him over.
So died the last of the strike forces.
---------------------------------
"This is it," Shaithis said. They were down to a dozen, and some real troops had showed up to augment the dregs they had been facing. Outside, the chants were building in intensity.
He lifted the aquila from the chain around his neck and pressed his dry, cracked lips to it.
"Not gonna die in this hole," he told the others, rising to his feet. Lifting his chainsword. "We're the Emperor's Sword. We die moving forward."
Battered, bloodied, the ones who could still walk readied their weapons.
"Drag Holz and Ransten over to the windows. They can cover us."
He drew his plasma pistol and handed it to Holz. "For when they come through the door."
He looked at the others.
"Ready?"
-------------------------------
Bursts of hellgun fire poured from the shattered windows, followed by a cry of 'For the Emperor', as the Swordsmen came charging out. The commander was cut down before he made ten steps. The others carried forward, a few actually reaching the hasty barricade thrown up by the chaos troopers.
And there they died, screaming and cursing, swinging their weapons until their battered bodies could carry them no further.
Holz never got to use the plasma pistol; a grenade launcher put a shot right through the window, the explosive charge detonating two meters away from him. Ransten rolled onto his own grenade, taking two of the hastily drafted troopers with him when they were herded through the door and turned him over.
So died the last of the strike forces.
-
The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
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The Clash of loyal and Chaos troops was interupted by a grisley series of explosions, as the transprot jet bikes released a deadly storm of bio-explosive rounds, a chaos Russ shattered under the impact of bright lances, the unfortunates were between the hunters and their prey, as laughter filled the air, a stange slaughter commenced, between the rubble, and thier holofields, the swift danced amoung them, leaving a wake of liquid filled corpses.
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
- Emperor's Hand
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- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
For a moment, everything went quiet in the aftermath of the explosion. Varian thought he might have been rendered deaf by the blast. He could hear a dull ringing in his ears. The enemy before him was slain. Several arbites checked the bodies of the enemy. Loud cracks signaled their discovery of a merely wounded enemy.
They had won, for the moment. In the distance he could hear a sound, like distant thunder. It was getting louder. "REAV-OR! REAV-OR!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Harlequins entered hell unseen and unnoticed, but they made their presence known. The were fast and deadly, preternaturaly attuned to the combat and slaughter. The danced and killed in battles containing tens of thousands. The air was filled with death.
The danger was not merely physical. In the warp Sanctioned Psykers, astropaths, and inquisitors fought against witches, priests, and magi. And their numbers were vast. The Eldar were ancient and terrible, but so were the dark powers and mankind was a vigorous race.
Grim death began to take his toll from their laughing numbers.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prius Ristani hacked and slashed, soaked in the blood of the slain. He slipped on the blood soaked floor and fell into a pool of blood and bile. He leapt to his feet, shocked back into reality by the interruption of his deadly art.
The dead lay around him. Imperial and traitor, human and mutant. Several Imperials bore the monstrous wounds which only chain weapons make, the only one visible being the one in Ristani's hand. A dull cough came from behind him.
Senior Judge Thorve was breathing his last. The bore worms had begun eating his lungs. "You are victorious commissar," he gasped. "You have-" he was interrupted by a coughing fit. Blood poured over his chin. "You have killed the enemy and a few of your own troops. It seems-" the judge was interrupted by another fit and coughed up even more blood. "It seems you will live a little longer," he rasped.
They had won, for the moment. In the distance he could hear a sound, like distant thunder. It was getting louder. "REAV-OR! REAV-OR!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Harlequins entered hell unseen and unnoticed, but they made their presence known. The were fast and deadly, preternaturaly attuned to the combat and slaughter. The danced and killed in battles containing tens of thousands. The air was filled with death.
The danger was not merely physical. In the warp Sanctioned Psykers, astropaths, and inquisitors fought against witches, priests, and magi. And their numbers were vast. The Eldar were ancient and terrible, but so were the dark powers and mankind was a vigorous race.
Grim death began to take his toll from their laughing numbers.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prius Ristani hacked and slashed, soaked in the blood of the slain. He slipped on the blood soaked floor and fell into a pool of blood and bile. He leapt to his feet, shocked back into reality by the interruption of his deadly art.
The dead lay around him. Imperial and traitor, human and mutant. Several Imperials bore the monstrous wounds which only chain weapons make, the only one visible being the one in Ristani's hand. A dull cough came from behind him.
Senior Judge Thorve was breathing his last. The bore worms had begun eating his lungs. "You are victorious commissar," he gasped. "You have-" he was interrupted by a coughing fit. Blood poured over his chin. "You have killed the enemy and a few of your own troops. It seems-" the judge was interrupted by another fit and coughed up even more blood. "It seems you will live a little longer," he rasped.
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.
-
Typhonis 1
- Rabid Monkey Scientist
- Posts: 5791
- Joined: 2002-07-06 12:07am
- Location: deep within a secret cloning lab hidden in the brotherhood of the monkey thread
Nathan slid to the first floor of the bombed out building and rushed twoards the Imperial position.He used whatever cover he could and finnaly managed to get within the defensive line.
He looked around the bombed out area of this manufactorium and sighed,the administratum building was a problem...enemy forces were making good use off the intact upper floors to snipe and spot for artillery on this position .
Something would have to be doone aoput that.
He looked around the bombed out area of this manufactorium and sighed,the administratum building was a problem...enemy forces were making good use off the intact upper floors to snipe and spot for artillery on this position .
Something would have to be doone aoput that.
Brotherhood of the Bear Monkey Clonemaster , Anti Care Bears League,
Bureaucrat and BOFH of the HAB,
Skunk Works director of the Mecha Maniacs,
Black Mage,
I AM BACK! let the SCIENCE commence!
Bureaucrat and BOFH of the HAB,
Skunk Works director of the Mecha Maniacs,
Black Mage,
I AM BACK! let the SCIENCE commence!
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
"Bring up your heavy weapons, I want them all trained on that tunnel. Whatever comes through I want it blasted, burnt, and bleeding the second it sticks it's ugly mug through. Don't flinch, don't fall back."Imperial Overlord wrote:For a moment, everything went quiet in the aftermath of the explosion. Varian thought he might have been rendered deaf by the blast. He could hear a dull ringing in his ears. The enemy before him was slain. Several arbites checked the bodies of the enemy. Loud cracks signaled their discovery of a merely wounded enemy.
They had won, for the moment. In the distance he could hear a sound, like distant thunder. It was getting louder. "REAV-OR! REAV-OR!"
The arbites weren't the Guard, they lacked the heavy weapons they did. Though the PDFers had some, they weren't going to be enough. Varian charged his force rod and held the blade of his sword in a ready position. By now the shattered tunnel was a defenders dream with plenty of cover. And the constricted corridors would force the enemy to come to him.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
The arbites hastily assembled some crude barricades and breastworks. Two heavy stubbers and an autocannon were set up behind them as PDF troopers crouched down and readied their weapons. Las bolts flickered from the approaching mass. Most missed. A few didn't.
The Imperials fired back with lasguns and rifled shotgun slugs. Then one of the stubbers started up and then the other. Tracers and lasbolts flickered through the darkness. With a roar the autocannon began firing.
Their was a flash of blue-white light and the autocannon exploded, it's operator reduced to char by the intense plasma wash. Another PDF trooper flopped from a las hit to the face. A breastwork exploded from another plasma strike. The enemy continued marching forward over the bodies of their dead. "REAV-OR!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nathan dodged behind cover. The area outside the factorium had turned into an even crazier hell. The speeding blurs of holo field shrouded eldar darted and killed as the soldiers of the Golden Dawn and Pox Brotherhood contested against the Imperial loyalists.
The Imperial controlled most of the buildings, but a seemingly endless wave of chaos troopers were coming out of the transit tunnels and securing their end of the vault and pushing into the complex. The sturdy buildings of the this manufacturing centers made excellent strong points for the Imperials, which the heretics couldn't crack with brute firepower because they didn't have the weapons for it. Yet. And all around him the harlequins danced, killed, and occassionaly died.
The Imperials fired back with lasguns and rifled shotgun slugs. Then one of the stubbers started up and then the other. Tracers and lasbolts flickered through the darkness. With a roar the autocannon began firing.
Their was a flash of blue-white light and the autocannon exploded, it's operator reduced to char by the intense plasma wash. Another PDF trooper flopped from a las hit to the face. A breastwork exploded from another plasma strike. The enemy continued marching forward over the bodies of their dead. "REAV-OR!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nathan dodged behind cover. The area outside the factorium had turned into an even crazier hell. The speeding blurs of holo field shrouded eldar darted and killed as the soldiers of the Golden Dawn and Pox Brotherhood contested against the Imperial loyalists.
The Imperial controlled most of the buildings, but a seemingly endless wave of chaos troopers were coming out of the transit tunnels and securing their end of the vault and pushing into the complex. The sturdy buildings of the this manufacturing centers made excellent strong points for the Imperials, which the heretics couldn't crack with brute firepower because they didn't have the weapons for it. Yet. And all around him the harlequins danced, killed, and occassionaly died.
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.
He blinked as he came back to himself. Every bit of flesh he had left felt like it had been pounded with a hammer. His skull throbbed with his wild, unrestrained usage of power, and he could sense the presences nibbling at the edges of his ward and defenses.
He wanted nothing more than to sag to his knees, fall on his face. Rest. Die. Whatever. He closed his eye, mouth hanging open as he gasped for air.
When he spoke, his voice was rusty. He started, stopped, started again, worked up enough saliva to swallow, before finally continuing. "I have to go. Do you..."
He stopped again, moving forward and crouched down, his free hand producing the hold-out boltgun he carried with him.
"Do you wish for me to end this for you, or do you wish to take a few more of them with you when they pass this way?" He held the pistol up, barrel aimed skyward.
He didn't want to think about what was behind him. Even for him, the slaughter had been... excessive.
-----------------------------------------
A wash of promethium engulfed Layne. Mayhew was already moving left as the lieutenant went up.
He fought off a wave of panic. They couldn't run. If they ran, these daemon-frakkers would take them from behind, and kill everyone.
Kill or be killed. His bayonet was already fixed. It would be of limited use against the armored monsters, but the armor had joints, gaps, weak spots, and the Imperium's existance proved there were few problems that couldn't be solved with a sufficient application of warm bodies.
"CHARGE!" he yelled.
==========================
The final marine retreated into the cover of the governor's personal garden. Under hive space constraints, perhaps ten thousand people could have been housed in the spectacular greenhouse. On a hive world, the greatest sign of wealth was extravagant waste of space. The garden was millennia old, extending a dozen stories toward the roof of the palace, and it was the final obstacle before the court area itself. As Gix's people moved in, additional bolters snapped fire out at them with devastating accuracy.
Tendao's honor guard had chose the best possible venue to make their stand.
He wanted nothing more than to sag to his knees, fall on his face. Rest. Die. Whatever. He closed his eye, mouth hanging open as he gasped for air.
When he spoke, his voice was rusty. He started, stopped, started again, worked up enough saliva to swallow, before finally continuing. "I have to go. Do you..."
He stopped again, moving forward and crouched down, his free hand producing the hold-out boltgun he carried with him.
"Do you wish for me to end this for you, or do you wish to take a few more of them with you when they pass this way?" He held the pistol up, barrel aimed skyward.
He didn't want to think about what was behind him. Even for him, the slaughter had been... excessive.
-----------------------------------------
A wash of promethium engulfed Layne. Mayhew was already moving left as the lieutenant went up.
He fought off a wave of panic. They couldn't run. If they ran, these daemon-frakkers would take them from behind, and kill everyone.
Kill or be killed. His bayonet was already fixed. It would be of limited use against the armored monsters, but the armor had joints, gaps, weak spots, and the Imperium's existance proved there were few problems that couldn't be solved with a sufficient application of warm bodies.
"CHARGE!" he yelled.
==========================
The final marine retreated into the cover of the governor's personal garden. Under hive space constraints, perhaps ten thousand people could have been housed in the spectacular greenhouse. On a hive world, the greatest sign of wealth was extravagant waste of space. The garden was millennia old, extending a dozen stories toward the roof of the palace, and it was the final obstacle before the court area itself. As Gix's people moved in, additional bolters snapped fire out at them with devastating accuracy.
Tendao's honor guard had chose the best possible venue to make their stand.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Thorve gasped. "I seem to be out of ammo. Prop up a las and I can continue to serve the Emperor. You should go. This building is lost. Discipline-" he stopped wincing, "and order must be maintained. Our troops need leaders."
From outside came the shouts of "REAV-OR!" Prius could hear the sounds of boots on ferrocrete. Some of the heretics were inside. He didn't have much time before the traitor's front line troops were here.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Gathor the Reaver starred at reports at his data screen. "I see the Imperials have played their hand. Landings at Hive Tercius, not here or Hive Primus."
"They will still be getting intelligence from the observers in the courthouse," General Malikus replied. The fearsome warrior was covered entirely in black armour. Like his master, he had dedicated himself to Chaos Undivided. He touched the hologram. "And nothing can move under the shadow of its guns. It interferes with the shipment of supplies and reinforcements."
"More reason to exterminate them. Once we erradicate the corpse-worshipers here, we can stage a counter attack against the Imperial forces. We've penetrated to their second line of defence correct?"
"In most places. There is still some tunnel fighting and the Imperials have yet to be driven out of any vaults."
"They are always stubborn with good leadership and we know the senior arbites are that good."
"There is something more, Lord. There are reports of Eldar."
"Eldar?"
"Harlequins to be specific. Industraplex 7 to be precise. Maybe hundreds."
"Hundred can only die. Take some Skull Takers and take command of Industraplex 7. Make sure it goes smoothly. Lubricate with as much blood as necessary. The Pox Brotherhood needs to learn the price of failure."
Under his armour, Malikus smiled. It was a ghastly thing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jolan took cover behind a tree as bolt rounds whistled by. Many guns. The slender fruit tree in front of him, the only one of its kind on the planet, was blasted in two by enemy fire. More traitors and possibly something else.
The Guardsmen had gone to ground in the lush cover. Hellguns and grenade launchers returned fire, shredding the lush folliage. A plasma burst turned an enemy position into an inferno. Men were dying all around Jolan Gix.
"Carnas! Exterminus!" he barked into his command line. With a flurry of motion, twelve arco-flagellants shed their robes and charged into the garden. Their grotesquely scarred bodies were plated with armour and reinforced with cyber implants. Their systems were supercharged by the drugs being injected into their systems and the artificial beserkergang induced by their passifier helms.
They sprinted through the grove at superhuman speed. Heretic gunners shifted aim, but the folliage and their speed made them difficult targets. Even hits mattered little. Their augmented bodies were armoured and far more resilient than that of an ordinary human. Nothing short of a mortal wound would slow them down.
Three were dropped by enemy fire before reaching their targets and two more were damaged enough to slow them down. The remaining seven tore into their opponents with the chain blades, electo-flails, and crushing claws that replaced their arms. Battle-brothers of the Black Legion had a chance against them in melee. Lesser foes were butchered.
The arco-flagellants had also provided a useful distraction. Jolan raised his force rod and fired a telekinetic lance at a chaos marine. A bolt of blue force smashed through the Black Legionnaire's breastplate, pulped organs and flesh, and blew out the back of the marine's armour. The marine's secondary heart took over and he struggled to remain fighting, despite the massive damage he had sustained.
As Jolan engaged the attention of Black Legionnaires, Hethor lead a squad forward. The arcoflagellants provided cover and the other troopers would provide covering fire. Hethor would lead his squad to kill at close range.
From outside came the shouts of "REAV-OR!" Prius could hear the sounds of boots on ferrocrete. Some of the heretics were inside. He didn't have much time before the traitor's front line troops were here.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Gathor the Reaver starred at reports at his data screen. "I see the Imperials have played their hand. Landings at Hive Tercius, not here or Hive Primus."
"They will still be getting intelligence from the observers in the courthouse," General Malikus replied. The fearsome warrior was covered entirely in black armour. Like his master, he had dedicated himself to Chaos Undivided. He touched the hologram. "And nothing can move under the shadow of its guns. It interferes with the shipment of supplies and reinforcements."
"More reason to exterminate them. Once we erradicate the corpse-worshipers here, we can stage a counter attack against the Imperial forces. We've penetrated to their second line of defence correct?"
"In most places. There is still some tunnel fighting and the Imperials have yet to be driven out of any vaults."
"They are always stubborn with good leadership and we know the senior arbites are that good."
"There is something more, Lord. There are reports of Eldar."
"Eldar?"
"Harlequins to be specific. Industraplex 7 to be precise. Maybe hundreds."
"Hundred can only die. Take some Skull Takers and take command of Industraplex 7. Make sure it goes smoothly. Lubricate with as much blood as necessary. The Pox Brotherhood needs to learn the price of failure."
Under his armour, Malikus smiled. It was a ghastly thing.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jolan took cover behind a tree as bolt rounds whistled by. Many guns. The slender fruit tree in front of him, the only one of its kind on the planet, was blasted in two by enemy fire. More traitors and possibly something else.
The Guardsmen had gone to ground in the lush cover. Hellguns and grenade launchers returned fire, shredding the lush folliage. A plasma burst turned an enemy position into an inferno. Men were dying all around Jolan Gix.
"Carnas! Exterminus!" he barked into his command line. With a flurry of motion, twelve arco-flagellants shed their robes and charged into the garden. Their grotesquely scarred bodies were plated with armour and reinforced with cyber implants. Their systems were supercharged by the drugs being injected into their systems and the artificial beserkergang induced by their passifier helms.
They sprinted through the grove at superhuman speed. Heretic gunners shifted aim, but the folliage and their speed made them difficult targets. Even hits mattered little. Their augmented bodies were armoured and far more resilient than that of an ordinary human. Nothing short of a mortal wound would slow them down.
Three were dropped by enemy fire before reaching their targets and two more were damaged enough to slow them down. The remaining seven tore into their opponents with the chain blades, electo-flails, and crushing claws that replaced their arms. Battle-brothers of the Black Legion had a chance against them in melee. Lesser foes were butchered.
The arco-flagellants had also provided a useful distraction. Jolan raised his force rod and fired a telekinetic lance at a chaos marine. A bolt of blue force smashed through the Black Legionnaire's breastplate, pulped organs and flesh, and blew out the back of the marine's armour. The marine's secondary heart took over and he struggled to remain fighting, despite the massive damage he had sustained.
As Jolan engaged the attention of Black Legionnaires, Hethor lead a squad forward. The arcoflagellants provided cover and the other troopers would provide covering fire. Hethor would lead his squad to kill at close range.
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.
Prius gave a quick, sharp nod, arranging the las so Thorve could use it. He rose to his feet, snapping a quick, formal salute. "Give the Emperor my regards when He takes you to His side, Senior Judge Thorve. Likely I'll be seeing you again, soon enough."
He paused, then handed the man the boltgun.
"A final surprise for when the time comes, or insurance against capture."
With that, he turned and sprinted away, his weak flesh leg dragging a bit. He was going to have to get the damn thing replaced- it was slowing him down too much.
He paused long enough to collect a lasgun, mechanically checking the charge and function at a level somewhere below conscious thought, before moving back toward his surviving troops.
Every minute they were still alive, they distracted the enemy, buying time for the real operations. That any of his soldiers was still survived was surely a sign of the grace of the God-Emperor.
-----------------------------------------------
Shrieking servants of the household of the Dread Tendao fell before the ferocity of the arcoflagellants. With the experience borne of thousands of battles, the Legionaires that hadn't been caught in the initial surge smartly moved their line back, letting the cannon fodder absorb the formerly human war machines. Bolter fire lashed out indiscriminately, tearing into household servant and arcoflagellant alike. However, there were few marines actually present, and each one that went down represented a serious loss of combat ability. As an arcoflagellant tore through the armor of one of their battle brothers, the harmony of the Legionaires began to crumble as they started focusing less on maintaining their disciplined fields of fire and more on preserving their own section of the battlefield. Even space marines could know uncertainty when the odds were heavily against them.
However, the garden itself was not without its menaces. The plants, gathered at high cost from rogue traders who traveled the length and breadth of the Imperium, were an eclectic and occasionally dangerous mix of fauna, furthermore having been altered by close exposure to Tendao's accursed dabblings into infernal warpcraft. As Hethor led his squad through the foliage, a large, harmless looking blossom rotated slightly, firing a burst of spores into a Guardsman's face. Immediately the man collapsed to his knees, his features purpling as he struggled for air and his system rebelled against the toxic spores. Twin tentacle vines lashed out, one seizing his arm and the other encircling his head, pulling him toward the base of the shrub...
He paused, then handed the man the boltgun.
"A final surprise for when the time comes, or insurance against capture."
With that, he turned and sprinted away, his weak flesh leg dragging a bit. He was going to have to get the damn thing replaced- it was slowing him down too much.
He paused long enough to collect a lasgun, mechanically checking the charge and function at a level somewhere below conscious thought, before moving back toward his surviving troops.
Every minute they were still alive, they distracted the enemy, buying time for the real operations. That any of his soldiers was still survived was surely a sign of the grace of the God-Emperor.
-----------------------------------------------
Shrieking servants of the household of the Dread Tendao fell before the ferocity of the arcoflagellants. With the experience borne of thousands of battles, the Legionaires that hadn't been caught in the initial surge smartly moved their line back, letting the cannon fodder absorb the formerly human war machines. Bolter fire lashed out indiscriminately, tearing into household servant and arcoflagellant alike. However, there were few marines actually present, and each one that went down represented a serious loss of combat ability. As an arcoflagellant tore through the armor of one of their battle brothers, the harmony of the Legionaires began to crumble as they started focusing less on maintaining their disciplined fields of fire and more on preserving their own section of the battlefield. Even space marines could know uncertainty when the odds were heavily against them.
However, the garden itself was not without its menaces. The plants, gathered at high cost from rogue traders who traveled the length and breadth of the Imperium, were an eclectic and occasionally dangerous mix of fauna, furthermore having been altered by close exposure to Tendao's accursed dabblings into infernal warpcraft. As Hethor led his squad through the foliage, a large, harmless looking blossom rotated slightly, firing a burst of spores into a Guardsman's face. Immediately the man collapsed to his knees, his features purpling as he struggled for air and his system rebelled against the toxic spores. Twin tentacle vines lashed out, one seizing his arm and the other encircling his head, pulling him toward the base of the shrub...
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Hethor blew the plant to pieces with a burst of hellgun fire. Not that it did the dying trooper much good. Throne! Now they had to watch out for the thrice-cursed plants! "Rebreathers," he ordered. He locked his own breathing gear into place. With no exposed flesh he wouldn't have to worry about the pollent. Only about being shot, stabbed, blow up, torn apart, and eaten.
"Grenade launchers," he commanded and leveled his own gun. The arcoflagellants were armoured and cyber modified. Very resilient. And they were already dead. The possibility of collateral damage did not detour Hethor in the slightest. He had killed live troops under his command when necessity dictated.
Explosions pocked the enemy line. Hethor warily lead his men forward, switching to his pistols. Kraken bolt rounds and plasma blasts were far more effective against traitor marines in close quarters than hellguns.
As Hethor advanced, so did Jolan Gix. Vines and underbrush did not even slow down power armour. A gigantic pitches plants attempted to entangle him with grasping tendrils, only to recoil when Jolan immoliated himself with psychic flame. A slice from his power sword cut the plant in two, although it continued thrashing.
A brilliant flash surrounded him as his conversion field activated. Bolt rounds, slowed but not stopped, tore up the armour on his left shoulder as the wounded marine fired on him. Jolan pointed his force rod and fired back a ball of dark red flame.
The fireballs missed the marine, but detonated just behind him setting the flora alight. If his armour had been intact, he would have survived with merely some external armour damage. But it was not. Warp fire engulfed him, blazing through the hole in his torso. It cooked his flesh and heated his blood. He fell in the heart of the fire.
As the Legionnaire fell, the Guard kept advancing. Their carapace armour had meant that their losses from bolter fire had merely been heavy, but they knew they had to win or die. They kept their order and advanced on their enemy as the arcoflagellants continued their gruesome work. They were slowed by the deadly flora, but not stopped. They killed with hellgun, melta blast, krak grenade, and plasma beam. They killed with skill and determination. They were relentless, pitiless, unflinching. Hethor had chosen well.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A soft crack and a soldier tumbled back, a hole burned in his helmet's mirror shield. More soldier's of the Golden Dawn came forward and one pushed a flamer ahead. It's muzzle peaked out from the inside of a dragon's maw. It vomited fire into the breach. Senior Judge Thorve's last moments were filled with agony.
The chaos troopers pushed in. Viscious bayonets had been fixed to the barrels of the lasguns. Flamers, meltas, and plasma guns supplemented their weapons. Grenades were plentiful and apprentice sorcerers mixed among their number. This building would be claimed for the Reaver.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Outside, soldiers of the Golden Dawn recieved orders confining them to a limited assualt roll and tasking them to fire support. The crack to their long ranged lasguns was contsant. Any Imperial gunner learned to that one should move immediately after firing. The Golden Dawn was far better equipped with heavy weapons and sorcerers than the cannon fodder PDF traitors. To linger where they could fire upon you was death.
The Pox Brotherhood, on the other hand, recieved orders for a massive assault. While their cover was being provided by soldiers of Tzeentch. Their was more than a little grumbling as they prepared for a full scale push into the industraplex. Nearly five thousand members of their unit were present for the attack.
The harlequins had melted away. To be visible to such a mass of chaos firepower was to die. Where they were, no one was certain. But the many factoriums, smelteries, and processing plants left more than a few places to hide.
"Grenade launchers," he commanded and leveled his own gun. The arcoflagellants were armoured and cyber modified. Very resilient. And they were already dead. The possibility of collateral damage did not detour Hethor in the slightest. He had killed live troops under his command when necessity dictated.
Explosions pocked the enemy line. Hethor warily lead his men forward, switching to his pistols. Kraken bolt rounds and plasma blasts were far more effective against traitor marines in close quarters than hellguns.
As Hethor advanced, so did Jolan Gix. Vines and underbrush did not even slow down power armour. A gigantic pitches plants attempted to entangle him with grasping tendrils, only to recoil when Jolan immoliated himself with psychic flame. A slice from his power sword cut the plant in two, although it continued thrashing.
A brilliant flash surrounded him as his conversion field activated. Bolt rounds, slowed but not stopped, tore up the armour on his left shoulder as the wounded marine fired on him. Jolan pointed his force rod and fired back a ball of dark red flame.
The fireballs missed the marine, but detonated just behind him setting the flora alight. If his armour had been intact, he would have survived with merely some external armour damage. But it was not. Warp fire engulfed him, blazing through the hole in his torso. It cooked his flesh and heated his blood. He fell in the heart of the fire.
As the Legionnaire fell, the Guard kept advancing. Their carapace armour had meant that their losses from bolter fire had merely been heavy, but they knew they had to win or die. They kept their order and advanced on their enemy as the arcoflagellants continued their gruesome work. They were slowed by the deadly flora, but not stopped. They killed with hellgun, melta blast, krak grenade, and plasma beam. They killed with skill and determination. They were relentless, pitiless, unflinching. Hethor had chosen well.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A soft crack and a soldier tumbled back, a hole burned in his helmet's mirror shield. More soldier's of the Golden Dawn came forward and one pushed a flamer ahead. It's muzzle peaked out from the inside of a dragon's maw. It vomited fire into the breach. Senior Judge Thorve's last moments were filled with agony.
The chaos troopers pushed in. Viscious bayonets had been fixed to the barrels of the lasguns. Flamers, meltas, and plasma guns supplemented their weapons. Grenades were plentiful and apprentice sorcerers mixed among their number. This building would be claimed for the Reaver.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Outside, soldiers of the Golden Dawn recieved orders confining them to a limited assualt roll and tasking them to fire support. The crack to their long ranged lasguns was contsant. Any Imperial gunner learned to that one should move immediately after firing. The Golden Dawn was far better equipped with heavy weapons and sorcerers than the cannon fodder PDF traitors. To linger where they could fire upon you was death.
The Pox Brotherhood, on the other hand, recieved orders for a massive assault. While their cover was being provided by soldiers of Tzeentch. Their was more than a little grumbling as they prepared for a full scale push into the industraplex. Nearly five thousand members of their unit were present for the attack.
The harlequins had melted away. To be visible to such a mass of chaos firepower was to die. Where they were, no one was certain. But the many factoriums, smelteries, and processing plants left more than a few places to hide.
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.
It took a harsh act of will for Prius to force away the limp his weak flesh leg tried to impart upon his gait. He carried his lasgun in one strong augmetic hand, pistol-style, with the barrel pointed toward the air as he approached the Arbites holding a strongpoint.
"Senior Judge Thorve is dead, but not before he piled up many enemies at his feet," he announced, putting his will behind his voice. "I charge every man here with taking ten of the enemy as vengeance for the death of an Imperial Hero. Who is in command here?"
--------------------------------------------
Mayhew lay less than a meter from the fallen raptor. His eyes were focused on the shattered eyepiece where he'd driven his bayonet in, one of the few weak spots in the traitor's armor. He didn't know if his had been the death-blow or not, but the bastard was down and not moving. That was what mattered.
He could feel the warm trickle of blood mixed with saliva running from his mouth, spreading under his cheek. The raptor had exacted vengeance upon him, tearing open his sternum with steely claws. The world was going gray, his vision narrowing down. He heard voices behind him, as if from a great distance.
"Mayhew's down."
"Forget him. That inquisitor's our ride out of here. Let's get moving."
He tried to speak, lips moving but no sound emerging.
I'm not dead.
The voices became indistinct, impossible to make out. Whether it was because they were leaving or because he was fading out, he couldn't tell.
All told, bleeding out wasn't a bad away to go. At least he couldn't feel any pain, hell, he couldn't feel anything. And he couldn't see the ruin the raptor had made of his body.
As he stared at the rapidly thickening blood trickling from the raptor's eyepiece, the shadows grew longer still, and finally, darkness closed in.
=========================
As the bursting of a dam often begins with a trickle that erupts into a flood, so collapsed the defenses of the traitor marines. As each fell, fire concentrated upon the survivors.
Finally, the last two marines simply ran. It was rare, virtually unheard of for marines, even traitors, to simply abandon a mission. But Tendao was not their lord, and these wily survivors of millennia of combat knew when to cut their losses.
Without the marines to stiffen the defense, killing the pathetic household retainers was more akin to an execution than a battle.
-----------------------------------------------
Tendao watched the display from the momentary safety of the throne room, then turned to spit upon the floor. His black bile sizzled as it ate away at the ancient surface, worn smooth by countless generations of politicians, merchants, supplicants, and court toadies who had tread there.
"The seed of Horus did go weak upon his death," he snarled at the form of the chaos commander, strapped down to the table before him. He had been experimenting with the various alterations that had been made to the marine's physiology and nervous system by both the modifications that had turned the once-human into a marine, and the later changes that had come with prolonged exposure to the warp. While he wasn't entirely satisfied with his mastery of the system, it would have to do. Talons began manipulating nerve clusters as he began to play his accursed warpsong. Bubbling screams began emerging from the traitor marine's throat as warp energies played along his nervous system, amplifying his pain beyond the tolerances of even a venerable marine warrior.
"Senior Judge Thorve is dead, but not before he piled up many enemies at his feet," he announced, putting his will behind his voice. "I charge every man here with taking ten of the enemy as vengeance for the death of an Imperial Hero. Who is in command here?"
--------------------------------------------
Mayhew lay less than a meter from the fallen raptor. His eyes were focused on the shattered eyepiece where he'd driven his bayonet in, one of the few weak spots in the traitor's armor. He didn't know if his had been the death-blow or not, but the bastard was down and not moving. That was what mattered.
He could feel the warm trickle of blood mixed with saliva running from his mouth, spreading under his cheek. The raptor had exacted vengeance upon him, tearing open his sternum with steely claws. The world was going gray, his vision narrowing down. He heard voices behind him, as if from a great distance.
"Mayhew's down."
"Forget him. That inquisitor's our ride out of here. Let's get moving."
He tried to speak, lips moving but no sound emerging.
I'm not dead.
The voices became indistinct, impossible to make out. Whether it was because they were leaving or because he was fading out, he couldn't tell.
All told, bleeding out wasn't a bad away to go. At least he couldn't feel any pain, hell, he couldn't feel anything. And he couldn't see the ruin the raptor had made of his body.
As he stared at the rapidly thickening blood trickling from the raptor's eyepiece, the shadows grew longer still, and finally, darkness closed in.
=========================
As the bursting of a dam often begins with a trickle that erupts into a flood, so collapsed the defenses of the traitor marines. As each fell, fire concentrated upon the survivors.
Finally, the last two marines simply ran. It was rare, virtually unheard of for marines, even traitors, to simply abandon a mission. But Tendao was not their lord, and these wily survivors of millennia of combat knew when to cut their losses.
Without the marines to stiffen the defense, killing the pathetic household retainers was more akin to an execution than a battle.
-----------------------------------------------
Tendao watched the display from the momentary safety of the throne room, then turned to spit upon the floor. His black bile sizzled as it ate away at the ancient surface, worn smooth by countless generations of politicians, merchants, supplicants, and court toadies who had tread there.
"The seed of Horus did go weak upon his death," he snarled at the form of the chaos commander, strapped down to the table before him. He had been experimenting with the various alterations that had been made to the marine's physiology and nervous system by both the modifications that had turned the once-human into a marine, and the later changes that had come with prolonged exposure to the warp. While he wasn't entirely satisfied with his mastery of the system, it would have to do. Talons began manipulating nerve clusters as he began to play his accursed warpsong. Bubbling screams began emerging from the traitor marine's throat as warp energies played along his nervous system, amplifying his pain beyond the tolerances of even a venerable marine warrior.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
A grim covered little man stood forward. "I am. Major Ranij at your command Commissar Ristani. I have about two hundred effectives under my command. Overall command of this section is General Kalif."
"Our observers say the enemy is making a major push. Twenty thousand plus in this vault. If we lose this vault, we can fall back to another tunnel system before the spire. We've fallen back to the second half of the vault and engaged in street fighting with the enemy. My unit has orders to sweep up and find all survivors that may have been left behind and take them to a rally point." Several explosions punctuated his sentence.
From outside Prius could hear gunfire and screams. More sluggers than lases. The Pox Brotherhood used a lot of sluggers. Their were no shouts of "REA-VOR," just the sounds of men fighting and dying on a massive scale.
"We await your orders, colonel-commissar."
-------------------------------------------------------------
The vanguard of the Jolan's strikers moved forward towards the edge of the perverse garden. Jolan followed with the main body of troops, his last squad of arcoflagellants trailing behind him. He pushed his psychic senses forward, checking for the presence of chaos sorcery or warp creatures.
He found power, terrible power. It was gathering in strength. He quickly retreated, knowing to confront it at its source was suicide when his body was elsewhere. He martialed psychic defences around his unit, wrapping especially strong layers of protection around himself and Hethor. He dreaded what was to come. "Be alert," he ordered. "The enemy is going to send witchcraft against us."
"Our observers say the enemy is making a major push. Twenty thousand plus in this vault. If we lose this vault, we can fall back to another tunnel system before the spire. We've fallen back to the second half of the vault and engaged in street fighting with the enemy. My unit has orders to sweep up and find all survivors that may have been left behind and take them to a rally point." Several explosions punctuated his sentence.
From outside Prius could hear gunfire and screams. More sluggers than lases. The Pox Brotherhood used a lot of sluggers. Their were no shouts of "REA-VOR," just the sounds of men fighting and dying on a massive scale.
"We await your orders, colonel-commissar."
-------------------------------------------------------------
The vanguard of the Jolan's strikers moved forward towards the edge of the perverse garden. Jolan followed with the main body of troops, his last squad of arcoflagellants trailing behind him. He pushed his psychic senses forward, checking for the presence of chaos sorcery or warp creatures.
He found power, terrible power. It was gathering in strength. He quickly retreated, knowing to confront it at its source was suicide when his body was elsewhere. He martialed psychic defences around his unit, wrapping especially strong layers of protection around himself and Hethor. He dreaded what was to come. "Be alert," he ordered. "The enemy is going to send witchcraft against us."
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.
"Direct me to General Kalif and carry on with your orders, major Ranij."
As much as he wished to stay here and fight at the front, he needed to be back at the epicenter of command. He hadn't sensed Nathan again, and half-wondered if it had not been a figment of his imagination. But he couldn't take that chance. If Nathan was truly here, he had to be located and protected. Beyond clearing the way for the other missions, Nathan's life was worth more than every man there, in terms of priorities.
Even if the the dumb bastard shouldn't even have been there, he mused somewhat uncharitably.
----------------------------------------------------
There was a thunderous boom following on the heels of Jolan's words. He could sense no threat from the sound itself, simply a terror tactic. What came next was no mere trickery, though.
Several things/(The floor split as lines of force ran along it, impaling those in their path)
Happened/(The garden lashed out with renewed vigor, engulfing nearby soldiers and corpses)
All at/(Black lightning sizzled down from the ceiling, striking randomly among them)
Once/(Several guardsmen fell to their knees, clutching their heads and screaming)
As much as he wished to stay here and fight at the front, he needed to be back at the epicenter of command. He hadn't sensed Nathan again, and half-wondered if it had not been a figment of his imagination. But he couldn't take that chance. If Nathan was truly here, he had to be located and protected. Beyond clearing the way for the other missions, Nathan's life was worth more than every man there, in terms of priorities.
Even if the the dumb bastard shouldn't even have been there, he mused somewhat uncharitably.
----------------------------------------------------
There was a thunderous boom following on the heels of Jolan's words. He could sense no threat from the sound itself, simply a terror tactic. What came next was no mere trickery, though.
Several things/(The floor split as lines of force ran along it, impaling those in their path)
Happened/(The garden lashed out with renewed vigor, engulfing nearby soldiers and corpses)
All at/(Black lightning sizzled down from the ceiling, striking randomly among them)
Once/(Several guardsmen fell to their knees, clutching their heads and screaming)
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Prius was lead out of the rear of the factory, across a street where gunmen watched him through shattered windows. He was lead down the long halls and cavernous, machine filled spaces and out along a side street. Everywhere he could mines being set and men preparing themselves to meat the enemy. The thunder of battle was always close. He was never more than half a minute from a raging fire fight.
Things were a little more sedate at the rear of the vault. In an ancient factory-plex a tall stepple decorate with the images of the primarchs rose towards the roof of the vault. Great armorplas windows looked out on the vault below. Now they were reinforced with a void shield and formed the headquarters of General Kalif.
Observers and com servitors were huddled around the peripherary of the great room that had once been a senior official's palatial office. The a portable holoslab provided a simulation of the battle below. The general alternated consulting the picture and the window. A constant stream of orders came from her.
She was a broad woman of average height. Her hair was cut short and even darker than her skin, which was nearly black. "Colonel-commissar. We thought you were dead. Medicae," she called out, "see to him."
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Two guardsmen fell screaming. They clutched their heads and howled at the distant ceiling. It was the only warning they got. The storm was upon them.
The tree shook. Tendrils and vines lashed out. Trunks twisted, swinging branches like clubs. One man was knocked down. Another was seized by vines.
The men frantically opened fire on the nearby trees. Trunks exploded, flaming chunks of wood were blown off trees. The stunned man was retrieved by a comrade, who dragged him away from the shattered tree. The engulfed man cried piteously as his limbs were pulled taught. Then he screamed. With a sickening pop his limbs were dislocated and pulled off. Hethor shot him in the head and lased the vine clusters.
As they fought of the treacherous garden, more dangers struck. Their attention was diverted from the energy patterns forming above them and below them. "Advance!" Jolan yelled. He knew it was too late. Men were going to die.
Black lightning struck from above, blowing two soldiers to bloody pieces. The split under the power of the second pattern, energy spikes popping up to impale the unfortunate trooper in their path. The cracks began to spread wider.
Several soldiers hesitated, their path of escape barred by the widening crevasses. Several leaped and made it. One leaped and was not so fortunate, falling to the floor below. Those who hesitated stayed longer under the deadly sky. Black lightning flashed again, splattering another three men.
Jolan Gix raised his force rod to the chaos storm around them as black lightning rebounded off his defences. He unleashed a blast of negating power, the brute force that had always been his strength. The storm was stronger, of course. As against the Psy King, more skill would have helped Jolan's efforts. Time and experience would enable him to develop that skill, assuming he survived. But he did not have it now.
He did have a force rod and that did help. The frothing mass of dark energies could not be negated by Jolan's might, but it could be pushed away. Blue light flared and the howling men contorted on the ground as they were struck by seizures. They had already been overwhelmed by the storm's force. Now they were on the peripherary of Jolan's thrust.
The twisted energy flowed across the garden like a cloud pushed by a strong wind. It took no more of Jolan's men. With a final convulsion, the two eyes of the two convulsing men exploded. Blood and grey matter oozed out of their ears. Victory, of a sort.
Things were a little more sedate at the rear of the vault. In an ancient factory-plex a tall stepple decorate with the images of the primarchs rose towards the roof of the vault. Great armorplas windows looked out on the vault below. Now they were reinforced with a void shield and formed the headquarters of General Kalif.
Observers and com servitors were huddled around the peripherary of the great room that had once been a senior official's palatial office. The a portable holoslab provided a simulation of the battle below. The general alternated consulting the picture and the window. A constant stream of orders came from her.
She was a broad woman of average height. Her hair was cut short and even darker than her skin, which was nearly black. "Colonel-commissar. We thought you were dead. Medicae," she called out, "see to him."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Two guardsmen fell screaming. They clutched their heads and howled at the distant ceiling. It was the only warning they got. The storm was upon them.
The tree shook. Tendrils and vines lashed out. Trunks twisted, swinging branches like clubs. One man was knocked down. Another was seized by vines.
The men frantically opened fire on the nearby trees. Trunks exploded, flaming chunks of wood were blown off trees. The stunned man was retrieved by a comrade, who dragged him away from the shattered tree. The engulfed man cried piteously as his limbs were pulled taught. Then he screamed. With a sickening pop his limbs were dislocated and pulled off. Hethor shot him in the head and lased the vine clusters.
As they fought of the treacherous garden, more dangers struck. Their attention was diverted from the energy patterns forming above them and below them. "Advance!" Jolan yelled. He knew it was too late. Men were going to die.
Black lightning struck from above, blowing two soldiers to bloody pieces. The split under the power of the second pattern, energy spikes popping up to impale the unfortunate trooper in their path. The cracks began to spread wider.
Several soldiers hesitated, their path of escape barred by the widening crevasses. Several leaped and made it. One leaped and was not so fortunate, falling to the floor below. Those who hesitated stayed longer under the deadly sky. Black lightning flashed again, splattering another three men.
Jolan Gix raised his force rod to the chaos storm around them as black lightning rebounded off his defences. He unleashed a blast of negating power, the brute force that had always been his strength. The storm was stronger, of course. As against the Psy King, more skill would have helped Jolan's efforts. Time and experience would enable him to develop that skill, assuming he survived. But he did not have it now.
He did have a force rod and that did help. The frothing mass of dark energies could not be negated by Jolan's might, but it could be pushed away. Blue light flared and the howling men contorted on the ground as they were struck by seizures. They had already been overwhelmed by the storm's force. Now they were on the peripherary of Jolan's thrust.
The twisted energy flowed across the garden like a cloud pushed by a strong wind. It took no more of Jolan's men. With a final convulsion, the two eyes of the two convulsing men exploded. Blood and grey matter oozed out of their ears. Victory, of a sort.
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
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
- Posts: 35211
- Joined: 2002-07-21 02:38am
- Location: Dave's Not Here Man
the numbers of the Mon-keigh were growing, and the ones currupted by the forces of the anchient enemy had developed an interest in them, as completion of the sacred mission was in doubt, it was time to assist the animals in conflict with the Arch enemy, purhaps they wouldn't even notice their designs on the one called "Nathan", and how besides the mark were they to tell which one was their target, all those animals looked the same anyways....
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
He waved off the medicae. "I'll be fine. Most of the blood isn't my own. I just need... water, and perhaps a ration bar."
His cellular regeneration was in overdrive, repairing the damage to his flesh, but it was consuming his energy, both physical and mental, at a horrendous rate. He felt thirsty enough to drink an ocean, and nodded gratefully at the canteen and bar that were thrust into his hand.
"Keep up your work, General. I'll join you in a moment."
=====================
It was like dueling with an expert fencer. As soon as Gix countered one thrust, another would be made, and another, a series of lightning strokes designed to exhaust an opponent. A new miasma of psychic energy began roiling around the perimeter of his shield, manifesting in the form of a luminescent green fog. The dead and parts of the dead engulfed in the fog began to twitch, rising on shattered limbs, grasping weapons. Eye-sockets glowed with hellish green light as the animated corpses began firing their weapons into the disordered troops. The battered corpses of the marines hefted their bolters and once more rained fire into the midst of Imperial forces.
His cellular regeneration was in overdrive, repairing the damage to his flesh, but it was consuming his energy, both physical and mental, at a horrendous rate. He felt thirsty enough to drink an ocean, and nodded gratefully at the canteen and bar that were thrust into his hand.
"Keep up your work, General. I'll join you in a moment."
=====================
It was like dueling with an expert fencer. As soon as Gix countered one thrust, another would be made, and another, a series of lightning strokes designed to exhaust an opponent. A new miasma of psychic energy began roiling around the perimeter of his shield, manifesting in the form of a luminescent green fog. The dead and parts of the dead engulfed in the fog began to twitch, rising on shattered limbs, grasping weapons. Eye-sockets glowed with hellish green light as the animated corpses began firing their weapons into the disordered troops. The battered corpses of the marines hefted their bolters and once more rained fire into the midst of Imperial forces.
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
The dead filled the streets. The warriors of the Pox Brotherhood kept on coming. Imperials fired from windows, doorways, and form behind blockades. Hastily trained conscripts lifted lases and autoguns and fired at the chaos horde. Heavy stubbers, autocannons, grenade launchers, and multilasers added to the carnage.
The Pox Brotherhood did not die easily. Their armour provided a little protection and their resolve was firm. They returned fire as they secured the entrances for buildings and fired back at enemy positions. Behind them, the Golden Dawn set up in the first few factorium complexes. Lases were poked out of windows to fire on enemy positions. Snipers and heavy weapons were set up. They began to reap a bloody harvest of their own.
Pox Brotherhood assault troops breached the next bunch of buildings. Their armour was reinforced with steel and ceramite plates. The were armed with eavy calibre autoguns and autofire shotcannons for close ranged combat. Chainswords and poisoned cleaving blades were readied for hand to hand battle.
Arbite lead shock squads met them at point blank range. Grenades, armour piercing slugs, and bolter fire mowed them down. Suppression shields and shock mauls dominated hand to hand combat. Point blank bolt pistol fire blew bodies open. But slowly, the weight of numbers began to tell.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Jolan gestured with his force rod and a wave of telekinetic force threw the reanimate corpses to the ground. Weapons skittered out of dead hands and down the cracks in the floor. "Move out!" he screamed through his amplifier. The longer his men remained here, the more would die.
The Pox Brotherhood did not die easily. Their armour provided a little protection and their resolve was firm. They returned fire as they secured the entrances for buildings and fired back at enemy positions. Behind them, the Golden Dawn set up in the first few factorium complexes. Lases were poked out of windows to fire on enemy positions. Snipers and heavy weapons were set up. They began to reap a bloody harvest of their own.
Pox Brotherhood assault troops breached the next bunch of buildings. Their armour was reinforced with steel and ceramite plates. The were armed with eavy calibre autoguns and autofire shotcannons for close ranged combat. Chainswords and poisoned cleaving blades were readied for hand to hand battle.
Arbite lead shock squads met them at point blank range. Grenades, armour piercing slugs, and bolter fire mowed them down. Suppression shields and shock mauls dominated hand to hand combat. Point blank bolt pistol fire blew bodies open. But slowly, the weight of numbers began to tell.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Jolan gestured with his force rod and a wave of telekinetic force threw the reanimate corpses to the ground. Weapons skittered out of dead hands and down the cracks in the floor. "Move out!" he screamed through his amplifier. The longer his men remained here, the more would die.
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.
As he washed down the hasty ration bar with long gulps of water, he studied the screens. He also was studying the general, assessing her competency and zealotry.
When the Guard are doing the work of the Emperor, a commissar's role is to stand as a symbol of solidarity and faith, to inspire by word and deed. Only when they falter, fail, or their faith gives out, only then does a good commissar step forward to take a more active hand in management of military affairs.
General Kalif was doing the best possible job under the circumstances. She was unaware of the possible presence or overwhelming significance of Nathan Talstrem, but then there was no way they could locate him anyway, not when every available man was on the line.
It was galling, but as he watched Kalif orchestrate a masterful ambush that decimated a Golden Dawn company, he realized that the command center wasn't where he was truly needed.
"General Kalif, you have my full confidence to carry on commanding the defense," he announced. "I will return to the front to inspire further valor from the men."
And if he could find Nathan and somehow pull him out of this hellhole, he would.
===========================
As the troops charged forward, they had to contend with the shattered corpses and disembodied limbs clutching at them, grabbing for ankles, feet, calves, whatever they could grasp. A few bursts of fire put an end to that, but not before another man went down as a superhumanly strong space marine hand crushed his ankle, armor crumpling like aluminum.
Men moved forward to rig charges to the door, planting them along the hinges, when suddenly the doors blasted outward violently, heedless of the fragile flesh that stood in their way.
"Gix. Your name is Gix."
Every mind could hear the horrifying voice, as Tendao cared not for the meat things that Gix had brought with him. Such cattle were truly beneath his notice. His psyk-voice was a terrible thing, containing tones no audible sound could transmit, the very touch of the warp and the whisper of daemons babbling as an undercurrent to the harsh mental vocalization.
When the Guard are doing the work of the Emperor, a commissar's role is to stand as a symbol of solidarity and faith, to inspire by word and deed. Only when they falter, fail, or their faith gives out, only then does a good commissar step forward to take a more active hand in management of military affairs.
General Kalif was doing the best possible job under the circumstances. She was unaware of the possible presence or overwhelming significance of Nathan Talstrem, but then there was no way they could locate him anyway, not when every available man was on the line.
It was galling, but as he watched Kalif orchestrate a masterful ambush that decimated a Golden Dawn company, he realized that the command center wasn't where he was truly needed.
"General Kalif, you have my full confidence to carry on commanding the defense," he announced. "I will return to the front to inspire further valor from the men."
And if he could find Nathan and somehow pull him out of this hellhole, he would.
===========================
As the troops charged forward, they had to contend with the shattered corpses and disembodied limbs clutching at them, grabbing for ankles, feet, calves, whatever they could grasp. A few bursts of fire put an end to that, but not before another man went down as a superhumanly strong space marine hand crushed his ankle, armor crumpling like aluminum.
Men moved forward to rig charges to the door, planting them along the hinges, when suddenly the doors blasted outward violently, heedless of the fragile flesh that stood in their way.
"Gix. Your name is Gix."
Every mind could hear the horrifying voice, as Tendao cared not for the meat things that Gix had brought with him. Such cattle were truly beneath his notice. His psyk-voice was a terrible thing, containing tones no audible sound could transmit, the very touch of the warp and the whisper of daemons babbling as an undercurrent to the harsh mental vocalization.