Jolan attached his restraints to the armour. "Status?" he asked the Navy lieutenant in front of him.
"Just about every unit secured inquisitor. Decoys and ordinance ready for launch. We are just doing final checks."
"Carry on."
"Thank you sir." The young officer hesitated for a moment. "Inquisitor?"
"Yes?"
"May the Emperor watch over you."
Jolan smiled under his helmet. He doesn't like our chances either. "Thank you lieutenant. The Emperor protects."
A minute passed as the naval personel finished the pre flight rituals. "All systems ready. We are sealing up and readying for launch. He stepped outside the armoured craft as the heavy door cycled closed.
They were now sealed in. Hethor turned to Jolan. "I hate these fuckin' things, but at least these ones they do good maintenance on."
"Don't worry Heth. We have a saint nearby and a man he chose personaly. His eye is on us."
A com channel cut in. "Ready to launch on your order."
"Launch." Jolan was hammered back into his seat as the pod was fired at the surface below. The first few pods contained jammers and decoys to confuse the enemy and draw fire during the brief tansit to the surface. The second wave was a mix of several decoys, the armoured and shielded troop pods, and ordinance.
As the pods punched through atmosphere towards Tendao's headquarters, a dozen pods split away from the main group. They were armoured and equiped with penetration screens like naval torpedoes. Their cargo was not troops, but plasma bombs. They would strike all over the hive, hopefully distracting and confusing the enemy.
The others would all be clustered around Tendao's headquarters. The pod mounted weapons would hopefully shred any defenders in the immediate area and the penitent engines would be unleashed. The war machines would provide another layer of cover and distraction while the strike force breached the fortress. If everything went as planned.
40K/Inquisitor RPG. The Line of Damnation.
Moderator: Thanas
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Imperial Overlord
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Imperial Overlord
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- Location: The Tower at Charm
Yashida dismissed his suspicions are paranoia. No unit had been able to get close to this area for a month. Of course the heretic warlord was going to fortify and booby trap his headquarters. The presence of such defences merely confirmed the intelligence that the Reaver was here. And with many of the guards having left to deal with the fighting near the artillery, they had a chance of reaching the spire.
The main portal was armourplast and protected by automated autocannon turrets. But it was not invulnerable and was less likely to be trapped than the other possible entrances. A full platoon of heavily armoured soldiers armed mostly with lasguns and autoguns stood on guard.
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The armoured column pushed its way into the vault. A dozen vehicles were wrecked or burning. Several of the Imperial's firing positions had been destroyed, but resistance was still fierce. Infantry darted among the tanks, taking cover as they advanced towards the factoriums. Las and stubber fire took a heavy toal on their numbers, but there was always more coming.
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Senior Judge Thorve squated down and placed his bolt pistol in between his thighs. He quickly reloaded using only his right arm. His left was turniquetted and he had lucky for it not to have been severed by the autocannon shell.
He grabbed his pistol and rose to his feet. More heretics were coming. The PDF troopers near him were continuing to fire. "Judge Vinberg."
The young arbites turned to her superior. "Yes, senior judge?" she asked.
"I seem to have difficulty concentrating and maintaining my balance. Blood loss appears to have compromised my ability to lead this unit. You are in charge."
"Yes, senior judge." Vinberg was a well muscled woman of ordinary size, but next to Thorve she seemed petit. She avoided saluting in a combat zone. "All units, hold position. Continue firing. Make the heretics bleed."
Judge Thorve activated his vox. "Colonel-Commissar. My injuries are severe enough to impare my judgement. You will have to find another . . . . another under officer for unit one. Thorve over."
The main portal was armourplast and protected by automated autocannon turrets. But it was not invulnerable and was less likely to be trapped than the other possible entrances. A full platoon of heavily armoured soldiers armed mostly with lasguns and autoguns stood on guard.
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The armoured column pushed its way into the vault. A dozen vehicles were wrecked or burning. Several of the Imperial's firing positions had been destroyed, but resistance was still fierce. Infantry darted among the tanks, taking cover as they advanced towards the factoriums. Las and stubber fire took a heavy toal on their numbers, but there was always more coming.
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Senior Judge Thorve squated down and placed his bolt pistol in between his thighs. He quickly reloaded using only his right arm. His left was turniquetted and he had lucky for it not to have been severed by the autocannon shell.
He grabbed his pistol and rose to his feet. More heretics were coming. The PDF troopers near him were continuing to fire. "Judge Vinberg."
The young arbites turned to her superior. "Yes, senior judge?" she asked.
"I seem to have difficulty concentrating and maintaining my balance. Blood loss appears to have compromised my ability to lead this unit. You are in charge."
"Yes, senior judge." Vinberg was a well muscled woman of ordinary size, but next to Thorve she seemed petit. She avoided saluting in a combat zone. "All units, hold position. Continue firing. Make the heretics bleed."
Judge Thorve activated his vox. "Colonel-Commissar. My injuries are severe enough to impare my judgement. You will have to find another . . . . another under officer for unit one. Thorve over."
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.
Shaithis waited with barely contained eagerness. The fuel depot was barely guarded now.
"We take the depot and we hold it as long as we can," he whispered to his NCOs. "Then we blow it. The other strikes are buying us this chance, now we pay them back by making a fireball so big they'll see it from orbit."
And if the enemy simply decided to level the place, that would also serve. Whatever the outcome, this was a large concentration of supply that would not longer be available to the archenemy.
As they crept into position, a sentry called out a warning.
The die was cast. Shaithis bellowed a war cry and led the charge into the depot, chainsword drawn.
----------------------------------------------------
Prius acknowledged Thorve's message with a curt "Acknowledged, enroute."
Turning, he bellowed for the 'captain', a boy barely old enough to shave, who had hastily pinned on a captain's insignia, while the faded marks of his previous rank as a common trooper still stood out on his sleeves.
"I'm returning to command the force," he said quickly. "Take over here and keep drawing them out."
With that, he turned and sprinted away.
Damn Thorve's gall. He'd best not die here; he still had a date with an autorack.
-----------------------------------------------
Plasma bombs rained from the sky, some detonated harmlessly in the air by the hive's defense grid, others detonating closer to the hive itself and airbursting to deadly effect on the local structure. Others penetrated and blasted to devastating effect.
Several spires, already weakened by the previous war that had raged through the structure, collapsed entirely. Hive Primus was a magnificent structure, one that had begun forming before even the Great Crusade, but the damages the war had wrought upon it had every likelihood of damaging it beyond repair, as the ancient frame continued to warp and settle, the abused supports giving away.
The death throes might well extend over the course of decades, but only an Emperor-given miracle could save the complex from its ultimate doom.
Of more immediate concern to those fighting and dying within was the collapse of a multi-kilometer spire in the vicinity. The deckplates beneath their feet shivered and bucked as if struck by an earthquake, while portions of the overhead structure fell among the fighters, heedless of whether they served the Emperor or the Gods of Chaos. New cordons and blockages were created by the rubble, complicating matters for both sides as they continued their death struggle.
The bombs served their purpose well, better than intended even as the damage to hive structure disoriented the defenses. Only as Gix's force began descending onto the palace itself did they start meeting serious fire...
----------------------------------
A support wall buckled near Varian's group, a screech of tearing metal heralding its collapse. The floor literally rippled beneath their feet, throwing friend and foe alike off balance. Plates separated with resounding creaks, exposing substructure, piping and other support elements in a sudden, radical rearrangement of the terrain. A nest of devil rats that had lived in a forgotten ventilation system for centuries spewed forth, maddened by the sudden destruction of their home and the exposure to too-bright light. Boiling out of the ground itself, the meter-long rats threw themselves in mindless frenzy at the nearest targets.
"We take the depot and we hold it as long as we can," he whispered to his NCOs. "Then we blow it. The other strikes are buying us this chance, now we pay them back by making a fireball so big they'll see it from orbit."
And if the enemy simply decided to level the place, that would also serve. Whatever the outcome, this was a large concentration of supply that would not longer be available to the archenemy.
As they crept into position, a sentry called out a warning.
The die was cast. Shaithis bellowed a war cry and led the charge into the depot, chainsword drawn.
----------------------------------------------------
Prius acknowledged Thorve's message with a curt "Acknowledged, enroute."
Turning, he bellowed for the 'captain', a boy barely old enough to shave, who had hastily pinned on a captain's insignia, while the faded marks of his previous rank as a common trooper still stood out on his sleeves.
"I'm returning to command the force," he said quickly. "Take over here and keep drawing them out."
With that, he turned and sprinted away.
Damn Thorve's gall. He'd best not die here; he still had a date with an autorack.
-----------------------------------------------
Plasma bombs rained from the sky, some detonated harmlessly in the air by the hive's defense grid, others detonating closer to the hive itself and airbursting to deadly effect on the local structure. Others penetrated and blasted to devastating effect.
Several spires, already weakened by the previous war that had raged through the structure, collapsed entirely. Hive Primus was a magnificent structure, one that had begun forming before even the Great Crusade, but the damages the war had wrought upon it had every likelihood of damaging it beyond repair, as the ancient frame continued to warp and settle, the abused supports giving away.
The death throes might well extend over the course of decades, but only an Emperor-given miracle could save the complex from its ultimate doom.
Of more immediate concern to those fighting and dying within was the collapse of a multi-kilometer spire in the vicinity. The deckplates beneath their feet shivered and bucked as if struck by an earthquake, while portions of the overhead structure fell among the fighters, heedless of whether they served the Emperor or the Gods of Chaos. New cordons and blockages were created by the rubble, complicating matters for both sides as they continued their death struggle.
The bombs served their purpose well, better than intended even as the damage to hive structure disoriented the defenses. Only as Gix's force began descending onto the palace itself did they start meeting serious fire...
----------------------------------
A support wall buckled near Varian's group, a screech of tearing metal heralding its collapse. The floor literally rippled beneath their feet, throwing friend and foe alike off balance. Plates separated with resounding creaks, exposing substructure, piping and other support elements in a sudden, radical rearrangement of the terrain. A nest of devil rats that had lived in a forgotten ventilation system for centuries spewed forth, maddened by the sudden destruction of their home and the exposure to too-bright light. Boiling out of the ground itself, the meter-long rats threw themselves in mindless frenzy at the nearest targets.
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The drop pods smashed through the hive, grounding near Tendao's spire. Hull mounted grenade and rocket launchers spewed death at everything in the vicinity, clearing the way for the troops inside. Several armoured doors slid open and unleashed their contents.
Nightmarish warmachines strode out. Humanoid robotic chassis with condemed heretics wired to them, the penitent engines stormed out. Heavy flamers, bolters, and stub guns opened up on the survivors of the bombardment.
Jolan Gix clicked on his conversion field as he unhitched his harness. They had actually managed to land close to the target. Tendao had sent his attention and some of his best troops to another hive where Varian and Prius Ristani were raising all kinds of hell. They had the advantage of surprise and most of his troops had survived to land in the right place. The initial bombardment had surpressed the enemy in the vicinity and the penitent engines were engaging the enemy. So far, everything was going according to plan. He might actually get out of this one alive.
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Shaithis's forces hacked their way through the skeleton force around the depot. Most of the troops had been drawn away to the battle with the Sororitas two kilometers away. What remained collapsed almost instantly under the cadet's attack. In less than a minute Shaithis, battered and covered in gore, was victorious.
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Prius Ristani forced his way through the combat zone towards Senior Judge Thorve's position. He had to cross two transit junctions that were enveloped in all out firefights. He emptied the arbites autogun, picked up a lasgun with several clips, and ran out of that was well. His coat was punctured a half dozen times by shot and shrapnel, but his carapace armour took the worst of it. The heretics that encountered Prius Ristani were not so fortunate.
It was almost a half hour before he reached Judge Vinberg's position. Two score troops were with her, engaged in fierce fighting with the heretics. The young arbites was supervising from near an improvised casualty ward in a wrecked factorium.
Nightmarish warmachines strode out. Humanoid robotic chassis with condemed heretics wired to them, the penitent engines stormed out. Heavy flamers, bolters, and stub guns opened up on the survivors of the bombardment.
Jolan Gix clicked on his conversion field as he unhitched his harness. They had actually managed to land close to the target. Tendao had sent his attention and some of his best troops to another hive where Varian and Prius Ristani were raising all kinds of hell. They had the advantage of surprise and most of his troops had survived to land in the right place. The initial bombardment had surpressed the enemy in the vicinity and the penitent engines were engaging the enemy. So far, everything was going according to plan. He might actually get out of this one alive.
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Shaithis's forces hacked their way through the skeleton force around the depot. Most of the troops had been drawn away to the battle with the Sororitas two kilometers away. What remained collapsed almost instantly under the cadet's attack. In less than a minute Shaithis, battered and covered in gore, was victorious.
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Prius Ristani forced his way through the combat zone towards Senior Judge Thorve's position. He had to cross two transit junctions that were enveloped in all out firefights. He emptied the arbites autogun, picked up a lasgun with several clips, and ran out of that was well. His coat was punctured a half dozen times by shot and shrapnel, but his carapace armour took the worst of it. The heretics that encountered Prius Ristani were not so fortunate.
It was almost a half hour before he reached Judge Vinberg's position. Two score troops were with her, engaged in fierce fighting with the heretics. The young arbites was supervising from near an improvised casualty ward in a wrecked factorium.
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.
Tendao's eyes twisted open.
"They are coming for me," he said suddenly. "Inquisitors."
The words were a sibilant hiss, one that stiffened the spines of those across the room. For the conspirators, the Inquisition was the enemy, and this whole invasion fairly reeked of their influence. Mere common Imperials did not devise such elaborate schemes; they merely bludgeoned their way through opposition with brute force.
Of those in the vast throne room, the traitorous wretches of the Black Legion were notably unmoved. The commander of Tendao's honor guard chuckled, a low, menacing sound.
"Then they will die. I've killed inquisitors before- they bleed like any other servant of the Corpse God."
Tendao shook his head.
"No."
He reached down. Before him was a Cardinal of the Ecclesiarchy, strapped facedown to a table. His back had been flayed open with delicate care, exposing his spinal column and a host of deliciously tender nerve endings. Tendao brushed a nerve cluster lightly with one finger, eliciting a ragged scream, rising and falling as the man's voice began to fail him once more. The scream played itself across his vision, sound made visible to his warp-blessed eyes. As he manipulated the Cardinal's scream, the warp shifted, flowed, touched the room, creating small happenings of random madness. Black blood trickled here and there from the walls. One of the court members suddenly screamed as a hand began to force its way from his chest, his body spontaneously mutating as the warp called out to it.
"No," Tendao repeated. "Kill all that come with them, but the inquisitors will be mine."
The music he could make with such strong minds, with psykers... it would make the paltry casualties of the nearby offensive utterly meaningless. This was not a crisis, this was an opportunity.
"Remember, these are deceptive creatures, commander. You may direct the defenses, but you and your men will remain here with myself."
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The Penitent Engines tore through the ranks of Tendao's personal guard with a vengeance. Armed primarily for defense against mobs and assassins, they were not carrying the sort of anti-armor weaponry needed to fight the maddened machines. However, even as they fell back into the palace's extensive fortification network, heavier weapons began making their way forward, and the automated defense system began targeting them as well.
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"Head left, loot," Mayhew advised. They were too damned close to those crazy-ass wannabe dreadnoughts for his taste, and those things were turning into serious fire magnets.
==========================
Shaithis gave orders in a hurry, setting a perimeter and putting men to attaching melta bombs and krak charges to the fuel tanks.
Digging them out would be a highly expensive affair.
-----------------------------------------------
Prius looked a horror by the time he arrived, blood streaming down his face from a ghastly scalp wound that he was unsure of the origin of. He grabbed Vinberg's shoulder.
"Assuming command, Judge," he informed her tersely. "Situation report?"
"They are coming for me," he said suddenly. "Inquisitors."
The words were a sibilant hiss, one that stiffened the spines of those across the room. For the conspirators, the Inquisition was the enemy, and this whole invasion fairly reeked of their influence. Mere common Imperials did not devise such elaborate schemes; they merely bludgeoned their way through opposition with brute force.
Of those in the vast throne room, the traitorous wretches of the Black Legion were notably unmoved. The commander of Tendao's honor guard chuckled, a low, menacing sound.
"Then they will die. I've killed inquisitors before- they bleed like any other servant of the Corpse God."
Tendao shook his head.
"No."
He reached down. Before him was a Cardinal of the Ecclesiarchy, strapped facedown to a table. His back had been flayed open with delicate care, exposing his spinal column and a host of deliciously tender nerve endings. Tendao brushed a nerve cluster lightly with one finger, eliciting a ragged scream, rising and falling as the man's voice began to fail him once more. The scream played itself across his vision, sound made visible to his warp-blessed eyes. As he manipulated the Cardinal's scream, the warp shifted, flowed, touched the room, creating small happenings of random madness. Black blood trickled here and there from the walls. One of the court members suddenly screamed as a hand began to force its way from his chest, his body spontaneously mutating as the warp called out to it.
"No," Tendao repeated. "Kill all that come with them, but the inquisitors will be mine."
The music he could make with such strong minds, with psykers... it would make the paltry casualties of the nearby offensive utterly meaningless. This was not a crisis, this was an opportunity.
"Remember, these are deceptive creatures, commander. You may direct the defenses, but you and your men will remain here with myself."
---------------------------------------
The Penitent Engines tore through the ranks of Tendao's personal guard with a vengeance. Armed primarily for defense against mobs and assassins, they were not carrying the sort of anti-armor weaponry needed to fight the maddened machines. However, even as they fell back into the palace's extensive fortification network, heavier weapons began making their way forward, and the automated defense system began targeting them as well.
---------------------------------------
"Head left, loot," Mayhew advised. They were too damned close to those crazy-ass wannabe dreadnoughts for his taste, and those things were turning into serious fire magnets.
==========================
Shaithis gave orders in a hurry, setting a perimeter and putting men to attaching melta bombs and krak charges to the fuel tanks.
Digging them out would be a highly expensive affair.
-----------------------------------------------
Prius looked a horror by the time he arrived, blood streaming down his face from a ghastly scalp wound that he was unsure of the origin of. He grabbed Vinberg's shoulder.
"Assuming command, Judge," he informed her tersely. "Situation report?"
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Vinberg saluted Ristani. She had seen enough horror today that his appearance did not faze her. "We have five hundred effectives engaging the enemy. Senior Judge Thorve is barely conscious and has been releaved of command by his own order. I am the senior surviving commander." At the tender age of twenty three. "They enemy is pressing and we are giving ground slowly, as per the standing orders."
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Hethor fired a krak charge at a gun emplacement. The explosion almost ripped it off the wall. "Advance!" he yelled. The penitent engines were actually doing their job, which was to distract the enemy. Even better, they were doing a good job of killing the enemy. And they hadn't gone beserk and attacked any of their own troops either, unlike some of the stories he had heard. Well, there was a saint nearby. The Emperor's eye was upon them. Miracles shouldn't be such a big surprise.
His veterans came with him, leap frogging ahead. They had to get behind those defences before the enemy reinforced them and massed his troops against them. If that happened, they would be cracked like a nut in machine shop's vice.
Jolan Gix was with the lead platoon. His power armour and conversion field neutralized the few hits the enemy managed to score. The inquisitor knew just as well as Hethor did that they had to move or die. He fired as he advanced, and with respectable accuracy. If they could get inside and then have the penals hold the position while they advanced to deal with Tendao, then they might actually be able to win.
Emperor take him. He was thinking like an officer. When in the Emperor's Name had that started? Hethor tore up another weapon mount with a burst of hellgun fire and signaled again with his hands. Advance, double time. Staying out here was only going to get them killed.
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Shaithis was in luck. The Sororitas continued to hold the attention of everyone within three kilometers of his position. Only one unit came close enough to realize that they weren't deserters wearing slightly modified uniforms. They had been easily dealt with. A volley of hellgun fire had more than decimated their ranks and the cadets hadn't let the platoon survive long enough to regain their balance or the initiative.
A cadet even younger than Shaithis came up and saluted. He must have killed at least a handful of men this day. His eager young face was marked with blood and grime. His voice was eager. "Everything is ready, senior cadet. We await your order."
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Hethor fired a krak charge at a gun emplacement. The explosion almost ripped it off the wall. "Advance!" he yelled. The penitent engines were actually doing their job, which was to distract the enemy. Even better, they were doing a good job of killing the enemy. And they hadn't gone beserk and attacked any of their own troops either, unlike some of the stories he had heard. Well, there was a saint nearby. The Emperor's eye was upon them. Miracles shouldn't be such a big surprise.
His veterans came with him, leap frogging ahead. They had to get behind those defences before the enemy reinforced them and massed his troops against them. If that happened, they would be cracked like a nut in machine shop's vice.
Jolan Gix was with the lead platoon. His power armour and conversion field neutralized the few hits the enemy managed to score. The inquisitor knew just as well as Hethor did that they had to move or die. He fired as he advanced, and with respectable accuracy. If they could get inside and then have the penals hold the position while they advanced to deal with Tendao, then they might actually be able to win.
Emperor take him. He was thinking like an officer. When in the Emperor's Name had that started? Hethor tore up another weapon mount with a burst of hellgun fire and signaled again with his hands. Advance, double time. Staying out here was only going to get them killed.
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Shaithis was in luck. The Sororitas continued to hold the attention of everyone within three kilometers of his position. Only one unit came close enough to realize that they weren't deserters wearing slightly modified uniforms. They had been easily dealt with. A volley of hellgun fire had more than decimated their ranks and the cadets hadn't let the platoon survive long enough to regain their balance or the initiative.
A cadet even younger than Shaithis came up and saluted. He must have killed at least a handful of men this day. His eager young face was marked with blood and grime. His voice was eager. "Everything is ready, senior cadet. We await your order."
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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A support wall buckled near Varian's group, a screech of tearing metal heralding its collapse. The floor literally rippled beneath their feet, throwing friend and foe alike off balance. Plates separated with resounding creaks, exposing substructure, piping and other support elements in a sudden, radical rearrangement of the terrain. A nest of devil rats that had lived in a forgotten ventilation system for centuries spewed forth, maddened by the sudden destruction of their home and the exposure to too-bright light. Boiling out of the ground itself, the meter-long rats threw themselves in mindless frenzy at the nearest targets.
"Bring up the flamers!" cried on the arbites sergeants.
Shotcannon and flamers soon poured fire into the hideous creatures. They were vile and vicious, and there was no telling if they bore the stigma of the enemy. Who knew what devilry there was in the beasts?
A brave or foolhardy young arbites seized Varian and shook him. The Inquisitor's eye were glazed, tinged with madness. Slowly they cleared, at least some and focused.
"You, report!"
"Sir, we're being overrun. Nothing for it."
"We hold."
"Bring up the flamers!" cried on the arbites sergeants.
Shotcannon and flamers soon poured fire into the hideous creatures. They were vile and vicious, and there was no telling if they bore the stigma of the enemy. Who knew what devilry there was in the beasts?
A brave or foolhardy young arbites seized Varian and shook him. The Inquisitor's eye were glazed, tinged with madness. Slowly they cleared, at least some and focused.
"You, report!"
"Sir, we're being overrun. Nothing for it."
"We hold."
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Yashida ducked down as the drop pods fell, they had just finished planting melta charges when the landing occured, he timed his assualt leading his men into the compound.
_____
Zallis cocked and fired his shotgun with one hand, as he slithered out from the drop pods, Legio Xenos had been dropped a ways away from the spire, purhaps by intention, purhaps by bad luck. didn't matter, they were surrouned by hostiles, with enemy tanks very near. The opening blasts of their own heavy weapons, as well as the grenades of their own assualt force were taking their toll, a few terantualas, and a captured shuriken platform were assisting in adding to the toll of enemy dead, but those would not survive contact with enemy armour.
_____
Zallis cocked and fired his shotgun with one hand, as he slithered out from the drop pods, Legio Xenos had been dropped a ways away from the spire, purhaps by intention, purhaps by bad luck. didn't matter, they were surrouned by hostiles, with enemy tanks very near. The opening blasts of their own heavy weapons, as well as the grenades of their own assualt force were taking their toll, a few terantualas, and a captured shuriken platform were assisting in adding to the toll of enemy dead, but those would not survive contact with enemy armour.
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
Prius nodded. "Situation optimal, then. We continue falling back as planned."
More commissarial training. Everything was 'according to plan'. Every fight had deep meaning. Every situation was somehow optimal.
-----------------------------------
The commander of the chaos garrison growled. The weakling humans selected for the defense of the palace were allowing themselves to be drawn away by a ruse.
Veteran of hundreds of wars, he knew the situation as well as his foe did. This was a lightning strike, one that relied on speed and no small amount of brute force. If it was delayed, it would fail.
The enemy had a plan. It was time to break that plan, and he had but one reliable weapon at his disposal.
He would use it to free the weaklings from their diversion. "Granthor," he hissed into his vox.
"We serve!" came the reply.
"Destroy those machine-tools. Target the flesh creatures upon them."
"For the dark gods, commander!"
---------------------------------
The first penitent engine was taken unawares, as the melta bomb struck it from on high, a perfectly aimed shot. It blew out in a sleet of shrapnel, killing or maiming the half dozen heretics it was engaged with. Their external voxes howling, the squad of chaos raptors descended from the sky, raining death upon the field.
----------------------------------
Shaithis had been debating just what to do. Try to lure the enemy in here and make a stand?
It was too passive, and the colonel-commissar always preached upon the virtue of the offensive.
"We move out and detonate the charges once we're clear, then we find more of the bastards to kill. Dump everything we don't need, we're going hit and run."
-----------------------------------
Fortunately for Varian and those around him, the onslaught of devil rats was equally problematic for the followers of chaos, moreso because for the most part they had no armor to protect them from the wicked fangs of the beasts. For those whom the fangs found exposed flesh, the toxicity of the bites soon also became evident, as slave-warriors fell thrashing to the ground in spastic convulsions.
More commissarial training. Everything was 'according to plan'. Every fight had deep meaning. Every situation was somehow optimal.
-----------------------------------
The commander of the chaos garrison growled. The weakling humans selected for the defense of the palace were allowing themselves to be drawn away by a ruse.
Veteran of hundreds of wars, he knew the situation as well as his foe did. This was a lightning strike, one that relied on speed and no small amount of brute force. If it was delayed, it would fail.
The enemy had a plan. It was time to break that plan, and he had but one reliable weapon at his disposal.
He would use it to free the weaklings from their diversion. "Granthor," he hissed into his vox.
"We serve!" came the reply.
"Destroy those machine-tools. Target the flesh creatures upon them."
"For the dark gods, commander!"
---------------------------------
The first penitent engine was taken unawares, as the melta bomb struck it from on high, a perfectly aimed shot. It blew out in a sleet of shrapnel, killing or maiming the half dozen heretics it was engaged with. Their external voxes howling, the squad of chaos raptors descended from the sky, raining death upon the field.
----------------------------------
Shaithis had been debating just what to do. Try to lure the enemy in here and make a stand?
It was too passive, and the colonel-commissar always preached upon the virtue of the offensive.
"We move out and detonate the charges once we're clear, then we find more of the bastards to kill. Dump everything we don't need, we're going hit and run."
-----------------------------------
Fortunately for Varian and those around him, the onslaught of devil rats was equally problematic for the followers of chaos, moreso because for the most part they had no armor to protect them from the wicked fangs of the beasts. For those whom the fangs found exposed flesh, the toxicity of the bites soon also became evident, as slave-warriors fell thrashing to the ground in spastic convulsions.
-
The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
- Posts: 35211
- Joined: 2002-07-21 02:38am
- Location: Dave's Not Here Man
a genade launcher tore apart the captured platform, the wraithbone crumpled as the suspensor field died, The Legio Xenos only good fortune was that they were better armed and equiped then standard guards, a good many of the bandits could afford better armour, EVA suits, Mesh, or in th case of the reptillian officer, a dampner field, robbed of their imputus heretic shot, and slugs impacted on his scales and carapace armour, the impacts brought pain but did little real damage.
however the in-eveitable was ineavitable, there on the ground a handful of Soroitas, and a small army of Condemned soldiers held, bled and died, the last of the Sister's of battle was no longer truely alive, it was simply her mechanical augments, shutting down body resources, staunching the flow of blood to dead areas' and running the combat subruitines from the mechanical "brain" parts, "Sister Theodora" was asleep now, probably would remain that way forever, or at least until the heretics suceeded in killing the machine that ran her body like a puppet.
however the in-eveitable was ineavitable, there on the ground a handful of Soroitas, and a small army of Condemned soldiers held, bled and died, the last of the Sister's of battle was no longer truely alive, it was simply her mechanical augments, shutting down body resources, staunching the flow of blood to dead areas' and running the combat subruitines from the mechanical "brain" parts, "Sister Theodora" was asleep now, probably would remain that way forever, or at least until the heretics suceeded in killing the machine that ran her body like a puppet.
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Raptors! We're really in for it. Jolan bellowed, his voice augmented by his armour. "Blow the door! Get everyone inside." He raised his plasma pistol and fired. The intense plasma blast missed the swooping chaos marine.
Hethor was less delicate. "Move if you want to live!" he screamed. Sitting out here with the gun batteries, the Raptors, and incoming reinforcements was suicide. A burst from his hellgun tore up the armour on a Raptor's left side, vaporizing several craters in the ceramite. Emperor have mercy. "Run!" he shouted.
Hethor was less delicate. "Move if you want to live!" he screamed. Sitting out here with the gun batteries, the Raptors, and incoming reinforcements was suicide. A burst from his hellgun tore up the armour on a Raptor's left side, vaporizing several craters in the ceramite. Emperor have mercy. "Run!" he shouted.
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.
Yes.
Speed was the only hope of the Imperials only hope. The commander could detect the first signs that the human formation was beginning to fray, as fear set in.
Fearful men, panicked men, hasty men made mistakes.
They had only just begun to rebuild the internal defenses of the palace, mostly shattered when his men had taken the place. The original designer had boasted that it could hold off an army of millions.
Millions of humans, perhaps. His company had taken it in under a day. He made a curt gesture to the corrupted tech adept.
"Activate the internal defense grid. Target anything that moves."
Perhaps hundreds of Tendao's servants, the day to day functionaries, would die. So be it. He studied one pict-image, the man in laughable power armor, obviously protected by a conversion field to augment his ridiculous little suit.
That would be an inquisitor, and likely even his minimal protection would allow him to survive the defense grid.
If it did not, so be it. He recognized Tendao's authority, respected his connection to the warp, and had even had to admit to being impressed by the warlord's conquest of the world. But he was slave to no creature, recognizing only the supremacy of Chaos Undivided above all mere thinking creatures.
-------------------------------------
His instincts had paid off, as Mayhew and his platoon had been back from the penitent engines when the raptors launched their assault. The remaining engines were going berserk now, all control lost as they lashed out at anything that moved. One by one, they were going down, sometimes even flailing at each other in their maddened rampage, as the raptors picked them off. Enemy troops were making it through now.
Unfortunately, Mayhew had put them squarely next to the next biggest target around, Mr. Authority of the Emperor Himself and company.
Well, when given two choices that were roughly as bad, one played the slightest margin in one's favor.
"You heard the man! Blow the Emperor-bedamned doors!" he yelled, moving up with a charge in hand.
The troops surged forward, planting charges on the door, then skittering back.
"Fire in the hole!"
The doors disintegrated in a dramatic fashion...
Speed was the only hope of the Imperials only hope. The commander could detect the first signs that the human formation was beginning to fray, as fear set in.
Fearful men, panicked men, hasty men made mistakes.
They had only just begun to rebuild the internal defenses of the palace, mostly shattered when his men had taken the place. The original designer had boasted that it could hold off an army of millions.
Millions of humans, perhaps. His company had taken it in under a day. He made a curt gesture to the corrupted tech adept.
"Activate the internal defense grid. Target anything that moves."
Perhaps hundreds of Tendao's servants, the day to day functionaries, would die. So be it. He studied one pict-image, the man in laughable power armor, obviously protected by a conversion field to augment his ridiculous little suit.
That would be an inquisitor, and likely even his minimal protection would allow him to survive the defense grid.
If it did not, so be it. He recognized Tendao's authority, respected his connection to the warp, and had even had to admit to being impressed by the warlord's conquest of the world. But he was slave to no creature, recognizing only the supremacy of Chaos Undivided above all mere thinking creatures.
-------------------------------------
His instincts had paid off, as Mayhew and his platoon had been back from the penitent engines when the raptors launched their assault. The remaining engines were going berserk now, all control lost as they lashed out at anything that moved. One by one, they were going down, sometimes even flailing at each other in their maddened rampage, as the raptors picked them off. Enemy troops were making it through now.
Unfortunately, Mayhew had put them squarely next to the next biggest target around, Mr. Authority of the Emperor Himself and company.
Well, when given two choices that were roughly as bad, one played the slightest margin in one's favor.
"You heard the man! Blow the Emperor-bedamned doors!" he yelled, moving up with a charge in hand.
The troops surged forward, planting charges on the door, then skittering back.
"Fire in the hole!"
The doors disintegrated in a dramatic fashion...
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Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Jolan stretched out his arm towards one of the raptors. In this particular case, his tendency to shred equipment when attempting to use telekinetics on it worked with his desires. He extended his power.
The chaos altered flight pack shredded itself in mid air. Fire and steel spat from the thrusters as the raptor tumbled towards the ground. The armour cracked on impact. A burst of las bolts into the immobile marine helped insure that he didn't survive.
Jolan turned back to the door as the charges went off. The blast had been focused inward, which was a good thing because the troops had interpreted his orders as a call for overkill. Only one hinge was left. On the plus side, the blast had obliterated any defenders on the other side. Jolan lead the way in.
Behind him came Hethor's hand picked troops. Heth was still with the penals, falling back towards the door as the raptors took out the last of the penitent engines. Hethor raised his plasma pistol, tracked a raptor, and fired.
The plasma beam burned through the raptor's shoulder armour and into his chest. He fell from the sky as the penals rushed into the fortress. Heth sheathed his pistol and ran. The gun would be useless until it compleated its recharge cycle and he had made himself too much of a target. Besides, Jolan would need someone to cover his ass.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Lord?"
"Yes."
"The last of the Sororitas has fallen."
Gathor smiled. The smile of the Reaver was not a pleasant sight. His underling nervously stuttered. "There are some uh, other difficulties."
"That explosion."
"Yes lord. One of our Promethium depos. Since Lord Tendao has seen fit to send only a minimal level of supplies until recently, the amount of material available-"
"You mean we just lost a lot of Promethium we can't afford to lose. And that the destruction means that there are more enemies loose behind our lines."
"Yes lord."
"Fortunately, the enemy is doing a good job of destroying our armour. Our fuel supply problems won't be as bad as you fear." The Reaver's calm tone was not reflected by his facial expression. The young traitor almost wet himself in terror. "Deploy those freed up units in hunter-killer patrols. Kill them all."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"REAV-OR!" A year ago Prius Ristani might have flinched at that sound. Several hours ago it had been disconcerting, even if he did not show it or admit it to himself. Now he took it in stride. The enemy was advancing.
Two hundred troops charged out of cover. Nearly one hundred men provided covering fire from lasguns, autoguns, heavy stubbers, and grenade launchers. The traitors fired from the hip as they ran. The Imperials fired back. The traitors were easy targets, a living wave. Their armour was light or non-existent. Lasguns and autoguns could kill or cripple with every hit.
The enemy crossed the throughfare, hemorging bodies. More than half of them didn't make it, killed or wounded. The survivors hit the front of the factoriums that the Imperials were using as strongpoints. Flamers, autoguns, shotguns, and flamers were unleashed on the defenders. Grenades were tossed into windows and breachpoints. The Imperials fired back, but there numbers were too few and the enemy fire too devestating to stem the tide. The traitors began to force their way in. Behind them, assault teams from the Pox Brotherhood and the Golden Dawn formed up. Now that the cannon fodder had done the hardwork, they were preparing to exploit it.
The chaos altered flight pack shredded itself in mid air. Fire and steel spat from the thrusters as the raptor tumbled towards the ground. The armour cracked on impact. A burst of las bolts into the immobile marine helped insure that he didn't survive.
Jolan turned back to the door as the charges went off. The blast had been focused inward, which was a good thing because the troops had interpreted his orders as a call for overkill. Only one hinge was left. On the plus side, the blast had obliterated any defenders on the other side. Jolan lead the way in.
Behind him came Hethor's hand picked troops. Heth was still with the penals, falling back towards the door as the raptors took out the last of the penitent engines. Hethor raised his plasma pistol, tracked a raptor, and fired.
The plasma beam burned through the raptor's shoulder armour and into his chest. He fell from the sky as the penals rushed into the fortress. Heth sheathed his pistol and ran. The gun would be useless until it compleated its recharge cycle and he had made himself too much of a target. Besides, Jolan would need someone to cover his ass.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Lord?"
"Yes."
"The last of the Sororitas has fallen."
Gathor smiled. The smile of the Reaver was not a pleasant sight. His underling nervously stuttered. "There are some uh, other difficulties."
"That explosion."
"Yes lord. One of our Promethium depos. Since Lord Tendao has seen fit to send only a minimal level of supplies until recently, the amount of material available-"
"You mean we just lost a lot of Promethium we can't afford to lose. And that the destruction means that there are more enemies loose behind our lines."
"Yes lord."
"Fortunately, the enemy is doing a good job of destroying our armour. Our fuel supply problems won't be as bad as you fear." The Reaver's calm tone was not reflected by his facial expression. The young traitor almost wet himself in terror. "Deploy those freed up units in hunter-killer patrols. Kill them all."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"REAV-OR!" A year ago Prius Ristani might have flinched at that sound. Several hours ago it had been disconcerting, even if he did not show it or admit it to himself. Now he took it in stride. The enemy was advancing.
Two hundred troops charged out of cover. Nearly one hundred men provided covering fire from lasguns, autoguns, heavy stubbers, and grenade launchers. The traitors fired from the hip as they ran. The Imperials fired back. The traitors were easy targets, a living wave. Their armour was light or non-existent. Lasguns and autoguns could kill or cripple with every hit.
The enemy crossed the throughfare, hemorging bodies. More than half of them didn't make it, killed or wounded. The survivors hit the front of the factoriums that the Imperials were using as strongpoints. Flamers, autoguns, shotguns, and flamers were unleashed on the defenders. Grenades were tossed into windows and breachpoints. The Imperials fired back, but there numbers were too few and the enemy fire too devestating to stem the tide. The traitors began to force their way in. Behind them, assault teams from the Pox Brotherhood and the Golden Dawn formed up. Now that the cannon fodder had done the hardwork, they were preparing to exploit 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.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Jolan stormed down the corridor. Behind him came crack Guard infantry and docile arcoflagellents. A single word from him and they would be unleashed. A panel opened overhead. A double barrelled stubber dropped down to engage him. Jolan fired a burst, blasting chunks of molten metal from the mechanism, wrecking it. As he did another panel opened on the right wall further down the corridor. It mounted four high powered las beam tubes which would fire and sequence. The gun swivelled and tracked the inquisitor. It came to bear on Jolan. It didn't fire.
The inquistor was already bringing his weapon to bear. The lasguns were pointed directly at his head. It had him, but didn't fire. Problems with the defence grid. He raised the heavy rifle and shredded the automated gun.
"Have the penals hold the rear," he ordered. "First platoon with me. Hethor, follow up."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The Pox Brotherhood and the Golden Dawn watched each other warily as another wave of cannon fodder was sent into the contested factoriums. One unit had given itself to Father Nurgle, the other had embraced the Architect of Fate. The flashy yellow and silver of the Golden Dawn contrasted with the grime of the Pox Brotherhood. The prevelance of more exotic weapons, baroque lasguns, fancifly shaped meltas, extravegently decorated plasma guns also violently contracted the servicable weapons of the Pox Brotherhood. The disparate quality of equipment also did nothing to ease tensions.
Fortunately, soon they would be able to vent their hatred against the Imperials.
The inquistor was already bringing his weapon to bear. The lasguns were pointed directly at his head. It had him, but didn't fire. Problems with the defence grid. He raised the heavy rifle and shredded the automated gun.
"Have the penals hold the rear," he ordered. "First platoon with me. Hethor, follow up."
--------------------------------------------------------------
The Pox Brotherhood and the Golden Dawn watched each other warily as another wave of cannon fodder was sent into the contested factoriums. One unit had given itself to Father Nurgle, the other had embraced the Architect of Fate. The flashy yellow and silver of the Golden Dawn contrasted with the grime of the Pox Brotherhood. The prevelance of more exotic weapons, baroque lasguns, fancifly shaped meltas, extravegently decorated plasma guns also violently contracted the servicable weapons of the Pox Brotherhood. The disparate quality of equipment also did nothing to ease tensions.
Fortunately, soon they would be able to vent their hatred against the Imperials.
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.
-
The Yosemite Bear
- Mostly Harmless Nutcase (Requiescat in Pace)
- Posts: 35211
- Joined: 2002-07-21 02:38am
- Location: Dave's Not Here Man
Yashida's melta charges burst the outer parimiter of the command and control bunker, shattering the door and the circuts that fed the gate side turrets in a spectacular fashion. The samurai marine strode in with the plasticrate not yet cooled, bolter blazing his optics seeing through the smoke and the cooling inferno surrounding him. The rest of the force, demo squads, and shotgun, plus granade launcher equiped PDF/Guard troops, as well as some of his "Yojimbo" with their bayonette equiped long rifle lasguns. once past the parimeter and into the bunker it would be close work, however the factories and sororitas had provided them with more then enough melta bombs for any breaching needed.
----------------------
The enemy tanks now unleashed hell upon the Legio Xenos, The main guns beltched out a hornet's nest of leathal explosive submunitions, ripping through the condemned's flesh, shattering will and bones.
----------------------
The enemy tanks now unleashed hell upon the Legio Xenos, The main guns beltched out a hornet's nest of leathal explosive submunitions, ripping through the condemned's flesh, shattering will and bones.
The scariest folk song lyrics are "My Boy Grew up to be just like me" from cats in the cradle by Harry Chapin
Prius watched the onrushing wave. With the cover they had and the depletion of his own forces, he knew it would strike home. And with it, the enemy would finally be able to bring their superior numbers to bear.
He glanced at Vinburg as he performed a quick check of his chainsword.
"Commend your soul to the Emperor, Judge Vinburg, and prepare to die with courage in your heart and your share of dead warpscum preceding you into the afterlife."
He scanned the approaching enemy ranks, looking for leaders, those whipping the masses before them. He would take at least one of these with him before he died. The chainsword felt light in his hand, eager and ready to lash out at the foe. As the tide of warped humanity began to crest and break over the lines, he thumbed the activation rune, bringing it to life.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
------------------------------
"Rear guard's good," Mayhew opined as they trotted back into position. "Better than being in front and waiting for whatever the hell else they're going to drop on us."
They were situated back from one of the point units, where they could provide covering fire as they reverse-leapfrogged away from the entrance.
"Hey lieutenant," Mayhew said musingly. "We're not gonna be going out the way we came in."
Bursts of fire began engaging the first waves of enemy infantry to come through the entryway.
"What's your point?" Layne asked.
"Why leave an entrance?" Mayhew grinned as he lifted his lasrifle, firing in the general direction of the heretics. He could see the realization dawning on the lieutenant's face.
"I'll have to get autho-" Layne started.
Mayhew shook his head. "Good officers take the initiative, right? The guy up front's got plenty to worry about." Besides, being as how they were all expendable penals, this Gix character just might not give a damn anyway.
"Rig it, Mayhew. We'll blow it as soon as we pull out."
If the inquisitor was pissed about it, he'd take it out on the officer. Layne was a good lieutenant, good enough to stay the hell out of the way when real work needed doing. But given the choice between saving his own hide and Layne's, Mayhew would take his own. That was life in the penals, every man for himself.
------------------------------------
This was too easy, almost. Running through the enemy rear area, taking them unawares and unexpected.
Only by the blessings of the Emperor have we gotten this far, Shaithis thought. As if on cue...
"Commissar," one of the men voxed. "We've got company. Pretty ragged, but armed and looking for trouble."
Well, the free ride had to end somewhere. He clicked the vox. "Tag them a quick volley, then we move. No hanging around to engage. We're here to make them mad, now."
======================
"Major explosion in the Hive Primus. Estimates are that it's a fuel storage facility. It blew through and ruptured to the top level."
Carnis smiled grimly. He knew the insane commissar would have his uses. From the discordant confusion that was becoming evident among the enemy ranks, he was doing quite well. With any luck he would get himself killed and provide them with an excellent martyr, to boot.
And now, to strike at the moment of maximum confusion. Even if the heretic Tendao survived Gix's strike, he would be too busy in the next short while to properly coordinate his forces.
The invasion was ready. All that awaited was the word.
"Colonel, the word is go. Commence Operation Eternal Vengeance."
Rynthis turned and called down the line. "We are a go. Begin the landing!"
---------------------------------------------
Tendao watched the displays curiously.
"The defenses will not stop them," he said curtly.
"I know this," the Legionaire said coldly. "But they will whittle away enough of their numbers, and fray their nerves. Then, we strike, kill the humans, and capture for you your inquisitor, dark lord."
He glanced at Vinburg as he performed a quick check of his chainsword.
"Commend your soul to the Emperor, Judge Vinburg, and prepare to die with courage in your heart and your share of dead warpscum preceding you into the afterlife."
He scanned the approaching enemy ranks, looking for leaders, those whipping the masses before them. He would take at least one of these with him before he died. The chainsword felt light in his hand, eager and ready to lash out at the foe. As the tide of warped humanity began to crest and break over the lines, he thumbed the activation rune, bringing it to life.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
------------------------------
"Rear guard's good," Mayhew opined as they trotted back into position. "Better than being in front and waiting for whatever the hell else they're going to drop on us."
They were situated back from one of the point units, where they could provide covering fire as they reverse-leapfrogged away from the entrance.
"Hey lieutenant," Mayhew said musingly. "We're not gonna be going out the way we came in."
Bursts of fire began engaging the first waves of enemy infantry to come through the entryway.
"What's your point?" Layne asked.
"Why leave an entrance?" Mayhew grinned as he lifted his lasrifle, firing in the general direction of the heretics. He could see the realization dawning on the lieutenant's face.
"I'll have to get autho-" Layne started.
Mayhew shook his head. "Good officers take the initiative, right? The guy up front's got plenty to worry about." Besides, being as how they were all expendable penals, this Gix character just might not give a damn anyway.
"Rig it, Mayhew. We'll blow it as soon as we pull out."
If the inquisitor was pissed about it, he'd take it out on the officer. Layne was a good lieutenant, good enough to stay the hell out of the way when real work needed doing. But given the choice between saving his own hide and Layne's, Mayhew would take his own. That was life in the penals, every man for himself.
------------------------------------
This was too easy, almost. Running through the enemy rear area, taking them unawares and unexpected.
Only by the blessings of the Emperor have we gotten this far, Shaithis thought. As if on cue...
"Commissar," one of the men voxed. "We've got company. Pretty ragged, but armed and looking for trouble."
Well, the free ride had to end somewhere. He clicked the vox. "Tag them a quick volley, then we move. No hanging around to engage. We're here to make them mad, now."
======================
"Major explosion in the Hive Primus. Estimates are that it's a fuel storage facility. It blew through and ruptured to the top level."
Carnis smiled grimly. He knew the insane commissar would have his uses. From the discordant confusion that was becoming evident among the enemy ranks, he was doing quite well. With any luck he would get himself killed and provide them with an excellent martyr, to boot.
And now, to strike at the moment of maximum confusion. Even if the heretic Tendao survived Gix's strike, he would be too busy in the next short while to properly coordinate his forces.
The invasion was ready. All that awaited was the word.
"Colonel, the word is go. Commence Operation Eternal Vengeance."
Rynthis turned and called down the line. "We are a go. Begin the landing!"
---------------------------------------------
Tendao watched the displays curiously.
"The defenses will not stop them," he said curtly.
"I know this," the Legionaire said coldly. "But they will whittle away enough of their numbers, and fray their nerves. Then, we strike, kill the humans, and capture for you your inquisitor, dark lord."
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Hethor caught the penal's actions out of the corner of his eye. He had chosen well. They'd work hard to stay alive, which would serve the greater cause by protecting their rear while they stormed this hell hole. He trotted to the front. Nine out of ten of the automated weapon batteries was nonfunctional for one reason or another. The tenth was a real bitch though.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thorve raised his bolt pistol and blew open the chest of two more heretics. The trooper beside him was firing as fast as her las could cycle, about four shots a second, into the heretics. They kept coming. This was it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
As Prius Ristani headed towards the front of the factoriums, the Imperials fell back. By shear weight of numbers, the heretics forced their way forward as they attacked from all directions at once. If the enemy was not broken, the Imperials would be overrun in moments.
Prius's squad clashed along a three hundred meter long production line. The Imperials fell back machine by machine, firing from cover at the advancing traitors. Ristani and Vinberg hit the enemy head on. Vinberg's autoshotgun pumped fire at the advancing troops. Two lasbolts smashed into her chest, fracturing her cuirass. She fired full auto at the heretics, gunning four of them down as she emptied the drum magazine.
Ristani hit them head on. His chainsword decapitated one and he tore apart the abdomen of flamer trooper with another swing. A heretic attemtped to dodge, but slipped in his comrade's entrails. Prius hacked open his chest as Vinberg exploded another's head with her shock maul.
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Yashida was not finding the going easy. The Reaver's personal guard were disciplined troops armed mainly with hellguns and bolters. There was a lot of spire between him and the Reaver and they were determined to hold it. His armour gave him excellent protection from the enemy's weapons, but it did not make him immune. And his troops were not as fortunate.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Varian's forces fought themselves free of the hive mutants and took a moment to take stock. The rats had proven more a problem for the enemy, who were still trying to finish the viscious vermin. Their intevention gave Varian's forces a few precious moments of breathing room and allowed the inquisitor to take the initiative.
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Thorve raised his bolt pistol and blew open the chest of two more heretics. The trooper beside him was firing as fast as her las could cycle, about four shots a second, into the heretics. They kept coming. This was it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
As Prius Ristani headed towards the front of the factoriums, the Imperials fell back. By shear weight of numbers, the heretics forced their way forward as they attacked from all directions at once. If the enemy was not broken, the Imperials would be overrun in moments.
Prius's squad clashed along a three hundred meter long production line. The Imperials fell back machine by machine, firing from cover at the advancing traitors. Ristani and Vinberg hit the enemy head on. Vinberg's autoshotgun pumped fire at the advancing troops. Two lasbolts smashed into her chest, fracturing her cuirass. She fired full auto at the heretics, gunning four of them down as she emptied the drum magazine.
Ristani hit them head on. His chainsword decapitated one and he tore apart the abdomen of flamer trooper with another swing. A heretic attemtped to dodge, but slipped in his comrade's entrails. Prius hacked open his chest as Vinberg exploded another's head with her shock maul.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yashida was not finding the going easy. The Reaver's personal guard were disciplined troops armed mainly with hellguns and bolters. There was a lot of spire between him and the Reaver and they were determined to hold it. His armour gave him excellent protection from the enemy's weapons, but it did not make him immune. And his troops were not as fortunate.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Varian's forces fought themselves free of the hive mutants and took a moment to take stock. The rats had proven more a problem for the enemy, who were still trying to finish the viscious vermin. Their intevention gave Varian's forces a few precious moments of breathing room and allowed the inquisitor to take the initiative.
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.
-
NecronLord
- Harbinger of Doom
- Posts: 27384
- Joined: 2002-07-07 06:30am
- Location: The Lost City
Over an hour ago
Inquisitor Vonrilyental watched as the planetoid died. Despite being four hundred meters across, it died. Laser batteries cut into it like spears thrown with the wrath of the Emperor himself, smashing apart layer after layer of the surface of the asteroid, blasting a hole into its side where the only structures had been. “Inform,” he said, “the bombers to finish the job.”
Fast torpedo bombers fired into the blasted hole in the moon, delivering their payloads of death, cyclonic torpedos into its core. The explosion as their linked detonators ignited them was brighter than a dozen suns, blasting the asteroid into rock and dust.
“Now, Commodore. How fast can we get back to the planet?” he asked, seeming satisfied as the plasma bolts and implosion shells of the Sword of Glory pounded the largest fragments of the moon as they drifted apart.
“Three hours,” she said, “Unless you don’t plan on stopping, then we can get it down,” she added.
“We need to offload ground troops as fast as possible. Have the ship pass Cyrus Gamma and come back for us later.”
The saint nodded curtly, and gestured to the ship’s captain, “I assume,” she said, “you don’t plan to leave me behind…”
Inquisitor Vonrilyental watched as the planetoid died. Despite being four hundred meters across, it died. Laser batteries cut into it like spears thrown with the wrath of the Emperor himself, smashing apart layer after layer of the surface of the asteroid, blasting a hole into its side where the only structures had been. “Inform,” he said, “the bombers to finish the job.”
Fast torpedo bombers fired into the blasted hole in the moon, delivering their payloads of death, cyclonic torpedos into its core. The explosion as their linked detonators ignited them was brighter than a dozen suns, blasting the asteroid into rock and dust.
“Now, Commodore. How fast can we get back to the planet?” he asked, seeming satisfied as the plasma bolts and implosion shells of the Sword of Glory pounded the largest fragments of the moon as they drifted apart.
“Three hours,” she said, “Unless you don’t plan on stopping, then we can get it down,” she added.
“We need to offload ground troops as fast as possible. Have the ship pass Cyrus Gamma and come back for us later.”
The saint nodded curtly, and gestured to the ship’s captain, “I assume,” she said, “you don’t plan to leave me behind…”
Superior Moderator - BotB - HAB [Drill Instructor]-Writer- Stardestroyer.net's resident Star-God.
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
"We believe in the systematic understanding of the physical world through observation and experimentation, argument and debate and most of all freedom of will." ~ Stargate: The Ark of Truth
-
Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
Not wanting to waste the precious oppurtunity, Varian simply did what he did best: crack the whip. The mutants had fallen back, now it was time to see the filth exterminated. He had seen Ristani's subtle coercion of his men to insane valour, this was not that.Imperial Overlord wrote:Varian's forces fought themselves free of the hive mutants and took a moment to take stock. The rats had proven more a problem for the enemy, who were still trying to finish the viscious vermin. Their intevention gave Varian's forces a few precious moments of breathing room and allowed the inquisitor to take the initiative.
Using The Will ruthlessly Varian cried out "Suffer not the Unclean! Driven them forward, destroy then, cleanse this world of taint. Forward Men of the Imperium!"
It was terribly unsubtle, but it was terribly forceful. Though several men bled from the nose or ears all of them had a fire burning in their eyes now. To a man they were filled with a holy, burning zeal. Only the God-Emperor himself could have filled them with a more frightful purpose than that which filled them now.
Their response was equally driven, they crashed forward into the enemy. Shotcannon, power maul, and bayonet, they used whatever weapon was to hand in their zeal. Even the Terminators of the Blessed Grey Knights would be hard pressed to match the sheer ferocity aroused in these men. All the hatreds of a long seige, a brutal war, and despair they unleashed it. They fell on the enemy with utter ruthlessness, rending them to scraps of bloody meat. There own fallen were ignored, the death simply fueling their desire to come to grips with the enemy.
And Varian was in the vanguard, his powerblade cleaving the way before him. A highly trained swordsman, he found the tunnels an ideal battleground tight and confined the enemy were driven into his waiting arms, dying upon the annointed blade.
"We carry the fight to the Enemy! Foward!"
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Jolan raised his las and fired two quick bursts at the heretics ahead. The heavy las burned through the breastplate of one soldier and blew his organs apart. The other's head exploded in a spray of blood, bone, and grey matter. The inquisitor arced two frag grenades to the landing ahead by the force of his will. They exploded as Gix advanced, the soldiers of the Guard behind him.
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Hethor nodded as he heard the explosions behind him. The penals were doing what they did best: surviving. And since their only chance of surviving was to hold this fortress against the howling horde outside, they were the best ones for the job. Confident that the this particular matter was well in hand for the moment, he jogged forward to Jolan's position.
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The wave of desperate heretics pushed Prius Ristani back. Viscious razor edged halberds slashed and stabbed at him. He severed on haft with his chainsword and was forced back behind rubble by other blades. He had lost track of his squad in the frantic melee and his pistol was empty. The heretics moved up to finish him, desperation showing in their eyes.
Shots rang through the din of battle. Thrump. Thrump. Thrump. Each shot was accompanied by crack of an explosion. Heretics fell, chests or heads blown apart by bolt rounds. Ristani's foes were dead around him.
Senior Judge Thorve lowered his pistol. His armour had been breached by heretic weapons. A half dozen slugs had punctured his flesh. He was burned on the left side from a glancing strike by a flamer stream. Bore worms from Nurglesque weapons circulated in his bloodstream and gestated in his organs. His hand shook as he dropped the gun into his lap and began to reload.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Varian's counter attack tore through the renegades with a combination of firepower and ferocity. His power blade ruined weapons and mangled flesh. Each swing of his blade generated more carnage. The enemy crumbled under his attack.
At first they fought, but fell back. Then they sought more to escape than fight and the slaughter intensified. And then they routed.
Varian's men butchered them as they tried to flee. The died in droves. Their own side was no less cruel. The soldiers of the Golden Dawn opened up with lasguns, flamers, and meltas on the fleeing converts. Varian's troops sliced and shot traitors, Tzeentch's troops burned them down. Caught in between two merciless opponents, they died .
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Yashida's troops met serious opposition for the first time. Troops in black carapace armour fired down at them from balconies with hellguns and grenade launchers. Two troops beside Yashida were killed instantly and another three wre injured by frag grenades.
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Hethor nodded as he heard the explosions behind him. The penals were doing what they did best: surviving. And since their only chance of surviving was to hold this fortress against the howling horde outside, they were the best ones for the job. Confident that the this particular matter was well in hand for the moment, he jogged forward to Jolan's position.
--------------------------------------------------------
The wave of desperate heretics pushed Prius Ristani back. Viscious razor edged halberds slashed and stabbed at him. He severed on haft with his chainsword and was forced back behind rubble by other blades. He had lost track of his squad in the frantic melee and his pistol was empty. The heretics moved up to finish him, desperation showing in their eyes.
Shots rang through the din of battle. Thrump. Thrump. Thrump. Each shot was accompanied by crack of an explosion. Heretics fell, chests or heads blown apart by bolt rounds. Ristani's foes were dead around him.
Senior Judge Thorve lowered his pistol. His armour had been breached by heretic weapons. A half dozen slugs had punctured his flesh. He was burned on the left side from a glancing strike by a flamer stream. Bore worms from Nurglesque weapons circulated in his bloodstream and gestated in his organs. His hand shook as he dropped the gun into his lap and began to reload.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Varian's counter attack tore through the renegades with a combination of firepower and ferocity. His power blade ruined weapons and mangled flesh. Each swing of his blade generated more carnage. The enemy crumbled under his attack.
At first they fought, but fell back. Then they sought more to escape than fight and the slaughter intensified. And then they routed.
Varian's men butchered them as they tried to flee. The died in droves. Their own side was no less cruel. The soldiers of the Golden Dawn opened up with lasguns, flamers, and meltas on the fleeing converts. Varian's troops sliced and shot traitors, Tzeentch's troops burned them down. Caught in between two merciless opponents, they died .
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yashida's troops met serious opposition for the first time. Troops in black carapace armour fired down at them from balconies with hellguns and grenade launchers. Two troops beside Yashida were killed instantly and another three wre injured by frag grenades.
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.
"Enough," Tendao said suddenly. "At their current rate of progress, they will arrive here in force."
"Only to meet my warriors," the Legionaire snarled. Tendao whirled upon him.
"These men have faced your kind before, manling. They knew what they would be facing when they came. They are ready to die to accomplish their mission."
The marine's hand drifted toward his power sword, his anger surging. "I've faced the zealots of the Corpse God before. I've killed them for the last ten thousand years, and these will be no different."
Tension swept through the room, the Legionaires subtly shifting their stances, Tendao's lackies more overtly readying themselves.
Tendao's head bobbed forward until it was mere centimeters from his putative subordinate's face. "Are you challenging my authority here?" he said in a silky soft voice.
The draw was an impossible blur, the sword swinging from its sheath with speed a mere human could never match, its power field crackling to life as it sped through the air in an arc that would sever Tendao's head from his body. But impossibly the mutant suddenly was a meter away from where he had been mere nanoseconds before. Even more impossibly, his hand snapped forward, claws crackling with dark power as he seized the blade in mid-swing. Lunging forward, he plunged his other hand through ancient ceramite armor, lifting his foe from the ground with a strength that could not rationally be contained in his thin arms. Whirling, he hurled the marine commander across the throne room. An unfortunate retainer of the court was caught in the path of the throw, and had the briefest of moments to scream as her body was shattered by the impact, before being carried along and crushed into the wall.
Tendao turned to the other marines, disregarding for the moment his fallen foe.
"You will advance and confront the enemy. You will kill all but the inquisitor. I rule here, so long as I see fit, and you serve me." As he spoke, his words battered into their minds, driving them into obedience.
He would not retreat- he would have his victory. As the marines filed out, he turned toward the fallen marine commander, who was slowly trying to drag himself up.
"And you," Tendao whispered. "Will serve as my new instrument."
From either side of the throne, the specially trained flayers emerged, tools of their craft glistening in their hands.
--------------------------------------------
Fire fell from the heavens, as the orbital bombardments pounded away on the void shields of the Hive Tercius. Great clouds of landers, escorted by all available fighters, poured from the sky. For all that the ignorant viewer might ascertain, the Imperium of Man was making their main thrust here. Bombers streaked low across the hive, delivering their payloads and dueling with the AA defenses. Fighters weaved and juked among the landers, spires, and bombers, lashing out at each other with awesome and ancient weaponry. Thousands died as enemy fire disabled landers, sending them spiraling in terminal arcs toward the surface of the hive, or simply blotted them from the sky in massive fireballs.
Hell had come to the Hive Tercius. The first landers grounded, their defensive weapons arbitrarily saturating the surrounding areas of their landing zones with a hail of metal and las-blast, while their ramps lowered to disgorge their cargos. Penal infantry poured from the landers, screaming and charging out to establish perimeters, driven forward by relentless officers and ruthless commissars. Some zones were uncontested, or sufficiently suppressed for them to get into position. At others, the penals died by the tens and hundreds as enemy fire rained down upon their positions.
-----------------------------------
Carnis and Rynthis watched as the map display lit up with blossoms of color, green for established landing zones, yellow for contested, red for untenable positions. Behind them, a legion of officers worked to route the follow-on waves into position, to create a coherent string of landing zones while placing their troops into optimal position.
"Every man has a very small piece of a war," Carnis remarked quietly to Rynthis.
"Sir?"
"Something an instructor said at Landis. From the lowest rankers to the highest generals, war is a conglomeration, a machine of a billion moving parts, and all of us are the smallest of cogs." He pivoted suddenly on his heel. "Colonel Thorst! Why are you routing the third battalion of the 42nd Forester PDF regiment away from their sister units?"
The colonel's head snapped up, a look of surprise on his face. "An error, sir. I can attempt to corr..."
"It's too late to correct," Carnis said bitterly. "You quite likely have just cost numerous good PDF troops their lives, colonel," As the colonel opened his mouth to reply, Carnis cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Get back to work, colonel, and do not make such a mistake again."
Rynthis studied the display. Once again, Carnis' attention to fine detail amazed him. With all the data scrolling across the pict-screen, all screaming for attention, he hadn't even noticed the straying battalion.
Well, that's why he's wearing all the stars on his shoulders. That and an inquisitor was smart enough to tap him for the job.
==========================
Shaithis leaned against a wall, gasping for breath. They had played merry hell with the enemy, but it was going to end soon enough. They'd killed their share, more than their share. The heretics sent to pursue them were truly dregs, not even combat soldiers worthy of the name. They broke easily, froze under fire, and made any number of other amateurish mistakes.
But frakking hell, there were so damn many of them, and more coming all the time. His men were exhausted. It was too much. Two hard fights upon landing, then the battle in the underhive, and now this.
They had almost given all they could give.
Almost.
"Form up," he panted. "We make our stand here."
Now they would sell their lives as expensively as they could. No more running.
----------------------------------
Prius took a moment to center himself, taking advantage of the precious time Thorve had bought for him. He exhaled a gust of breath, dripping blood spraying with the exhalation. His? Theirs? He didn't know.
He didn't care.
He would kill the next one to come his way, that would be his entire world, his entire mission in life. And when that one died, he would set out to kill the next one.
Probably sooner than later, one of them would kill him. And he would go to the Emperor knowing that he had done his duty to the very best of his ability.
His senses warned him of a new surge. Gathering his strength, he activated his chainsword again, the whirring purr of the blade singing in tune with his soul.
He was the Emperor's Sword and Shield. Let the enemies of mankind know fear...
"Only to meet my warriors," the Legionaire snarled. Tendao whirled upon him.
"These men have faced your kind before, manling. They knew what they would be facing when they came. They are ready to die to accomplish their mission."
The marine's hand drifted toward his power sword, his anger surging. "I've faced the zealots of the Corpse God before. I've killed them for the last ten thousand years, and these will be no different."
Tension swept through the room, the Legionaires subtly shifting their stances, Tendao's lackies more overtly readying themselves.
Tendao's head bobbed forward until it was mere centimeters from his putative subordinate's face. "Are you challenging my authority here?" he said in a silky soft voice.
The draw was an impossible blur, the sword swinging from its sheath with speed a mere human could never match, its power field crackling to life as it sped through the air in an arc that would sever Tendao's head from his body. But impossibly the mutant suddenly was a meter away from where he had been mere nanoseconds before. Even more impossibly, his hand snapped forward, claws crackling with dark power as he seized the blade in mid-swing. Lunging forward, he plunged his other hand through ancient ceramite armor, lifting his foe from the ground with a strength that could not rationally be contained in his thin arms. Whirling, he hurled the marine commander across the throne room. An unfortunate retainer of the court was caught in the path of the throw, and had the briefest of moments to scream as her body was shattered by the impact, before being carried along and crushed into the wall.
Tendao turned to the other marines, disregarding for the moment his fallen foe.
"You will advance and confront the enemy. You will kill all but the inquisitor. I rule here, so long as I see fit, and you serve me." As he spoke, his words battered into their minds, driving them into obedience.
He would not retreat- he would have his victory. As the marines filed out, he turned toward the fallen marine commander, who was slowly trying to drag himself up.
"And you," Tendao whispered. "Will serve as my new instrument."
From either side of the throne, the specially trained flayers emerged, tools of their craft glistening in their hands.
--------------------------------------------
Fire fell from the heavens, as the orbital bombardments pounded away on the void shields of the Hive Tercius. Great clouds of landers, escorted by all available fighters, poured from the sky. For all that the ignorant viewer might ascertain, the Imperium of Man was making their main thrust here. Bombers streaked low across the hive, delivering their payloads and dueling with the AA defenses. Fighters weaved and juked among the landers, spires, and bombers, lashing out at each other with awesome and ancient weaponry. Thousands died as enemy fire disabled landers, sending them spiraling in terminal arcs toward the surface of the hive, or simply blotted them from the sky in massive fireballs.
Hell had come to the Hive Tercius. The first landers grounded, their defensive weapons arbitrarily saturating the surrounding areas of their landing zones with a hail of metal and las-blast, while their ramps lowered to disgorge their cargos. Penal infantry poured from the landers, screaming and charging out to establish perimeters, driven forward by relentless officers and ruthless commissars. Some zones were uncontested, or sufficiently suppressed for them to get into position. At others, the penals died by the tens and hundreds as enemy fire rained down upon their positions.
-----------------------------------
Carnis and Rynthis watched as the map display lit up with blossoms of color, green for established landing zones, yellow for contested, red for untenable positions. Behind them, a legion of officers worked to route the follow-on waves into position, to create a coherent string of landing zones while placing their troops into optimal position.
"Every man has a very small piece of a war," Carnis remarked quietly to Rynthis.
"Sir?"
"Something an instructor said at Landis. From the lowest rankers to the highest generals, war is a conglomeration, a machine of a billion moving parts, and all of us are the smallest of cogs." He pivoted suddenly on his heel. "Colonel Thorst! Why are you routing the third battalion of the 42nd Forester PDF regiment away from their sister units?"
The colonel's head snapped up, a look of surprise on his face. "An error, sir. I can attempt to corr..."
"It's too late to correct," Carnis said bitterly. "You quite likely have just cost numerous good PDF troops their lives, colonel," As the colonel opened his mouth to reply, Carnis cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Get back to work, colonel, and do not make such a mistake again."
Rynthis studied the display. Once again, Carnis' attention to fine detail amazed him. With all the data scrolling across the pict-screen, all screaming for attention, he hadn't even noticed the straying battalion.
Well, that's why he's wearing all the stars on his shoulders. That and an inquisitor was smart enough to tap him for the job.
==========================
Shaithis leaned against a wall, gasping for breath. They had played merry hell with the enemy, but it was going to end soon enough. They'd killed their share, more than their share. The heretics sent to pursue them were truly dregs, not even combat soldiers worthy of the name. They broke easily, froze under fire, and made any number of other amateurish mistakes.
But frakking hell, there were so damn many of them, and more coming all the time. His men were exhausted. It was too much. Two hard fights upon landing, then the battle in the underhive, and now this.
They had almost given all they could give.
Almost.
"Form up," he panted. "We make our stand here."
Now they would sell their lives as expensively as they could. No more running.
----------------------------------
Prius took a moment to center himself, taking advantage of the precious time Thorve had bought for him. He exhaled a gust of breath, dripping blood spraying with the exhalation. His? Theirs? He didn't know.
He didn't care.
He would kill the next one to come his way, that would be his entire world, his entire mission in life. And when that one died, he would set out to kill the next one.
Probably sooner than later, one of them would kill him. And he would go to the Emperor knowing that he had done his duty to the very best of his ability.
His senses warned him of a new surge. Gathering his strength, he activated his chainsword again, the whirring purr of the blade singing in tune with his soul.
He was the Emperor's Sword and Shield. Let the enemies of mankind know fear...
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Thorve jammed his last clip into his bolt pistol. His lungs hurt. He could feel things eating into his entrails and his heart. Every breath was pain. He activated his vox. "Bring them to me, colonel-commissar. I can still kill the Emperor's enemy. Victory, in His Name."
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Jolan Gix advanced down the corridor. Two soldiers fired from doorways with lascarbines. Behind him, his own troops kept up supression fire. He stepped over the body of an arcoflagellant as he stepped to the side to get a better angle. He had sent a squad of the altered shock troops to clear the way and this was the last of them. There were more where that came from.
He got a better shot on one. He fired a long burst from the las. Most of the shots hit wall as the heretic ducked back, but two caught him in the chest. He slumped back, clearly wounded. Jolan finished him with a short burst to the chest. He fell. The inquisitor turned to deal with the other, but he was already down. He had been hit in the shoulder and chest with hellgun bolts.
Jolan raised his hand to signal when four black armoured nightmares appeared in front of him. Two took one side of the corriodor, one crouching while the other stood. The others crossed over right in front of him, firing from the hip as they took their positions. One was hit twice with hellgun bolts, once in the shoulder the other in the glacis plate. The bolts vaporized respectable craters in the tough armour. The Black Legionnaire didn't even flinch.
The fire of the chaos marines was devestating. Breck and Luba took multipile rounds from long bursts of the Legionnaire's bolters. Their armour shattered under the devestating impacts and the bolt shells blew open their flesh. Jolan's conversion field flashed as it was triggered by multiple impacts as the inquisitor struggled to reach the doorway. The heavy las rifle was shattered by two strikes.
A krak grenade exploded beside a marine, blasting his armour with shrapnel but failing to breach his armour. Jolan drew his plasma pistol and fired, shredding wall but not the marine who started dodging even before the inquisitor's pistol was brought to bare. Behind him, the crack Guard veterans took what cover they could and fired their hellguns down the corridor.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jolan Gix advanced down the corridor. Two soldiers fired from doorways with lascarbines. Behind him, his own troops kept up supression fire. He stepped over the body of an arcoflagellant as he stepped to the side to get a better angle. He had sent a squad of the altered shock troops to clear the way and this was the last of them. There were more where that came from.
He got a better shot on one. He fired a long burst from the las. Most of the shots hit wall as the heretic ducked back, but two caught him in the chest. He slumped back, clearly wounded. Jolan finished him with a short burst to the chest. He fell. The inquisitor turned to deal with the other, but he was already down. He had been hit in the shoulder and chest with hellgun bolts.
Jolan raised his hand to signal when four black armoured nightmares appeared in front of him. Two took one side of the corriodor, one crouching while the other stood. The others crossed over right in front of him, firing from the hip as they took their positions. One was hit twice with hellgun bolts, once in the shoulder the other in the glacis plate. The bolts vaporized respectable craters in the tough armour. The Black Legionnaire didn't even flinch.
The fire of the chaos marines was devestating. Breck and Luba took multipile rounds from long bursts of the Legionnaire's bolters. Their armour shattered under the devestating impacts and the bolt shells blew open their flesh. Jolan's conversion field flashed as it was triggered by multiple impacts as the inquisitor struggled to reach the doorway. The heavy las rifle was shattered by two strikes.
A krak grenade exploded beside a marine, blasting his armour with shrapnel but failing to breach his armour. Jolan drew his plasma pistol and fired, shredding wall but not the marine who started dodging even before the inquisitor's pistol was brought to bare. Behind him, the crack Guard veterans took what cover they could and fired their hellguns down the corridor.
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 took a deep breath, then, putting every ounce of power behind his voice, bellowed at the enemy.
"FACE ME!"
Chainblade revving, he assumed a defensive posture.
---------------------------------------------------------
"More frakking marines up front," Layne said.
"See, aren't you glad we're rear guard?" Mayhew asked. "Let the shiny eye-leet boys up front deal with that crap."
They were moving backwards, trailing Gix's headlong charge. Suddenly, rubble sprayed from the collapsed entrancing, the explosion engulfing the rearmost units. They watched as more than a platoon's worth of men were cut down by the blast. Suddenly, streams of promethium jetted from the smoke and debris, sweeping across the penals, turning men and women into screaming, running torches.
Mayhew watched a sergeant get engulfed in flame and took careful aim with his lasrifle, dropping the man before he could take more than a couple of staggering steps.
Frak it all. The asshole had the nerve to die when he still owed Mayhew money. Bastard.
Beside him, Layne bellowed something encouraging to the troops, like 'Fight for your lives'. Mayhew was just a little too busy shooting to pay attention to the officer's oratory...
============================
The Legionaires worked with murderous efficiency. Few shots were wasted as they laid down a withering hail of fire into Gix's troops. With chilling precision and synchronization, three stopped shooting in order to lob a salvo of grenades, well-thrown and perfectly coordinated, while the fourth laid down a withering volley of metal to cover them.
"FACE ME!"
Chainblade revving, he assumed a defensive posture.
---------------------------------------------------------
"More frakking marines up front," Layne said.
"See, aren't you glad we're rear guard?" Mayhew asked. "Let the shiny eye-leet boys up front deal with that crap."
They were moving backwards, trailing Gix's headlong charge. Suddenly, rubble sprayed from the collapsed entrancing, the explosion engulfing the rearmost units. They watched as more than a platoon's worth of men were cut down by the blast. Suddenly, streams of promethium jetted from the smoke and debris, sweeping across the penals, turning men and women into screaming, running torches.
Mayhew watched a sergeant get engulfed in flame and took careful aim with his lasrifle, dropping the man before he could take more than a couple of staggering steps.
Frak it all. The asshole had the nerve to die when he still owed Mayhew money. Bastard.
Beside him, Layne bellowed something encouraging to the troops, like 'Fight for your lives'. Mayhew was just a little too busy shooting to pay attention to the officer's oratory...
============================
The Legionaires worked with murderous efficiency. Few shots were wasted as they laid down a withering hail of fire into Gix's troops. With chilling precision and synchronization, three stopped shooting in order to lob a salvo of grenades, well-thrown and perfectly coordinated, while the fourth laid down a withering volley of metal to cover them.
-
Imperial Overlord
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11978
- Joined: 2004-08-19 04:30am
- Location: The Tower at Charm
Soldiers wearing gold and silver answered Prius's challenge. They were armed with baroque long barrelled lasguns of silvery metal and a bell mouthed flamer. Long curved blades hung from their belts. The flamer trooper raised his weapon and crumpled as Thorve dropped him. The others opened up with thier lases.
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Grenades arced forward towards the Imperials and then shot back towards the chaos marines, detonating around them. As Gix's telekinesis disrupted the attack, the Guard officers attack. A krak grenade fired down the corridor by a Guardsman blew open the chestplate of the bolter firing marine. He fell, wounded or dead. Hellgun fire poured into his body.
As Jolan struck, Hethor raised his plasma pistol. The blast struck the traitor in the upper torso, vaporizing flesh and armour. The corpse fell and Hethor ducked back against what he knew was coming. Several bolt shells hit him nonetheless, but were stopped by his carapace armour and conversion field. The trooper with the grenade launcher wasn't so lucky.
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Grenades arced forward towards the Imperials and then shot back towards the chaos marines, detonating around them. As Gix's telekinesis disrupted the attack, the Guard officers attack. A krak grenade fired down the corridor by a Guardsman blew open the chestplate of the bolter firing marine. He fell, wounded or dead. Hellgun fire poured into his body.
As Jolan struck, Hethor raised his plasma pistol. The blast struck the traitor in the upper torso, vaporizing flesh and armour. The corpse fell and Hethor ducked back against what he knew was coming. Several bolt shells hit him nonetheless, but were stopped by his carapace armour and conversion field. The trooper with the grenade launcher wasn't so lucky.
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.
-
Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
Varian's forces slaughtered the converts and set themselves against the Tzneetchian foe. The Cogboys finest shotcannon flew down the tunnels at the soldiers of the Golden Dawn, none of the Arbites or the rest of the scratch company were able let alone willing to stop. Yet the better equipped Chaotic troops were not as flimsy the converts.Varian's counter attack tore through the renegades with a combination of firepower and ferocity. His power blade ruined weapons and mangled flesh. Each swing of his blade generated more carnage. The enemy crumbled under his attack.
At first they fought, but fell back. Then they sought more to escape than fight and the slaughter intensified. And then they routed.
Varian's men butchered them as they tried to flee. The died in droves. Their own side was no less cruel. The soldiers of the Golden Dawn opened up with lasguns, flamers, and meltas on the fleeing converts. Varian's troops sliced and shot traitors, Tzeentch's troops burned them down. Caught in between two merciless opponents, they died .
"Grenades and Executioners rounds."