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post #3 of (permalink) Old 05-16-16, 05:40 AM
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“BAH!” Brynnjarr scoffed “lethal force if necessary… lets hope no one objects to kneecaps then, because by the looks of it they don’t look to happy to see us” He said to no one in particular as he pulled out his hellpistol. Checking the power pack, as well as the grip, the gun looking absurdly small in his large hand. Brynjarr, doing a last minute check on the rest of his wargear, looked about the cabin to the rest of his squad. He had only been in service with this squad for a relatively short period of time in the grand scheme of things, having been reassigned after his previous squad was mutilated by the endless swarms of the great devourer. He brooded upon the names of those men, and tried to vainly to remember their faces, which had already started to fade like all of those previously.

Saul sat at the opposite end of the cabin, having fallen into a relaxed stare at the opposing wall. Locked into his own world, his helmet vox seemingly off. In the period of time Brynnjarr had been active in the squad, the man had impressed him. The purpose and drive behind all of his actions in and out of combat spoke of a man dedicated to achieving his goals, and Brynnjarr could respect that. He turned to the rest of the squad. Dwah’hadeen sat, he could picture the hard unmoving expression of the man now, no emotion, not much of all as Brynnjarr could tell. The man was like a rock, ‘Something must have happened to the poor sod to make him hard as iron’ he thought.

“Dwah, when we get back to base after mopping this rabble up the first drink is on me, your expressionless demeanor has begun to unnerve me even more that it already has” He said with no small amount sarcasm. With that and made the last of his preparations. But, upon hearing the Tempestor state that Dwah and Saul were getting the flamers he scoffed a bit.

“Oh come on now boss, how come I’m always the unlucky sod stuck with the standard issue gear” and gesturing to the hellgun at his side, then dismissively waving off the Prime. The vox buzzed in Brynnjarr’s ear.

"Thunder Squad Valkyrie is hit! We're going down in Sector Gamma Niner, southeast of the palace location! Requesting assistance!"

“Well isn’t this just frakking wonderful, which fly boy was piloting that Valkyrie, and how in the throne did they manage to get shot down but that rabble, And why do we even have to spare the rebels…they’re sodding rebels.” He snarled. Snapping his helmet into place with muted frustration.

When the Valkyrie finally touched down Brynnjarr rushed down the ramp after Saul and Farkas hellgun out and ready the shoulder strap curled around his massive bulk. The smoke was thick and black at ground level. Fire bombs he assumed, easy to make, the perfect weapon for a mob like this. He slowly stretched his neck to each side as he matched pace with Saul, easing the muscles which were tense from the cramped seating of the Valkyrie cabin, which was not built to accommodate such a bulky figure.

“let’s get on with it, come on Farkas it’s about time you got a few scars on your face, and Saul…don’t point that thing at me I already have enough burn scars” he said whilst motioning to his face. The mob was beginning to take notice of the arrival of the scions, a dozen or so rebels began rushing at their small fire team. Brynnjarr muttered muted cruses upon seeing their arrival, and began placing shots around their feet, “accidentally” placing a shot on the front of one of the rearmost rioter's boot. The rest of the rioters seemed unfazed by the las bolts sails around them, whipped into a frenzy the mob.

“It seems that they actually want me to kill them, shall I oblige them?” without waiting for an answer he rushed at the closest rioter, a decrepit looking man that had managed to find a mining hammer almost as tall as him. The man must have been caught off guard by his sudden rush, and nearly missed his swing entirely, with the haft of the hammer catching the shoulder guard of Brynnjarr’s carapace. This same shoulder collided with the man’s chest, nearly 400lbs of muscle with the added weight of the carapace sent the man spinning the ground, and something broke with an audible crack. The man was still writhing around on the ground as an armored boot crashed down on the man’s torso without breaking stride.

“oops” he mumbled “I guess I just don’t know my own strength” the sarcasm heavy in his voice. Brynnjarr turned to the next rioter, just as a pry bar came whistling at his helmeted head. “Throne!” he yelled, while bringing his hellgun up to block the swipe. “you may want to check on your friend, he seems to have fallen” his deep voice rumbled. He deflected the next couple swings with relative ease, the mining shield making it hard for him to get a shot or attack in on his body. Seeing the next swing coming, he dropped his hell gun, letting the strap take the weight of it, and caught the pry bar in his left hand whilst drawing his hellpistol with his right. Brynnjarr grunted as he caught the heavy metal implement in his hand, the shock of it making his hand and fingers numb. The Man looked mildly surprised that his weapon was stopped and proceed to bash his makeshift shield across Brynnjarr’s side in an attempt to get him to release his weapon. Brynnjarr in return unleashed a flurry of las bolts in the general direction of the man’s feet blowing out the leather of the man’s boots and frying the flesh and bone underneath. With tug of his left arm Brynnjarr pulled the now surprised and off balance man forward with the pry bar and threw him to the ground. Placing two neat las bolts into the back of the man’s knees to add insult to injury. “ I bet you wish you were him now” motioning toward the man with the hammer who was sprawled across the ground. He turned toward the other rioters just in time to be blinded by the white hot flames of promethium. “Aw Throne, what did you just do Saul

Last edited by Imperial_Commissar; 05-16-16 at 06:42 AM.
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