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  Topic Review (Newest First)
11-09-13 08:17 AM
GamingOtaku "What did I tell you? It figures that not even the real cavalry guys could slow them down".

Standing next to Ernst was Kayneth, another member of his unit who had joined in on placing bets on how long it would take the horde to reach the last trench. Judging by how fast the horde continued to advance despite running into the traps set out for it and the best efforts of the 105th, it was looking like Kayneth was going to be up a few credits.

"Should we go down there and show them how its done?" Ernst replied in a joking tone of voice, as if to say What do you mean by the real cavalry guys?

Before Kayneth could reply, came the deafening sound of gunfire from the battlements and behind them the rest of the unit started to move. One of the men closest to Ernst turned around to address him. "Orders are to follow the Caption, pass it down." With that the man turned back around and set off in the direction of the rest of the unit. Exchanging a brief nod, Ernst and Kayneth did the same.

There was just no end to these things, thought Ernst. He was not referring to the many dead rising from the refugees wagons, rather the completely avoidable situation he was in. All around him people fled for their lives, the whole convoy of refugees had erupted into complete chaos. All because some people had decided to take with them their infected friends and family. It wasn't that Ernst didn't understand their desire to save their loved ones but at the same time he knew that there was nothing that could be done for them. As evidenced by the pandemonium before him.

"To arms! Don't let the infection spread any further!", he heard the caption bellow. The men didn't need to be told, they were plenty experienced, he mostly just yelled orders to keep up appearances.

Raising his lance and urging his horse forward Ernst charged into the fray.
11-08-13 03:45 AM
xAngelicZ Anais felt grim as usual, he had led the civilian population through prayer time and again and now it was especially important. He turned to a group of fresh arrivals, death had visited them, keeping their souls safe until his return. But he would renew their faith, guide them toward the light of the emperor.
“Children of the Emperor! In the face of darkness there can only be light, it is Emperor’s light that guides us and delivers from those that would see you stray from the righteous path! We MUST stand firm in the face of the enemy! We must show them no fear, we must not give them the their pleasures, we must not break! Though your loved may be lost they move on to his side now! As will we all in time! But it will not be today! Be ever vigilant of our foe, fall not to the predations of the enemy for our lord only protects the faithful!! None can penetrate his light, none can cast shadows on his glory! Have faith in your emperor, for he is the one true power in this galaxy!!” He hoped to stir the light in the darkness within the emperor’s faithful. He knew what power utter devotion wrought and it was now it was needed most.

The Aoisaech would gaze on only in confusion. He did not give it thought; their worship was false and incomplete. They knew not the light of the emperor, such ignorance angered him, but he would save that for what was to come. He did not trust in the Aoisaech to uphold the pillars of the Emperor’s empire, but they may at least defend their homeland, for the little it was worth without the doctrines of the ministorum. He moved to the defence line.

The perimeter was set, casting his gaze over the field he eyed the traps the Guard regiments had set for the unholy. The Emperor’s deliverance ought to be brought personally, not by rudimentary traps and gunfire. He attended his weapons for but a moment, they were immaculate, the only possessions cared for. These were his tools; these items brought justice to the forsaken.

Taint filled the air, its arrival was imminent, the foul powers which corrupted this world would seek to claim their souls down to their last. The skies themselves recoiled at the presence of such invasion. It disgusted him. It was if the Gods of Chaos themselves spat insults at his Emperor. Such filth would not be tolerated, this defilement of his Emperor’s empire would be struck down by his hand. When the time came, he would bring the righteous fury of the only true god down upon the enemy.
Nearby a soldier received vox communications, she turned to face them all, an older woman, worn but defiant. “The dead approach! Ready yourselves!” The primitive horns of the Aoisaech drowned out the soldier’s noise. The enemy brought war to the Imperium and they would answer in kind.

Guardsmen and PDF forces rushed to the walls. It had begun. The Refugees flowing in to the City became panicked and began to surge through the gates. This wasn't his kind of fight he thumber over the power stud on his weapon, he desperately wanted to get to grips with the foe, no matter how numerous. These promethian traps and gunfire weren't the weapons of holy fervor and devotion. These were the weapons of mean who valued life above all else, the "tactical" minds of the Guard. True devotion was earned by the outriders. The men and women risking their lives in the face of their foe for the Emperor and his Imperium. The sky was sick, pale and bloated. Ready to explode the rot that infected it down upon them, there was thunder in the distance, then green lightning. As the hoard drew closer, the planet gagged. The hoard was endless, he had never seen such numbers. "Good!" he thought, it merely meant there was more of the foe to smite, more to purify!

Then came the blazing of guns, the hoard drew in to range and they opened up. He looked over the sea of bile and rot, those with little faith would surely falter and break. Those without devotion would serve only to halt the Emperor's fury. Then came screams from the distance, within the refugees. The disgust, the nerve, they dare bring the plague here? to smear corruption on the throne of their god? The Guard or PDF mounted units would be sent to investigate, but it was not enough. The refugees began to stir, they were scared. He must not allow them to turn away from his light.

He moved further along the line and turned to face the civilians, the troops not yet in need of the Emperor's guidance. "Sons and Daughters, faithful! You must seek his guidance!! Never falter! Never break!!" He bellowed, his voice as if echoed over the crown as if artificially projected. He knew they could hear him, but would his words reach them. "Join me, call out to your Saviour! A spiritu dominatus, Domine, libra nos, Love the Emperor, for he is the salvation of mankind, Obey his words, for he will lead you into the light of the future, Heed his wisdom, for he will protect you from evil!" He began to recite the Hymn of War, the favoured cry of the militant arm of the Ministorum. But he would have to compete with the thunder of guns, the moaning of the dead, the clap of thunder and the crackle of lightning. The refugees followed, reciting those wise words without him. They must have heard this prayer almost endlessly, but it would not be lost.

They drew in to mid-range, las-fire spat in thick beams from the Guardsmen. The words of their lord must ring in the ears of ALL faithful, they needed his guidance more than any. He turned back toward the stern woman who had alerted them of the enemies approach. "You! Hand the vox over to me!! The faith of all men and women must remain intact! We must pray!"
It was clear she was uncomfortable with this, "The vox lines should stay clear so orders can be distributed throughout the defensive lines" she replied. Angered he yelled "Should these lines break, such will be meaningless, DO NOT BE FOOLISH!" She refused, stubborn as all of the 375th were. He recognised the towering Sergeant Valentine close by and hurried to his position. Among the 375th Valentine was easier to tend, th "Sergeant." he roared over the guns, "I require access to the Vox network, the Soldiers must be led in prayer!" He awaited a reply.
Valentine replied "Now now father we both know its not the God-Emperor who is asking, my poor vox op is a very busy man you see but if you were I say pretty please with a frag on top I may see if he can fit you in his schedule"

"We have not time for your humour Sergeant, the enemy is upon us! We both know what that means!" He let the Sergeant’s remark slide, Valentine was a good, faithful man. They didn’t always see eye to eye but he knew he could be counted on when the foe drew close and that he would be the last to break if the unthinkable came to pass.

"Yes, Yes Father.. I will not hinder the holy work of the throne.." Valentine continued, handing him the vox bead and patting him on the shoulder. He set off as he had started, “A spiritu dominatus, domine, libra nos, from the lightning and the tempest, our emperor, deliver us, from plague, temptation and war, our emperor, deliver us, from the scourge the kraken, our emperor, deliver us!”

Hell had come to Faenchal's Stave and he would march in to its maw.
11-07-13 10:25 PM
Chaplain-Grimaldus Valentine made it to the parapet ad began to set his men to task, heavy weapons were set up and ranged in. He got his own lasrifle ready and made sure the pack was charged and ready to go.

He listened in to the vox, hearing the orders being given to the other units. It sounded good in general but he wasn't sure about the fire idea. Last time he saw one of these things on fire it kept coming. Only thing worse than an emperor forsaken soul trying to chew your face off was one on fire trying to chew your face off.

Valentine made the sign of the Aquila and muttered a short prayer to himself. He looked up and down the line. His lads were ready; of course they were. They are Cadians.

The dead horde was in sight, he would hold his fire until they could make out individuals in the horde. A head shot is a kill shot. Some of the native units were shooting already, taking solace in the retort of their weapons but doing little damage to the horde. The dead care little for a hole here or a missing arm there.

Valentine was about to pick up the vox and see if he could get in contact with them when he noticed the regimental preacher approaching looking a little flustered. Valentine worshiped the emperor and said his prayers like anyone else but the preacher got on his nerves a bit, so valentine liked to have a little banter with him. Still, he had seen him fight before and thanked the emperor that he was on their side.

The priest approached, heading straight towards valentine and his vox op.
11-06-13 07:32 PM
Romero's Own "We should go back to the surface, tell the others about the infected down here"

Keller turned as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and the tall man's voice by his shoulder. He shook his head as he turned, hefting the pack onto his back and holstering his two revolvers.

"I've sworn to protect the people down here, because no-one else will. I'd bring them up to the surface, but if what you say is true and the surface is as bad as you say, I can't. And the truth is, I don't know how many survivor's there really are down here. I have to stay down here or there'll be a lot more infected pretty soon."

Yet something made Keller pause, and as he looked around at the frightened faces of the Civil Wardens and Judicators looking up at him, he knew that he couldn't waste away all his time down in the darkness. He was fighting a battle he could not win, and he was simply slowing the process. It had been....a long time since he had seen daylight. Too long. He wanted to feel the sun on his skin again, to see colours other than blacks and greys.

Keller turned to the Civil Warden and nodded his head.

"I can come up with you. But I can't leave the people down here for long. And these rations need to make it to the survivors. I can direct some of your men to their camp."
11-06-13 07:04 PM
Cleanser As Elias slowly approached the source of the noise, the sight of someone crouched over something getting more and more clear. He eventually saw the horrific sight of a young boy tearing chunks out of a rat. Before Elias even had the chance to blow that creature away, he heard ear-piercing howls and screeches from all around him, before an entire horde of the infected poured out from every tunnel and dark corner, charging at the group of Justicars and Civil Wardens. Gunfire echoed through the dark chambers of the sewers, with the sound of the heavy splashes of bodies falling clear in the chaos. One of the Civil Wardens was bitten in the throat, causing him to scream out in pain, before he was silenced when the infected tore out his throat.

Elias himself pulled out his revolver, holding his shotgun in his left hand while firing at any of the shadows that were charging towards him. He let out all six shots, not even sure if any of them managed to hit something. Holstering the revolver back into his pocket, he blew away one of the infected that was about to bite a Civil Warden with his shotgun. Elias was suddenly turned around, just in time to realize that one of the infected was about to grab him. In the split second he had, Elias grabbed the infected man by the neck, desperately trying to keep it from getting too close. Mustering all the strength he could possibly gather, Elias pushed the infected away, sending it stumbling back and tumbling into the water. In a fit of blind rage, Elias started to repeatedly stomp on the creature's head, shouting something indistinct while the head of the infected was reduced to a bloody pulp.

It was then that he heard two shots from far off. Elias fired his shotgun into an infected's head, causing it to fly apart and splatter the walls with blood and gore. He turned around and saw a man with a torn long coat. Elias could tell that this man went through, his white hair barely covering the scars that littered his face. The man moved towards Elias and called out to him.

"What business have you in the sewers?"

Elias lowered his weapon and answered back to the man, who was now standing directly in front of him.

"Confirming suspicions. What's yours?"

"Protecting the people. What's happening on the surface?"

"Situation's bad, tension between Colonials and the natives rising, reports of the infected sneaking into the city. Could cause complications in the near future"

"There's scores of the infected down in the lower levels. Too many families sheltering infected relatives. There's a war coming, and once the smoke clears.... I'm not sure if there even is going to be a winning side."

The man went off to get something, and Elias followed behind. The man picked up a large pack and Elias tapped him on the shoulders

"We should go back to the surface, tell the others about the infected down here"
11-06-13 04:38 PM
Romero's Own Keller had lost track of how many people were trying to scratch out a living in the sewers. There were thousands that he swore to protect, and thousands others he didn't know about. He had tried to get some kind of army together, to use his influence as a Judicator to secure weapons, enough to arm those men still strong enough to fight. But every day, a hundred died, every day a hundred turned into those....things. It was a losing battle, and Keller was starting to feel the strain.

A fresh wound beneath his jacket was a reminder of when he pushed himself too far. He had been trying to save a little girl, cut off from her family and surrounded by the infected. But there were too many, and Keller himself nearly lost his life. He had to pull back and leave her. But it didn't mean her screams echoing in his head every-time he closed his eyes.

Down here, in the dark and cramped tunnels, and stinking halls, Keller had killed countless infected. He had soon learnt that a bullet through the head finished them as quickly as it would a normal man. But they were not normal, and there were so many of them.

Keller had gone down to the lower levels once, deeper than he had ever gone before, and found a nightmarish hell of death. It had been there the families had first fled, when the infection still wasn't understood. People sheltered their infected friends, their relatives, and when they turned, none were ready for the destruction.

Now Keller faced a constant struggle in these upper levels of the sewer, protecting more people than he ever could, with only a small handful of poorly-armed, barely trained, frightened men to aid him against the terrors that moved through the darkness.

He had lost all contact with the surface, with the city he loved, and for all he knew, it had fallen to the creatures. For all Keller knew, the only light left on Goidelaer II was within these sewers. And that light was flickering.

As Keller moved through the tunnels once more, carrying a heavy pack of food towards one of the camps, not sure if the camp had survived the time since he last saw it. He didn't know how long it had been, down here in the darkness there was no way of telling the time, none had carried any clocks with them when they moved into the sewers, they had simply fled, blind panic overpowering their judgement and rationality. The people had been living only off what they could salvage, and the precious deliveries that Keller brought when he could.

And so, when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot echoed down the tunnel, seemingly coming from a thousand directions, Keller froze. A second gunshot echoed down the tunnel, and Keller could hear the direction it had come from. He set off at a run, his heavy footsteps loud in the tunnel as he moved, his hands already going to his holstered weapons. The infected didn't use guns, at least not to Keller's knowledge, so the gunshots could only mean one thing, survivors.

It wasn't long before Keller reached the source of the gunshots. A group of men and women, dressed in the uniform of the Civil Wardens, and even a few Judicators, were taking on a horde of the infected with their assorted weapons. These were not men trained for combat, and as Keller watched, one of the Civil Wardens was dragged screaming into the water, where he quickly fell silent.

Not wasting another moment, Keller dropped his pack and drew out his twin revolvers. Moving quickly towards the group, firing once as he ran. One of the infected spun and fell as Keller's bullet found it's mark, striking it in the skull and punching through. Without pausing, Keller fired again, his target falling to the ground at the feet of a cowering woman.

Keller heard the sound of a shotgun unload to his left, and as another of the undead fell, the infected turned and ran, sensing that there was no more food to be had here. Keller turned towards the sound of the shotgun blast and saw a tall man,dressed in a stained white shirt and padded jacket, clutching a sawed off shotgun, still smoking.

Keller moved towards the man, and called out to him as he approached.

"What business have you in the sewers?"

The man turned to Keller, and he could see receding hairline and short, ragged beard. There was something about the man that hinted at unspoken horrors. When he replied, his voice was low.

"Confirming suspicions. What's yours?"

Keller had reached the man, and stopped, appreciating how tall the man really was, standing a good few inches above him.

"Protecting the people. What's happening on the surface?"

Keller could only assume that this kind of rag-tag band of Civil Wardens and Judicators had come from the surface, and his suspicions were confirmed when the man replied.

"Situation's bad, tension between Colonials and the natives rising, reports of the infected sneaking into the city. Could cause complications in the near future"

It sounded like the surface had gone to hell as much as the sewers had. But if the Colonials and Natives had tension, it meant there were still Colonial and Natives left, and the city still held. Although from what the man was saying, not for very much longer.

"There's scores of the infected down in the lower levels. Too many families sheltering infected relatives. There's a war coming, and once the smoke clears.... I'm not sure if there even is going to be a winning side."

Keller let the thought hang in the air for a moment, the silence strange after the action and noise just moments before, before turning and heading back to where he had dropped his pack. The people he was heading for need those provisions, and he was going to bring it to them.
10-29-13 07:01 PM
Farseer Ulthris The sound of the ghosthorns echoed throughout the plains that Faenchal's Stave sat within, rousing those who did not get the vox recording about the enemy sighting. The refugees, knowing full well what the horns meant, surged forward like a frenzied river. Tadhlinn knew full well that the defense of the city would become much more difficult if the panicked civilians weren't managed carefully. The captain stared at the horizon, the ever growing mottled grey horde drew closer with each passing minute. The sickly green skies churned with thunder as they finally blotted out Goidelaer II's sun. Emperor above it better not rain, he thought to himself. If it rains after the traps are lit, it would not be a problem...but if it does before the flaming arrows are released, it could well and truly damage the Imperium's prospects of victory. They had vehicles, mainly transports and the occasional Leman Russ, but lacked other heavy ordnance. He turned to his command squad.

"As insane as it sounds, I hope the Sidhe'Baloraedh move a little faster, preferably before the heavens decide to piss on us."

They laughed grimly, Tadhlinn turned back to the field. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the front 'ranks' of the nearing horde, made all that much disturbingly clearer, tumbling into the promethium spike pits. The Aoisin drew his sword and raised it high, signalling the first volley of fire arrows. The darkening skies grew brighter as the blazing projectiles arced high. Then they fell, setting the promethium alight as the burning arrows made contact. Immediately the captain spoke into his vox bead.

"All Goidelaer 105th outriders ride out, lure the undead into the next trap, keep it up until the last unmanned fire pit. Use any RANGED means necessary to bring down as many as possible!"

Like the thundering skies of above, they rode forth. Just as ordered they lured the Sidhe'Baloraedh into the pits, taking a number of the walking corpses down with lasweapons and bows before they galloped to a safe distance. Tadhlinn rose his power sword again and another volley of flaming arrows was unleashed. The same pattern continued, until the moaning horde reached the fourth trench. On cue just as the Outriders were returning, the entire frontline blazed into life with the firing of heavy bolters, autocannons, multilasers and sniper rifles, amidst flaming arrows; the field began to be smeared with greenish black ichor. It was then that the captain heard the sound of the screaming emerged from the back of the refugee column. It can't be, they should not be here, he thought with concern.

"To PDF Outrider squads Tanviss and Draechda, investigate the source of the screams, I have a feeling the refugees have attempted to smuggle infected into the city."

As he finished the order, the undead moved into the range of the medium weapons. His heart sank as he realised just how immense the horde is, the budding lashes of green lightning in the sky did little to help. His warrior spirit surged to the fore in response, bellowing into his vox bead.

"Let them come for us, make them pay for every footstep in their fetid blood! With each monster slain will the Good God smile upon us!!"

Goidelaeri, PDF infantry and Cadian regiments
What are your thoughts as you and your fellows ready for the fight? What do you think of the strategies used to deal with the zombies as the first Promethium spike pit?

For those Goidelaeri (Aoisin and Colonial alike) who use bows, you are the ones contributing to the blazing volley.

What are your thoughts as the regimental Outriders lure the horde into the other pits? The blazing of the heavy weapons? When the horde reaches mid-range, how do you feel when you realise the size of the enemy's numbers and begin to witness the coiling of green lightning in the sky?

Anais Galan

Mostly the same as the Guard? What are your thoughts on the promethium flames? What duties do you tend as the battle opens?

Mounted PDF

Same with the boys and girls in blue. Add your thoughts on the sight of the Guard Outriders actions against the horde.

After receiving your orders, you then ride off to deal with the issue. As you get closer, you can see the zombies attacking the caravan, some were still rising from their beds. You know these are probably Colonials since the Aoisaech quickly behead those they believe to be 'cursed'. The rest is pretty obvious

Judicators and Civil Wardens

The Wardens follow the direction the moans came from. As you delve deeper into the sewers, the already wretched smell grows nearly unbearable, prompting some of you to gag at best, vomit at worst. You move further, until you cross paths with the first zombie of the day. Its a young boy, probably 11, gorging on an unusually fat rat. Before you get the chance to put a bullet in his head, you are ambushed by more undead. Cue combat and a few team members getting killed. Then you see two zombies drop dead with two smoking bullets, they were not fired by you or your team mates. You turn to see a man dressed in the ragged attire of the Judicators, his facial tattoos announced him to be of the Aoisaech.

For Keller, what have you been up to since you've been in the sewers? How have you been dealing with the problem of people hiding their infected relatives? It is one particular day that you hear the sound zombie moans and...gunfire! You immediately move to aid these newcomers. After helping them finish the fight you engage in dialogue.

Might I suggest your characters arrange the dialogue for this one.
10-29-13 03:12 AM
GamingOtaku Who would have thought it?

Only four weeks ago had Ernst been lounging about the barracks playing cards and drinking with his friends. Now as he looked to the long line of refugees stretched out in the distance he realized just how fast things can change.

Ernst was sitting next to his horse, Otto, watching some of the men from that foreign unit fight the Aoisin. Both of them were quite strong, but the foreigners seemed to be prevailing overall. He turned his gaze to his own unit, how did they compare? They had been sent into the areas affected by the hulk when it had first hit the sea. Then they had nearly a thousand men, now they numbered less than a hundred. Perhaps it was best not to think about it Ernst reasoned.

Looking to the vast expanse of prepared battlefield before him he could spot one of the scouts riding hard for the battlements. Reaching into a pouch on his horse and bringing out a set of binoculars he brought them up to his eyes. The scout was kicking up so much dirt that parts of his kit were coming loose and falling to the ground. The thing that worried Ernst was that he wasn't slowing down or stopping to pick them up.

"One rider coming in hot!" he screamed.

There was a brief silence as everybody in his unit heard that but it wasn't long before men suddenly burst into action, finding their horses and weapons. Ernst too, threw the binoculars over his neck and mounted his horse before taking his lance from its position up against a nearby wall.

Soon enough the horns of the Aoisin roared to life.
10-27-13 11:49 PM
Chaplain-Grimaldus Valentine was not happy. In fact Valentine was damn pissed off and if he was honest, a little apprehensive. The walking dead, again!? Emperors holy fragging throne.

Looking across the small area at the current training (improvised training) his squad of guardsmen were all taking it in turns having one to one scraps with one of the local Cavalry squads. He allowed himself a slight smile as he had trained with these guys for the past 6 months during their "R & R" and these local Cavalry bumpkins were in for a surprise if they thought they had a chance here.

Valentine didn't mind the local units, the Aoisiens were a hardy bunch and seemed professional enough. But they weren't Cadian so h wouldn't be relying on them to watch his back until he had seen them tested.

A broad grin crossed his face as the combat currently going on was ended when the Cavalry lad caught a thundering right hook to the body, dropping him like pile of Grox shit.

Valentine was about to step forwards himself to have a round with one of then when he caught a smell on the wind. Just faintly for a split second but it was a scent he had wished he would never smell again. A couple of his lads smelt it too and he knew the same visions would be going through their heads from the last time they faced this foe.

He was about to tell his lads to kit up when a horrific alarm went up. The warning horns of the locals. Needing no more instruction Gaius Valentine and his squad of Cadian 375th began to re kit and jog back towards the fortifications whilst Cavalry set off at speed towards another flank.
10-25-13 01:50 AM
VixusKragov Cormac's bunched knuckles found the man's forearms again and again as they lashed out, bruising themselves and sending brief sunbursts of ache through his hand.

The Cadian trooper was nothing if not tough, blocking each punch only to send counters that knocked Cormac's skull off its axis, tripping him with each attempted kick. The tales of their combat prowess didn't seem to be exaggerated.

Each man stood beneath the tainted sky of Goidelaer II, stripped of chainmail and flak alike. Hand-to-hand wouldn't do much against the foul creatures that had spawned into their system from the warp, but even play battle focused the mind, woke the body.

His eyes swept to the sky for a mere moment, despair flooding through him like a plague. His world was tainted, clansmen slain and risen in equal measure. Their land had been tainted, and the Sidhe'Baloraedh came bearing the end of all things, trampling and scourging the God-Emperor's land beneath them.

The Cadian took his distraction in step, delivering a punishing blow into his stomach that sent the Aoisin sprawling to the grass. Cormac grasped the soon-offered hand, standing as he clutched his torso. He seized the soldier's forearm, the other's hand grasping the same place in the custom of the Aoisaech. A gesture of respect, and welcome, thanking him for the fight.

Cormac turned away from the man, grabbing the various adornments of war that lay scattered around the flattened sparring ground in a rough semicircle.

Pulling the clan-made chainmail about his scarred and sweat-sheened figure, he spotted the outriders returning in the distance, dust kicked from hard-pressed hooves clouding their approach. He quickly slung quiver and bow across his shoulder and onto his back, tightening the straps with one hand while the other clasped the buckles of his sword belt about his waist, the blade powered by God-Emperor's energy slapping his thigh within it's sheathe, and the las-pistol rapping the insides of it's holster. Finally, he affixed his vox-bead into the canals of his ear, just in time to hear the closing notes of some urgent message.

It all began at once.

The death-scent carried across his homeworld's wind and reached him finally, assaulting his every sense with it's innate wrong-ness, threatening his gullet to fill with bile. His instincts overpowered, focusing on the vox chatter and slapping the Cadian's armored shoulder to get him moving.

-has been sighted! The Sidhe'Baloraedh come for Faenchal's Stave!"

Cormac's legs kicked like a stallion beneath him as he sprinted to the fore of the military blockade and past the hurrying caravans, scrambling atop a parked wagon,eyes hunting the line of horizon for the hated enemy.

The Ghosthorns of his people roared beneath and around him at his Captain's command, and he finally saw what they faced, a hand grasping the fine-carved wood of his bow in habitual comfort.

Speaking over the vox, he searched for sound of Captain Omerach's voice, speaking in the clipped tones of Aoisin as a call for his attention.

"Captain. What are my orders?"
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