The valkyrie shuddered as it passed through a pocket of stiff air turbulence, rocking the passengers slightly. Nobody was fazed, each of the occupants having experienced far worse in their long and dangerous careers. The only sound to be heard was the crackle of the craft's vox caster and the constant stream of voices carrying conversations and updates on the situation.
"There's a swarm of hostiles surrounding the Governor's palace." The inquisitor acolyte's voice called.
"The genestealers have forced a rebellion already?" The Tempestor Prime's voice responded from another Valkyrie.
"Doesn't look like it." Came the reply. "They're nowhere near well armed enough. This looks like a typical rebellion. The Lady Inquisitor might want to have a word with his Lordship when she arrives. In the meantime it looks like our drop zone is compromised."
"Understood." The Prime answered. "All units standby to engage. Lethal force only if necessary. These are civilians, intimidation before fatalities wherever possible."
The vox crackled into silence as the squadrons of valkyries made their final approach. Sergeant Kharis, the Tempestor of the squad stood and approached the weapons locker at the fore of the craft. "Well it looks like we'll be mopping up a bunch of scrubs angry at the local fuzz." He hit the code on the locker and the door hissed open. "Saul, Dwah, I want you two packing flamer units. Give the ungrateful bastards hot feet. Hopefully that'll be the kind of intimidation we need. Try not to burn anyone alive. You know, unless you need to like the boss said."
The vox suddenly buzzed back to life with an urgent tone. "Thunder Squad Valkyrie is hit! We're going down in Sector Gamma Niner, southeast of the palace location! Requesting assistance!"
"Squad Zephyr, divert to assist immediately!" The Prime's voice shouted the order urgently.
"Understood!" Kharis called back. "You get that?"
"Affirmative Tempestor." The pilot's voice called. Kharis gripped the railing on the ceiling tightly as the valkyrie banked and shifted its course. The initial landing pattern had intended to be a perimeter encircling the palace, but this situation had resulted in an unfortunate weak point. It couldn't be helped. Even so, The Storm had come to Aurox Prime and no pitiful local rebellion would stay its wrath. This landing would have the same result, even if the Scions had to quell this rebellion themselves...
All: The aircraft reach the drop point. From within you can hear the gunfire being laid down to force the rebelling civilians on the ground to retreat from the immediate area. The descent is quick following a few moments after the fire ceases, then followed by a creak and thud before the rear ramp opens.
"Move Zephyr move!" Kharis barks, his voice crackling over his helmet's inbuilt vox. The ten of you move as fire teams of five, flanking the aircraft hastily and moving into a position in front of it. Wind from the vehicle's downward thrusters creates a light dust haze but your objective is clear. Ahead of you lies the arterial road of the capital city, the governor's palace just to the northwest of your location. Squad Thunder's Valkyrie lies skewed on its side half on the street and half embedded in the side of a large building that appears to have been an Arbites barracks, its only protection coming from the Vulture Gunship acting as its escort and now, your own squad's Vendetta escort.
Once your squad clears the vicinity of your transport, the valkyrie lifts into the air, adding the weight of its own threat to the other two aircraft to cover your advance. Though initially the threat level seems low, some of the rioting civilians seem to have quickly learned that the aircraft are loathe to fire too close to their own and are closing in the Squat Thunder as the scions emerge from the downed transport. For the moment they will be okay, the wreckage of their valkyrie providing soft cover, but the encroaching rioters are fast growing in number and proximity. They need to be shown that getting close to Tempestus Scions is not a good idea...
Saul, Brynnjarr, Farkas: You are on the left flank of the valkyrie as you advance. Having been selected to carry a flamer unit, Saul is slightly slowed as the weight of the fuel tank weighs him down. All of you match pace with practiced ease, the five of you all honing in on the best place to defend near the tail of the crashed flyer. Before you can reach the downed valkyrie, a dozen rioters shift their course and try to intercept you. They believe their numbers will give them an advantage. Most of them carry light firearms, the remaining few have improvised explosives and all are carrying heavy blunt implements. You cannot afford to be cut off from your fellow scions for too long, so you will have to make this quick.
Saul: You instinctively hold back momentarily as you see the rioters come towards your team. Several of your teammates place warning shots at the feet of the angered civilians to little effect. Some of them are quicker on their feet than others and manage to engage at close quarters before anything can be done, but five of them are lagging behind. Nobody has beset you yet, so you have an opportunity to use your weapon to full effect simply by moving to one side to clear your line of fire and incinerate the rearmost five. Alternatively you can ignite your weapon off to one side and hope it gives your attackers pause long enough for your teammates to "convince" them to retreat.
Brynnjarr: Two of the rioters dash straight for you and attempt to bring you down. The first swings a mining hammer too early and finds himself bouncing limply off your large armoured physique almost comically before hitting the ground. His companion is slightly more competent, wielding a metal pry bar in one hand and a makeshift shield fashioned from a mining drill's debris screen in the other. Though you are able to deflect his attacks with relative ease using your hellgun, his fighting pattern speaks to a definite history with combat training, possibly former PDF or even Arbites. You could try to incapacitate him, but his apparent resourcefulness is a potential compromise of your own squad's safety should he have another trick up his sleeve. Use your judgement, your orders are to minimize casualties but in this case the lethal option may be preferable.
Farkas: An autopistol round bounces from your shoulder guard moments after you place a warning shot at the foot of one of the approaching rioters. You are the furthest forward of your squad but not the first to be engaged. Two of the rioters slip past wide to your right and engage Brynnjarr, but at a glance you deem them not a threat to him. Saul is behind you and with the flamer he will need to use his own judgement on the wider situation. The remaining two squad members like you are placing warning shots, but following the round that hits you one of them places a shot square in the chest of the firer. The first kill of the entire mission. Another two civilians seem enraged at this and charge forward even faster. One of them barrels into you before you can line up a proper shot, but you are able to roll with the movement and throw him from you while drawing your knife in the same movement. The crackle of las fire behind you tells you that your squadmate has made a second kill. The rising form of your assailant before you places you now in the position to decide another fate...
Dwah, Atlas, Hari: The three of you are with Kharis and another trooper as he leads you around the right flank of the valkyrie. Once you clear its immediate area it takes off once more, banking over to the right just above you and laying down suppressing fire with its multi laser and two successive launches from its rocket pods. When the dust settles, the effect appears to be minimal. Several dozen rioters are approaching from this flank, having circumvented the arbites struggling to hold the rest of the throng in check further back. Unlike typical rioters, these are well armed and what's worse, an ogryn bolsters their ranks.
Dwah: You have little choice but to loose a gout of flame across the ground to stall the rioters' advance. Nobody is killed but all of them think twice before their next steps. With a glance backwards you see seven of Squad Thunder are free and moving forward to assist Kharis and your fellows but they will not reach you before the enemy does. With limited use for your weapon at the moment you may be better suited to helping the last few troopers climb clear of the wreckage to aid in the imminent melee. Alternatively, you may be in the best position to end this confrontation quickly by taking out most of these criminals yourselves...
Atlas: One of your fellow troopers is hit by a lucky shot from the closing rioters and drops to one knee. One of his arms is clutching a wound between the armour joints of his abdominal plate and the other is struggling to lift his weapon. After a moment he manages to rise to his feet and begins to retreat towards the line being formed by Squad Thunder as they regroup. Two rioters have broken ahead of the pack to try and finish the job. It is too early for Scion casualties, you need to dissuade them or kill them so your squadmate can see to his wound.
Hari: You are between Atlas and Dwah when Dwah looses his first gout of flame and your fellow trooper is hit by enemy fire. Seeing him retreat is an unwelcome sight as it means your fire team is already down one man. Several warning shots leave your weapon as you spare a glance backwards. Squad Thunder is quickly regrouping but not fast enough to help before you'll be forced into an up close confrontation. Kharis' pistol leaves a line of scorched wounds across the ogryn's chest but the hulking brute roars and charges on. Your leader's sword is drawn in his hand and its blade begins to glow a dull blue. Kharis' intent is clear, kill the ogryn and the rest may lose heart. Kharis turns back to you for a moment and gestures towards two men running alongside the ogryn a few paces behind. They have the bearing of agitators, and their removal could potentially be just as crippling a blow as killing the ogryn himself.
All: Once battle is joined, your valkyrie hovers low and trains its weapons on the approaching masses. Its actions in the next update will depend on the course of choices players make here. Similarly Squad Thunder's role in aiding your own squad, and whether it will be necessary, will largely depend on Dwah's decision.
Victor Saul quietly hummed a refrain from something he overheard in one of the many chapels aboard the vessel that had brought them to Aurox Prime, ensuring his helmet was not set to transmit the grating sound across the vox. He did not know what significance the particular melody held, but its drone-like, almost monotonous quality helped clear his mind as the valkyrie bore them closer to the governor's palace. The flight didn't bother Victor: it was one of the smoother rides he'd had, and either way he knew that worrying about whether he'd land safely never made the damndest difference: you either did, or you died.
The mention of hostiles snapped Victor out of his reverie, as he began mentally preparing himself for combat. He replied to Sergeant Kharis' order to bear a flamer with a curt "Sir, yes sir!", unclipping his safety harness and moving along the inside of the craft, with a hand on the rail, toward the weapons locker. He took out the flamer, taking a few moments to ensure its tank was securely fastened on his back and the tube feeding into the weapon itself was correctly attached. He then retrieved an autopistol, holstering it at his side, as well as a combat knife and standard grenade loadout, before moving back to his harness and locking in for landing.
The instant the aircraft finally hit the ground, Victor was out of his harness, propelling himself out the back and down to the dusty ground before taking a sharp right to be on the left flank of the transport as he advanced. The flamer slowed his progress, but the dust whipped up into the air proved no difficulty as Victor's enclosed helmet did its best to penetrate the cloud with thermal and other visual-assistive overlays. A dozen or so of the rebels rushed at their fireteam, clearly unperturbed by the sight of the Imperium's finest unaugmented soldiers. Victor's lip curled beneath his helmet, as his finger twitched on the flamer's ignition, causing a small blue flame to spark into life at its end. Only the Prime's order held him back: the flamer was an all-or-nothing, virtually-indiscriminate weapon, and although his primary purpose was war Saul was not a mindless living weapon: these citizens of the Imperium didn't have to die.
As the rebels rushed closer, however, Victor held back, trying to gauge the situation. Would they keep coming, or keep a minimum distance? The Prime's words "Lethal force only if necessary" seemed to spin over and over again in Victor's mind as he noticed the rebels were armed with firearms, blunt weapons, and even explosives.
Suddenly, his decision was made for him, as the rebels kept coming and descended on the fireteam: one of them swinging a hammer at Brynnjar, another firing his weapon at Farkas. It was as if a switch had been thrown in his mind, transforming Saul from wary and cautious into a cold-hearted, calculating machine.
Recognising he had an opportunity to do what he hoped would cow both those rebels engaging his squadmates and any more distant rebels into retreat with one decisive act, Victor smartly made four paces to the side, clearing his line of fire so as to avoid the melee going on directly in front with his fellow Scions, and raised his flamer at a group of five rebels caught behind the main group. It was a simple balancing exercise: the death of these five so that many others might flee and live. Victor didn't hesitate, clamping his hand around the lever to release a great jet of searing flame, white-hot gas billowing from his weapon and utterly enveloping the rearmost five rebels, surely immolating them in mere moments.
As quickly as the flames had come, they receded: Victor released the lever, shutting off the gas, before bellowing "Subjects of the Emperor! Cease hostility and stand down at once, you need not perish if you but comply and STAND DOWN!"
“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
Dwah’hadeen Al’Thore sat on his seat, across from a seemingly talkative lad named Brynnjarr. His ears being filled with every small sound, or the loud one of Brynnjarr as his microbead vox was off. The descending vessel traveling off of the earth below reminding him as it always did of how the earth was of solid rock, and much better than the weakness of the air and vacuum of space. His eyes tracing the lines on his helmet as he put it on, his expressionless mouth the last thing to be seen as it was covered with a hiss and click as the helmet began to pressurize to seal the suit. This followed by the sudden proposition of his loud mouthed brother in arms made him consider taking his helmet off again just to antagonize the man. His microbead turning on so he could hear the other Scions, Tempestor, and the Prime speaking it was suddenly clear that a new development had occurred. The Tempestor commenting to both Saul and himself to grab a flamer unit. With a simple nod Dwah took off his harness and followed the rail to the weapons locker. Fluidly and simply picking out his gear and strapping the flame canister to his back with a simple clasp. His other hand going to lift the nasty end of the device, looking at the intricate design of the flamer and holding it in a gloved palm as he moved back to his seat, his gear clanking at his side as the grenade packs jingled and his hellpistol was hanging in the leg sling. Common craftsmanship, nothing special, simple promethium, useful enough, nothing to note. His thoughts moving through his head as if a machine before hearing the voices of urgency from Squad Thunder, a hand instantly moving to grab the railing as the valkyrie banked and reminded him of some harsh emergency actions.
With the aircraft reaching the drop he moved to the front of the ramp right behind Kharis, his eyes gleaming under his helmet as he watched the rear door for it to drop. The orders of non- lethal engagement going through his head as the final seconds before the ramp dropped. The knowledge of the earth under him once again a comfort as he stormed right out of the machines cold belly. The earth around him shifting due to the engines pushing of dust into the air, and smog of the flames by him not going through as his filtered systems kept him focused and eyeing the large horde in front of him. An ogryn in the ranks catching Dwah’s eyes before they returned to the men in front of him, his feet shifting to brace for a jet of flame to smash against the ground. The heat of the nozzle and liquid Promethean burning the surface of the earth to leave a black mark so that the assailants in front of him had to jump back, halting from the sudden scorching sensation on their skin. His attention quickly flicking to his far left to see Squad Thunder and one of his brothers moving back from an injury. A sudden twitch of emotion showed along his upper lip for a sneer. His stance now set so that he would be braced for a tackle and his weapon held low so that it aimed only at the ground. A loss of flame coming from the other section of the squad in his visor informing him that the other flamer wielding Scion had loosed and set aflame a section of the mob. The first word other than prayer aimed at Saul, “Bloody fool.”
His mind switching fast as he calculated the cost of engagement with his weapon before deciding. His aim low as his simple thought braced his mind for the shrieks he would now hear. The can serve the Emperor without legs, as servitors or examples. His weapon loosing now so that the extreme heat of the now ignited gas spread along the ground and on the legs of the oncoming crowd in a long arc the hit all of the men he could in range. His face a stern look to the sudden increase in color before him as the ground was set ablaze like hellfire. His waist the only part of him having moved. His black armor shining nearly demonically in the flames of the burning legs of those in front of him.
Atlas gazed around the Valkyrie and listened to the hum of the engines. He noted that the starboard engine was at a slightly higher pitch than the port side and you could occasionally hear a grinding noise. He made a mental note to report that to the techpriests when they returned. Knowing how quickly this operation was drawn up, they probably had not had chance to finish repairs he concluded. He knew the pilot wouldn’t, he was what Atlas liked to call a “Fair weather”, knowing how to fly the thing is one thing, but knowing how to maintain your aircraft to keep it in the air is something completely different.
Atlas zoned back into reality as the Valkyrie shuddered and keenly listened to the Tempestor Prime’s orders.
“…Lethal force only if necessary”
He chuckled to himself. ‘That won’t sit well with Brynnjarr’ Atlas said quietly to himself.
Sure enough, Brynnjarr made his feelings clear on the matter. Atlas sunk back into his harness and began his pre-engagement ritual of reciting a prayer to the Emperor he had learnt as a boy. He found it helped focus his mind on the task ahead. Deep down he knew combat provided him no joy, he would be far happier in the depos working on the equipment and vehicles. But the will of the Emperor must always come first before the wants of his servants, and if that means he has to slay mutants, aliens and heretics, so be it.
"Thunder Squad Valkyrie is hit! We're going down in Sector Gamma Niner, southeast of the palace location! Requesting assistance!"
Atlas stopped mid verse and a cold shiver went down his spine. He tried to remember the pilot that was transporting Thunder squad. He couldn’t recall the name or a face, which was odd. Atlas always made a point to memorise names of vehicle crews, you never knew when knowing someone who could pilot you out of trouble would come in handy.
He felt the Valkyrie bank and returned to his preparations. The descent to the drop zone was very sudden, almost catching Atlas off guard when the ramp opened.
“Well would you look at that! They’ve decided to throw us a welcoming party!” Atlas muttered under his breath, as bullets ricocheted off the hull of the Valkyrie.
He followed Kharis around the right flank of Valkyrie, dust obscuring his vision slightly as it took off to provide them with supporting fire. As he gazed across the drop zone he realised these insurgents were well armed, and they were angry.
“And me without my party hat”
The sound made Atlas turn sharply in time to see a Scion fall to his knee. It was clear a stray bullet had managed to bypass his armoured plates and had forced him to drop. Time appeared to slow as Atlas surveyed the situation. The scion tried to pick himself up but his wound appeared to severe for him to continue the fight.
‘Wound is not fatal, but requires urgent attention.’ Atlas concluded, as he turned back to the melee ahead of him. Two rioters, seeing their opertunity, surged forward towards the wounded man, intent on finishing what they started.
‘These are civilians, intimidation before fatalities wherever possible’
‘No’ thought Atlas, ‘these are not civilians, they have taken up arms against the agents of Imperium.
These are traitors to the Emperor, and there is only one way to deal with traitors’
Atlas took aim with his hellgun and unleashed controlled bursts into the rioters.
“Only the faithful live this day!”
The valkyrie's screaming engines suddenly increased in pitch as the craft ascended and tilted into a downward firing position. The sight of Saul and Atlas taking the lethal option had apparently been enough to encourage the pilot to do the same. Kharis swore loudly as the multilaser opened up and spat a volley of las fire into the handful of rioters too slow to reach melee range in time. The Tempestor ducked the ogryn's next swing and retreated a few steps before loosing a quick flurry of hellpistol shots into the brute's face. It roared and tried to charge again, but now blinded by the wounds the soldier had inflicted, it was easy pickings. Thar far superior combatant, Kharis swept his blade through the ogryn's legs, dropping it to the ground and impaling his glowing sword through the back of its neck before it could even attempt to right itself.
Making a quick survey of the operation, Kharis conceded that they were past the point of no return. The rioters showed no signs of relenting and even the arbites in the next block sector were beginning to retreat back towards the palace behind them.
"All units, engage!" He barked, lifting his pistol up and firing kill shots into the next two rebels. With a hand gesture, he signalled the fire team alongside him to retreat towards the other half of the squad. They were about five minutes running time from the palace gate and not many rioters had made it that far. The only thing that would slow their pace was assisting the wounded...
** ** **
The firepower of three gunships made the trek far safer than it would have been, and both squads were making the final approach in short order. Resistance had been minimal this close to the palace, but that wouldn't be the case for long.
"This is Tempestor Kharis requesting the gate be opened!" Kharis bellowed into his vox. "We have wounded incoming, we need the gate open now!"
"I need an authentication code!" Came the panicked reply, clearly a young officer too green for such an important role in the palace security.
The sound of another missile being launched grabbed everyone's attention. The trail of smoke placed the origin of the firer clearly in the city streets about half a kilometre away and his target was another one of the Scion valkyries. The craft banked just in time to avoid a direct collision but was still heavily damaged on one of its wings and began veering off course.
"Zephyr Escort, respond!" Kharis called.
"Damage to one wing thruster, Sir!" The pilot answered. "I'm executing an emergency landing, I'll link up with you inside!"
"Dammit..." Kharis growled. The gates behind the troopers began to open slowly, enormous plascrete walls lumbering apart and the Tempestor of Squad Thunder ordered his squad inside.
"You're all clear to..." The gate operator's voice was cut short as the sounds of thundering footsteps reached them.
"Throne..." Kharis cursed. Two power lifters lumbered into view, servo arms stained with the blood of arbites and scorch marks from las fire marring their forward armour plating.
All: You're a mere dozen paces from the gate, but it will never close in time if you go through now. You have to get rid of these walkers if you want to keep the palace secure.
Saul, Dwah: Your flamers won't do enough to stop the walkers, and your squadmates won't be able to get close to them if they're on fire. For the time being your weapons are useless, unless you can think of something drastic.
Everyone else: Much like the flamers, your conventional hellgun rounds won't pierce the power lifters' armour plating. This leaves your options severely limited, as getting too close to them means certain death. Unfortunately it may be your only option as the only thing in your arsenal that can bring these down is your krak grenades.
Unless something more drastic arises...
Brynnjarr swore as he instinctively jumped farther away from the flamer blast, blinking tears from his eyes. Where the five rebels had been rushing into the melee was a handful of smoldering screaming corpses. This was further punctuated by the shrieking snaps of the Valkyrie’s multilaser, all but shredding many of the oncoming rioters.
“Throne of the emperor, so much for non-lethal force” Brynnjarr shouted as he hit the dirt. Several moments later the order which Brynnjarr scoffed so much at was rescinded by the boss himself. With most of the rioters in the immediate vicinity incapacitated Brynjarr reasoned that it was time to join the others. “Saul, Farkas lets regroup with Kharis and the other fire team” he said over the squad channel. From his position on the ground Brynjarr proceeded to give what was left of the rioters the emperor’s benediction taking shots at those that had managed to survive the multilaser volley. Two went down before he crouched upwards and began making his way toward the other fire team.
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