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post #31 of 60 (permalink) Old 03-23-16, 03:40 PM
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A smoky cloud of debris was slowly settling towards the floor and dusting it in a fresh coat of ashy grey. The sound of war was filtering through his ear drums, now that the ringing had died down. A noisome, malodorous stench struck his nostrils.

For all of these things, and all of the uncertainties that came with them, Tobias refastened his loosened mask. He did this with a handful of gloved fingers as he rolled over to face the ceiling.

He propped himself up on his elbow, swatting off bits of glass. He noticed figures rushing to the windows, and pulled himself there to join them, sliding his shotgun back into its holster. His small shoulder guard slammed into the wall, harder than he meant to. He would have much preferred to see Elias at the same window, but instead he got a pale, wiry, kid across from him wearing a PDF uniform.

Again, normally, the rest of his squad would be here. He Just couldn't shake that off yet.

Why did that have to happen? he thought, frustrated, shouldering his lasgun. He searched for a decent target within the mess of smoke, flame, and violence, weary of the rounds that were peppering into the building above him.

He found the right target.

"That one, there, charging." He said aloud, pointing with the muzzle of his lasgun.

If his vague description and pointing weren't enough, he hoped this kid could at least follow his shots home, but he wasn't about to depend on him.

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post #32 of 60 (permalink) Old 03-24-16, 03:43 AM
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The shattered remains of the gate shift, fragmenting under the weight of my tread. My stride does not even slow as the stabilizers in my armour’s knee joints give a low growl, compensating for the uneven terrain without fail.

Madness rules the scene before me, rolling black clouds of chemical smoke compete with the fine dust of destroyed masonry and the blue-white curling puffs of firearms discharge. Xenos howl and scramble across the broken ground in their maddened frenzy to get at the humans. The roasted scent of burnt flesh and sharp bite of sundered stone hits me as my eyes lock upon my target’s lumbering form.

The nob is larger than its brethren in all aspects, its bulk slightly surpassing my own armoured form and its scarred and tattooed hide carries a deeper shade of fungal green than those around it; marking it out as a veteran in this feral xenos breed. A metal ring hangs from its lip and an old wound has left half of its right ear somewhere in the past. Padded trousers encase its legs, held up with twin leather suspenders that also support a myriad of bladed weaponry and grenades. Its chest is bare, exposing the rippling of alien musculature under the crude clan markings festooning its skin. I note one in particular, pulled from my eidetic memory that makes my lip curl in disgust under my helm.

Even within the ranks of the porcine xenos there are those individuals that are outcasts, leaving their clans through actions of their own or being thrown out by their own kin. They abandon their ties to roam the galaxy in marauding bands of pirates and, if the price is to their liking, something akin to mercenaries.

The ground before me is riddled with stray las bolts and the explosive impacts of the ork guns, I do not even hesitate as I push forwards. All of this, I process between one stride and the next.

I can already taste the burn of hyper-adrenaline in my veins as my warplate responds to my hatred.


Theo let his battle instincts take over, weaving through the morass of combat and crashing headlong into the ork nob with all the grace of a tarsus of ancient Terra.

The impact with rock hard xeno flesh was staggering, but momentum favoured the young Templar and he sought to bleed every advantage from the coming fight that he could. Servos growling with each powerful stride, Theo continued to push forward driving the bulk of the surprised ork with him and into the reinforced wall of the outpost.

The rockrete shattered, thundering like a cannon report, as he drove the xeno into its unforgiving surface, chips of the fractured material raining down on the curved surfaces of Theo’s shoulder guards as he held the ork pinned against the wall.

The beast, however, recovered with surprising speed and lashed out at him with a corded fist that connected with the side of Theo’s helm. The blow rocked the young Templar back on his heels for a moment, the impact hard enough to send a brief spray of static across his vision. Theo’s chainsword snarled to life even as the ork’s thick fingers closed around a bulky gun at its hip and ripped it free of its leather holster.

The impacts were point blank, the xeno pumping four rounds into the armour at his midsection. Theo’s holy battleplate held up to the barrage, but a new runic icon at the corner of his vision let him know that the integrity of his lower abdominal armour had suffered damage. Theo blinked it away with the barest grunt of acknowledgement.

The nob finally got a good look at the think that had smashed it into the wall and its scarred lips pulled back in a wicked grin across its yellowed teeth, a link from a thick chain piercing its lower lip was sent quivering by the action.

Piggish eyes met the emotionless gaze of blood red lenses as Theo felt his rage harden to diamond at the flash of intelligence that lurked in their depths. No xenos had the right to think like mankind.

The snarling teeth of his chainsword arched downwards, scoring only a flesh wound as the ork surged forward. Its fist met Theo’s shoulder with a thud of muscle on ceramite, but its backstroke was ferocious and clipped his wrist, sending his chainsword spinning out of a suddenly numb grip. It dropped to his side, still chained to his form but out of immediate reach.

The butt of Theo’s pistol cracked against the side of the nob’s skull, leaving a bleeding gouge in the xeno’s temple as Theo blocked a second swipe of the thing’s fist with now empty swordarm. It was brutally strong, each blow sending the chains binding Theo’s weapons singing against one another. Theo pistoned in with his own armoured fist, connecting with the ork’s sternum with a faint, meaty crunch, before hammering his right knee into its exposed side.

With the soft sigh of steel coming free of well-oiled leather, Theo took the moment to tear his combat blade free of its sheath where it was bound on his right leg.

The weapon cost him an instant’s waning of his guard and the ork seized it to deliver a rocking blow to the helm that sent Theo back a half step. The metallic copper on the back of his tongue warned Theo about the sheer strength of this xeno.

The nob started forward after him, only to be met with the mono-molecular edge of Theo’s combat blade sinking to its grip in its gut as the young Templar surged forward in a vicious return strike that pushed the xeno back against the fractured surface of the wall.

Theo twisted the blade as he pulled it free, green blood trailing from the silver blade as it slid from the wound before stepped to the side to bring his pistol to bear on the mass of its bulk.


This xeno will not die easy, I can see it in its eyes, taste it on its foul reek that fills my senses with disgust.

It is a survivor, cunning out of measure to its kin.

Every moment it is left alive is an affront to my oaths.

I pull the trigger twice in the time it takes my hearts to finish a beat.
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post #33 of 60 (permalink) Old 03-25-16, 02:50 PM
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The pace of battle of this ferocity was like nothing I had ever experienced. The frantic oscillation between action and fragile stillness was exhausting. I believed I had faced the worst nature had to offer but these orks…I lacked to words to describe what was so unnerving about them. They possessed all the primal fury of a force of nature. The wind and the waves were infinite though, or at least so large that their power seemed reasonable. Such savagery being contained in such small vessels seemed un-natural. But then, they were xenos. I heard the rhetoric of countless sermons in my ear. Nothing about them was natural, and that was an affront to the Emperor and Terra.

My body was coursing with adrenaline and I propped my las-carbine on the window frame. The solid frame would hold the gun steadier than I trusted my hands to in this moment. I picked my mark and although I saw other’s las-bolts begin to fly, I held off for a moment. My father had always taught me the virtue of patience and it hadn’t failed me yet. The stock of the gun quivered slightly in the crook of my arm. I closed one eye, breathed deep and fired.

I had aimed for the head of an ork, but whether it was my restless muscles, the sights of my gun or my own aim, my shots went slightly wide. All I managed to do was strafe the shoulder of the ork in question. The brute returned fire with wild abandon, but I didn’t keep my head up for long enough to watch it. The xeno’s aim was appalling, but I felt the impact of their bullets through the rockrete and knew that, even if it was only by blind chance, a hit from such a weapon would likely be fatal.

I clenched my las-rifle tight against my chest, my back against the outer wall. I was waiting for the orks to become distracted or to reload and then I would risk taking a few more shots. I was just preparing myself for that moment when I saw something fly overhead, bounce on one of the tables and roll onto the floor. My brow furrowed. The realisation dawned as one of the off-worlders shouted his warning.

“Move!” I shouted at the man beside me, Zach, as I elbowed him in the side. He was getting to his feet, but too slowly. I grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket, using his own momentum to propel him behind the column and table in the corner beside the window. I dived after him, the bulk of my frame behind the column as the grenade went off and filled our little world with fire and metal.

The force of landing on the floor and the shockwave of the grenade made my whole body ache for a second or two. I turned over to see if anyone had died in the blast and instantly all the dull aches of my body converged into a shard of pain in my lower leg. I flinched. My hand felt the meat of my left calf and found a shard of metal about half way down, almost entirely embedded. I gritted my teeth. I knew enough to not remove the shard now. As uncomfortable as it was, it was also stemming the flow of blood. Remove it when the battle is over, I resolved.

I peered out from behind the column. The two off-worlders seemed to have survived. Liam had too but only because a third corpse, in the same fatigues as the other off-worlders albeit now shredded and caked in blood, was draped over him. He looked behind him. Zach seemed to be fine. “Come one, they still need our help.” I said, staggering back to the window. There was no choice. Mourning, fear, pain, death. If we gave into them here, we would not survive. I pressed such feelings into the recesses of my mind. I lined up a shot, steadied my las-carbine once more on the window-frame, and fired…

My contribution to the Renegades saga. Check it out

My growing IIIrd legion stuff:

17th Millenial (Homebrew Fluff) - "Children of the Emperor, death to his foes!" (Project Log)

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post #34 of 60 (permalink) Old 03-31-16, 02:41 AM
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There it is again, that rush, the feeling of lives extinguished, the exhilaration of your life on a knife's edge, That's the feeling I live for.

The hulkish figure of Hal Varks slouched over his las carbine, slowly chipping at the pressed imperial aquila with a yellowed thumb nail, the only sign of his train of thought. His weathered helm sat loosely upon his head, casting a shadow over his terse expression, shading two furious blue eyes. He held one foot up on the bench of his troop carrier, little more than a supply truck confiscated for the war effort.

Hal tore his eyes away from the offending shape of the aquila, noting the tip of the left wing was jaggedly scraped off. The ex prison dweller held a passionate dislike for the majority of the Imperium after seeing just what and who controlled it. It wasn't the will of the almighty Emperor, it wasn't the greatness of man,. No, it was only the false priest who sully His name, the corrupted, petty, selfish ecclesiarchal ministers and those who blindly followed their radical ideals, their righteous judgments, their utter madness.

Snorting in disgust, Hal put away his bitterness for the Imperium for another time, instead taking in the twilight sky, and the almost palpable fear and excitement of his fellow troopers. He watched the fading light of the sun as it sunk below the horizon, he watched distant and foreign lights dance in the darkened skies, occasional bursts of brilliant flame and the imposing figure of the alien space hulk, lurking in the night. His deep set eyes locked on to each figure in the rumbling cradle of the PDF carrier, he saw men who had withering hides and weary expressions showing their natural age, he saw men who lacked any formidable muscle or grit showing that they were not truly warriors, and some were merely boys, not even past the age of fifteen and yet they were forced into oversized shoes of a solider, clutching their las carbines and shacking from the thought of such a dreaded opponent.

The sight elected a sigh of disappointment, Hal really wasn't sure if any of them had the mettle to stick out a war, to be able to stand against such a numerable and brutish menace. Orks... the thought of such beast implanted a feeling of fear in his muscled breast, but the thought of such a savage enemy gave him a small burst of exhilaration. Not many things could make him feel threatened, especially after asserting his strength in the penal wards he had been wrongly subjugated to.

Hal gave a small grin, something that did not hold any mirth, only a twisted feeling of expectancy. "I guess I have two things to thank these Orks for now." He muttered under the din of the two guttering engines of the troop transports.

Shaking his head, wolfish grin still holding, Hal couldn't help but start to feel nigh ecstatic of the invaders' coming. He could finally feel the flow of fear in his veins again, he could finally be faced with a threat beyond the faceless mask of guard servitors, or the skittering eyes of the criminally accused. He tightened his grip on the cheaply made rifle in his hands, relishing the feeling of hard pressed metal digging into his thick hide. He finally had something to fear, something to fight a real battle with, something to claim a life worth claiming. His grin grew wider and wider, revealing his sharpened teeth, filed down to a point with a prison shiv years ago. His eyes, shadowed by his brow and helm, gleamed with a fire of anticipation barely contained by his prior professional life.

Just as Hal was about to lose himself in the thought of battle, his hauler came to a sudden halt, and into a rocking crash. At the spot Hal was occupying at that moment, bodies of flailing citizen soldiers crashed into him as they lurched forward, momentum carrying them straight into Hal. Hal himself was sent crashing into the wall that divided the cabin from the bed of the hauler, and he soon felt the weight of a mass of confused men slamming into him, stealing his breath from his lungs.

Feeling the inky blackness of unconsciousness try to grasp at him, Hal engaged his arms in pushing the troopers off of him, taking in several large breaths of air to fight back the encroaching blackout. Giving a growl of annoyance, Hal stood up into a hunched stance, his rifle gripped tightly in his massive paws. The sound of whooping jeers and gravely laughter met his ears along the sound of gurgling engines and the distant pops of automatic gunfire.

Hal's eyes widened in understanding, this was it, this was what he was waiting for, what he owed his freedom to, the Orks!

He wanted nothing more than to let loose a primal roar of challenge, to draw his combat knife and charge headlong into the shadowy figures of the distant invaders, but his old instincts and lessons of his mother told him to fight the urge, the urge that was straining every fiber of his being just to stay in his current pose. He saw what men who had finally seized their orientation begin to pile out of the truck and dash for the looming shape of their designated outpost. His old self was yelling at him to join his comrades, to flee to a more advantageous position to fight the aliens, but his own bestial urge telling him to attack right away, to fling himself into the melee.

Cursing, Hal steeled himself and leaped onto the rusty soil of his world, and began to book it towards his given objective. He motivated himself with thoughts of his family's past honors, of his Guardsman heritage, of his mother's fiery will.

He heard the chug of a heavy stubber behind him, and the explosion of grenades following behind, and chuckled. "Krassus," He whispered with a knowing tone in between puffs of breath. He had always held an admiration for the big man, they hadn't talked too much during their one month of training, but Hal recognized the danger in the man. He could feel the complete lack of concern for himself, and sense of apathy for most everything in that man, he held wounds beyond repair in his heart, and that made him a man with little to lose. Hal held respect for him, for even he didn't posses such lack of concern for himself like Dom, sure he would go out and fight in hand to hand, even with these hulking beast, but he still held a strong sense of self preservation.

Halting his sprint with a turning slide, Hal brought his las carbine up to his eyes, which were hidden completely now in his helmet's shadow.Picking out the zooming figure of a shanty contraption, Hal took aim and let loose a string of shots, sending blazing spears of red through the night. Without confirmation of a hit, the grinning man turned on his heel and sprinted a few more meters, stopped, and shot another three beams of laser fire into the dismounted mob of startlingly fast beast, careful not to hit his own comrades.

He could see them now, their massive bodies strapped with all manner of jagged, rusty baubles and spikes, armed with massive blades and booming hand canons. Their green skin was smeared with soot and blood, making their beady red eyes practically glow in the dim twilight. Pausing only for a moment, Hal saw the heavy set figure of Dom sprinting past many of the other fleeing troopers and gave a grunt of satisfaction. He wasn't too keen on having the only man in his squad deserving of his respect die right off the bat, firing one last shot from his las carbine, Hal saw it fit to flee towards the oddly silent outpost.

Hal had no trouble keeping up his speed, and he soon found himself past the steel doors of the outpost and sliding into the courtyard, and just like the walls, it was empty. Not giving any time to ponder it, Hal saw the figure of one of his squadmates beginning to close the doors, yet only a few of the other troopers had entered its protective perimeter. Recognizing the figure who had initiated closing the doors, Hal frowned in contempt, it was Jakon Laveer, a stuck up aristocrat playing soldier and pretending to be the unofficial commander of their squad. well. that was Hal's opinion at least.

Growling in the face of his cowardice, the ex prisoner was going to reach out to Laveer and stop him, but one look out of the outpost doors told him it wasn't needed. The rest of the troopers either were about to get in, or already lay broken under the greenskin's stampede, if not already inside the rockrete walls.

Shaking his head free of sentimental thought, Hal sprinted up the staircase of the outer walls and slammed himself down onto the ramparts. Bringing his rifle up to aim, Hal shot four consecutive shots into the charging xenos, the thin beams either stabbing into the thick hides of the orks, or thudding the ground, seemingly equally as useful in putting down the enemy.

Pushing himself to the ground, Hal ducked under the rampart to see many of his fellow troopers had joined hi up the wall, sadly, so had that coward Laveer. Hal glared at his still form for a few moments, not seeing him aim over the barrier and shoot once. Slamming another charge into his carbine, Hal risked another volley at the aliens, bearing his sharpened teeth at their massive tusks.

"Oh shit!" Hal hissed out before attempting to jump away from the incoming stream of blazing fire, but he had failed to protect his left shoulder from the spewing flames. Loosing his balance, he fell a good amount into the dusty floor, feeling the air expunge itself from his lungs, and the blazing heat of the flame currently burning at his shoulder.

Pushing himself, the blond man began to rub his shoulder into the ground to smother the flames, but in doing so he had pressed the fire closer into his skin, burning him harshly. Biting back a scream, trooper Varks heard the distinct cry of "Bomb!" Out of instinct, Hal covered his face and braced for the shockwave for a brief amount of time, but nothing came, then he saw the doors blast open with a plume of fire billowing in.

"Doors open boyz, 'ave at 'em!" Roared through the night air, and Hal felt a sense of dread and eagerness as the massive forms of the greenskins burst through. He was still on the ground, but he wasn't at the immediate attention of the mob as they charged the few others on the ground with him.

Pushing himself up against the wall, he began to fire thoughtlessly into the crowd of savages, only seeming to do little than piss them off with his las carbine. Just then, two things happened that rocked the orks from their charge. The first was multiple rifles began to spew las rounds from the central building across the courtyard, peppering the invaders further.

Secondly, and most shocking, was the hulking, although not as massive as the ork leader, smashed into said leader with a battle worn shoulder of black and white ceramite. They both were sent reeling into the primary building and began to hammer at each other, their blows growing fiercer and fiercer. Hal couldn't believe his eyes, what stood before him, facing off with the enemy chieftain was the living embodiment of the Emperor's fury, the grandchild of His holy progeny, the mighty Adeptus Astartes, A Space Marine.

Halting for a few more seconds, Hal tore his eyes from the duel of monstrous power, if he was going to live to fight another day, he was going to have to do some damage here. Slamming yet another las charge into his carbine, Hal began to fire into one specific ork who seemed to have found an interest in him and began to lumber towards him.

"Die you greenskin scum!" Hal roared out in his gravely voice, firing wildly.

Last edited by Khornate Renegade; 03-31-16 at 02:51 AM.
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post #35 of 60 (permalink) Old 04-02-16, 01:39 AM
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'Fugging Throne,' Elias was on his back, his ears ringing as smoke filled his nostrils and mouth. He snapped his rebreather back on and inhaled, deeply, eyes scanning the gloom. Tobias was crumpled besides him, though already stirring - Rifle couched, on his knees, and then on his feet. 'Here we go.'

Elias followed suit - Glanced at Jaques and nodded, and stood into a shattered window. Shards of glass littered the ground, crunching under his boots, reflecting fire-light in a thousand twinkling shades. In the courtyard below, PDF troopers were enacting a fighting retreat - Panicking, fleeing, dying. They came for them, the Orks, feral in their leather and mail. Crude guns barked, cruder blades hacked. It was a brutal, one-sided affair, and Elias knew it was his duty, as a soldier of the Imperium, to fight.

He did not want to fight. He wanted to run.

A hulk of flesh entered the compound, a xeno war-leader. Elias saw the snubbed snout, a forest of teeth, dark and, scarily, intelligent eyes. Their gazes met - The Ork's scarred lips peeled back in mockery, and Elias shot it. Short and controlled, the burst struck the beast's neckline - Scorching gorget and hide. Close, but not close enough.

He fired again. His shots hit home, but on it came, pointed a clawed finger and roaring orders. Two more bursts, and the monster stopped - Blood-smoke rising from a wound. It looked bored, annoyed, as it drew a grenade from a pouch.

Elias was moving before the grenade sailed into the air.

He barrelled the trooper next to him over, hands wrapping around him. 'Grenade!'

They hit the ground, Elias shielding his newly-made ally. The air decompressed, filled with shrapnel and fire. Light bloomed.

He expected death, but was granted life - Unharmed, miraculously.

'Tobias,' He called, voice hoarse. The ringing in his ears had returned. 'Jaques? Sound off!'

Nyctophobia- Fear of the Dark Angel.

"No one ever spoke about of those two absent brothers. Their separate tragedies had seemed like aberrations. Had they, in fact, been warnings that no one had heeded?"

'Killing a man is like fucking, boy, only instead of giving life you take it. You experience the ecstasy of penetration as your warhead enters the enemy's belly and the shaft follows. You see the whites of his eyes roll inside the sockets of his helmet. You feel his knees give way beneath him and the weight of his faltering flesh draw down the point of your spear. Are you picturing this?'
'Yes, lord.'
'Is your dick hard yet?'
'No, lord.'
''What? You've got your spear in a man's guts and your dog isn't stiff? What are you, a woman?'
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post #36 of 60 (permalink) Old 04-04-16, 04:40 PM
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His first shot went wide, going far to the right of an Ork and impacting on a wall. Liam cursed, because every miss now meant the difference between life and death. A few seconds later his carbine whined ready, and Liam took aim again in time to see one of the Orks bounding for Jakon who was still on the ground crawling for his own gun. Reciting the litany of accuracy, Liam breathed out and pulled the trigger.

This time his lasbeam struck true and hit the alien square in the head. It staggered, one hand reaching up to its ruined face as a group of shots stiched into its body. Those shots seemed to do the trick, the Ork falling onto its back, dead as far as could be seen. "Get up LaVeer! Quick!" Liam yelled to the prone trooper; he might be a bastard for trying to lock him and others out but Liam would the bastard shooting at Orks than not having the extra gun.

More of the Orks poured in, with their leader taking a shot from the other off-worlder. Looking away, Liam noticed that the number of Orks had been cut in half from the trucks. The remnants of the platoon had maybe accounted for three, four now with the one he and the offworlder had killed.

"Gernad!" Someone yelled, making Liam look around in time to see the offworlders hit the ground for cover. And thats when he saw it, a metal can attached to a stick of wood, the yelled word starting to make sense to him. Turning around and looking for something to put him between the object that would surely be his death, Liam started to yell grenade when it went off. Something heavy smashed into him, dropping Liam to the ground where he closed his eyes waiting for the pain.

It didn't come though, instead he had the pain of the wind being knocked out of him and something heavy on top of him. Squirming forward, Liam turned onto his back and saw the shredded body of the third offworlder dead where he lay. It was clear the man had shielded Liam from the grenade, trading a life for a life which Liam did not know how to feel about.

A massive crash shook the entire room, making Liam jump at the sound and franticly look around for its source.
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post #37 of 60 (permalink) Old 04-04-16, 05:00 PM Thread Starter
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Theodoricus; The bolt rounds punch into the beasts flesh, the first round burrowing into the nobs gut and exploding out the back while the second goes higher and buries into the aliens chest. The Ork roars, its green blood gushing out of the things lower jaw and onto your armour. It rockets a fist into your head again before surging forward and grabbing you by the arm and hauling you around.

With a grunt and weaker roar, the nob shoves you into the wall and laying into you with its gun like a club. So hard and heavy are the blows and your combined weight that the wall gives and you both fall backward and into the room now behind you. As you both hit the ground, you smash a clenched fist into the nobs face, rolling on top of the creature and burying your knife to the hilt into the greenskins chest.

[Take up your chainsword and finish this thing, it will try to resist but that will ultimately be pointless. A quick glance will reveal that your location is occupied by the people these Orks had been chasing. Time to end this animal and dispatch its followers.]

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post #38 of 60 (permalink) Old 04-05-16, 08:36 AM
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The Orks were inside the gate. Death was upon them.

With malicious glee the beastly green monsters set about the nearest of the defenders, still laid prone and stunned from the force of the blast.

Jakon's body ached from the impact as the explosion had thrown him to the ground and tingled where he has briefly burned. Though his head had been foggy, the voice of the Ork leader had quickly snapped him back to reality. He watched in horror as men were butchered by vicious cleavers and axes, their bodies hacked to bloody chunks as they tried in vain to scramble away.

Then one headed towards him.

Jakon looked around for his weapon, spotting it several feet away to his left. He tried to get to his feet but his legs were shaking and gave way beneath him. He stumbled and fell, fighting to his feet, stumbling and falling again in an awkward pattern neither running nor crawling. Behind him he could hear the cackling and heavy foot falls of the Ork approaching behind him, every one making his heart pound heavier in his chest.

The las carbine was within reach and with a desperate leap he wrapped his hand around it. He rolled onto his back. The shot was fired one handed mid roll and flew wide, the unsupported stock of the weapon kicking back and hitting him painfully in the shoulder. The carbine whined as it cooled and readied itself for a second shot. It went high and glanced off the armour of the Orks shoulder.

Now it was upon him, looming over him like the inescapable spirit of death itself. It raised it's giant blood drenched blade overhead and leapt. Jakon squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and prayed that he would die quickly.

One second passed into the next and the next and the next. Why was the beast toying with him? Against his will, Jakon's eyes opened. The Ork was dead. It laid where it had fallen, dropped down to Jakon's right. It's right side smouldered from multiple burns where las bolts had found the weaknesses in it's armour. He had no idea where they had come from but it seemed the Emperor was with him this day.

He got to his feet, able to keep them beneath himself this time. With a tight grip on his weapon he made to retreat from the courtyard, away from the slaughter. The Orks though had different ideas. A blade glimmered in the weak sunlight in the corner of his eye and Jakon dropped on instinct. He felt the blade cut the air above his head and as he straightened up again finally saw it's bearer. Another Ork, as large as the last, covered in crude armour plates, chainmail and animal skins, reversed its momentum and swung it's enormous blade for Jakon's abdomen. It was too low to duck beneath, too long to back away from. In desperation LaVeer thrust his carbine towards the blade and prayed it would hold. It did, just, the Ork's weapon biting deep into the body of the firearm. Though the gun held, Jakon's arms buckled under the weight of the blow and the weapon almost fell from his grip as pain shot through his forearms. This would prove to be his saving grace as carbine bent slightly around the Ork blade, trapping it.

Jakon would have thanked the Emperor for his good fortune. But now he stood, locked together with the Ork so close he could see the veins in his green and blood shot eyes.
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post #39 of 60 (permalink) Old 04-06-16, 12:05 AM
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Default Death of a Greenskin

The howls of giddy green beasts filled the air as Krassus fired salvo after salvo into the charging beasts, the troops on the ground completely at their mercy. His salvo's did little but to scatter the inhumanly agile behemoths, much to his disappointment. Krassus continued with his steady barrage, but something caught his eye, something big and armored, it was different than the orks and colored black and white. Whatever it was it was covered in ceramite armor, which Dom would rather be wearing than this supposedly standard issue crap they called armor.

However he could not contemplate this new predicament for long, as the battle below raged with las blasts and whizzing high caliber slugs, one of the green monsters decided that Dom was not best left alone. A bullet flew right by his head and left a nice sized crater in the wall behind him, he guessed fate jut wasn't ready to let him die then and there. Not like he would make it easy anyways, that would be a disservice to his entire life, and the most important person in it, or that used to be.

He couldn't get lost in his thoughts, as he heard the the battle below continue, and the ork that finally took notice of him decided it wanted to get close and personal. It was surprising how quickly the beast made it up the stairs made for men that were much smaller, it frothed at the mouth and roared, however Dom was more than ready for it, and the nice corridor that the top of the wall made, would mean there was no possible way to miss.

"Let's see you fucking shrug this off you green blighter!" Dom growled at the charging beast, that wouldn't be moving for much longer.

His finger touched the trigger, it was if the moment was frozen in time, his heart raced as he saw the coming kill. The trigger pulled and a steady stream of high caliber death poured from the barrel, the rounds flew and pierced the legs of the beast, utterly destroying flesh and bone as they ripped through and caused the ork to topple forward and crash on its face.

The beast looked up at him immediately trying to crawl forward with its big sharpened slab of a blade in one hand while the other pulled it forward, the lower parts of its legs detaching from where only the slightest amount of flesh had kept them connected. The beast seemed unfazed by this, entirely focused on trying to kill Dom. However the beast would not have the satisfaction as another slew of rounds tore at its massive arms, crippling it further as it began to bleed out. It stared at Krassus in utter defiance at its fate, as it gave a last shout.

"Pathetic." Was all Dom said as his final trigger pulled filled its skull with round after round, leaving the beast utterly destroyed and unrecognizable. The splatter from this close encounter left Dom covered in the xeno blood, which he promptly wiped from his face.

With that he moved forward to find a better position to lay down fire from as he head towards the stairs, he made sure to get his gun loaded up before he peeked around the corner to fire at the other beasts and hopefully keep some more of these unlucky bastards from dying.

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post #40 of 60 (permalink) Old 04-06-16, 08:08 AM
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Without so much as a word of acknowledgement, the PDF trooper fired his lasgun. Whether he had been aiming at the same Ork that Tobias had designated or not, it didn't matter, because the only thing damaged by his shot was the far wall.

Tobias grimaced in disdain, while his ally cursed and started whispering some words.

Miraculously, the trooper's second shot found its way between the eyes of the Ork. It's hand swung up to the wound, which was most likely an automatic reaction of the nervous system, but this was an alien monster, and Tobias wasn't taking any chances. He put several rounds into the things midsection to make sure it was dead. He was satisfied once it slumped over in a heap.

Tobias took a moment to take in the scene in front of him, now, as he scanned for a second target. It was nothing short of brutal. The Orks were cleaving though these PDF troops like they were nothing. They were putting some of the greenskins down, but in terms of physical strength these things far outclassed any man he had ever met. He suddenly noticed a large black figure in the midst of flame, smoke, bodies, and blood. He began to squint, trying to figure out if it was an Ork, or if it was fighting with one. Before he could determine anything more, he heard his brother yell a warning. He knew it was his brother not just from his tone of voice, but also because there was no accent on it like there was from the burst of communication he had heard from these locals when they barged through the door.

Tobias left the PDF Trooper on his own to find cover, leaving the window's edge in a short run and dive that brought him behind some consoles built into the room. The blast went off, sending a shockwave through the room. He could feel the wave as it passed through his chest.

Immediately after, his hearing was gone, replaced by a loud, sharp ringing. He carefully peered around his cover, and what he saw made his heart feel caught in his throat. It took a moment to recognize that most of the mess in front of him was actually Jacques's tattered remains, and not Elias's. Some sound began to make its way through his eardrums. It sounded like faint, distant shouting, but he was able to make out the words.

'Tobias?...Jacques? Sound off!'

'I'm still here.' he said aloud, followed by a short cough from inhaling too much debris. Tobias picked himself up on legs that were less sure than they'd ever been, and he moved back toward the window sill, keeping his head down. He noticed his brother was closer to him now, as he let go of the trooper he had apparently saved.

Tobias didn't look at him. He peered out the window, another grimace on his face.

'And Jacques's... Jacques's was good, too.'

You can never be prepared for the unexpected

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