|
|
Post by Admin on Mar 8, 2013 15:04:30 GMT -5
It wasn't the heat of the flames, the gunfire, or screams of terrified civilians that stirred him. It was the odour. He had smelled it before, death, rot, voided bowels... it never got any less repugnant.
His head rolled back for a second, and a low moan escaped his lips. He probably had a concussion, his head swam in agony. His eyes slowly opened, but for a moment he was blind. When he began to register his surroundings, he remembered. His valkyrie had crash landed in the hive city, somewhere low. The pilot had somehow managed to keep the crippled flier from smashing into one of the sky scrapers and put it down on one of the main highways in the city.
He tried to move, he was paralyzed, no, restrained by his harness. His eyes began to survey what remained of the passenger cabin. Tangles of wires spilled out of smashed panels like intestines from an eviscerated stomach. Shattered glass littered the floor along with flecks of the crunched plasteel of the interior. The cabin reeked of death, of which the source he found quicky. The Junior officer that had rode beside him was still, his head wrenched at an unnatural angle. His neck had been broken in the crash. More gruesome still was the other guardsman, whose body had been crushed when the cabin above him caved in.
He held in the urge to vomit, there was no need to add to the filth. He tried again to free himself. A new surge of pain arose in him from his ribs. He had definitely broken a few of them in the crash, and his right knee felt funny.
Then he heard the gnashing.
Even though his head was still swimming, he could still pinpoint the direction of the sound. It was coming from the cockpit. The door had been tore open and he could see the pilot, at least a part of him, still moving.
"Pilot, are you alright?" Lord Craft forced through his lips, tasting iron. There was no response, just the pilot shifting about slightly.
"Pilot, answer me!"
The Body stopped moving.
To the horror of the Governor, a head poked up. Not the pilot's but that of another man, whose face was covered in blood, and from whose torn jaw hung a generous section of the pilot's intestines. The Governor jolted in surprise, and struggled with his harness, but it was stuck.
The creature immediately lost interest in its current feast and snarled at the Governor. Lord Craft strained against his bonds with formidable might, but the durable design that had saved his life before was now doomed to kill him. THe creature lumbered towards him. At one point the man had been quite handsome, even looked like Lord Craft's son, angular jawline, thin, but muscular build... now its face was worn and it was a mindless servant of the plague god. And it drew closer.
Finally giving up on his restraints, he turned his attention to his holster. His pistol hung there, but it was centimeters out of his reach. He let out a gasp of pain and fought his restraints, but the Emperor saw fit that it was just out of his reach. The Creature stood above him now, reaching its corrupted hands to grasp the defenseless Official.
COnsigned to death, the Governor thumbed an activation rune on the frag grenade hung by hist belt. He might die, but he was certaintly not going to feed this plague zombie.
|
|
gazzz477
Acolyte
We make war, so that we may live in peace
Posts: 77
|
Post by gazzz477 on Mar 9, 2013 18:16:05 GMT -5
After climbing the elevated train track- which would be difficult if not impossible of an ordinary human- Kald'r did not stop for even a breath as he tore open the magnetically closed pouch carrying his spare bolter ammunition. Nine clips left, should of refilled before he left the muster point. Deciding to leave the bolter for larger foes, like the plague-marines he was clearly to face, he pulled his holy bolt-pistol from it's magnetic clamp.
'Just bloody perfect, why do these buggers take so much effort to kill.' the crimson fist silently thought to himself. He eventually reached the front door to the train, aline with the platform. Kicking in the flimsy metal door- was the plague really that powerful here?- he brought down his bolt-pistol in a straight arm aim. Four of the many plague-bearers turned instantly to see him in the split second before he fired. Four shots, five headshots as one round tore straight through one of the plague-bearer's decaying craniums. Allowing himself a slight chuckle at his luck, more melta blasts rung through the train. So someone was alive, but was it a loyalist or something chaotic. As the bolt-rounds in his clip began to shallow, he prepared to grab his sheathed relic blade. That was until a melta-blast melted through the metal roof, which to he honest wasn't surprising as it was fired point blank. And from the breach fell a shadow, firing the orange brown light of a melta gun towards the group of plague-bearers, evaporating the four at the back. Spotting it fumble with a small metal canister, Kald'r spotted a plague-bearer shuffling towards it. Not caring if the new shadow was friend or foe, Kald'r quickly executed the zombie. The mystery creature fired on the zombies, further reducing some into ash with it's melta. Kald'r decided to quickly wipe out the remaining zombies and deal with the newcomer afterwards. As his bolt-pistol clicked empty, Kald'r decided to play a bluff. As the newcomer aimed it's melta-gun at the kill-marine, squinting it's eyes, possibly to recognise his armour...maybe due to black armour being common in chaos forces. Deciding to break the awkward silence, Manin clicked on his external microphone.
“I am Brother Kill-Marine Kald'r Manin, Deathwatch, Ordos Xenos.” The marine said. The other swallowed visibly.
“Sister Anna, Order of the Penitent Heart. En route to report to the Lord Governor.” Kald'r, trusting her word...and due to his armour verifying her claim, lowered his weapon. With the battle sister following the action.
“Then it seems that our objectives are the same.” muttered the Crimson Fist as he clicked in a fresh magazine into his bolt-pistol and returned it to it's ornate holster.
|
|
Pyromaniac
Acolyte
Nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
Posts: 51
|
Post by Pyromaniac on Mar 9, 2013 22:49:28 GMT -5
Scelene was quick to learn that things were hardly better in the mid-hive than they had been in the lower hive, perhaps even worse. Despite her best efforts to remain undetected she'd already had several close encounters with the creatures that stalked around, killing any and all they encountered.
Ammunition was becoming a real issue for the young ganger. She'd never had very much to begin with and as it stood she only had one full magazine left for her auto-pistol and a magazine and a bit for her stubber.
She supposed she could always find something to club the things to death with but she found the idea of getting up close and personal with the things unappealing.
She found her way onto one of the highways that ran through the city, devoid of anything living as far as she could tell, but with plenty of dead scattered around. She searched them as she had searched many other corpses she'd encountered, although she no longer searched for valuables. Instead she searched for ammunition or water the quench her raging thirst.
She was largely unsuccessful, only finding a nearly empty canteen on a PDF trooper. Cursing loudly she threw the empty canteen down on the ground and moved on. It was only then that her luck finally began to change.
She neared a crashed valkyrie, recently crashed she hoped, and supposed she might be able to find a lasgun and some ammunition inside. It wouldn't be her first choice of weapon, but it would certainly be better than nothing.
Scelene crouched low and stepped through the shattered front window and into the cockpit, gagging as the stench death and defecation hit her, before noticing the eviscerated pilot.
She paused, hearing the sound of movement from further insider and drew her stubber before peaking into the passenger compartment. She fired three times at the twisted creature within, the last shot ricocheting around the compartment.
"Shit!" She cursed loudly as the shot whizzed passed her before she tripped and landed painfully on the ground, the shards of broken glass sticking in to her arm and palm.
|
|
|
|
Post by recklesscharge on Mar 12, 2013 16:48:45 GMT -5
Faust clung upside down to the array of pipes and ducts running across the bottom of the raised roadway. He was amazed by the silence. There were still sounds of fitful struggle here and there across the cityscape, the occasional gun shot or explosion, sometimes a forlorn scream reached his ears but for the most part the silence settled in over the once bustling hive like a smothering blanket.
Far below on ground level he watched as the endless dead decayed. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of people who had risen that morning to greet the day had fallen dead in the midst of their everyday duties struck down by plague only to rise again. He ‘watched’ them because the rate of their decay was such that he could hear their skin splitting, swelling with rot to burst with flatulent pops and gurgles.
Hissing softly through his sharp teeth he continued to climb, his long clawed arms and legs finding purchase easily enough even without all the hand holds the pipes afforded. Scuttling like a spider, he made his way along the roadway towards the distant but persistent sounds of combat. With a sick fascination he paused as ghouls plummeted over the side of the highway over head, even as they fell moaning and gnashing their teeth they reached for him.
‘They know I am here, they cannot see me or hear me but they know I am here.” He whispered so very softly under his breath. Holding still again as a public service train mounted on a track adjacent to the roadway thundered past he cocked his head it was difficult to hear over the sound of the mighty locomotive but he thought for a moment that he heard deep throaty gunfire from inside before it was past, chugging off into the distance that was his destination.
The valkyrie screamed by so suddenly and unexpectedly Faust nearly lost his grip and plummeted. As it was the roar of its turbines passing by so close nearly deafened him completely leaving him profoundly blind. He wouldn’t have even noticed its crash if not for the mighty vibrations that raced through the rockcrete he clung to.
Gritting his teeth, he waited for the ringing in his ears to subside before pressing on. He hadn’t made it far when the sound of gunfire much closer began to rattle and pop. He was close enough to catch the echolocation in stark relief and what he saw made his ears stand on end trying to catch every detail.
Snarling he scrambled up and over the side of the roadway scuttling in his odd disjointed four-limbed run towards the wrecked aircraft.
|
|
Infernatos
Nameless scum
Our lives for humanity
Posts: 23
|
Post by Infernatos on Mar 13, 2013 17:38:51 GMT -5
Chronus arrived on this Planet alone. He had lost his whole Squad, and they lost their lives at the hands of heretics. Chronus had been alone for two days.. a long time to get familiar with the sparse surroundings. He was on the outskirts of a city, only the train line high above to mark the Location as significant. Around 5 hours before he was highly aware that the train had gone past him, shaking the ground around his boots. As he was walking along, below the track, Chronus began to realize something was very wrong in the not so distant city. He found himself deep in thought, trying to figure out what it could possibly be... then he looked to the sky. A large fleet of ships had appeared over the city, without so much as a sound. Chronus knew what ships these were, the stench of chaos hanging low. He began to run towards the city, hoping to arrive there before the situation had gotten out of hand...
( ooc: if someone could tell me over Pm if I've gotten details wrong or if there's anything i could improve or need to fix that would be great, I'm rather new to this so I'm very sorry if i mess it up.)
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Mar 14, 2013 18:56:21 GMT -5
Just before the Governor released his grip on the grenade, a series of explosive hard shot rounds were sent into the broken valkyrie compartment. The zombie's head took one of the bullets, splattering brain and skull fragments and splashing blood over the trapped governor. The creature slumped to the ground and Lord Craft suddenly felt a modicum of liberation. The last round had ricocheted around the cabin and struck the malfunctioning lock mechanism.
He ripped free of the harness and pushed the creatures body away with a rough kick from his heavy boots. Before standing he lit a fresh cigar with a shaking hand. He wasn't sure who was out there, though. It could be yet another heretic, rushing to claim loot from this fallen loyalist vehicle. He unholstered his plasma pistol and leaned against the wall next to the doorway where the hatch had been shorn off from the crash. He waited a moment, nothing. That was until his vox chimed in. He answered it with his free hand.
"Report." He whispered.
"Lord Governor, we had feared you were lost, are you injured?"
"No, but the crew and valkyrie are no more. What's going on up there?"
"Things are looking bleak M'Lord, the CSM has taken command in your absence, but the 312nd Infantry post has gone dark, and the Palace is under attack from enemy forces."
"WHat are we looking at?"
"Traitor Astartes, Lord... they are attacking the palace in mass. They used the plague and countless cults to wreak havok in the lower city. When our forces went to engage the threat, the traitors made a precision strike on the Parleolelah Staircase." The Governor swore, the Parleolelah staircase was the doorstep of the palace, even though the structure was a mile long, the traitors were already too close for comfort. If they lost the palace, communications with the rest of the Imperium would be lost. "Lord, the Space Marines have arrived, two full squads of them are facing the traitor marines. They'll hold the line. I need your coordinates so we can send for you."
The Governor activated his beacon. "Good, I need to keep moving, I am vulnerable here. Lord Craft, out." He closed the channel then poked his head out.
"WHo goes there?"
|
|
Pyromaniac
Acolyte
Nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
Posts: 51
|
Post by Pyromaniac on Mar 14, 2013 19:19:24 GMT -5
Scelene hissed with pain as she pushed herself to her feet, shards of glass protruding from her left arm. She turned her arm back and forth in the dim light, trying to asses the damage, but she was no medicae.
She cursed under her breath and fell silent as vox chatter came from the next passenger area. Her breath caught in her throat when she heard a reply and she nearly gasped when the vox addressed the replier as 'Lord Governor'.
Best not stick around. She decided. The upper echelons weren't exactly known for their benevolence towards the lower classes. And she was a ganger on top of that, a ganger who had indulged in a bit of looting as she had wandered through the hive.
Yep, definitely better to leave before she was discovered.
"Who goes there?" The Governor called.
Fuck.
"Uh..." She said turning towards him and quickly slipping the gun she was holding into its holster and out of sight. She rubbed her head with her uninjured arm.
"People call me Spike." She said. "And uh... I could use a hand... with the glass..." She said holding up her injured arm to display the shards of glass sticking out of it.
|
|
gazzz477
Acolyte
We make war, so that we may live in peace
Posts: 77
|
Post by gazzz477 on Mar 16, 2013 7:04:19 GMT -5
After guiding the sister of battle out of the wrecked train, rotting itself from within due to the presence of the plague-bearers, Kill-Marine Manin wondered where on the planet he was.
Ruined buildings helped to clear his field of view, but not by much. Purely by the state of the remaining buildings and what the clothes that the multitude of rotting corpses on the floor were clad he guessed that he was in the upper echelon of the city. He wasn't too far from his- and the sister of battle's- objective, the Governor's palace. Deep within the veteran's 'guts' he could tell that going there was a bad idea...but he knew that would be where the leader, maybe just the field-commander but same difference, would attack.
“We have to rally forces, or else we WILL be slaughtered at the steps of the palace” reported Kald'r to the sister. “A thunderhawk landed at space port 219-Alpha...Battle Divers? Ever heard of them?”
It took a second or two for the sister of battle to realise that that was a question, mainly due to his lack of tone, and merely answered with a shrug. “I'll take that as a no.”
A couple of streets later, Manin couldn't help but wonder if his prey was actually on planet, but this thought only lasted nano, no micro-seconds. As for when he turned the corner, he swiftly dragged himself and the battle sister back into cover.
“Chaos dreadnought. Hell-brute class. Multi-melta and power-claws. Flanked by two plague-marines. Only bolters, thank the Emperor.” he quickly reported, before fitting a magazine into his bolter, marked with red tape. Kraken rounds, their adamantine core and improved propellant allow them to penetrate the thickest hide, or armour - even at extreme range. Ramming back the bolt of his weapon, sliding one of the mass-reactive bolt-shells into the chamber. He turned to face the battle-sister as she fitted a fresh cylinder of ammunition into her melta. Grinning under his helmet Kald'r quietly asks her “We gonna wreck it?”
|
|
Infernatos
Nameless scum
Our lives for humanity
Posts: 23
|
Post by Infernatos on Mar 19, 2013 16:47:09 GMT -5
Chronus followed the Train lines towards the center of the city, he had arrived at the edge of the city and was met with Plague-bearers. "Too Late" he thought as he ran them through with the Spear he favored. As he moved silently along Chronus had decided that it was too risky to take the lower routes, perhaps there would be a maintenance Passage along the Train Line.
Chronus walked alongside the track until he found an access point after about 20 minutes. After getting into the passage Chronus walked along the dank, drab corridor for an unknown time which he felt may have been at least 5 hours. The Marine was met with a ladder, it was clear that this was the end of the passage and he would have to move up onto the tracks.
The Light pierced the passage as Chronus appeared from the hatch on the floor of the track. He studied the surroundings and found the Train from before was quite a long way up the track, but it was still visible... and Wrecked. The buildings which now surrounded Chronus were visibly wasting away, most likely due to the Chaos forces in the Area. The track ahead seemed fairly empty so it would be an easy trip to the train.
The Marine moved swiftly and as he neared his destination the sounds of bolter fire became clearer and clearer. As he reached the train Chronus noticed the definite marks of a Melta having been used inside the train. " Good" he thought " perhaps there are some imperium forces on this bloody planet after all". Inside Chronus found only the half melted corpses of Plague-bearers, though some had been shot at short range, with deadly precision. This was uneasy news for Chronus as he was among highly skilled forces.
The only thing left to do was find out if they were Friend, or Foe.
( ooc: again apology's if i have made errors with the story, hope this is decent enough)
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Mar 24, 2013 15:12:52 GMT -5
Guardman Iyan Phelter risked a glance from behind his concealed position atop the weapons platform. The scene he saw was grim. His station was above the main gate that led into the massive hive city. The great gun beneath him thundered as it fired a massiver caliber round off into the distance, targeting some target that the scanners had picked up. There was no sign that the explosive had even hit anything, only a brief flash of light off in the grim smog. The once prounce hab blocks that surrounded the major hive were now shattered and deserted. The many of the citizens had fled into the city when the plague broke out, and many more soon thereafter, most muttering through terror-locked jaws about a massed army of footsoldiers slaughtering their people as they approached the gate. Phelter could only guess what was coming, but he had heard rumors... mutterings of a foul eight-pointed star crudely painted on once-loyal Leman RUss battle tanks, and frothing madmen leading lice and pox-stricken armies their way.
That's when the barrage came.
First came the flashes, discharges from countless battle tanks in the distance. Hundreds of tank shells screamed at the guardsman positions, crashing into the mile-high wall like great hammers of an ancient daemon. Guardsmen were screaming, raging infernos ignited as ammo caches were hit. The wall's great defenses roared in response, raining hellfire backl at the aggressor. Even still, the great salvos did not stop. Blocks of rockcrete the size of cathedrals shed through the wall, many landing harmlessly on the grime-crusted ground below, but others landed on guardsmen, some even crushing whole companies with megatons of masonry.
Phelter calmed himself, he was a guardsman, a protector of the Imperium and His homeworld, whoever these traitors were, they would not pass through the gate. DOwn below, he could see a great mass crossing into the killzone, rushing out of the thickening pollution towards the guardsmen positions at the very base of the gate. Heavy bolter fire rained upon the crowds, cutting bloody swathes. Mortars thunked and rained death upon the mass, who appeared to only be speeding up in the wake of blood.
Phelter rose the scope of his rifle to his eye and caught a glance. The men who rushed for the gates looked like hideous parodies of guardsmen, wearing tattered uniforms and carrying las-weaponry. But they were all wrong, pox-covered, bloated and sickly looking. Yet even in their sorry state, they moved with a swiftness that was unholy. Lasfire exploded from the loyal positions, disciplined volleys, that cut into the enemy ranks.
Phelter picked out what appeared to be an officer, weilding a spent power sabre shouting orders from behind a flipped land car. Phelter took a deep breath, adjusted for wind and distance, loaded his hard-round magazine, and fired. The officer's head exploded like a ripe fruit hit with a sledgehammer. He took another deep breath, and searched for a new target.
Lord-Govermor Craft examined the young hiver for a moment, keeping his humming plasma pistol trained on her. Hiver scum, no doubt, but not a Secundan, foreigner? Half-breed? It did not matter. He was in an EMperor-forsaken hellhole and he would utilize any help he could get. He lowered his pistol and spoke, "One moment." He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a aid kit. He crossed the open space quickly, watching for any snipers that could be in any number of the surrounding buildings. When he reached her, he opened the kit, "Give me your hands, we need to make this quick." His voice was gruff and hushed, and his eyes darted about. It was obvious that he was a well-trained soldier, froma long life of war.
Lord
|
|
|
|
Post by joeofthemasks on Mar 29, 2013 16:50:32 GMT -5
The walls of the palace were formidable. Their smoothed bulwarks withstanding many of the tanks blasts upon them. "This will take an age," whispered Diomhaire under his breath. His psyker flame still wrapping him in a protective blanket, numbing the concussive blasts from the siege engines. "If we continue to just smash at the walls they will never fall, we need to get to the men upon them." As Diomhaire finished speaking a smattering of explosive rounds smashed around him. The bursts killed several of the plauge zombies and drove the Marines into cover. The Sorcerer just stood there has the bullets were absorbed by his unholy fire. "If this is to be the place for the rise of your masters form, than The Inquisitorial Palace must fall." The unholy practitioner of magics continued to survey the fortress as he spoke his words to no one in particular. "I can feel them in there, their essence and their desires. We must squash them if we desire this place to fall."
With those last words Diomhaire strode forward to the edge of the chaos line. He tilted his body forward slightly as a plasma round devoured the air above his head before smashing into a Plague Marine. He smiled slightly to himself at the death, relishing his own life and the closeness of death. Unwrapping the his chain once more the psyker contemplated his surroundings. Using the blade to cut small nicks into his hands he focused on the pain, and through that the desires around him. The Plague Marines and Zombies were easy to remove from his thoughts, their desires simple and uncomplex. The defending humans though, their desires were delicious. His mind mewled around the defenders slowing their aim and lowering their morale.
Diomhaire then fell backwards, his neck snapping as if struck and blood flew from his mouth. "So," rasped the sorcerer, "they have someone with bite with them after all."
|
|
Pyromaniac
Acolyte
Nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
Posts: 51
|
Post by Pyromaniac on Mar 31, 2013 19:26:52 GMT -5
She remained silent as the governor examined her, his plasma pistol humming, sizing her up like a piece of meat she imagined. Of course she probably was a piece of meat to him.
She narrowed her eyes as he returned with an aid kit. He was helping her, which could only mean he wanted something from her. But what? A meat shield? Indentured servitude? Or maybe something more... carnal...
She grunted as the first piece of glass was pulled free of her arm. She could think of a dozen other things a noble man might want from her and none of them were good. In the end she decided to cut to the point. She'd always been good at reading people, she couldn't think of a reason why this would be any different.
"And what exactly what do you want from me?" She asked quite suddenly as another piece of glass was pulled free.
Scelene reached a hand to her holster gripping it with her hand. If she didn't like the answer, she might be able to dart away before he could draw a bead on her, especially if she popped off a few shots as she went
|
|
|
|
Post by recklesscharge on Apr 2, 2013 13:21:54 GMT -5
Faust was nearly to the downed Valkyrie when he stopped his powerful ears turning this way and that stood straight up and locked in the forward position as the throaty sounds of a bolter firing in the distance painted a picture in his mind of what lay ahead.
It was washed out and nearly invisible like the shadowy of a memory playing through his brain but for a moment he could ‘see’ a space marine, a loyalist and someone else making quick work of traitor marines. Faust felt his blood run cold, dispatched or not, if there were traitor marine’s ahead things were dark indeed.
Crouching down behind the bulk of an abandoned vehicle on the roadway, he tilted his head this way and that focusing once again on the occupants of the wrecked aircraft. They were quieter and he could ‘see’ the other better now, his fears for the Governors life diminished considerably as he ‘watched’ him bandage a tough looking girl in street clothes. Both seemed armed and jumpy however and he knew it would benefit nobody for him to reveal himself to them. Still there was much he could do to help.
Pausing briefly, as the battle in the distance reached a new muted volume he scuttled off making as wide a circuit of the valkyrie as he could with the limited space available to him. Keeping one protective ear turned towards the wrecked craft he padded in his awkward four-limbed gait further on until he reached a guard post set up to direct traffic on the side of the road.
Settling down on his haunches he listened for several long cautious minutes before he was satisfied there was nothing inside. Reaching out with long extra jointed fingers he tried the door to find it locked. However either someone had already kicked it in or some other great force had actually knocked the deadbolt through the frame allowing the door to swing open freely.
Stepping inside the floor under his hands and feet was tacky with congealing blood and in the corner a PDF trooper lay dead shot to pieces.
Sniffing and making little chirping sounds to aid his echolocation Faust slithered through the dark confines of the tiny little guard post ferreting out a lasrifle, carbine, and one heavy gauge autogun with a bandolier of ammunition. This along with a haversack full of standard rations and the canteen from the dead troopers belt he left outside stacked neatly in a pile visible to anyone walking down the road. Whether they needed it or not was entirely beside the point he was a branded Inquisitorial Sanctioned mutant trained for this type of thing, this would not be the only cache of weapons and supplies he prepared for the governor and his street girl companion.
With any luck and a little divine guidance, he felt sure he could steer them away from the worst of the danger before they even knew it existed, and if the loyalist space marine ahead survived his encounter with the traitor astartes he would try and guide him too, it was his duty after all, in effect serving the Emperor as a mutant was his only salvation.
|
|
verzuh
Nameless scum
Posts: 13
|
Post by verzuh on Apr 2, 2013 13:22:18 GMT -5
“Wreck the Dreadnaught.” Sister Anna repeated, happy to have an objective again. The Marine nodded and peered back around the corner again. Anna took a look as well and immediately pulled back. The Chaos walker was bigger than she had expected and Kald'r Manin had made an accurate assessment of the weapons. Anna made to lean out again when something caught her eye.
“Brother Kill-Marine,” She said tapping the marine’s armored forearm. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable behind his helmet. “Can you give me a lift?” She pointed above him and the marine followed her gesture to a second story window of the building they were in. The marine starred at her for a moment before dropping to one knee and holding out one massive arm palm up.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He said as she slung her melta and put one foot on his hand. In one motion the superhuman lifted her up and through the window. She climbed up, unslung her weapon, and looked back at the marine. “You have exactly 25 seconds before I engage these traitors.” He said. “I suggest you get into a good position.” Sister Anna nodded.
‘Wreck the dreadnaught.’ She thought to herself as she took off down the hallway she found herself in. She passed the first room and took the stairs back down to the ground level and flattened herself against the wall opposite the open door. She could smell the stench of the plague marines and hear them directly opposite her on the other side of the wall. She peaked out through the doorway and watched them pass her. She took a deep breath and spun around, passing through the doorway and raising her meltagun at the same time.
She found herself directly behind one of the plague marines. Without thinking she pressed the muzzle of her meltagun against the back of the marine’s helmet and pulled the trigger.
At that moment Kald'r Manin’s bolter fired.
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Apr 2, 2013 16:07:28 GMT -5
As Lord Craft finished with the bandaging, he looked up at the girl with his cold, steely eyes. "You need to come with me, we're not safe here." He pulled the bandages taut and pinned them. "If we both want to survive the madness, we'll need to get to the Ascension lift, and you'll need me for that." Anyone who knew the first thing about the hive city would immediately recognize the ascension lift, which was hands down the largest structure within the hive city. It was a massive elevator, that went from the dark reaches of the underhive, all the way up to the hive spires. The massive lift was able to transport profane amounts of weight, from easily a half-million civilians, to an Imperator Class War Titan. It was also no doubt the most well-guarded site in the hive besides the Governor's palace itself.
"Get me there, hiver, and I will make it worth your while." The Governor spat. That's what he wanted, the heartless old bastard... a deal. Trading what could be the girl's life for promises of riches. Typical Imperial official. But he was desperate, he didn't have many friends down here.
As if divinely on cue, there was a ear-piercing howl that was utterly horrific. A terrible beam of light lanced through one of the great hive walls, exploding through several dozen skyscrapers and narrowly missing the Ascension lift. The governor watched in utter horror as buildings crumbled to dust on the horizon. "W-we have to go now!!!"
Outside the wall, the thunderous steps of the titan were deafening, even over the raging battle. It was sheer perversity in the face of the Omnissiah. Several Tech-priests were notably driven insane by even the sight of it. It was disgusting, sore ridden, pus govered, rusted, and bloated. Meaty entrails spewed forth from its exposed gut, a curiousity, as it was once a machine. A single, broken horn arose from its head And even its skull-like visage looked decayed. One armament was the great weapon that lanced through the hive wall, some kind of eldreich beam that looked as if it harnessed the warp itself. The other armament was rather gruesome, the arm appeared to be impaling a chained-up daemon of nurgle, whose mouth vomited out massive spews of pure life anathema.
To Phelter, this was purely horrifying, but kilometers in the distance, and only a distraction. He sighted another target, and blew it away. His kill tally was well over three dozen now, including several officers. The littered bodies had become piles, then mounds, then hills... some even nearly scaling the low wall. Nearly half the defenders that stood at the wall that morning were left, but they were holding up remarkably well.
He went to sight another target, but something caught his eye below. He looked. And Immediately wished he hadn't. He felt himself mesmerized by the grace, the sheer beauty of his movement. He knew he should blow the heretic's head off, but he... just couldn't The sorcerer below, whether by accident or design, had just robbed the wall of its best sniper and bent him to his will with nothing more than a quick glance.
Far above them on the Steps to the governor's palace, the Space Marines fought a bloody battle against the Traitor Astartes and a growing wave of plague zombies arising from every orifice of the city. And down below at the base of the Ascension Lift, Countless millions of frightened citizens crowded for safety in the spaceport above. The wall surrounding the lift facility (which in and of itself was about the size of a large sports stadium) entrance was tall and borouque, lined with hundreds of automated weapon ports and lined with a full regiment of guardsmen manning the palisades above. The gate itself was guarded by a dozen hellhound tanks and thirty heavy bolter crews, which had to open fire on the crowds more than once that day to maintain order. But it was the safest location in the entire hive, and needed to be kept as such.
A simple message suddenly beamed over the voxnet on the channels reserved for anyone of high rank or status, filling the ears of any worthy and within range of the transmission. "This is Inquisitor Caddock Eldebrandt of the Ordo Archimedes." The voice was calm, a island amongst a hurricane. "I am in the Underhive at coordinate Alpha-Foxtrot 23648973. I need immediate assistance."
|
|
