|
Post by commisarblur on Jan 11, 2013 15:08:39 GMT -5
Follow the story: commissar.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=one&action=display&thread=16412Night and Day didn't seem to exist under the clover top canopies of the Essex jungle. So little sun light could pass through the massive tangled leafs that the underbrush coped by evolving illumination spores, bulbs, and ferns to attract tiny prey. Horse-wasps buzzed about drinking nectar from leeching vines that constricted to the biggest of the clover trees. Mating calls of the evasive ripper monkey, a species of primate with hooked claws instead of hands, echoed for miles. The humidity was a constant as the moisture feed tiny insects that fluttered aimlessly in the twilight. Sargent Arloo Grum checked Lucy's power settings while Ethel rested in her holster. He hardly noticed the bead of sweat running down his left painted cheek. This moisture was planning havoc both plasma's internal circuitry and thus Arloo had to make sure both of his girls were in no mood to choke up at performance time. Beneath the roots of a giant clover tree the Sargent waited like a shadowing panther. Next to him was Vork, a Catachan with little spine, patting some fresh mud to his cameo cloak. Paxx, another Catachan, spent his time preparing his soul with a murmur to bone ivory pray beads he acquired from the team's last mission on Mul. Both were tested veterans of a dozen campaigns. Men he could trust his very life with. He couldn't say the same for the newest trooper to the sliverbacks. She watched like a hawk through the tangled roots of the clover tree. Brown eyes that seemed as sharp as daggers. Her face was round like an orange and held a burnt scar across her right cheek. Her hair was black raven when it wasn't bunned up and hiding under that thick green Cadian helmet. The autorifle assigned to her seemed well kept and clean despite the necessary camouflage of fauna. Armor too. A perfect solider to some. Straight-laced; which Grum naturally detested but strange enough made him keep glancing at her. Those sharp brown eyes caught Grum looking at her. She showed no emotion; she was disciplined since childhood be a cold killing machine on the everlasting fields of battle. The sergeant was witness to this in several of the last ambushes. Its why he wanted her for part of his strike team. Her disciplined marksmanship put some of his best to shame, though he wouldn't admit it. The micro bead chirped inside Grum's ear channel which gave him the excuse he needed to look away. One tap later the familar voice of Corporal Blacktooth filled his head with the mission. //"Contacts bearing SW on trail nine. ETA four minutes to your position. over."\\ //"Targets?" over.\\ //"Two Ork trukkas and some sort of wide wagon between them. Our hawk spotted some mean looking guns on that thing. over."\\ //"Wait for the second trap to go off before engagement. We need them confused as hell breaks loose around them. over."\\ Replied the grizzled sergeant. //"Their orks, that should be easy enough. Observing Radio silence. over."\\ Paxx finished his pray and wrapped the beads under his cloak. Vork shook his head as he thought back to regretting joining the imperial guard all over again. The new trooper just looked at her CO with a subtle hint of concern for the coming engagement. "Permission to ask a question sir." "Do I look like a commissar?" was Grum witty reply, weak as it was. "Say what's on your mind, trooper." "I've noticed from your constant care of those plasmas that you seem distracted. Particularly ever time you handle that pistol. Is there something amiss?" Grum looked down at Lucy, with tape over her exhaust vents to prevent moisture intake and mud over her hard metal body. Its mud, not blood. Remember that doofus."It's nothing Straight-Laced, just worried about the humidity that's all." "Sargeant, my name is not straight-laced. Its'-" "I've read your file so I damn well know what it is, trooper. Eyes back on the road or my fist will blacken one of them." Straight-laced turned back to the underbrush ahead, keeping her emotions in check. Something Grum wished he could still do.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Jan 12, 2013 1:31:52 GMT -5
The Trukka roared like an iron boar in heat; it's thick tires shulshed through thick brush and black mud.The Boyz riding in the back joked and grumbled and gambled and boozed off of swamp juice. Some of the more trigger eager boyz spent their time picking at pretty ferns that passed by and blowing them apart with hot slugga rounds. One cheered as he nicked a queer looking monkey hiding in the trees.
Chief Gurntz da Ook took it upon his self to watch for trouble, puffing smoke from his big cigar. He was eager for some blood today. Word had gotten around the camps of ghosts attacking in these woods. Bah! Too many hitz from da juice, no better Den Gretchin urine. He wanted to keep a sober mind till the sight of battle when blood lust would take over. And so Gurntz watched from his spot in the boot. Ain'tno gruntin ghost gettin one on Gurntz. Gurntz a Nob and da chief here. Gotz me lotz of boyz and dat funny loota wagon. Gurntz gonna drink Ghost blood tonight.
The loota wagon in question once served as a Griffon heavy mortar in a previous lifetime. Then some Deathskulls found, looted and stripped it for parts before selling it to some crazy Ork meks with disillusionment of grandeur. It was a sore hybrid of alien engineering now. Paint in blue and green shades with skulls and decals of true orkishness. Where once rested a mortar cannon now rested a swiveling quad-gun of anti-personal punishment nicknamed the wood-chipper. Made up of four super shootas and a variety of smaller caliber firearms to churn out sweet dakka music to orky ears. The chipper is manned by a gunner who sits in the middle of the four super shootas while teams of gretchin feed ammo belts to the machines. Only once out of the four times the chippers been used had a gretchin got caught in the feed and squeezed into the gun chamber. Some say you can still see green bits being blasted ever forth or fifth slug that pops out; if you can find a boy who could count that high.
And so the caravan barreled down the narrow trail, with boyz drinking and singing 'Dat green skinned lady' as Gurntz looked on into the twilight jungle with eyes eager blood shed and promotion. Yet this came to an abrupt halt as the trukka did a nose dive right into a spike pit that wasn't there a second before. Gurntz found his surprised self flipped over the railing and resting upon the roof while several of his boyz fell hap hazardously into the sharped wooden spikes below. The driver cursed inside the cabin as he fruitless pressed his boot leather down on the gas pedal. A few of the dying ones would have cried out for momma had any of them did have a mother or even the basic concept of what a mother is.
Gurntz picked himself up and shouted at his scared brethren. "Getz up ya stinkin Grotz!! Me's got sluggas to any boy who don't help me outta of dis hole!"
The loota wagon then rammed into the back of Gurntz trukka causing more boys to spill out. The would be chief couldn't believe the sudden turn of luck he was having.
"Back up!! BACK DAT WAGON UP!! NOW or Gunrtz gonna eat yer skinzz!" The Chief fired a few round from his slugga at the hull of the wagon to make his point.
Gunrtz couldn't think things would become any worse at this point.
Then the rearguard trukka suddenly caught fire and exploded; trapping the wagon between two wrecks.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Jan 17, 2013 16:26:37 GMT -5
Ratatata-ratatatata-ratatatata.
Rang the autocannons teams along the luminescent bush. Their firepower cut into the bewildered green skinned horde like shards of glass. Those boyz that didn't fall down under the hailstorm ran around the loota for cover.
The Nob that lead them, still clawing his way up from his pit fallen Trukka, roared for retaliation. Only the gunner of the wood-chipper seemed to hear his call. The four guns swiveled to the east and answered back.
Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka.
Cases poured down the armored Griffon's skin. The luminescent bush became mist and pulp. The Gunner grinned madly as his body rattled to the massive recoils.
Bamp!
He kept smiling even as a hot shot round passed through his little brain. His limpy form leaned right on the controls and thus the wood-chipper became a tornado of ballistics. Tree bark, ferns, ripper monkeys, even ork boyz were not safe from the now aimless twirling death dealer. Predictable, some boyz broke rank and ran for the western trees.
Dakka-Dakka-Dakka continued the gunner less wood-chipper.
They met death much quicker. Silenced auto-rifles shot bursts of bullets from underneath concealing tree roots. The cowardly greenskins became green pin cushions. In response the few remaining boyz at the wagon opened fire at the western direction, unsure of what they were fighting. The Dakka of the sluggas adding to the spinning wood-chipper as it circled by.
Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka.
In their ignorance, the boyz forgot about the heavy weapons from the east. Even the gretchin, so busy with feeding ammo, failed to notice a couple of guardsmen in cameo cloaks rigging a melta bomb to the loota wagons' hull.
Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka.
They ran back to bush so fast like burly shadows in the twilight. Out of the burning wreckage of the rear trukka was an inflamed ork boy. He stumbled aimless as the fire bite and chewed his skin.
Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dak-Booooom!
Ammunition crates were set off premature from the resulting blast. Slugga rounds shout forth from inside the wagon. Gretchin panicked and bolted from the firestorm beneath their tiny green feet. Some jumped on the backs of shoota boyz who grew startled and annoyed. They ripped and stomped flat the little parasites. Rounds and shrapnel pierced a few boyz' backsides.
Ammunition spent, the wood-chipper slowed to a hult.
Dakka-Dakka-dak-click-click-click-click-click...
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Jan 21, 2013 23:56:04 GMT -5
Grum gave the order. "Strike Teams! Advance!"
Imperial Guardsmen spilled out from beneath the hanging roots of the clover tops, autos set to single shot for clean up work. The green skins had little fight in them from all that ruckus before. None of the men wanted to give chance the orks to charge. Silenced barrels puffed out smoke as bullets chewed on ork meat. Machetes drew green blood from hacking apart fleeting grecthin. Slaughter.
Grum took upon himself to have Lucy and Ethel drop hot beats into any ork skull missing a bullet hole. He was up to number twelve when paths crossed with corporal Blacktooth. His cheeks full of the chew and face painted black with a glowing streak from the bush. In his hands rested a flamer with a dirty bronze nozzle; the man did love burning things.
"How many did we lose on the eastern front?"
"Five. Four dead, one critical. Sonny's with the Knuckledragger's medic doing patch work. We also lost two autocannons from that spritzing. You?"
"No one dead on my end," Replied the sarge as he rested Lucy back under his coat. "Are we lucky enough for that Valhallan to be among those lucky four?"
Blacktooth grinned, showing off those yellowish black teeth covered in tar. "You really don't like the new blood."
"I'd like to see more green blood flowing down this trail. Go, cook up some steaks." Grum tapped Blacktooth's shoulder as the man went back to cooking with promethium.
Vork, Paxx and Vinny took turns shooting at orks in the spike pit. Joined by August, Drell and Tork from the Knuckledraggers, they were having a grand time seeing who could get the most kills in there little game of fish in a barrel. The Cadian came up to see, popping in a fresh clip. Every time a head got shot one of the boys laughed hard. The Cadian pushed herself up next to the line,aim careful with her rifle, and picked her targets carefully. In under a minute's time no one else made as many head shots as the Cadian female; seventeen in all. After she empty out here clip and turned away, the boys stared in surprise.
Grum encircled around the slagged loota wagon to peer inside. Smoke obscured some but the grizzled Catachan recognized the basic imperial configuration from hundreds of uncomfortable trips inside a cramped chimera.
Snap went a twig. In a whirl, Grum whipped out Ethel ready to fire. The man raised both sweaty arms high. He had paler skin then the entire unit. His hair was a lighter shade of hazel, eyes blue like crystal. A five o clock shadow graced his square jaw and there was a diagonal scar from the bridge of his nose to the center of his left cheek. The man was called Bjorn but to Grum he was one of the new pains to his squad.
"Tell me something, Icepick, did they teach you it was okay to sneak up on a superior officer on that frozen rock you call home?"
The Valhalan replied in a nervous tone. "N-no sir but there's a call on the horn from Nest. Your ears only."
Grum kept the pistol at Bjorn's head a moment longer.
"...It sounded important, sir."
Ethel powered down but Grum kept his discerning look upon the fresh meat. "Tell Sargent Kruff to have his boys scout five meters from the trail for any survivors. Then go help Blacktooth in scraping these wrecks."
Bjorn stood by a moment, expecting to hear additional orders.
"Do you want me to shoot you?" Was Grum's answer.
"No sir. " And thus Bjorn left straight away to convey what was said.
|
|
|
Post by khaoticz on Jan 22, 2013 6:52:56 GMT -5
Really great stuff to read so far
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Jan 22, 2013 18:10:39 GMT -5
((Thx. I'll keep up the good work.)) Omar the Tallarn looked through his scope to the scenery below. As a child he enjoyed climbing tall buildings and rocks to see as the hawk does. The world below appeared as a canvas to him. Every detail open to his eyes only. He took note of burning trukka with Catachan vets dragging ork bodies over to the spike pit on the road. Many cursed and swat at buzzing Horse-wasp attracted by the smell of death. They looked like tree men from bed time stories of youth, carrying their prey back from a successful hunt. Omar then spotted his commander; a tough as nails Sargent with little sense of manners, arguing over the vox horn with a nervous Valhalan holding to the transmitter. The man's face was obscured by the tight green sarge's cap with dirty bronze imperial Aquila. That Cameo coat he was always wearing seemed too bulky to wear in such moist atmosphere but the man wearing it didn't seem bothered. He must have felt too much at home to notice. The Cadian was easy to spot. She may have been a veteran of a dozen campaigns but she was obviously new to the covert work of the jungle fighters. She didn't like dirtying her fatigues nor green flank with mud of this soaked earth, of this Omar could easily tell. Behind the beached Trukka she took off her green helmet to wipe her brow of sweat. She was a pretty thing; In another life she could make a happy wife but she was too disciplined for Omar's liking. Blacktooth was next under the scope, typical Catachan attire. Shelve less shirt under a green flak jacket with a cameo cloak resting over the left shoulder. A red bandanna wrapped around his head. Thick muscular arms holding a flame to the ork remains still on the ground. Such hideous teeth this man had. Perhaps he thinks it gives his bite some venom like the serpent. Paxx was spotted talking to the one called Vinny as he set charges to the ugly orkish contraption in the center of the convoy. Easy to identify thanks to the pray beads strung around his rifle. Omar often heard stories to how godless the Catachans were on the battlefield but seeing how devoted this one man was to the golden throne told Omar that only a fool believes such tales. Growing bored, he pulled his scope upwards to the tree canopies far and wide. She was hard to spot; The dove was at home here as much as the rest of the squad. Yet this hawk had sharp eyes. Careful he studied the outline of parasite vines that crawled up the surface of each Clover tree, constricting the very life at a snail's pace. That's when he spot her hair; Even pated with mud and leaves he could see faint strands of spun blonde gold. She built a small nest among a cluster of vines with her cameo cloak acting as a make shift roof against droplets. Tali was what the others called her. Was it short for something or was that all she had, Omar would ponder. She seemed plain face to his scope. He seen a thousand faces like her but never one with that golden hair. Gold was a fascination of Omar's father. He was a rich sheirk who sought to control much of the gold mines back on tallarn. A pretty metal but it never suited Omar's taste for adventure and seeing the worlds beyond. Yet why he could not turn away from her sight pondered him so. Perhaps he inherited his father's lust in a different way. Inside his ear canal buzzed the voice of Blacktooth. //"Groundhog to Dove and Hawk. Respond. Over."\\ The Hawk was hesitant to answer. He didn't want to stop watching. //"Groundhog to Dove; Hawk. Respond, Over."\\ Repeated the voice. //"Dove here; no further movement along the trails. Over."\\ //"This is Hawk. I concur with Dove's findings. Over."\\ Omar looked back down to where Blacktooth was standing. The man looked up to the heavens like he was searching for the God-Emperor but Omar was too clever to be spotted so easily. //"Ground Hog to all birds; Big grumpy dog wants us ready to move in twenty; Nest requires us to roost. Over."\\ //"Understood Corporal. Hawk out."\\ //"Roger that Blacktooth. Over."\\ Tali said. // "Say Hawk, since you like to watch me, here's a little bet. Say how many fingers am I holding up?"\\ Omar raised an eyebrow in surprise. No man alive has ever spotted him before. What could have given him away? The rifle was covered completely in cameo with a filter on the scope lens to prevent glaring. His Shemagh was dragged in the mud and patched with glowing leafs. His uniform was covered by the cameo cloak. So how did she...? His scope went about searching for her again til he spotted the familiar nest. Inside was the Catachan blonde, holding up one particular finger at Omar's direction. Sighing in humility, Omar responded with gentlemen's honor. //"Hawk to Dove. Your joke is not lost to me. I'll keep my scope more towards the ground for now on. Over."\\
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Jan 28, 2013 22:11:49 GMT -5
100th post ;D))
There is no word for retreat in the orkish vocabulary; if there was an official vocabulary. They don't see it like a human would consider defeat. Orks live to fight and if the battle goes south then they run away to fight another day. Gurntz was well in his right. After all, the humies had fight improper with their trickier and nasty traps.
The Nob was deep in the forest heart. Tiny flies tried to sip on his eye water per ever other blink. The illuminated brush surrounded and scratched at his green tough skin. Mud and plant matter clumped heavily on the sol of his Nob stompas. Throat dried from yelling at his panicked cohorts, Gurntz tasted a few of the blue stripped ferns. It left a nasty sticky puss on his tongue. Stinkkin Grottin Weedz! Wot world needz diz much Weedz?!
Hours past; west was slowly becoming east here. The glowing leaves formed a maze of light in the gloomy darkness. Gurntz hacked wide in the thicket with his choppa, imagining in his tiny mind that they were humies; Weak, soft things. How dare they! Orks were made for fighting but those traps; vile, nasty traps that wrecked Gurntz' trukka. It burned inside him, the bloodlust. The hunger for retribution. Burn des weedz! Burn da Humee scum! Burn it all Gurntz sayz! Find da warboss and getz more boyz! Show dem how Gurntz fights!
Shadows stirred in the underbrush. Slender shapes that Gurntz did not notice. Nor did he notice the ones that were prowling him. He thought he caught the glimpse of something when he jumped over a protruding clover root. He dismissed it as another pest trying to eat his eyes. So many damn bugs.
The second time was when he cut down a glowing golden fern with fiery orange tips. Gurntz froze for a second as violet tainted eyes started back at him from the glowing underbrush. As his shoota raised, the eyes disappeared, replaced by an eerie calm. The arteries in Gurntz' neck pulsed. His yellow puss covered tongue licked at his right big tooth. Finally! Some action!
All around the Nob, glens of crooked metal blades unsheathed in the darkness. Then the silence filled with sadistic laughter...
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Feb 7, 2013 13:28:45 GMT -5
Location classified, The Nest. Two hours, forty minutes later via Valkyrie...
Lord Commissar Gideon Blur stood silently with his brass pocket watch in hand. The time read oh nine hundred local as winds were kicked up by thruster back draft. Work crews and servitors stood by as the Valkyrie made touchdown upon the makeshift landing pad. Once this was a field of small flowers and tall grass. Now vast stretches were cleared and made bare to nest giant green metal birds.
Blur's dark purple cloak flapped to the dying draft. The man was sweating under all those black cloths and sliver body armor. The left hand tapped on the pommel of Fang; A cutlass famous made by the man that cut down traitors from both ends of the Segmentum. The hilt was once a shining gold but age had taken its toll like had with its owner. White leather once wrapped around the guard, now it brown from suns and acid rains. The blade probably shared as many scars as Blur's own chubby face but who knows which had the sharpest bite?
First out of the rear were the wounded carried on stretcher to attending medica and skull servitors. Then came the tired Silverbacks; joking and jousting about how many greenskins each trooper boasted of killing. The corporal called Blacktooth, spitting out a chew he held through the entire flight, broke off from his team to carry out his commander's duty of debriefing. With flamer slung over one shoulder, Blacktooth saluted just at eyebrow level to the black stone of a Commissar. "All personal present and accounted for sir."
"I can see that for myself, Corporal. I'm more interested in your Sergeant, whom appears absent from the rest of the squad," The pocket watch clamps shut and is placed casual in Blur's black trousers. "We heard there were causalities. Is he...?"
"None of them were us, sir. You know how Arloo...I mean Sergeant Grum, is when he travels abroad in tight, confining spaces." Answered the Catachan, trying to remember military drill and pose.
Seconds later, Grum emerged from the rear hatch, Appearing weary and with air sickness bag in hand.
"That man could stare down an Ork warboss and infiltrate a craftworld to assassinate an Eldar farseer but put him inside any of our vehicles and he's green as his fatigues." stated Blur with a sigh of disappointment. "How he ever managed to get off world is beyond me."
"I hear Sacra helps." said Blacktooth in hopes of being witty.
"Your dismissed, Corporal." Then the scowling commissar waited for the blunt solider to depart to friendlier tidings.
Grum stat on the rampart, taking slow deep breaths of the natural humidity of the world around. In between he took puffs from a Iho-stick, brown with a taste of sweet oranges to his vomit stained lips. Two hours inside one of those flying boxes always unnerved him. Not as bad as the chimeras but they came close enough to use a bag. Or two.
Blur strode with the air of his station. White gloved hands resting behind the man's back. "Strange, the air is so thick with moisture I swear I'm starting to grow gills beneath my collar, yet still it refuses to rain. Old hivers like me would think this queer. To you this seems like home or at least a close reminder."
"Your bed side manner has more bite then your saber, Blur," replied Grum in an unpleasing mood."Mind telling why you pulled me out and shoved inside a plasteel coffin for two hours?"
"Sorry to disappoint you but time leaves us little for the usual banter. On your feet and follow good soldier. " Blur gestured with one pointier finger to emphasis point.
One last puff later, the two made a brisk walk across the landing field to the city of camouflaged tents and living habs for the entire company. Veterans passed the time away with various activities on base; keeping to their selves as the Lord commissar passed by. Grum was taking note to the direction they were traveling. The Command tent lay nowhere near this part of base. Their destination it seemed rested in the mess tent, large cameo netted with all the flaps down so no one could see inside. There were guards posted at the entrance; Uniforms that didn't match any of regiment's numbers. Full black Carapace with fancy autopistols resting in their black leather holsters. They were tough grunts, of this Grum could tell by their stance and emotionless faces.
"Myself nor Major Pane would desire to take you out of the field unless matters of another sort presented itself," Blur broke the silence first.
" 'Matters of another sort'?" said Grum with an air of caution to the whole situation. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Its best you go inside, for both our sakes."
One of the guards parted open the entrance flap for Grum to enter, but Blur stood on the outside. "Aren't you coming?"
"They requested you, Grum. Not I." was Blur's last words to the man that day.
The mess hall was predictably dark, hanging ceiling lights on minimal power settings. Rows of tables and benches sat on top of makeshift thin plywood to act as flooring. Mud always found a way to ooze between the cracks. The kitchen rested darkly behind mesh curtains; made up of primitive cooking stoves running on kerosene and cheap oils. Grum walked over to the nearest table to lean his arse against. His nostrils caught the whiff of salt and black pepper spices. And then he caught the scent of blessed machine grease.
Red glowing optics descended from the darkness belonging to a servo skull. On the forehead was printed a large gold letter I. Slender cables ran down where the jaw once rested, wiggling in the air like tongues of a serpent. It hovered close to Grum's person, scanning him with its on board auspexes.
//[glow=red,2,300]Arloo Grum. *Bzzzt*Rank Sergeant. Regimental designation: Twenty two hundred specialist task force,*Bzzzt* Ultramar fourth division.*Bzzzt* Subject holds aggressive tendencies. Armed and dangerous. Suggest intervention.*Bzzzt*[/glow]//
"Belay that, seventeen seventy six." The speaker stood opposite side of the room in the darkness. He was tall, slender framed underneath a long tail grey coat covering below his knees. A powerpack protruded from his backside with a shadowy servo arm on the speaker's left. The man's face was obscured by the darkness except for his dark red sunglasses which seem to strike out more in such a dim light setting. His voice sounded youthful, young adult to middle age category. "Return to post. Await orders."
The floating skull gave a node and then hovered away to the darkness from whence it came. Grum then squinted his eyes back to the speaker at hand. Surprise came in the form of a second man, sitting at the head of the table next to the red sunglass man. He was much older with lines on his weathered face and a large orange beard braded with tiny ecclesiarch relics at the ends. Smaller in frame compared to his companion but higher in stature with exceedingly large hat bearing the red letter I. Black cloak with gold shoulders. Folders rested on the table in front of the bearded senior next to where he kept his chilled mug of Sacra. He spoke with authority and deep throaty tone. "Your appearance begs more, Sergeant; From you file I was expecting you to be more, ah what is the word, 'Heroic'."
Inquisition. Just shoot me now.
Grum rested his hands inside his coat pockets calmly, looking straight at the senior of the pair. " So what did I do now, Lord Inquisitor?"
"Straight to the matter at hand, quite brazen you are."
"Have to be in my line of work, just like it helps to be large and looked highly upon in yours, your lordship." Was Grum's response.
The man with the red sunglasses took offense more than his superior."You disrespectful little-"
"It's alright, Pawn; the man here is only responding to a jab I made at his character. It means he has some personality unlike most of the troopers we come by these days," said the bearded Inquisitor as he took a swig from his mug. "Let's get off on the right foot shall we? Your half right Sergeant; I'm a senior ranking member of the Ordos Xenos in this sector but by no means hold a lordship yet. I am called Hodar and this fellow goes by the name of Pawn. You see, Sergeant, we have something that requires our attention in the darkest parts of this world. Something we cannot afford to ignore before the main fleet arrive to wipe out this ork infestation."
"What, exactly, do you want from me then?"
A smile showed itself under that ale soaked beard of Hodar's face."Straight to the matter: We need a guide. Think you're up for the task?"
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Feb 17, 2013 22:26:13 GMT -5
Undisclosed location, The Nest. Trooper quarters. 1330 local time.
Steam rose high from the cooking pot filled with spicy Catachan devil chili. Carried on the evaporating water molecules was the scents of white onions, spicy peppers, bitter garlic, strong beans and little something from a strange planet called jalapeños; Other spices and herbs cooked and simmered to make a rich flavor to one's tongue. The recipe had to be modified heavily; much of the original ingredients to make such a meal hail from Catachan itself. The meat of the Devil itself had been substituted with grox meat and it lacked the key taste of the dragon's breath; a type of toxic herb found on Catachan that left a fiery aftertaste in the back of one's throat.
Vork stirred the contents slowly with his tin spoon, occasionally tasting it to his thin lips. It still lacked that punch. That grab your tongue attention. He wanted to taste something that wasn't protein bars or lackluster slop from the mess hall. After all the times he risked his skin out there in the twilight underbrush; It was time for a real reward.
Vinny sat on his bunk keeping an eye out the front tent flap. The added heat and moisture from Vork's cooking made Vinny strip down to his fatigue pants. Their small two person tent was becoming a cooking pot of its own right. "Can't you cook this any faster?"
"It's still missing something. I'm basically winging it at this juncture." Was Vork's response as he added a dash of salt he 'borrowed' from the mess.
"Yeah well, if you keep taking so damn long we'll sweat enough to be mistake for large pork rumps," Vinny wiped the back of his neck with his blood scarf, a red bandana marked with the blood of a true warrior. "I can't believe you talked me into this."
"With all the risks we take, a taste from home is the least we desire," Vork then gave a sniff of the pot. "Might need some lemons."
Outside, the pair of Paxx and Tali walked past the rows of tents, chatting to themselves about life, the war, and certain comrades in arms.
"It was like being in basic all over again; She made us look like armatures," spoke Paxx while nibbling on a piece of protein bar "They were all head shots too. I counted."
"Well don't act too surprised. She's a vet like the rest of us. Well, compared to you any one is a pro." Responded Tali.
"It's more than that. You've heard the stories about that place. Being so close to the...you know. Cultists everywhere. Under constant threat of invasion. I hear every single one of them gets drilled when they start to walk. And we have one of those people working right in the midst of our squad."
"Gee, what do you give her a box of mint chocolates while you're at it." Tali took a sip from her canteen. She spied some troopers glancing at them; Her specifically. There were always pervs in every unit.
"What crawled up your bughole today?"
"Nothing," said Tali, alittle agitated. "Anyways what makes you think she's a real Cadian?"
"What do you mean?"
"Take a look at her eyes next time. Tell me what color they look like."
"That's easy, their brown." Answered Paxx. "Why does it matter?"
"Remember those stories you're so fond of pointing out? Every one of them describes those Cadians as having pale skin and violet eyes."
Paxx took a moment to think. "Maybe she changed colors after being away from the...eye...for so long. Like your skin can darken from being under the sun."
"Paxx, That's sunburn ,you idiot." She said as she finished her canteen.
"Tali! Paxx!" The pair looked across their path to Sonny walking up to greet them. He carried a wash rag over his neck after scrubbing down from keeping a man from bleeding out. Even his pants were fresh after he changed out of his blood soaked ones.
"Ah, the doctor is in." Was Tali's greeting
"Don't call me that. I was just doing my duty that's all. That grunt will live thanks to the real medics and surgical servo skulls."
"What Tali means is that you should seriously consider taking the medic's exam and get full commission to junior officer; Also she says hi and that you probably smell like roses." Translated Paxx before taking another bite of fulling, tasteless protein bar.
"First off; I was covered in another man's blood so I seriously doubt I smell of anything but. Second, It's my choice so butt out, you lark. And third, I came by to tell you two that the Sarge wants us by the armory bunker by thirteen forty," said Sonny. "Blacktooth and the newcomers have been already informed. Now I just need to find our resident trouble makers. Didn't see them at mess after I got outta the wash."
Tali pointed a thumb behind the group. "Follow the scent of boiled meat till you come across the blazing inferno that's supposed to be their tent."
"He's trying to cook again? After what the Commissar threatened to do to his meaty bits from the last time?"
"I've tasted Vork's cooking once on another long haul mission. It was a stew made from a creature called a chicken and there was crisp vegetables floating in the broth," Spoke Paxx in turn, crumbling the wrapper. "Compared to this, it was a four star meal."
"Yes; one that was probably stolen from the officer's tent," replied Sonny. "Hope to the Throne that the Commissar doesn't catch me with them lot."
"Plead Insanity if they do!" joked Tali.
Sonny then jogged away as the pair changed course to head deeper through the shanty maze. After two rights then a left, Both individuals arrived in front of the only solid structure within this sea of canopies. The walls were thick like Russ tank siding and covered in matching cameo paints with its neighbors. Mounted on the roof was a quad gun placement for scaring off aerial boogies. The building was hexagon shaped for simplistic sake. Blacktooth waited at the front door to lead the pair inside the building.
Rows of cheap shelving greeted the Catachans, stocked with ammunition and water proof powerpacks. Lighting here rested over head from electric bulbs powered by solar catchers on the rooftop. Grum stood over a travel card table, covered with maps. The Cadian that Tali and Paxx were discussing of earlier stood at the end opposite of the front door. The Tallarn hawk known as Omar stationed himself across from the sergeant while Bjorn stood the furthest away so he could try to stay cool from the collective body heat. Tali spied her eyes on Omar first. He looked clean, well groomed. Even wore a new funny hat.
Bet he thinks himself a prince here. Bloody outsider.
"Good to see you two bothered to show up. Where's Sonny?" asked Grum
"Out collecting the Vees it seems. Should we get started?" "Fine by me, saves having to answer pointless questions mid-way. Get over here."
The trio took positions under the electric lighting. Blacktooth naturally to his Sarge's right side while Paxx took a table corner and Tali stayed on the side closest to the front door, avoiding eye contact with the Tallarn.
"Listen up maggot breaths. Lately we've been hunting greenskins and we've been making a good killing. However, tomorrow at Oh-three hundred, we're going on special recon and escort. Target is located here, deep past ork lines in an area Sky watch calls the bleeding triangle. A colorful name after the constant skirmishing between three different Ork tribes there. Our DZ will be south of the closest tribe to us, The Rokskullz. We'll use this widing snake river to guide us till we're within forty kilometers to the southern tip of the triangle. We then proceed to by compass and instinct north into the triangle; clearing a secure route to the target. The ViP's will then carry out their holy duty. After words, if we're lucky the orks don't kill us, we'll find an exit route southeast out of the triangle and call in for a pickup." Grum cleared his throat for this next piece. "We won't be alone; tagging along will be two squads of stormtroopers who I've been told have experience in jungle warfare. Course knowing HQ that could mean as much as being shown tropical trees from a picter. Don't get friendly with these blokes. They've been raised via Scholia to be shiny tin soldiers and that makes 'em have chips on their shoulders and sticks up their bugholes. Just be trail guides and we'll get off this rock a lot faster."
"Beg pardon, Sergeant," spoke Omar. "But I've notice a lack of features on this map. Could command not provide us better intel?"
"No, they could not. Ork infighting here kicks up so much dust Skywatch can't tell rocks from nuts. Brains before bullets when we're down there."
"Even with Orks fighting one another, it's gonna be hard as nails to sneak a thirty man platoon that deep past lines. Does command have something planned to keep the greenskins occupied?" Inquired Blacktooth.
"Major got something in the works, You'll be smiling once we're airborne."
The corporal grinned just thinking about the prospect, yet Straight laced was still inquisitive. "Sergeant, are we privy to the knowledge of the ViPs?"
Grum was hesitant to give an answer. After this was the Inquisition $#@% they were dealing here. "Right now that's not a priority. We have to do prep work for deep cover mission in less then twelve hours and counting. We need the works plus some extra things. Jonny, go find our three little pigmies and get them up to speed; Then get them to procure dry rations, leg gaiters and socks, webbings, and extra med packs. Your job is to fetch entrenching tools and enough water bags for us to gather freshwater should we run dry. Paxx, Bjorn; Water proof our guns and then our electronics. Tali, Omar, Straight lace; you three are our best shots therefore your going to be our eyes in the trees. Study the maps and plan routes."
"Should we bring Heavy weapons?" Asked Paxx.
"I'll have that covered. Get your mind focused on keeping our bullets from rusting on us. That goes for you too back there snow cone." Grum threw a glance to Bjorn who tried to veer his disgraced sight away. "Game starts now ladies. Let's get packing for the half time show."
As the squad parted out the front door, Omar took out a pen and a leathered bound compass. "Like he said ladies; Brains before bullets."
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Feb 26, 2013 23:52:54 GMT -5
Undisclosed location, The nest, Skywatch, 0620 local time...
Blur entered into a buzzing hive of voxes, codifiers, cable bundles, recording servitors, and oblivious operators when he stepped through the entrance flap to Skywatch. It stirred feelings of speculation and fear being inside an element unfamiliar. Citing hymns and charging ahead through the fury was once Blur's world. Now it was playing shadow to the new Commander who fought wars on screen then on field.
Rumbling humidifiers drowned out the most mundane of sounds. It was surprisingly cool. The air smelled less heavy here then outside. Codifier screens ran rampart with green bytes on black backgrounds. It was data tracked from low orbiting satellites; deposited when the drop ships made landfall. The bytes flickered like candle fire to the watchers,; Many of whom were augmented with cerebral interfaces and plas-aluminium prosthetic fingers that could type at an old earth's humming bird pace.
The lord commissar circumnavigated past over watching Warrant officers and dwarf servitors carrying bundles of recorded data-film or dataslates. He was stopped twice in his path by such ignorant machines, Blur thought about chopping a few with his trusted Fang. In the center of this mess was clear plastik chart tables connected to every codifier in the whole tent. Hololithic maps pulsed across its surface with various engagements occurring in almost perfect real time to Nest.
Major Pane stood with his arms crossed behind his well mannered backside. Not a single hair grew upon his bare cranium; only a lighting shaped scare darting all across his pink scalp. His service uniform well kept and dry; a long tail officer's jacket molded after popular designs from civilized worlds. It held a faint yellowish hue faded by time or by dust. A striking feature was the service belt that hugged the Commander's waist like a glove. It served as part utility holder and life support machine to Pane's war torn body. Rumors went circling that the man probably hides a small mortar somewhere in that personal clutter.
Naturally, Blur waited his turn as Vox officers walked up in the que to give the latest intel from guerrilla teams scattered across the Continent. Then he slipped next to his tactical superior as the major watched intently the chaos he sowed. Blur couldn't tell how old the man really was. Thanks to juvenant gene-vats and bionics, Pane could be hundreds of years senior and still look young as a fresh white shield. There was also the re breather that covered Pane's face. He never took it off, even on board climate controlled ship atmos. Rumors also hinted that Pane needed it to live or that he is too paranoid to leave gas attacks to chance.
Before he spoke Blur glanced at the hololithic displayed on the chart table. The Essex jungle and connecting regions that held the main battle lines. Various dots and icons representing vet squads darted like the native horse-wasps of this world. Between them and the orcs was an ever growing presence of orange color that ate away the native flora. "Didn't think we were ready to be this direct at this juncture. Are you literally trying to smoke them out?"
Pane's voice sounded cold and emotionless; thanks to the built in Vox. "<Mix of melta and incendiary charges primarily. Some of the teams seem to have added promethium to the blaze as you can see with brighter portions. The orks will rally to this threat while our squads maneuver to outflank and pin their hordes. We won't crush them; not with their numbers but they will hemorrhage and splinter their lines.>"
"Its a good plan but you forgot one thing," responded Blur. "Orks are orks; No one can plan what they will do next. I doubt even they fully grasp the situation at hand."
"<I don't need them to think; just do as Orks always do. The men will handle the rest,>" said Pane. "<They'll be a second wave comprised of chimeras and hellhounds to push back the bewildered greenskins as well as retrieve our men. You'll be overseeing this grouping as it departs at oh seven hundred. Arrival estimated four hours. Do keep hydrated.>"
Blur took out his pocket watch to confirm the time. Never trust anything you can't unwind. "So how are our birds doing? All of these dots look the same to me. Some are heading south, some are dancing all over the screen," The Commissar pointed a finger near the device.
"<Don't touch.>" Blur then pulled away.
"I ask because we have a couple of rare birds in the air; carrying what I believe are vital tools to the Emperor's cause. I'm trying my best at subtly but I'm no Grum. Would ease an old man's mind to know."
Pane turned his gaze to meet Blur's. The major held stone grey eyes that had seen the face of death all too well."<Every 'dot' is carrying out a vital mission, Lord Commissar. Every movement is carefully observed and planned out accordingly. Now I do believe you have a jungle to storm.>"
As a show of respect, Blur joined hands together to form the Aquila as Pane turned his attention back to the war at hand. Swiftly he left this to join the real world though he kept a glance back at the major. Fourth division has held many commanders over the centuries of its operation. Blur had seen five come before who had lead to victory and bitter defeat. This major was far more calculating then his predecessors and though his plans brought favorable success to the Imperium, He seemed too disconnected to the soldiers under his command. There was potential of danger there in the wrong situation.
Stepping back out into the humid world, Blur took out a Iho-stick for a quick puff. Didn't like how the Inquisition was involved in all this. Especially how they first handed requested his top scout and didn't leave a reason why. It was the way of things but Blur always felt Fourth division was his own and He had a right to be in the know. If there were answers, He would have to bide his time and look out in the jungles abound.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Feb 27, 2013 12:38:38 GMT -5
The pilot's vox broke the silence of the Sliverbacks as he announced the impending DZ fast approaching. The squad sat divided inside the cramped compartment of the Valkyrie; Vinny, Blacktooth, Bjorn, Paxx and Straight-laced sat starboard while Vork, Omar, Tali, Sonny and their queasy leader occupied port side seats. All wore their combat fatigues and respective flank jackets. Cameo cloaks and netting were wrapped up and resting on the tops of each trooper's pack. Faces were painted black and green. Grum looked more green the rest as he clutched the air sickness bag close.
"Alright, check your straps! No one is going to fall like rocks on my watch!" Barked the drop officer as he paced over to the aft rampart.
Paxx quietly recited the hymn of safe landings while Bjorn checked the straps of his Grav-chute. The Valhallan felt the most out of his element here; Being a long time vox-caster to artillery forces was simple and straight forward. Here, he was jumping out of planes over burning junglescapes. He gave a glance at Paxx's quite speech to the Throne on high.
"Does that help?!"
Paxx stopped and looked at Bjorn."Hmm?!"
"The beads. The chanting. Is it like a fix or something? Do you suppose He really hears you?!"
The Catachan just shrugged. "All I know is that you'll be praying too if you don't tighten that left strap!"
The Valhallan fussed about his own equipment. Straight-laced just looked on to the motion sickened Grum, wondering if he's always like this during flights.
Omar called out to Blacktooth. "Corporal, have you ever worked with Storm troopers before?!"
"Couple of times, fancy boys with fancy toys but I've seen 'em wreck apart Eldar squads with little sweat broken," replied Blacktooth as he swallowed some spite. "You'll get what I mean when we see 'em land after us!"
A green light then flashed above their heads. The drop officer motioned for the teams to stand and get ready. They were lined up in parallel, knees bent and ready to run out into the open sky. Flip of a lever later, air hissed its way out first. Then early morning dawnlight peaked in. It was a dark violet background outside, with rising black towers of smoke in the distance.
The drop officer held up five fingers and counted. "FIVE...FOUR...THREE...TWO...ONE...GO! GO! GO! GO!!"
Straight-Laced was the first out; She dove head first like a professional diver. Sonny followed in pursuit and then came spineless Vork and nervous Bjorn, both who squealed as he fell. Omar acted like a gentleman and let Tali go first. She shoved him aside and ran like a bull grox. The Hawk held his Shemage on his head once he went airborne. Vinny thought it funny to jump out like a cannonball. Paxx cried out "Emperor Protects!" as he flung himself outside.
Blacktooth put in some fresh chew to help pop his eardrums and then looked at Grum who was fighting to stand. "Sitting this one out bull dog?!"
The Sergeant worked up the courage to speak back. "Don't choke on that chew this time, Ground hog!"
Together the two veterans ran out into the violet dawnscape, with Arloo swearing a string of curses as his grav-chute's suspension fields kicked on.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Mar 1, 2013 14:58:46 GMT -5
Straight-laced was the first to make ground. She landed with Autorifle in firing position as she made quick visual scans of the landscape. Glowing underbrush and luminescent ferns with towering sun blocking clover trees overhead; a familiar scene as before but no Orks in sight. She kept her guard up as Vork and Tali glided down with their grav-chutes near her position. The blonde Catachan was the fastest out of the chute and shadow melted with her back against a clover root while Vork struggled to unbuckle himself.
Through the lens of her scope, Straight-laced spotted Vinny touching down with Omar descending shortly behind him. Half a click away, she caught Sonny's friendly signal out under some fanning leaves and gave one of her own to her comrade. Trudging through the bush almost two clicks away was Blacktooth and Grum already covered with cameo cloak and jacket out. It took about twenty minutes for the team to join up after they all made preliminary sweeps for traps or eyeful ork picters.
"Where's Trooper Bjorn and Paxx?" ask Straight-laced.
"The snow man is hanging upside down like one of those damn ugly monkeys of this sweaty rock." responded Grum unamused. "Paxx is watching his back as we speak."
"Shouldn't he be helping him down?"
"Its nothing serious," This time it was Blacktooth commenting. "Bjorn just got his chute caught in one of the branches. He'll either burn his jets loose or cut himself down. We can't waste time to solve the fresh blood's every problem."
"And if his cries for help were to alert the greenskins?"
"Then Paxx shoots him," answered Grum. "Now, do you have any useful questions to ask?"
"Yes. Several concerns in regards to your-"
Omar stepped in before Straight-laced got another word. "She means to say how are we supposed to vox in the ViPs when our caster is gravity challenged."
"We got a plan b," answered Grum. "Form up, all of ya. Two man line. There's a clearing thirty three meters northeast of our position big enough to signal the birds down."
The team lined up and spaced themselves two meters in between to prevent the whole from being ensnared. Grum and Blacktooth took the front, Vork and Vinny naturally paired up with Sonny getting the pleasure of Tali's company. Omar and Straight laced got rearguard as the column trudged through the twilight brush.
Straight-laced bumped Omar's shoulder and whispered. "Why did you do that? You know he's breaking a dozen rules by leaving a trooper in peril like that. For throne sake"
"Out here, in this hostile environment, do you really think there are rules?"
"Of course there are rules. We soldiers of the holy Imperium of mankind. Not heretical barbarians."
"Perhaps there are back on the front lines. Where we have support of hundreds, with armored divisions and Commissars to act out discipline," replied Omar. "Here though, we are alone. There are no tanks, no reinforcements and no allies. Where ever step could be our last. Even the very botanicals we are trudging through could rustle up roots to maim and devour. Where packs of these ripper monkeys could descend upon us and tear us to shreds. And don't forget, there are the Orks."
"But there are protocols to follow; you don't leave men like that behind," stated Straight laced. "Its not just this incident either. This past month he's been disrespectful to superior officers, threaten myself and several members of the whole division, refused to use the issued weaponry from the depertmento; He's a complete renegade."
"No, he's just a Catachan." was Omar's answer.
"How can you defend him? This tyrant?"
"How can you still ask such a thing after being here for a month? We made it this far because of that man. His plans, his traps and his orders are what got us through and are what going to get us through here. This is like home to these people and Grum is the king of this jungle."
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Mar 6, 2013 2:28:07 GMT -5
The Sliverbacks made good time to the clearing, despite trudging through heavy golden ferns and low hanging vines. Still they had to be careful, checking their steps while watching the back of the guy before you. Every root could be a snapper, every pile of leaves a drop pit. Above, there were the morning caws of native birds and slithering hunters waiting in the branching canopies. A ripper monkey was spotted five meters east of the column. Massive hanging claws held tight a crippled bird as canines torn into the spine. One less hungry beast to worry about.
The clearing ahead was a small patch. Sunlight flooded through the gap made from fallen clover trees choked by core rot. The jungle floor was bare to small weeds; None of the twilight brush could stand the exposure. The column stacked up as Grum reached into his coat pocket. Omar, Vinny, and Sonny took watch points while the rest waited for plan b to unfold.
Like a magician, Grum pulled out two cylinder tubes painted black with bright orange caps. He then hold out one to Blacktooth, who was surprised to see such a familiar tool.
"I"ll be a damned heretic," said Jonny. "Globe shots. Haven't seen those since that night ops on Mensik."
"You know me, I see a good thing, I like to keep a few spare." Was Grum's answer.
"The hell are those?" Bluntly asked Tali.
"Think of it like a gun. A gun that shoots out glow globes 15ms per second," Blacktooth checked the weight of the cylinder with his hands. "It was a way to let your eyes in the sky know where you were if voxes aren't available. Bright like a small sun and transmits on all light spectrum but they only last ten minutes and you need to get a little high up for them to be fully effective.-"
"-Which is where we'll need volunteers," Added Grum as he threw a globe shot for Tali to catch. "Tali, Vork, feel like climbing some trees?"
"Got any replete for the rippers?"asked Vork.
"I got the back of my hand for troopers who don't follow orders."
Sighing lightly, Vork hold out as Grum handed him the other globe shot and then directed them to polar sides of the clearing to maximize effectiveness. As the two Catachans walked off, the Cadian nicknamed Straight-laced decided to be bold again.
"So how can the pilots even see these, Its morning."
"Oh they'll see these." answered Blacktooth.
Several minutes passed. The squad laid low in the shadows as the wait edged on. Straight-laced sat by the one called Sonny purposely. In the time she spent with this colorful band of rogues, she found a couple who were less abrasive to her presence. She knew that she was filling in for a fallen comrade. Often if you lived long in the guard, you often get sent into unfavorable situations such as being the outsider in a group filled with Catachan vets.
Sonny sat against a rotting stamp. His machete was out as he checked the sharpness with a single black hair from his scalp. Autorifle rested across his lap ready to be snatched and fire within two seconds of a fire fight. A weight stone rested by his right leg, square with a granite surface.
"Awful clam out here,"stated Straight-laced. "You can check your pack, clean the scoop, re-lace your boots; time keeps ticking on."
"And then hell breaks loose," replied Sonny as he stroked the stone a few times on the blade's edge. "You must be desperate for answers to be talking to me."
"Only cause I think you won't insult me outright; just behind my back."
"Then do speak up while i'm distracted by this pretty little blade."
"Your world, Catachan its called. You hear rumors of how cruel and hostile it is. Yet how can anyone know until they go there. Do you feel like your there when your hear? How much does it pale in comparison? Do you even want to go back?"
For a moment Sonny stopped his sharping and then looked at Straight-laced. "I never want to go back; because I'm always there. Every battle just like another welcome home party to us. Sieges and Blitzkriegs are hunts for devils big and small. Shooting, fighting, dying. Its the same no matter what world your on. I suppose this place reminds you of Cadia, after all you got real devils running around that hell hole."
Straight-laced grinned. "Yeah, we do have those. And even trees this ugly."
"What do you really want to know?" Sonny felt it was his time to ask.
"It's about-" Bright green flashes took both soldiers back. Moment's later as their eye adjusted to the added light. The underbrush curled and folded themselves to hide. Then it was gone for a moment before another flash bursted. Then faded and burst again. They pulsed like fireflys.
Blacktooth shielded his eyes for the next set of flashes. "So much for stealth."
"Don't worry; Orks would think it distant artillery fire. Green artillery fire but still." answered Grum as he adjusted his sarge's cap to cover his eyes better. "Break's over ladies! Time to meet and greet."
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Mar 10, 2013 22:57:45 GMT -5
((Wrote and posted this late last evening. Wasn't thinking when I added Paxx even though he's MIA at this scene. Expect more posts in the following weeks.))
The squad shielded their eyes, not from the glow globes that had begun to die, but from the black Vendetta's VTOL thrusters that blew down hot air through the underbrush. The air had to be super heated before it could land; The moisture seeped into every vent and opening on sacred imperial machinery, causing so much unsavory malfunctions. The Vendetta held no markings. No wing id, no apparent nose art, except for the red stamp of the Inquisition herald upon the starboard door.
Omar had to take off his Shemage to keep it from blowing away. His grip on the sniper rifle was tight with anger. The Hawk kept vision upon that holy marking, holding back a inner disdain. Many times in his life that scarlet I had brought death and unspeakable horrors; The cleansing of Bel'toro, Hunting of the arch-traitor Dr'quis, The massacre of The Sad'ha'deem. Nightmares he wished that stayed buried in his psyche, now parading out from memory as the black bird landed.
The others displayed various stages of fear and insecurity. Straight-laced quickly started to straighten out her uniform as if she was caught in a surprise inspection. Vork tried to hide himself behind Vinny but the comrade was in no mood for his antics and thus smacked at his head. Tali took the safety off her weapon and kept some distance from the group. She was preparing in case things turn despicably wrong. Sonny just kept glancing at his sarge and then back at the black bird, confused, all while still holding onto his machete.
"Just #@!% me with a chainsword right now, Arloo," stated Blacktooth in fearful awe. "Anything but them would be a pleasure world cruise."
Grum said no witty reply, just stood there with hand inside his cameo coat pockets. He was stone faced; cool and composed as he watched the Vendetta's ramp lowered.
Like wolves emerging from tall grass came a fire team of storm troopers; Clad in black carapace armor with jungle patterned fatigues. Carrying high powered autorifles and silenced machine guns. Face obscured by re-breathers and black helmets with red letter I printed on the forehead. They moved between the Sliverbacks and the transport to act as a protective barrier as the ViPs stepped down the ramp.
The first off was the slender young gentleman of the pair, Inquisitor Pawn. He wore his grey overcoat and those same red shades over his eyes. A red and sliver chain hung around his neck indicating his office of Inquistior; His right cyber grafted hand gripped a black power axe that bore the mark of the machine cult upon the blade. No servo-harness was strapped to his back side; Instead several smaller Mechadendrites tipped with slick and shiny claws and instruments of a investigative nature. In this light one could tell easily that Pawn was handsome; Ebony skin that was smooth and well shaven. Hair trimmed short and even. He stood by, taking calculative notes of the environment before his persona.
Next came the bearded Hodar, with cold beverage in one hand and a force staff occupies the other. As he drank the foamy contents trickled some down his marked beard like water on a falls. His attire was less formal; A brown one piece body suit with carapace body armor overlapping his short, fat frame etched in High Gothic runes. A black psyhic hood rested under his tall black hat. A tattered cloak made from old ork skin hug around his shoulders. He stumbled some as he touched down on solid earth below. Then he drank his cold sacra again and sniffed the jungle air. "Blind me, you can smell that firestorm all the way here."
"That's from the transport, It's engines are still running and therefore burning the local fauna." Responded his comrade.
"Yes, yes. Quite observant are we?" Some bubbles burped up from Hodar's stomach as he finished the contents of his drink. He tapped his belly to straighten himself out. "Right-O. Sargent Grum, I count eight men present in your party. I recall you saying you had a full squad."
"Two of them are out ahead to scout the area, my liege, we'll be meeting up with them down the trail." Grum said with little air of respect to the man.
"Splendid! We mustn't waste time here then. We'll call down the remaining team and march straight to the triangle. No foul green skin shall divert our path. Forward unto the darkness!"
"Actually, we've marked out a path along side the river. It's a little longer but its safer then trudging blindly through the bush like some mole rat, drunken to stupor, with a limp," replied Grum. "You liege."
"Hehe, He makes jests at my person even now Pawn; You'd would have had him flogged if our roles were reversed." Hodar discard the now empty mug to wipe his beard for any leftovers.
Pawn faced Hodar but glanced briefly at Grum as he talked. "Actually, he does make some logical sense. The Rokskullz regularly patrol the deep jungle according to satellite flybys. We should move to avoid them at all costs."
"Fine but we best make haste. Every second wasted is another wasted opportunity. For the Emperor and all that usual nonsense!" And thus Hodar began to walk off toward the jungle to mark a tree.
With the senior momentarily gone, Grum brought up other matters. "So how was the flight? Did you bring along any presents?"
"Be thankful to the God-Emperor that Inquisitor Hodar tolerates your tasteless, and quite pathetic jabs at his character. I won't give out warning if you cross a line, replied Pawn coldly. "And yes, I have managed to procure the desired items you asked of me. Due care that they came from precious stock."
"Like they were my own kids." said Grum.
As on cue, two worker servitor covered in protective moisture suits trumped down the Vendetta ramp carrying a couple of heavy black trunks. Grum nodded at Blacktooth to follow him as they went to inspect the cargo with the knowledgeable Pawn. With a few turns on the combination codes, followed by a Bio-metric printing, the trunks were depressurized and cracked opened.
"MkIIIV Assault cannon with ammo pack," said Blacktooth of one trunk. "And a Godwynn pattered Heavy Bolter. My trigger finger is getting sweaty just thinking about holding one again."
"Both are designed for amphibious use which works perfect in an environment such as this. I trust your men are fully capably of handling these?" Asked Pawn.
Grum let Blacktooth answer that by lifting the Heavy Bolter with his rippling arms, load it with the first clip and get into firing position all by his self. "Just call me the woodsman."
"I'd be actually impressed if you could shoot that without shooting at myself and my men. Now, are you going to have another display of testosterone here or can we precede?"
Omar looked away to hide his angry as he slipped back on his Shemage. One of his old father's saying floated in the back of his mind.
Enemies who bring signs of peace are to be watched; Friends who bring gifts of companionship are to be mistrusted.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Mar 17, 2013 17:01:13 GMT -5
They moved as ghosts. The Forrest was their playground. Silent observers to the new players that landed. The Observers were eager for new blood. They were growing tired of the orks here.
The players were split into two groups: One group was lead by two strange figures. They carried strong weapons and black armor and moved with such noise.
Yet the second grouping was what stirred interest in these hunters. They wore cloaks that shifted pigments to match their surroundings and skin painted dark. Their weapons were weaker but they moved through the forest with stealth and ease to a greater degree then their counterparts. They communicated not with words but with body language; hand signals and gestures. A promising prey.
Soon the game will be played with such thrill. The waiting would make the copper taste of their blood...so much bitter.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Mar 21, 2013 20:19:29 GMT -5
Three hours later...
Blacktooth gave the halt sign as they came upon two clover saplings twisting and bending like wrestlers in a grapple. The Corporal signaled Vinny and Omar to sweep around. He kneeled so that he can get a better firing position with the heavy bolter in hand. That and the damn thing was nagging on his sore, massive arms.
After the first four minutes, Vinny lifted up two fingers back at Blacktooth. Omar signaled three fingers from his position. Sighing, Blacktooth started tapping on his micro bead. Most would figure it to be random static but to a trained guardsmen's ears it would say the following: Blacktooth here, found more nasty surprises, Suggest alternative route. Over.
He waited and listened. In the background there was a reply string of several incoming beeps.
The Vet signaled for a stack up on his position. Secretly, Blacktooth was getting impressed as to how quickly the Tallaran was adapting to the squad's choice in tactics. However, he wanted to keep some distance between the hawk and the dove; last thing needed now was Unfriendly fire among squad mates.
As the kaw of a multi colored fruit bird passed over ahead, an incoming string of beeps and pause gave direction to the three man scout team.
Will follow suggestion. Proceed to cords 34 South'' 44 East. Keep an eye out for our preacher and the snowcone. Over.
And before one could blink, the team vanished into the underbrush, leaving only foot prints to follow...
***
Grum chewed and swallowed a couple of white grubs that were busy trying to cool off in the primordial mud that was their home. Walks like this there was no substiatue for carbohydrates and protein. He wanted to save the salted jerkin for those really long hauls through the thick underbrush. Plus the grub was nice and juicy.
He stayed at the front of the vanguard; Sonny at his left with Vork covering the right. The remaining two followed behind to relay info to the Storm troopers in the back. All of them traveled light with Auto rifle's set to single fire.
They were making good time despite the added weight of the main column. That Mechanical Inquisitor insisted that both Heavies to be taken for added firepower and that his servitors joined to carry the luggage. Yet the older of the pair was what started to peck at his teeth. Hodar gave that impression of a feeble minded old man but deception is part of the Inquisition's trade. That bloke had sights set on something out here and quite so eager as to trudge through ork backyard.
Is this where my bullet is going to be fired? From the bolter chamber of an greedy little inquisitor? No, Focus on the now. Be the jungle.
They moved like prowling cats. Sometimes you could spot their shape against a translucent background of wide blooming ferns. In the darker aspects of the jungle, you couldn't tell them from the darkness in front of one's nose. The Storm troopers in the back had the added bonus of infrared but even they start to loose sight of them. Then around a tree bend later, the vanguard would pop up as they waited for the column to catch up.
***
^^Internal journal of Inquisitorial Agent Pawn of Ordo Xenos^^
I've lost count the times I've patted my own persiprating skin. I think this humidity is bleeding me dry of all internal fluids. How queer that an invisible ocean that we're trekking in can demand more of the precious liquids that grant us life. My storm-coat, designed with the latest in adaptable environment nano-servitors, seems to be at its wits end maintaining homeostasis. My only conclusion is that the atmo has compromised its cerebral circuitry as it will down the line with my own person.
The servitor team carrying the assault weapon has decreased their rate of momentum by another 0.003 percent in the last minute. I estimate that my own decay will start around local night fall which will be in seven Terran hours. Omnissiah grant my bionics resistance to this watery plague.
As for the rest of the entourage, our escort from Zion are managing to their best ability of the situation. Yet compared to this Grum's team of "jungle fighters" proves how big of a gap there exists in experience. The troopers trough through the thicket where as the vanguard moves so quietly it almost disturbing. My own cyber-optics have trouble pinpointing their exact rate of momentum and spacing. Assumptions would point to the atmospherics playing tricks but true deductions relay on evidence and not solely intuition.
Which leads to my next train of thought: Hodar, my longest companion and friend in the Holy ordos. His natural psych insight grants him an edge over most mortal men. Despite his heavy dependency on intoxication and care no well attitude, This man has dealt critical blows in the face of heresy. To him, feelings and intuitions have equal say to the cold hard facts and truths. A model that seems to benefit the Imperium greatly in this age.
It makes me worrisome, when he become obsessive to certain degrees of madness. These sighs haven't been blaring obvious thus far but I can see in the corner of his eyes he has tuned out the waking world. He believes, no, instinctual feels that here we will find daemon breaker. Our extensive research does back up his conclusions but there were so many other leads to consider. Diving head long as usual. He may be on to something.
At least he gave me the luxury of securing us these guides.
***
From the distance, The Observers keep watch on the prey. Through violet lens they study and take note.
Bitter copper taste. Sweet screams of mercy.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Mar 27, 2013 12:44:07 GMT -5
After another long hour of trudging, The column caught up with Blacktooth's scout party at the designated coordinates. It overlooked the river that ran close to them by twenty meters and churned out a furious white water current. A few strades of daylight creaked down between gaps from the clover tops.
Inquisitor Hodar sat down on a wet stump and proceeded to take out a boot flask. He didn't care for hydration so much as some needed flavor on his taste buds. Pawn decided it was best to inspect the servitors briefly and the storm troopers moved to form basic sentries around the ViPs as they kept ready for sudden activity.
The sliverbacks all huddled around Grum with his soggy cloth map out, except for Tali who volunteered to watch the opposing river's edge for enemy activity.
There was much to discuss; Paxx and Bjorn were still MiA and they needed to plot their next route. Not to mention the issue of the Inquisition.
"Any Catachan worth his knife can navigate this scrub brush blindfolded; The only hold up for Paxx would be that Valhallan fella," said Vinny "Worthless Fekker that one."
"Fekker whose carrying our only vox caster. Which we'll need if want to get out of here." stated Straight lace of the obvious.
"I'd find it strange they hadn't sent any messages. Unless the device is damaged from the jump." said Omar. "The moisture could easily affect it like with our Lasrifles when first arrived."
"Humidity or not, I'm not making any calls while we're in ork country unless its the one that's gonna bug us outta here. Took enough risk with tapping on the beads," Grum was agitated; His right bionic hand was twitching too much for him to get a steady read from the compass. The squad spoke nothing of this, none wanted to bring about their leader's wrath.
Blacktooth brought back attention. "Let's just focus on the now. Almost four hours out here and not one Ork patrol. Either we're really lucky or The orks just don't care."
"Or maybe we just that good. Orks aren't the sharpest knives around you know." said Sonny.
"Trooper Sonny, these orks are territorial. Since day one we've seen them stride around these forests looking to scrap on one another. This just feels too..."Straight laced looked for the right word. "..Calm."
"Calm? That's the word you want to go with here?" said a cynical Vinny.
"Its simple observation. The Globe shots or Grav-flares, The Valkyrie landing, our own drop off here should have raised some sort of alarm. I know that Nest has sent out a major distraction to keep the green skins busy but no warboss would leave their territory undefended."
Omar decided to add his own credit."We did find some crude traps littered around the bush. However, they appeared old and some even dilapidated."
Blacktooth turned to Grum, whose hand finally steadied enough to get a read with the compass. "So the plan is...?"
"Old or not, the fact that we keep finding these bothersome traps more every hour we trudge means we're gonna get bogged. Especially with our comrades in arms over there." Grum sighed.
"So then we scout for a clear route; teams of two?" Inquired Omar.
"Vork goes with Vinny, Tali with you, Sonny and Straight-laced. Myself and Blacktooth. Spread out by one hundred meters. Disarm what you can but try to find a clearing. Meet back here in one hour's time. I'm sure our guests wouldn't mind the wait, considering how eager they are to catch their breaths."
"What about Paxx?" inquired Sonny.
"And Trooper Bjorn?" added Straight-laced.
"What am I? Their damn babysitter? They'll find us or their already dead. I can't waste any more man power back tracking for two blokes who should be able to find our obvious tracks thanks in part to those boy scouts and their clanking tool sheds on legs. Now get going ya bug hole lickers." ordered the grizzled Sargent.
As they divided and spread out to the twilight underbrush, Blacktooth walked close to his commander. "The Cadian's right, much as I don't want to admit. This is just too damn quiet."
"Like that ambush at the Gervanini outpost." replied Grum as he folded the map and tucked away the compass. "Got hit hard back then."
"You think that drunken witch over there got something to do with this?" Blacktooth nodded his head over to Inquisitor Hodar who appeared to entered into a drunken mediation.
"He's probably more aware then we are but I don't think this is his doing," Grum briefly check the clip in his autorifle. "He got his eyes on something else."
"Please don't mention eyes. Its eerie enough as it is out here."
"Well something is watching us. Orks don't abandon truff unless there's something worse then them."
"Fun times." said Blacktooth as he clicked off the safty of his heavy bolter.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Mar 28, 2013 14:47:31 GMT -5
Main battle group, Rokskull/Squigbreath lines...
The fires roared as it climbed upon helpless fresh woods. Despite the heavy moisture, the promethium fueled inferno burned onward into Squigbreath territory. Naturally, the tribe of wild boyz and Squig tamers took to arms as their orky bloodlust began to awaken within.
Their wild boars squealed as they charged through the wet brush. Bodies were painted with woad made from translucent ferns and cooling mud. They shouted curses in the oldest of Ork tongues. Many held giant spears as some spun primitive morning stars.
Crinnnnnnnnneeeennnk! Went down a engulfed clover giant. Its falling crushed over ten unwise boyz and boars beneath its burning ciders. The Charge remains unhindered.
The distance closes fast between them and the Ultimar fourth gunline. Dozens of squads rounded up and aimed their sights at the foul incursion. Lord Commissar Gideon Blur among them, with Fang in hand. He turned briefly to a subodrinte.
"Load the Mortars for a barrage. Wait for my signal."
"WAAAAAARGH!" shouted the wild boyz as they grew closer. A few spears flew early and stopped short of the line.
The veterans did not flinch. They were witness to this a hundred times before. They hold their fire as their Commissar filled ears and hearts with the Emperor's words.
"Be Valiant, For His eyes are upon us always! Let his holy fire consume all taint as it does now! We are his Hammer and the orks but foul crud metal! Let us smash them beneath our strike! Ready your guns!"
The vets switched off all safeties and set to automatic.
"Aim for their vile black hearts!" Fang rose high so that that the mortar officers could see.
The vets looked down their sights at their forthcoming foe.
Then they waited as the tide closed into mortar range. Fang sliced downward. The officer then gave the order to unleash the salvos.
Bomph-Bomph-Bomph replied all mortar teams along the line. Seconds later small explosives blew apart small groups of boyz but did not deter. Instead the boars tightened their formation as they spearhead straight for Blur's spot along the line.
"WAAAAAAAARGGGH!!!"
"FIRE!!"
Hundreds of solid projectiles mowed into tough, green leather-ed hide. Some fell instantly. Others twitched and shook to the impacts. A few hit the ground and decided to get on their own two feet to the frey.
Bomph-Bomph-Bomph. More rounds punctured holes in the Squigbreaths' line but they kept charging. The boars were upon the guard. Nothing would deter them from human flesh. Nothing.
Nothing except for the hell hounds on opposing flanks of the gunline; long reaching heavy flames crisscrossed into the wildboyz.
Hiiiisssssssssssssss was all that was heard. The Waargh!!died out quickly as the air was snuffed out within the kill box.
Now this is how you fight a proper war. Blur patted his scared face as it perspired. He turned away and strode for the nearest Chimera.
Soon another horde will make their way to the flame. Be it the savage Squigbreaths or the trukka heavy Rokskullz, the unit had to reform and reload beforehand. As well as get out of the forest fire they helped create.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Apr 3, 2013 12:16:01 GMT -5
She hated the name dove. It was written in the ancient Terra scriptures that they were angels of peace and beauty. She was no angel, not one of peace anyways.
Since her youth on Catachan, Tali cursed her own gender. She's one of the best scouts in regiment, well versed in a variety of heavy and assault weapons, a crack shot to boot. Fought and bled on the same worlds as the rest. After a long hard fought battle, she joined in on card games and out drink men who thought they were her better.
There was always going to be those wherever she went, long as she lives and breaths. Men who only saw her for her gender; A gold haired jungle beauty who can't be tamed. Young and old, strong and weak. Men who longed for a woman's touch, looking for a good time. A good time for them in their pathetic dreams. I'd have to scrub myself clean with promethium afterwords.
Tali glanced over her cloaked shoulder to spot her latest pest. The Tallaran seemed to have his mind on the mission, for the moment. Yet there were glances, here and then. She wondered if he was going to take her by knife point, drag her into the deep brush and have a good time. She had her own knife in case and it was longer then his.
The Dove and the Hawk prowled along. Bayonets were fixed to the barrels so they could dip them in the cool mud. Their prey being hidden snares and shrouded pit falls.
Omar broke the silence. "Do you think he's dead?"
"What?"
"Your friend, trooper Paxx."
"He's not a friend," Answered Tali playing cold and blunt. "He's just someone I know."
"Are friends such a strange occurance on your world?" asked Omar.
"Why does it matter to you? You hardly know him." Tali leaped over a fallen log as Omar trails behind her.
"He's a comrade in arms and a man of faith. I've seen him pray feverishly at the altar in the chapel. I don't think he's dead, merely set back. Our other comrade, Bjorn I think he is called, must be with him alive."
Tali spoke back."You got one of those seer balls hidden somewhere on you? Cause I hear prophecy without the emperor's tarot is heresy. Probably have it hidden in that dirty rag on your head."
"Its called a Shemage or a bandanna in your neck of the 'verse. True I could hide a few marbles or perhaps a nest of little white birdies. Entertaining thought, at least I'll never go hungry..."
The blonde from Catachan stopped in her trek and spun to confront this terrible jokester. Autorifle resting in her hands, Tali walked slow till she near the man's face. "So is this your play? Small talk about comrades in arms and friends and family on far away worlds? Try to tame the jungle savage out in her own environment? Do you even think what you got between those legs is enough? Men like you are always after the same thing; On every planet, every battlefield. Sure, once in a while I'm in the mood for a good distraction but too often you lot think with your throne given pistols that you fail to see the trip wire next to your right ankle."
Omar turned his sight from Tali to the ground beneath him. A long black string rested next to Omar's right boot. It was laced with tiny razor blades as it ran to the ivy blossoms that hug the nearest clover sapling. After stepping over the potential hazard, he thought it would best to stay quiet for a while longer.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Apr 10, 2013 12:09:01 GMT -5
Sonny careful cut the trip wire with the edge of his machete. Then they waited. No saplings spring up with knives. No rocks or logs fall down from the sky. No crude arrows are shot from concealed crossbows.
"Another dud," commented Straight laced. "That makes five in total."
"Greenskin workmanship. Doesn't' work unless their around," Sonny re-sheathed his blade. "We should be getting back now. Lone lambs in the green is easy pickings."
"Like Trooper Paxx and Bjorn?" asked Straight-laced as she adjusted her cameo cloak.
"Paxx a baby ogryn like me; He'll find his way to us."
"And the Valhallan?"
"Oh he's screwed..." joked Sonny with some lite laughter. "...Paxx will make sure he gets here in one relative piece. Guy's a throne nutter but he's got good tracking skills like the rest of us."
Straight laced followed Sonny's lead, making sure to step where he stepped. "You said before that every battlefield you've fought reminds you of home. Is that why your so casual all the time?"
"I only worry when there's a need to worry. When its fighting hand to hand with a greenskin or patching a trooper from a bleedout, I just keep my head clear and just workout the situation at hand," replied Sonny. "My turn, what was your answer before we were rudely interrupted by inquisitor cogboy and his lackeys?"
"It's stupid..."
"Solid's a solid. You owe me a question still."
Naturally hesitant, Straight-laced replies. "...is Grum going to kill me?"
Sonny stopped all movement and then turned to his squad mate. "Okay...that right there is a need to worry a little. Where is this coming from?"
"I get that I'm the outsider; I know i'm replacing someone who died on this squad on a previous mission. I raised to follow orders and Imperial code," explains Straight-laced. "But the Sargent, I've seen him violent the chain of command so many times. He's so abrasive to everyone. But to me its like...he's holding back some sort of spite. I-I can't explain it in words. It's more of a feeling."
"Umm, look, he's always been an ass to, ehh, everyone. Its how he gets us moving through the thick of it. He holds no ill will to anyone under his command," said Sonny. "Last mission, we were sent to control a vox station that was vital to repealing a chaos warband and our chimera was hit. We lost one fella and one of our specialist gunners took a bolter to the arm. As I patched the guy up, a grouping of traitor marines were searching through the city ruins. Grum ordered us all to move ahead to the objective while he stayed behind to deal with the heretics and protect Lars. We could have stayed and helped him but he knew the mission was critical."
Straight laced was a little surprised by this. "Wait, He fought astartes? By himself? And won?"
"Lars helped but in the end he took another bolter to the chest. Grum did what he could to save him but there's no coming back from that. He never really liked the guy but he gave a recommendation for him to receive a medal post-humorous((??)). Catachan or cadian or whatever, if you serve with the sliverbacks, your always have comrade in arms."
"Even the snowman?"
Sonny grinned in response. "Didn't know you people had humor on your planet. Hehe. Yeah double for him if he doesn't evaporate on us. Come on we need to head back."
"You sure? there's still those inquisitors to..." The Cadian squinted at Sonny's left shoulder. A red bloat was forming on the cameo cloak. "...Hold still, I think you got nicked by something."
"What?" Sonny glanced at general person and spotted the red spot. Lifting up the cloak showed no sigh of injury to his person. "Did we pass a fruit brush somewhere's back?"
Trooper Straight-laced stepped forward to confirm what she was seeing. "No, that's blood. Human blood. "
"But its not mine. I got no cuts."
Just then, a red droplet pecked Sonny's Cameo cloak. The pair slowly aimed the gaze to the Jungle canopy above.
Seconds later a call is made over the beads.
"// Patches to everyone, requests immediate assistance. Double time. We found...bodies. Over.\\"
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Apr 15, 2013 18:36:32 GMT -5
They were small. The humidity had dried out the moisture within the exposed tissue. Shriveled like raisins; hanging off the branches of the clover tree tops. Their were seven in total. Over dozens of small, deep incisions along the center torso. Some were missing kidneys, livers, bits of stomach. None had any skin left.
The expedition crew gathered under the fallen. Most of the Sliverbacks watched from a distance as the stormtroopers lowered each body individually. Blacktooth carefully read a tin dog tag in hand. The Inquisitor called Pawn studied one of the cadavers that was cut down upon request. Hodar simple watched the scene unfold with Grum as company.
"This is grox nuts," whispered Vork to his comrades. "We're gonna die like them. Hanging like smoked meat."
"Keep your mettle trooper," responded Sonny, pretending that this sight doesn't make her want to retch.
"It's the truth. I've seen heretics sacrifice babies to pagan altars, tyriand bio matter dissolve good blokes into puss in a matter of seconds, Orks smashing through Gun blobs. This! This is messed up nuts of another level."
"Vork, your embarrassing us real Catachans." stated Tali coldly.
"He's only voicing what everyone is thinking love," Vinny went to put in his two pennies on the matter. "I ain't ever see greenskins act this way and throne knows if good ol' Paxx is up there or not."
"You know that can't be true," Sonny looked at Vinny like he might slug him.
"I know we're not supposed to be here. those could be us next..."
The two men argue among their homeland siblings while Omar turns his sights to Straight-laced. She kept herself facing away from the horror for she saw enough it. A brave face was kept but inside herself she wanted to vomit.
"I've been told once, that horrors sometimes can harden a man's heart so that he can stand up to greater atrocities," said Omar. "Right now i'm having trouble believing that."
"I'm part of the Emperor's hammer, wield by his invisible hand. I shall no fear."
"Only Astarte's can boast such claims. Us mere mortals must deal with it the best we can," Omar glanced back at the bodies as the Stormtroopers lined them on the ground. They poured a liquid disslovent upon the deceased; as the seconds ticked away the bodies melted into the soil.
Another nightmare to remember
***
Blacktooth handed the tags to Inquisitor Hodar after finishing the inspection. "Name's Harkens, Rollo, Sargent first class. This lot must be his boys from the Serpent's fangs. Missing for about two weeks now."
"At least now that mystery is solved," responded Hodar, seemingly sober for the moment. "Sargent, Have your men find us a route yet?"
"Aye; best to take our time and tread careful."
"Time is not a luxary we have. Though these men have paid a price, our own mission is paramount to complete," responded Hodar. "We leave at once."
"We can't, there's still two troopers out there in the bush." intervened Blacktooth with a hand up to bloke Hodar's path.
"If they are as resourceful as the rest of your team, Corporal, I'm sure they'll be fine-"
"Fine from what, Inquisitor?" Barged Grum. "The orks? What happened here isn't made by greenskin claws. They don't have the cunning nor the self-control to do this kind of torture. Harken was no Cata but he was one damn fine scout. I don't want to meet the thing that took him by surprise while trekking under nightfall and I seriously doubt your boy scouts could handle it."
"Sargent Grum, your opinion is noted but you have your orders. We must press on."
Determined for answers, Grum stepped up to be face to face with Hodar. "To where? and what exactly, Inquisitor Hodar, are we out here looking to get you? A new shiny boot flask?
Several of the bodyguard reached and raised their weapons. As they did, the Sliverbacks mimicked the action with aim at the detail. The seconds passed as tense as flakk jacket weaving. Grum was pushing things with merely his close proximity to Hodar. The bearded psker was holding back his rage.
Playing the part of diplomat, Inquisitor Pawn rose from his observational stand point to intervene. "Gentlemen, May I graciously remind you as your confrontation proceeds, hundreds of men and women are dying to ensure that we cross the harsh landscape; Comrades that serve with you Sargent. The uncertain fate of your two men is nothing compared to those who have already gave themselves to the cause. Let us not waste lives standing here."
Grum and Hodar kept their sight locked on each other for a moment longer before the grizzled trooper broke away to rub his swore bionic wrist. "Sliverbacks, wide arrow head formation, 1.3 meters between persons...lets move."
Confrontation subsided, the younger Inquisitor moved to his senor and speak more pearls of wisdom. "We are going to talk about this right now."
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Apr 19, 2013 21:14:12 GMT -5
^^**Internal Journal of Inquisitorial Agent Pawn of Ordos Xenos**^^
We lagged to the rearguard of the column; Myself and Inquisitor Hodar. Much a grievous error in security this was, yet I desired to speak my mind in a discreet manner to a fellow investigator. The ease of our pace sent some relief to my bionic joints.
Hodar held no pleasure left. As we walked the bush, He tried to tame himself with his usual tastes. At the last seconds he pulled the bottle away from touching his dry lips and castes it to the twilight. He tries to act as nothing in this world bothers him. "Damn heat is getting tempers flaring, old friend. Making guardsmen grow spines against men like us. This man is trending too thinly here."
"Of which I firmly agree upon," I replied in a calm tone. "but his reasoning I find quite valid and justified."
"Ha! You should stick to your cold logic and deductive reasoning, Pawn. Humor is not your strong suit."
I persist with the next line of speech. "Those bodies we found held multiple wounds along the torso and limbs. Many of the cuts were deep but precise with a surgeon's degree. Most were made along major nerve bundles to allow the wielder direct access to the pain receptors. They were tortured for a long time before they were harvested and finally granted a cruel mercy. Not to mention they were all skinned. Does that sound like orkish behavior to you?"
"This is a dark and cruel world; Damn humid one at that. Whatever dangers lurk we shall illuminate with our combined power. We're Inquisition after all."
There it was again; that arrogant confidence mingled along threads of dry jabs. For years I've respected him. I've given him his space. Today, i'm drawing the line. Never in my presence he's been this reckless; ignoring signs of malevolent danger, and thirsty for this unknown power. I step up my pace to hold him back for a moment's time.
"We're more then such broad definitions. We're colleagues, friends, and at one time students of the same master," I express to him, hoping to reach something beneath this madness. "So I'm asking you this one time; Is there anything your not telling me."
"Pawn, your being too familiar here-"
"-Because my life is on the line as is all of them! What are you hiding?"
"Nothing! Now get your hand off me," He shrugs off my grip to his armor and readjust his hat. "You know as much as I. The hololithic scripts of Worthingray paint a lively and hostile picture of this world; he was very vocal of how intelligent some of the mammal life are as they hunted from the canopy above us."
"My doubts on those deaths being the result from claws of ripper monkeys..."
"It's been centuries since any human has been here. Who knows what beast kings roam these jungles now. If we worry about every little trip up then we will get no where," He clenches his fists up to his eye level at me, physically emphasize the importance of our journey. "My will feels on fire here! I'm drawn to the artifact, Pawn. The emperor guides me like a compass point. This could be our key. Our salvation."
He turns and paces to keep up with our escort. I follow with weary bionic optics to the subtle movements of the illuminated ferns all around us. I know there's an eerie presence here. Hunting. Orks know well enough to stay out of here and yet we travel on.
I must be careful with my next choice of words. Something has my friend enthralled. "We have been trained to find false prophets, Hodar; What makes you so certain we have divine guidance?"
"I sometimes forget you are not gifted like us pskers, Pawn. The Throne works in mysterious ways. I sense it pulsing like a camp flame in the distance. We will find it by night fall if our guides keep us safe. The emperor protects."
He protects the virtuous, old friend, but does he grant his aegis to us? Doubt is normally the foe of man but right now it grants me clarity in this fog. I tread lightly and stay quiet. I assign one of my mechadendrites to analyze and collect samples of the air quality. My own thoughts are to preparing counter measures as we stride on deeper into darkness; walking on the time of our patience hunters...
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on Apr 25, 2013 20:38:04 GMT -5
It read fifteen minutes to Oh Nineteen-hundred on his wrist chronometer. Yet Grum wasn't looking up the time; Over a month he trekked this green and his bionics gave him no trouble. Now his wrists would seize and put strain on his nerve bundles. A bothersome pinch that grew each hour.
He pulled down his coat shelve when Vinny approached, and went with a grizzled stone face. "Problems?"
"Just our traveling companions, sir," Vinny glanced over his shoulder before speaking his mind. "I think the witch is lost."
"You let me worry about him; any recent ork activity?"
Vinny shook his noggin. "The only tracks we can find are some small critters and our own footprints. The traps as you know are still abundant but as useful as plasmas right about now. "
"I'd beg to differ. You sure nothing is following us?"
"I would like to say yes but..."
Grum didn't need an answer at this point. Group morality dipped after finding the Serpent's fangs and with Paxx still missing. The only sliver lining being the absence of that troublesome Valhallan. "Go back and check our six one more time. Take someone whose got sharper eyes then yours."
"C'mon sarge, I've done this twice now..."
"So doing it a third time won't be a problem! Get Sonny, Tali or that Tallaran monkey. I want to be damn sure we're not being trailed, got it trooper?"
Vinny lost his defiance. "Got it sarge, I'll ask Omar."
The remaining Sliverbacks spread themselves in the bush cover. Sonny and Vork went to help Blacktooth set up and inspect his heavy bolter. Tali located a small notch near some clover roots for a sniper's roost. The Cadian girl and The Tallaran sniper were out of Grum's sight. At the moment he was glad of the solace. Since landfall the hairs on the back of his neck were up like a frightened cat. Seasoned soldiers take heed of such omens. Every opportunity the group stopped, he ordered his men to find footholds in the junglescape. When the killing begins, he wanted readiness and counter-fire at the precise moment.
The stormtroopers kept a tight formation but from their body language Grum deduce the fear was building inside. A double look over the shoulder here; small nervous squeezes on the grip of the autogun. They never stepped on world like Essex before and by the grace of the throne they'll be tested for it.
Like many of the mechanical objects, the moisture was causing havoc with his lighter. Grum had a hand rolled Iho-stick in his mouth, eager for a taste. After five tries he was about to chuck it out to the bush when a mechadendrite extended friendly curtsy with a small flame of it's own making.
"Thanks" after Grum stuck the stick in the flame and took a puff.
"Your gratitude is acknowledged and welcomed. I'm at least glad to see my own devices in performing still within desirable parameters," Commented Pawn as he pulled back his appendage slowly. "Can't say that won't last all through the night, with this unsightly mist around us."
"You talk funny you know that?"
"I hail from a forge world where Gothic is under spoken. I try my best to speak both dialects with clear precision and directing intellect. Rarely do I misinterpret but I do deduce another stab at provocation from your dialogue, if i'm not mistaken?"
"You got some dry wit too," Grum blew a smoke ring into the humid air and looked over to the black Inquisitor. "Look, I'm a simple solider; I follow orders and I don't apologize if I step on another's boots in the process. I've done enough black ops s% to fill a couple of privies, so don't try and butter this up to me. Whatever it is you two are after just strikes too hot for me and my own."
"Yet you accepted the assignment?"
"Your Inquisition; Saying no to you is just asking for exterminotius((spell??))," replied Grum. "Or getting turned into one of your puppets."
"That's only reserved for harden criminals and outlandish Heretics; your more a nuance but a cautious one," Pawn stepped a little closer to Grum, keeping his mechadendrites below shoulder height as to not intimidate. "There's a developing concern growing for our universal benefit and my comrade in arms may not entirely share it. As such circumstances allow, I'm parting some information to you and your ears only. Is there someplace private we can talk?"
"Here's good. My boys are too busy like ants and yours is too afraid of the green." said Grum as he leered at the surrounding bush. Soon the animals will emerge from their nest to hunt and mate and prowl along the treetops above. He secretly hoped that was all that would come out.
Pawn began with a quieter tone but not one that Grum couldn't hear. "First off your regiment and frankly whole division is not here for some simple reconnaissance and pre-invasion striking. The Velsong crusade wouldn't have even bothered this world had it not be for mine and my partner's intervention."
"What?!"
The inquisitor held up a hand to ask for continuation. " Four standard months prior I was contacted by Hodar to aide in his research on a relic believed to have been in the possession of the renowned daemon hunter Sigbram von Velsong. Many have tried for centuries to find his treasures, including famed explorer Hermine Worthinray."
"Could you please get to the part that matters already?"
"From Worthinray's notes, we believed one of these artifacts may reside here but I was unconvinced by the little evidence presented. Hodar, however..."
"...got a taste of something juicy and wouldn't let go?" asked Grum bluntly.
"For vagueness sake, yes. He's been like this before, although not so determined to the point to risk life and limb for little information. He would have came out here with just the retinue we had. I need to know that your men have the up most loyalty to the throne and will act on my benefit should things turn sour."
"Do you know what is it that killed those seven men?"
"Only the vaguest of ideas," Pawn sighed. "One that I hope doesn't come true. Please, Gunnery Sargent Grum, I need your word of faith and loyalty. There are dangers ahead that I canno-"
"Shush," Grum turned his attention back out unto the surrounding darkness. "Do you hear that?"
"What? No, I hear nothing."
"Exactly; where's all the beasts?"
Pawn didn't grasp the concept until moments later when his attuned his ear drums. The only sounds made came from the party itself and very faint breathing from afar.
Arloo Grum reached for Ethel when the winds carried the first dreaded sounds of cruel alien laughter. He waited on the draw.
Then he spun around to face Pawn and yelled. "DUCK!"
WHOOSSSH!!
The inquisitor flopped onto his belly as a stream of hot plasma traveled into the twilight brush; evaporating the mist, burning fona, and nearly searing the slender humanoid predator who managed to cartwheel out of harm's way. Grum fired two more shots at the shadow as it duck back into the darkness; The only details that could descern was that the figure carried a long spear and had violet glaring lens staring right at him.
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on May 5, 2013 21:54:11 GMT -5
Like clockwork, The stormtroopers drew their autos at the direction of the plasma, forming ranks to protect Inquisitor Hodar. Nothing would pass without facing their might.
This is what the thirsty shadows hoped for.
Their laughter cut deeper then the throwing spears hurled out of the darkness. The troopers retaliated with full auto fire. Muzzle flashes catching glimpses of black masked phantoms. Tall, slender humanoid shapes dressed in the blackest of armors Such unnatural speed these gleeful daemons displayed as they rushed into the stormtroopers.
Two troopers fell to the barrage of spears. Three more by the impact of the warriors. The retinue drew combat knifes and parried with autos but the vile laughter continued as the foe danced circles within the tight engagement.
Hodar, disposing of his last flask, drew upon the unstable fabric of the Immaterial. Four of the black attackers charged upon the witch with no prior thoughts then to skewer. One wave of his hand later, the would be attackers started to stumble and trip upon their own feet as if they were under a heavy drunken haze. Then came out the inquisitor's psycannon and shoot dead each of the quarto.
"You scum picked one hellva time to bother me! I'm six sheets to the wind and willing to share!"
The Sliverbacks did not fair well when the onslaught began. Blacktooth, Sonny and Vork became pinned down by five phantoms with spears and wired nets. Sonny parried with his sharp machete as Vork hipshoted his auto. Blacktooth dropped his heavy bolter just as spear neared his right side. He grabbed and pulled the phantom in to wail on it's mask with his knuckles. Tali stayed still in her roost and began to shoot carefully at the foes.
Straight laced emerged from her spot along the bush line and charged to her fellow troopers. Yet she would not reach them as another phatom blindsided her with a net from behind. She kicked and screamed against the webbing as the laughing shadow started to drag her into the darkness. Mud and gunk painted her backside as she grasped at the roots for salvation.
She didn't see Sonny break out from the combat to chase after her. She didn't see him catch up and fight another shadow that intercepted them. She only stopped struggling when the spear impaled into his torso and twisted hard to make him yelp in pain. Time slowed as she locked eyes with him. She saw his pain but not the physical. Only the failure that he wasn't strong enough to save her as he fell to the earth.
"Sonny!! No!" Shouted Vork still clashing with the shadows.
Blacktooth gave one final blow to his opponent before yanking away the spear and slashing the shadow's throat open with the blade tip. Black icor poured down to the match the ebony armor as it fell. The Corporal took solid grip of his new toy and began exchanging swipes and thrusts with three of shadows.
Enraged, Tali emptied a clip at the Shadow that attacked Sonny but too quickly it vanished into the night laughing cruelly.
Straight-laced kept picturing Sonny's face for a moment. Then her training kicked in. She pulled out her side arm and fired four shots into the abdominal of her captor. It became slack as rag doll, releasing the net. Straight-laced took a knife and cut her way free.
"Hot Potato!!" Shouted Vinny as he chucked a Flash grenade at the mob. The standing Sliverbacks turned away and closed their eyes as a bright flashed divided the clash. Then Omar and Vinny rushed in from the bush firing on semi auto. Two enemies were cut down as the remaining two rushed back into the woods. The squad then fired into darkness until they were sure no one was coming back.
"DOVE, HAWK, BADGER! WITH ME!!" Shouted Blacktooth as he went to pick up his favored weapon to join in the fray with the stromtroopers. "Vork, Check on Sonny!"
|
|
|
Post by commisarblur on May 13, 2013 16:07:16 GMT -5
Lucy soon came out to join her twin as Grum kept eyes locked on to the darkness surrounding them. He blocked out the sounds of men dying and the cruel alien laughter abound.
*HeeheeheEEHEHEHAHAHA!*
An alien mask poked out from behind a large trunk of an ivy covered clover tree. It laughed as it stared into Grum's soul.
Vhoosh! VHoosh! Sang aloud the sisters as their plasma note pelted the thousand year old bark.
*Heehawhahahawhawwww!!*
The grumpy Catachan clenched his jaw at the armature move. Such an obvious toying move these foul creatures were playing. With the surrounding moisture playing havoc with his precious little girls, every shot had to mark. There was no telling how long he could keep them behaving.
*HAHAHA!-HAHAHAH!*
A spear flew out from the encroaching shadows. Grum dived his head down as it sped by to taste the mucky ground meters away.
*Haha!-EEEHAHAHAWW!*
The cog boy inquisitor looked like he was having trouble getting off the ground. It was as though he was desperately searching for something that separated when he fell.
*HahAAAAAA!!*
Charging forth like a mad train railing off its tracks came another would be attacker. Its spear pointed straight at Grum's chest. The Sargent wouldn't get a better shot then this as he pulled his twins together and took aim at the general mass of blackness.
Vhoosh! Vhoosh!
He couldn't believe it was possible. As the vented plasma neared their collective goal, the Alien tilted its own body to miss both bolts from direct contact to its blackened body. Only the edges of it's armor sizzled from the near atomized heat.
Grum dashed forward. He knew firing another round within the closing space between opponents was too risk full. He had to force the alien to thrust its spear early so he could grab hold and pistol whip the damned thing back to oblivion.
The engagement lasted only seconds. The thrust missed its mark and only skewed the back of Grum's Came-coat. Yet Grum's own attack was compromised as his assassin grappled both of the Catachan's bionic wrists and held him dangling in the air.
The alien chuckled at its prey. "<Hehe! Hehe! HEHe! VOsh doth Ran'ka! Esha uh Atil->"
It was rudely interrupted when a servo arm punctured through the back of its head. Black ooze drippled from where its' face once existed as it slacked its grip on Grum. The Catachan's eyes followed the mechadentrite to it's rightful owner, now standing with a mud caked power ax in hand.
"Back to back. They'll have a harder time assaulting us!" Pawn lorded.
*Hehehe* AHAHAH! WAHAHAHAH!* More laugther flooded the airspace as more aliens ran out to greet them with spiked spears, nets, jagged swords.
Grum rested against the cold metal cables of the agent. Despite the uncomfortable position he was in, it was better then having spears protruding from his spine.
Just then two aliens ran out to skew Grum. The laughed in unison with spears and swords raised to strike. In quick reply, Grum had the sisters laugh back.
Vhoosh! Vhoosh! Only one of out the pair was smacked dead center, bursting into white hot flame as it fell. The other was quicker as the black dancer descended its sword at the Catachan's head. Lucy and Ethel crossed barrels to catch the blade but Grum felt such incredible force behind the swing.
"<HAHAHAHAEEHAHAHA!>"
"Throne please! Shut up!" Instinctively, Grum kicked a boot between the legs of the Alien expecting it to fall down in pain. Instead it chuckled more.
"Crap."
Behind Grum, Pawn fought off three aliens simultaneous. His Mechadendreties parried in a furry of servo claws. Both hands gripped the symbol of office to the brotherhood of the machine as it swung wide and cut off the right arm of an alien. Though he was slow compared to these xenos foes he seemed to predict their inhuman movement. When a thrust was made at Pawn's face, He tilted his head and joust the end of his ax into the belly of his foe. A strike meant for his torso was blocked by a mechadendrite, followed by a cleave that severed a leg from its alien host.
In the background, ethereal lighting crackled and howls of torment is heard. As the two joined combatants try to keep the xenos at bay, the laughter began to die down at last. With it the numbers of shadowy aliens retreated into the forest that birthed them. Till the last opponents both faced were in fact just shadows.
"What in the nine hells was that?" Blunted Grum.
Pawn a fixed his vision back where the lighting appeared. "Hodar...By the Omaissah he must've tapped further into the warp. We must return. Quickly!!"
Too tired to argue and sore to boot, Grum followed in pursuit of the Inquisitor, secretly hoping his own brood had festered through the storm unscathed.
|
|